When children in Gaza are not off limits, the world has failed
There is only one path left that can shield Gaza’s children from further devastation: a definitive ceasefire.
In March, Gaza saw some of the deadliest days for children. In just 72 hours, more than 500 people were reportedly killed — nearly half of them children.
Children killed while sleeping in tents. Mothers killed while preparing pre-dawn Ramadan meals. Entire families wiped out without warning.
Since a total siege was reimposed on March 2, nothing has been allowed into Gaza. For weeks, no goods – humanitarian or commercial – have entered the Strip. Not even fuel.
Markets are depleted, fresh food has vanished. People cannot access cash from banks and even if they could, prices are unaffordable: a pack of diapers now costs $50. Families are running out of options and running out of time.
The war’s resumption is a death sentence for Gaza’s children.
They are the ones who pay the highest price. Their lighter bodies are thrown further by blasts. Their bones break more easily. Their small bodies bleed out faster. And when emergency services can’t safely operate, when aid convoys are blocked and hospitals are on their last supplies, fuel reserves running dry, their chances of survival are diminished.
Of the more than 50,000 people killed in Gaza, over 17,000 are children, according to Palestinian authorities.
I’ve worked in humanitarian crises around the world with Save the Children — from Ebola in Sierra Leone to the refugee camps of Cox’s Bazar and the conflict in Ukraine — but I have never witnessed anything like what I am seeing now in Gaza.
The scale of devastation, the intensity of suffering, the deliberate dismantling of systems meant to protect civilians, especially children, is unparalleled.
Hundreds of thousands of children are trapped across northern Gaza - cut off from the rest of the Strip, including more than 100,000 children in the North Gaza governorate at imminent risk from Israeli military ground operations.
One of my team members, a young man living with his family in an area heavily targeted by Israeli forces, describes the terror he faces: "Almost every night, in the late hours of the evening, we hear a sound unlike any other—the hum of an Apache helicopter. It’s distinct and terrifying. The moment we hear it; we know a missile strike is imminent. All we can do is wait, staring into the darkness, praying we aren’t the target."
Another team member, a father to a young child, shared his unbearable dilemma: "Every time I leave the house, I don’t know if I’ll make it back to my family—or if I’ll return to find them killed. We just want this nightmare to end."
Aid workers are protected under international humanitarian law — and yet we are being killed. In late March, Israeli strikes killed staff members at UNOPS and medical charity MSF.
Save the Children has over 200 staff in Gaza, almost all of whom have been displaced. Every one of them is working under fire and making heartbreaking decisions about how to keep their family safe while trying to deliver life-saving support.
Two of Save the Children’s staff members - Ahmad Faisal Isleem Al-Qadi and Sameh Ewaida, both 39 - were killed by Israeli airstrikes last year.
Children are entitled to special protections under international law, on top of those afforded to all civilians. But in Gaza some parents have taken the heartbreaking step of writing their child’s name and emergency contact details on their bodies. Their only hope is that if their child is injured or killed, they will at least be identified.
Since the pause in fighting took effect on Jan. 19, we saw glimpses of what recovery could look like. Families returned to their destroyed homes, tried to rebuild. Children began receiving food, medical treatment, and even resumed learning.
The mental scars remain, but there was a very brief moment when they could sleep without the threat of death from above.
As part of the first phase of the pause, Israeli hostages and captives and detained Palestinians, including children, were released. The pause was far from perfect, but it offered a glimpse of what recovery could look like. That progress has now been obliterated.
Even wars have laws. These laws are clear: civilians must be protected, and all feasible precautions must be taken to avoid their harm. We must act in the best interests of children. There is no military imperative that can justify atrocity crimes. And yet, we see these laws ignored again and again.
Amid such impunity, there is only one path left that can shield Gaza’s children from further devastation: a definitive ceasefire.
The international community must use every means available to uphold international law. Anything less is not just inaction; it is complicity.
What’s happening in Gaza is not a tragedy of fate; it is a consequence of deliberate choices. The rising death toll is not just a number—it is thousands of individual lives and futures extinguished, and a stark reflection of our collective failure, a measure of how far we've strayed from our humanity.
ENDS