https://arab.news/n4m2x
In Gaza, hospitals are no longer sanctuaries, they have become battlegrounds, targets and, ultimately, ruins. What is unfolding in the besieged Palestinian enclave is not only a humanitarian catastrophe of staggering proportions but also a chilling case study in how healthcare systems can be weaponized and dismantled by modern warfare.
Since the start of the war on Gaza in October 2023, the destruction of healthcare infrastructure has been relentless and systematic. More than 30 hospitals and over 100 clinics have either been bombed into oblivion, rendered inoperable or forcibly evacuated under military siege. Medical professionals have been killed or detained. Patients, including premature infants, have been left without life-sustaining care.
This is not collateral damage. It is a strategy. Health is no longer a neutral domain in Gaza, it is a front line. The war has transformed symbols of life — ambulances, operating rooms and maternity wards — into graveyards. And the implications of this reach far beyond the borders of Gaza.
Before the current war, Gaza’s healthcare system was already strained under a crippling blockade that had lasted more than 15 years. Hospitals operated with limited medical supplies, outdated equipment and intermittent electricity. Since the war erupted, this fragile system has collapsed entirely.
According to the World Health Organization, more than 70 percent of Gaza’s hospitals are now nonfunctional. Those that remain open are overwhelmed, operating far beyond their intended capacities and under conditions that violate every international standard for medical care.
Doctors work around the clock in makeshift wards with no anesthesia available, often performing surgeries by flashlight. Dialysis machines, neonatal incubators and radiology labs sit silent and unused, without power or maintenance.
Worse still, humanitarian convoys carrying essential medical supplies are often denied entry to the territory or delayed by weeks, if not months. Health workers, already operating in near-impossible circumstances, have become some of the most vulnerable targets: bombed while treating patients, arrested while transferring the wounded and demonized in military discourse.
The deliberate targeting of healthcare infrastructure in Gaza is not an accident of war; it is a tactic. By eroding the medical system, the aggressor aims to inflict maximum psychological and physical damage, creating unlivable conditions that push communities into despair or displacement.
Such a strategy is not without precedent, but the sheer scale and intensity in Gaza are especially egregious. International law, including the Geneva Conventions, specifically protects medical facilities and personnel during conflict. The pattern of attacks on hospitals, coupled with restrictions on medical aid and the demonization of health workers as combatants or “human shields,” amounts to a gross violation of these laws.
Hospitals are not only buildings, they are lifelines. When you target them, you are targeting civilians in their most vulnerable moments. You are turning the struggle for survival into an impossible equation: no safety, no treatment, no hope.
The collapse of Gaza’s healthcare system is measured in lives lost, many of them children. With neonatal units shut down, babies die for lack of oxygen or incubators. Cancer patients go without chemotherapy. Diabetics and cardiac patients die quietly in their homes without access to medication. The World Health Organization has warned that the number of preventable deaths now rivals those caused directly by airstrikes.
This is not collateral damage. It is a strategy. Health is no longer a neutral domain in Gaza, it is a front line.
Hani Hazaimeh
This is not just a war on infrastructure, it is a war on the human body, on public health and on the very notion that life is sacred. And it is unfolding in full view of the world.
The destruction of Gaza’s healthcare system does not stop at the enclave’s borders. Its collapse creates ripple effects across the region. Neighboring countries, such as Egypt and Jordan, face increased pressure to absorb patients, deliver aid and manage the fallout of what is now a transnational public health crisis.
Jordan, in particular, has stepped up in recent months, sending field hospitals, medical teams and convoys of humanitarian aid. King Abdullah has repeatedly sounded the alarm, reminding the world that the health crisis in Gaza does not exist in isolation — it is a test of international morality and a bellwether for regional stability.
The Jordanian people have also rallied in unprecedented numbers, organizing blood drives, fundraising efforts and public campaigns to highlight the suffering in Gaza.
But no neighboring country can fully offset the collapse of a healthcare system that has been deliberately and systematically destroyed. The region is watching a disaster unfold in slow motion, aware that its consequences will not be confined to Gaza.
The failure of the international community to respond robustly to the destruction of Gaza’s health infrastructure is a stain on the global conscience. Condemnations have been tepid, investigations stalled and aid commitments have been drowned in bureaucratic inertia.
The UN and the International Criminal Court have the legal and moral mandates to act, but political calculations continue to override justice. Fear of diplomatic fallout, pressure from powerful allies and a reluctance to confront uncomfortable truths have paralyzed the prospects for meaningful action.
As a result, accountability is deferred, impunity is emboldened and the deliberate targeting of hospitals has become a tragic precedent rather than an international red line.
The state of a society can often be measured by the state of its hospitals. In Gaza, that measure is grim. The intentional collapse of the healthcare system reflects not only the brutality of war but also the erosion of the international will to uphold basic human rights.
Gaza’s vanishing hospitals must not be normalized. They are not only brick-and-mortar structures, they are sacred spaces meant to protect life. Their destruction is a war on life itself.
- Hani Hazaimeh is a senior editor based in Amman. X: @hanihazaimeh