Fragile Truce

A history of ceasefires in Gaza suggests that while they may pause the violence, they seldom deliver lasting peace.

Once again, the antagonists are on the verge of brokering a deal after months of slaughter as a ‘draft ceasefire’ is about to be clinched. All eyes are now on Gaza, where a potential ceasefire agreement between Hamas and Israel appears tantalizingly close after 16 months of relentless violence that has ravaged the territory, displaced over 90 percent of Gaza’s 2.3 million residents and plunged its economy into ruin. Yet while a 42-day cessation of hostilities, the release of prisoners, and the promise of post-war reconstruction offer a glimmer of hope, history cautions against premature optimism.

This latest truce attempt mirrors a long lineage of ceasefires that temporarily quelled violence without addressing its underlying causes. The 1993 Oslo Accords, hailed as a breakthrough in Israeli-Palestinian relations, established the framework for Palestinian self-governance and phased Israeli withdrawal. However, the failure to resolve critical issues—borders, settlements, refugees, and the status of Jerusalem—meant the agreement was born with a ticking clock. Within a decade, the hope it inspired disintegrated into the bloody Second Intifada.

More recent agreements have followed a similarly flawed trajectory. The 2014 Cairo Agreement ended one of the deadliest conflicts between Israel and Hamas, with over 2,000 Palestinians and dozens of Israelis dead. The pact pledged easing of the Gaza blockade and allowed for reconstruction aid. Yet within months, it became clear that promises made at the negotiating table could not withstand the political pressures on either side. Sporadic violence continued, culminating in further escalation by 2021.

The ‘May Ceasefire’ of 2021 was another example. Brokered after 11 days of fighting, it offered an immediate end to airstrikes and rocket attacks but did not tackle the broader context of blockade, governance, or security. Within months, skirmishes resumed, culminating in the protracted conflict that today’s negotiations aim to end.

The obstacles to durable peace lie not in drafting ceasefires but in addressing the asymmetry of power, diverging political mandates, and deep-seated mistrust that characterizes Israeli-Palestinian relations. Key players have seldom agreed on even the terms of negotiations. Hamas has historically rejected Israel’s right to exist, while successive Israeli governments have refused to negotiate directly with an organization they deem a terrorist entity.

Adding to these complexities is the fractured Palestinian political landscape. Gaza remains under Hamas rule, while the West Bank is governed by the Palestinian Authority, led by the increasingly unpopular Fatah party. U.S. Secretary of State Antony Blinken’s suggestion of a “unified Gaza and West Bank under reformed Palestinian leadership” presupposes a level of cooperation between these factions that history suggests is unlikely.

Geopolitics further complicates matters. Current negotiations owe much to Qatar and Egypt, both of which wield unique leverage over Hamas. But their mediation efforts cannot erase broader regional rivalries. Moreover, the transition of American leadership—outgoing President Joe Biden’s team handing over to President-elect Donald Trump—creates uncertainty.

This proposed ceasefire, if realized, must navigate immediate logistical hurdles like the exchange of hostages and prisoners, the withdrawal of Israeli troops from parts of Gaza and measures to allow humanitarian aid to flow into the besieged enclave. Past agreements have faltered under similar pressures, with delays in implementation eroding trust.

History shows that sustainable peace requires more than a halt to fighting. In the aftermath of the Six-Day War in 1967, Israel retained control over territories seized from neighbouring Arab states, and intermittent peace talks over the decades failed to dismantle these realities. While accords such as Camp David (1978) and Wadi Araba (1994) achieved peace between Israel and Egypt or Jordan, their success relied on clearly delineated borders and mutual recognition. The absence of such clarity in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict has repeatedly doomed negotiations.

While negotiators in Qatar edge closer to a deal, unless the underlying issues—territorial disputes, political legitimacy, and humanitarian equity—are meaningfully addressed, this agreement risks becoming yet another entry in a long catalogue of false starts.