The Humanitarian City Proposal: Control or Catastrophe?
The world awoke this week to news that Israeli Defense Minister Israel Katz has unveiled plans to forcibly concentrate Gaza’s entire population—2.1 million Palestinians—into a so-called “humanitarian city” over the ruins of Rafah. As if etched straight from the nightmares of past forced displacements, this bold and deeply controversial plan comes against the backdrop of relentless violence: Gaza’s Health Ministry confirms more than 57,000 Palestinians killed and over 136,000 wounded since the conflict’s inception. The proposed zone, surrounded and guarded from a distance by the Israeli military, would at first house roughly 600,000 already-displaced Palestinians, with phase two aiming for the total enclosure of Gaza’s entire civilian population within this single, tightly controlled area.
Stringent security screenings at the entry gates would determine who is permitted inside, and, in an Orwellian twist, residents would be “forbidden to leave”—effectively sealing the world’s most densely-packed civilian population behind makeshift walls. Israeli authorities tout this as a necessary security measure, suggesting management by international bodies (though none have officially agreed to participate). The stance not only echoes earlier proposals to build camps—so-called “Humanitarian Transit Areas”—inside or even outside Gaza, but dangerously veers into legal territory most governments dare not set foot in.
Israeli officials insist this is a humane response to an impossible situation. Yet, as Daniel Shapiro, former U.S. Ambassador to Israel, points out, plans that forcibly relocate populations under military oversight are “inherently fraught with moral and legal peril.” Katz and his allies have floated the idea of facilitating “voluntary emigration” from Gaza to third countries—a plan bearing the unmistakable fingerprints of ethnic cleansing, according to human rights watchdogs. If the world seems to be staring into the abyss, it is because this plan raises the specter of twentieth-century atrocities Europe once swore would never be repeated.
Global Outrage and Legal Red Lines
Crimes against humanity do not solely reside in textbooks—they manifest in decisions, blueprints, and cold bureaucratic language. Eyal Benvenisti, director of the Lauterpacht Centre for International Law at Cambridge, describes the Rafah “humanitarian city” as “a clear breach of international law, amounting to forcible population transfer and possibly paving the way for mass expulsion.” The United Nations, echoing this sentiment, has repeatedly warned that “the deportation or forcible transfer of an occupied territory’s civilian population is prohibited under international humanitarian law and tantamount to ethnic cleansing.”
Michael Sfard, a prominent Israeli human rights attorney, minced no words in describing Katz’s proposal: “This is an operational plan for a crime against humanity. Transferring the population to Gaza’s southern tip is only preparation for deportation outside the Strip.” That blunt assessment echoes chillingly with human rights history. It’s not lost on international observers that every sanctioned act of mass displacement began with a promise of “security” or “necessity,” only to slide into tragedy and permanent dispossession.
“International law is crystal clear: no party in a conflict may forcibly transfer civilian populations or bar them from returning home for the sake of expediency, no matter how dire the security situation. The world is watching—and history will judge.”
Who would run such a city, anyway? While Katz claims international bodies will manage the humanitarian zone, participation from those very organizations is far from forthcoming. Oxfam and the International Federation of Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies have stopped short of endorsing—or even acknowledging—direct involvement. The question looms: if aid organizations refuse, is this plan doomed to fail from the start, or is it simply a smoke screen for a far more draconian reality?
Political Maneuvering and the Shadow of Annexation
Peering behind the curtain, domestic Israeli politics casts a long shadow over these events. Prime Minister Netanyahu’s far-right coalition partners exert mounting pressure to reshape Gaza’s future in line with maximalist settler and security agendas. Publicly, Netanyahu disavows forcible resettlement, yet the very survival of his coalition hinges on appeasing some of the most hardline voices in Israeli politics. Former Defense Minister Avigdor Lieberman, breaking ranks, accused the government of risking Israeli soldiers’ lives for political expediency, not genuine security.
A closer look reveals something equally troubling: the possibility of permanent Israeli settlements in territory evacuated by force. This is not mere speculation. Land expropriation, bulldozed homes, and creeping annexation have long been favored tactics among the most extreme elements of Israel’s political spectrum. As Daily Haaretz columnist Amira Hass notes, “Once you concentrate a traumatized population, forbidden to move and entirely dependent on outside aid, their displacement or marginalization from the territory itself becomes a logistical—and moral—catastrophe.”
So where is the international response? President Biden’s administration, under pressure from both allies and activists, has issued muted warnings. The State Department reiterated that “any forced displacement of Palestinians is unacceptable.” Yet, critics argue, words are not enough. For progressive Americans who grew up with the lessons of the Holocaust and Jim Crow still fresh, passivity in the face of evident ethnic cleansing is not merely disappointing—it’s unconscionable.
Beyond that, history offers sobering reminders: the mass internments of Japanese Americans, the forced migration of Rohingya in Myanmar, the breakup of Yugoslavia—all began with language cloaked in the rhetoric of order, necessity, or even charity. The world must ask: how many times must “never again” be uttered before it truly means something?
Where Do We Go From Here?
Palestinians trapped within the shifting boundaries of war have endured displacement, hunger, and staggering death tolls for months. Many progressive voices are left wrestling with a difficult reality: embracing security for Israelis cannot mean abandoning the fundamental rights and dignity of Palestinians. Human rights do not evaporate in times of crisis—they become more essential.
This is not simply a policy debate—it’s a test of our commitment to international norms, to shared values of justice, and to the idea that collective well-being, not collective punishment, forms the bedrock of a humane society. As history has shown, the world cannot be silent in the face of plans that rationalize mass displacement. Doing so now would not only betray our moral values, but set a precedent that threatens vulnerable populations everywhere.
Israel faces a crossroads. Choosing the path of isolation, enclosure, and demographic engineering invites international condemnation and perpetuates an endless cycle of violence. Embracing peace and security—real peace, with justice for all—means upholding the principles that bind the community of nations. For the people of Gaza and for all of us, humanity must come first.
