In the Rubble, a Pause — and a Question: How Long Will the Ceasefire Hold?
Ten days after the guns fell silent, Gaza feels like the world’s most fragile breathing room. People are returning to neighborhoods that read like archaeological sites — doorways half-closed, children’s toys half-buried, the smell of smoke still clinging to the air. The ceasefire has carved out a narrow corridor of calm, but for many what matters most is not whether the shooting has stopped, but what fills the silence.
“We came back because my mother wanted to sleep in her own house,” says Amal, a woman in her forties who guided me through the ruins of Al-Gabari. “There is a mattress, there is a photograph on the floor. There is also the memory of explosions. I don’t know if it’s peace or a pause.”
Gaza is home to roughly 2.3 million people, compressed into a 365-square-kilometre strip of land that has been under blockade in one form or another since 2007. Years of restrictions and repeated rounds of violence have hollowed institutions and frayed social safety nets. War left hospitals, schools and markets in ruins; now a ceasefire has left a different kind of devastation: a governance vacuum.
The Vacuum and the Actor Who Fills It
When an authority disappears, something — or someone — almost always rushes to take its place. In Gaza that something has been Hamas. The group, battered and pressed, has been reasserting control over the areas vacated by the Israeli Defence Forces. To some, it looks like the default action of any organized entity left standing: patrols, checkpoints, attempts to restore basic services.
To others, it is consolidation.
“There is a difference between restoring order and eliminating rivals,” says Dr. Leila Mansour, a Gaza-based civil society leader who has tracked local governance since 2008. “What worries people on the ground is when ‘restoring order’ includes executions, or the rounding up of opponents. That turns temporary caretaking into long-term control.”
Hamas has reportedly told mediators it recognizes the need to step aside for a future technocratic administration. But talk and action are different things. As one local shopkeeper put it bluntly: “Who else do we go to when our streetlight is broken, or when we need a permit to move a truck?”
Outside Promises, Inside Realities
Diplomacy has produced a sketch of a solution: an international stabilisation force, overseen by a technocratic Palestinian committee, guaranteed by regional powers. The idea has the makings of a global safety net — France, Britain and the United States have signaled a UN Security Council bid to authorise such a mission. Indonesia has reportedly pledged as many as 20,000 troops, Azerbaijan has offered personnel, and Egypt is likely to lead coordination on the ground.
“This kind of operation can work, but only if you get the timing right,” says Professor David Klein, an international security expert. “Deploying a multinational force is not like turning on a tap. Logistics, rules of engagement, political clearances — all of it takes weeks. In that window, the most organized armed group in town will set the agenda.”
The risk is obvious: the longer the delay in deploying stabilisation forces, the more embedded Hamas becomes in everyday life. And small acts of authority — roadblocks, arrests, neighborhood courts — can calcify into governance norms hard to unwind.
Who’s Guaranteeing the Agreement?
There is a new element this time: guarantors with real leverage. Egypt, Qatar and Turkey have signed on as guarantors of the deal. The United States — which, in a dramatic turn, is being portrayed as a chief broker — asked Turkey to lean on Hamas. That regional trio has both influence and a reputation to defend.
“When countries stake their credibility on a deal, it changes incentives,” says an EU diplomat involved in the talks. “Qatar bankrolls reconstruction, Egypt controls crossings, Turkey has channels into Gaza. They are not neutral bystanders.”
But guarantors can only push so far if the international community does not follow through. The stabilisation force, if and when it arrives, will need clear mandates and sustained political backing. Otherwise, it risks being a short-lived spectacle rather than an instrument of durable order.
Politics at Home: How Israel’s Calculus Matters
Inside Israel, there is a rare, uneasy alignment. Political elites who spent years promising more aggressive campaigns now speak in the language of closure and civilian recovery. That shift is as much about war fatigue as it is about political calculation; with national elections looming for some, leaders keenly feel the domestic appetite for ending the crisis.
“We wanted the hostages back,” a retired teacher in Tel Aviv told me. “We also wanted the war to end. Those are not contradictory things when you have spent so long under sirens.”
Whether Israel will live up to its part — easing some restrictions, permitting reconstruction aid, and not re-launching large-scale operations — is a question that cannot be answered by a single statement from a ministry. It will be tested day by day.
The Broker and the Burden of Follow-Through
Donald Trump’s role — as presented in the conversations around the ceasefire — has been unmistakable. He brought parties to the table, applied pressure, and announced the agreement with theatrical flair. But bargaining power built on personality is brittle.
“A deal is only as durable as the work that follows it,” says Dr. Klein. “The risk is not that the broker fails to negotiate; it’s that he moves on once the cameras leave.”
If sustained international engagement wanes, three things can happen: Israel’s incentives shift; guarantor states lose leverage; and Hamas deepens its roots. That is a recipe for a return to violence, not peace.
What This Means for Ordinary People
For the families sifting through rubble, politics are not abstractions. They are whether a child gets a functioning clinic, whether a pump delivers water, whether permits allow a truck of flour into a neighbourhood. “We are experts now in survival,” says Khaled, a father of three. “What we want is not politics — it is bread, medicine, safety.”
And yet this moment also presents a rare window. If the stabilisation force arrives, if aid flows, and if guarantors pressure spoilers, there is potential to build institutions that protect civilians and provide services without handing monopolies to any single armed group.
That is no small task. It asks the international community to do the patient, dull work of logistics, oversight and sustained diplomacy. It asks regional actors to use leverage responsibly. It asks citizens — on all sides — to choose reconstruction over revenge.
Questions to Carry Home
As you read this, ask yourself: do you believe ceasefires are ends or beginnings? Who do you imagine when you hear “stability” — soldiers in blue helmets or social workers repairing a school? And what sort of pressure should external powers apply when life on the ground depends on their follow-through?
This ceasefire could be the first breath of a longer peace, or simply another interlude between wars. The variables are many, and fragile: logistics, regional politics, local loyalties, and the stamina of international actors. For people in Gaza, however this plays out will not be measured in headlines but in the daily count of meals, medicines and nights slept without the thunder of bombs.
For now, the silence is both gift and test. The world is watching. Will it show up?
