Who could have possibly believed that the one true prophecy from the deranged Yahya Sinwar would be the one about the coming ruin? He promised a “regional religious war that will change the face of the Earth and burn everything to the ground.” He got his wish – but in a grim irony for his own people.
The fire he started with the October 7 massacre of Israeli civilians did not just burn his enemies; it consumed Gaza and its people. After he was killed and his family fled to a nearby country, one that still chants slogans of resistance while hosting terrorist leaders in its finest hotels, his prophecy was fulfilled. Gaza was irrevocably altered, physically and demographically, but in the exact opposite way he had envisioned.
What is unfolding in Gaza today is a watershed moment, changing the entire conflict and the region’s balance of power. The area known as the Yellow Line, covering nearly 57% of the Strip and under direct Israeli army control, has become a separate reality. It is an enclave entirely different from the territories still crushed under the thumb of the Hamas terror organization.
In the parts under direct Israeli supervision, people are finding a semblance of normalcy. Humanitarian aid is finally reaching families without the theft or monopoly that defined the past. This foundation of stability, however limited, has given people a taste of daily security that they have not known for years.
The chaos in Gaza
The chasm between the two zones is now undeniable. While some neutral areas are slowly finding their human rhythm again, the parts controlled by Hamas are trapped in a maelstrom of chaos and internal vengeance. Following the truce agreement on October 10, 2025, the movement launched a so-called “blessed” campaign of purges, targeting civilians accused of collaborating with the enemy.
Verified reports tell of public executions in Shujaiya, Beit Lahia, Khan Yunis, and the Nuseirat camp, with 180 to 220 people murdered in a single week. Victims were forced to their knees and shot in the head in broad daylight, a spectacle of utter depravity. It is a testament to the fact that brute force remains the only language the organization uses to speak to its own community.
These rapid changes force us to ask existential questions about the future of Gaza and its people. We have to consider every possible path out of this deep alienation. One of these paths is the recently discussed proposition of offering Israeli citizenship to some Gazans in the areas controlled by Israel. This would not be a political statement, but an individual prerogative for anyone seeking safety and stability, far from the ideologies of conflict.
It is a delicate idea, but viewing it through a humanitarian lens reveals an entirely different dimension. It becomes an opportunity to rebuild a life protected by laws and institutions that offer order.
Like their fellow Palestinians who are already Israeli citizens, they would have access to schools, healthcare, and social support. They would have the right to work in a stable economy, providing a reliable income and a clear future for their families. And the freedom to travel, once a fantasy, would become a reality within a lawful system. These everyday details would represent a metamorphosis for people who have spent decades trapped between empty slogans and real deprivation.
Integrating a part of Gazan society
I believe this path could also open new strategic prospects for Israel. Integrating a population into a stable civil framework creates common interests built on security and growth, not perpetual strife. This could help turn a part of Gazan society from a threat into a foundation for stability, making new violence less likely. A successful effort would also show the world a model of humanitarian action, demonstrating a commitment to rebuilding lives rather than letting chaos and suffering continue.
Of course, this path is not simple. Blending two societies with such a legacy of trauma and mistrust will take time and great mutual understanding. Some people will naturally struggle with the transition, and others will view it with suspicion.
We can also be sure that Palestinian and Arab powers who oppose this will try to paint it as treason. The hypocrisy is stunning, especially when over two million Israelis of Palestinian descent already live as full citizens with political rights. They have their own parties in parliament and the freedom to protest, even recently demonstrating and openly bashing Arab countries. The same hypocrisy reveals the political charade that denies people freedom when it comes from the heart, not from a slogan.
In the end, offering citizenship is not a panacea. Still, it is a pragmatic, humane path forward through a human tragedy of immense complexity. It gives individuals the freedom to decide their own future, and the future of their children, in a way that provides safety and dignity. And it moves beyond the slogans that have consumed generations to no effect.
Ultimately, this is a personal decision, one that must be made in an environment of freedom and responsibility, respecting a person’s right to survive and live a life of dignity. For dignity is not found in slogans; it is forged through an act of courage when silence becomes a form of death.
The writer is a UAE political analyst and former Federal National Council candidate.