When a Gate Opens: Trucks, Tension and the Fragile Thread of Aid into Northern Gaza
The first trucks crawled forward before dawn, their headlights carving pale ribbons through the coastal gloom. Drivers kept silent inside cabs dusted with the same ochre that coats much of this strip of land—sand and weariness—while soldiers and aid workers completed final checks under the watchful eyes of the Land Crossings Authority.
It was the kind of moment that feels small and enormous at once: a checkpoint opened, a flow of life-sustaining supplies permitted through a crossing that had been shut for weeks. Israel’s COGAT—the military body that manages civilian affairs and crossings—announced the reopening of the Zikim Crossing in northern Gaza, saying the move was made “in accordance with a directive of the political echelon” and that all goods would pass after security inspections.
For people in northern Gaza, where aid has been staggered and scarce, that procedural language means more than bureaucracy. It means food, medicine, baby formula, clean water. It means an end—however tenuous—to a tightening noose of scarcity that humanitarian agencies have warned could tip whole communities into famine-like conditions.
The gap between need and access
Humanitarian organisations, led by the UN’s Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA), had been pressing for Zikim to reopen. The crossing had been closed since 12 September, OCHA reported, cutting off one of the few viable routes into the devastated northern enclave.
“We need safe, predictable, and sustained access,” a UN relief coordinator told me, speaking on condition of anonymity to preserve working relationships on the ground. “Intermittent openings create a rhythm of hope and despair. When trucks arrive, people breathe easier. When they don’t, the impact is immediate—children go without, clinics close, chronic conditions worsen.”
Supplies have been trickling in from the south, but volume has consistently fallen short of need. The UN has previously said that several hundred truckloads a day are necessary just to meet basic humanitarian needs across Gaza—an order of magnitude that has proven politically and logistically difficult to meet.
And the situation in the north has been particularly dire. Independent monitors and aid groups have warned of famine-like conditions in and around Gaza City, with acute malnutrition on the rise and hospitals stretched beyond capacity. Families who once relied on bakeries and markets now rely on what arrives in convoyes, if anything at all.
On the ground: the human calculus of aid
At a newly established displacement site in Nuseirat—set up by the Egyptian Committee—tents stood in neat rows but the faces were raw with fatigue. A father who gave his name as Hassan sat outside a flimsy shelter, cradling a thin child. “We have not had a proper meal in days,” he said, voice low. “We used whatever we could to survive. If the trucks stop again, I don’t know what will happen.”
Aid workers describe a delicate choreography—security clearance, inspection, transfer, distribution—where each step can be delayed by politics, shifting frontlines, or bureaucratic wrangling. COGAT’s statement insisted that UN and international organisations will manage the distribution after inspections, a line designed to reassure donors and critics alike.
Yet trust is fragile. “Every checkpoint is a promise,” said one veteran logistics coordinator with an international NGO, who asked not to be named. “When promises are broken, people’s lives are broken, too.”
Under Strain at Home: The Debate Over Army Radio and the State of Media Freedom
While aid convoys threaded through checkpoints in the south, political storms brewed in Jerusalem. Israel’s defence minister, Israel Katz, announced plans to propose the closure of Army Radio—a public, state-funded station that has long served both soldiers and civilians—moving to end its broadcasts by 1 March 2026. He framed the move as an effort to preserve the Israel Defense Forces’ “non-partisan character.”
The announcement landed like a blow in media circles. Tal Lev Ram, the station’s chief, called the decision “a regrettable and dramatic blow to the people’s army, to Israeli society, and to freedom of the press.” He vowed to fight the proposal “by every means.”
This is not a solitary act. Government critics point to a broader campaign against editorial independence: two public outlets—Army Radio and the public broadcaster KAN—have long been editorially independent, but have drawn the ire of some ministers and coalition members who argue they are biased. Moves to privatise KAN and to shutter state-funded outlets are seen by many as part of a pattern that threatens the checks and balances of a democratic media ecosystem.
“This is about the public’s right to hear different perspectives,” said a senior journalist at a national paper. “When you muffle a widely trusted station, you don’t just silence news—you erode the civic muscle that holds institutions accountable.”
Politics, polarization and the run-up to elections
Opposition figures were quick to pounce. Yair Lapid called the defence minister’s move an attempt by “an anxious government that fears criticism,” accusing the coalition of changing “the rules of the game” ahead of next year’s elections. Israel’s journalist union announced it would challenge the proposed closure, calling it harmful to press freedom.
Public opinion polls, frequently carried in Israeli media, point to a complex political backdrop: the current right-wing coalition that Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu leads has struggled in the polls, with many surveys suggesting it would not secure enough seats to form a government if elections were held today. Whether the media debate will meaningfully shift public sentiment remains to be seen, but for many Israelis, the fate of Army Radio feels personal.
Two Stories, One Pattern
What connects the reopening of a crossing in Gaza and the controversy over Army Radio in Jerusalem is not obvious at first glance. But step back and the lines blur: both are about access—access to food, to medical care, to truth, and to accountability.
In one contested strip of land, food convoys are lifelines. In another contested space—inside a public square of ideas—the airwaves are battlefields where narratives are won or lost. Both arenas are under strain from political decisions and both pulse with consequences felt by ordinary people.
As you read this, consider what it means when a crossing opens and a radio falls silent. Which do we value most in a crisis: the uninterrupted flow of food or the uninterrupted flow of information? Perhaps the answer is obvious: both. Without sustained access to either, human dignity frays.
- Key facts: Zikim Crossing was closed on 12 September and has now been reopened by COGAT.
- Humanitarian need: UN agencies have repeatedly called for hundreds of truckloads daily into Gaza to meet basic needs; actual deliveries have been far lower.
- Media freedom: Defence Minister Israel Katz has proposed closing Army Radio, aiming to end broadcasts by 1 March 2026; this has drawn condemnation from media leaders and opposition politicians.
In moments of crisis, the smallest gestures—an opened gate, a verified broadcast—can feel like affirmations of common humanity. They remind us that policy is not abstract; it lands in the mouths of hungry children and on the ears of listeners who turn to the radio for solace and truth. How we choose to manage those gates—literal and figurative—says a great deal about the societies we want to be.
So I’ll ask you directly: when the world’s attention moves on, who will hold the gates open? Who will keep the microphones alive? These are not rhetorical questions. They sit, like dust, on the truck beds and the studio floors—waiting to be either swept away or allowed to settle into something worse.
