Gaza Call For Action
A holocaust unfolds in Gaza before our eyes—starvation, maiming, and murder on
a scale that defies comprehension. Over 50,000 Palestinians, mostly civilians,
have been killed since October 2023. No aid has entered since early March 2025,
leaving 60,000 children at risk of dying from hunger and 390,000 people
displaced, often multiple times, with nowhere safe to run. This is not just a
crisis; it’s a deliberate strangulation of 2.3 million souls. For those in
Gaza, every day is a fight against death. For their friends and kin
abroad—Palestinians in diaspora, allies with ties to the land, and communities
bound by love or history—the pain is a different kind of torment: watching
loved ones waste away, helpless to stop it. We cannot stand by as this agony
consumes both those under siege and those carrying their grief across oceans.
The time to act is now—to break the blockade, deliver aid, and fight for
justice.
In Gaza, suffering is immediate and merciless. Families starve—90% displaced, sifting through rubble for scraps. Airstrikes erase entire bloodlines; hospitals are bombed-out shells. To endure this is to know hunger’s bite, fear’s grip, and death’s shadow. A mother watches her child’s ribs protrude, powerless to feed them. A brother buries his sister, killed in a strike. This is agony carved into flesh and bone.
But for those abroad with ties to Palestine—friends, family, diaspora
communities—the pain of witnessing is its own hell. Imagine waking in London,
Amman, or Chicago to news of another cousin bombed, another friend starved. You
see their faces in every report: Ahmad Mansour, a journalist burned alive on
camera; a neighbor’s child crushed under rubble. Social media streams their
screams, yet you’re thousands of miles away, unable to hug, feed, or save them.
Palestinians abroad carry this weight daily—protests in Ramallah’s twin cities
or New York’s streets echo their grief, but borders and politics block their
hands. Allies, too, with roots in Palestine’s struggle, feel it: the guilt of
safety, the rage of inaction. Studies on diaspora trauma—think Rwandans or
Syrians—show this “secondary suffering” breeds PTSD, depression, and survivor’s
guilt as deep as physical wounds.
Which is worse? The body’s collapse or the heart’s? In Gaza, suffering is a finite horror, ended by death or survival. Watching from afar—whether you’re a Palestinian in exile or a friend tied by love—is a wound that festers indefinitely. You’re haunted by “what ifs”: Could I have sent money? Joined a march? Changed one life? Both are unbearable, but the diaspora’s pain is a bridge between worlds—Gaza’s screams echo in their souls, and their voices can amplify the fight. This dilemma demands we act, not just for those starving but for those watching, torn apart by love and loss.
Gaza’s blockade is a fortress of cruelty—land, sea, and air sealed by Israel’s iron grip. Food, medicine, and fuel pile up at Rafah and Kerem Shalom, rotting while UNRWA begs for access. In 2024, the U.S., Jordan, and others tried airdrops—38,000 MREs dropped, a flicker of hope—but they were woefully inadequate. Five died when parachutes failed; aid sank into the sea or was looted. By March 2025, even these stopped. Why? Airdrops are costly ($10,000 per flight), inefficient (trucks carry 100 tons; planes, a fraction), and risky without ground teams to secure drops. Israel’s airspace control downs rogue drones, and no NGO dares defy it alone.
Worse, no organization exists to break this siege with sustained airdrops.
Humanitarian giants like Oxfam or Medical Aid for Palestinians prioritize
advocacy or ground aid, calling airdrops “symbolic.” They’re right—land routes
are better—but when crossings are locked, why isn’t anyone innovating? Amazon
uses drones to deliver packages in remote areas, dropping goods to exact
coordinates without pilots braving contested skies. Gaza could be next.
Drones—small, stealthy, GPS-guided—could carry food, medicine, or water
purifiers to families, bypassing Hamas and looters. A $5,000 drone can lift 10
kilos; a fleet of 1,000 could feed thousands daily. The tech is here, proven in
Ukraine’s war zones and rural U.S. deliveries. Yet no group has seized this.
Why not? Politics paralyze. NGOs fear Israel’s wrath or U.S. sanctions.
Militaries need state approval, which the U.S. won’t give. A rogue “Sky for
Gaza” operation risks escalation—but doing nothing escalates death.
Palestinians abroad, organizing in cities like Dearborn or Santiago, could lead
this charge, crowdfunding drones and tech expertise. Their personal
stake—family trapped in Gaza—makes them unstoppable. We need their vision to
birth a new movement, one that delivers bread where bombs fall.
The United Nations, humanity’s supposed guardian, is a bystander to Gaza’s
slaughter. The UN Security Council, crippled by U.S. vetoes, has failed
repeatedly—December 2023, February 2024, November 2024—blocking ceasefires and
aid resolutions to “protect” Israel’s campaign. Each veto buries Gaza deeper.
The UN General Assembly, free of vetoes, holds a trump card: Resolution 377,
“Uniting for Peace.” Born in 1950 to bypass Cold War gridlock, it lets the UNGA
recommend action—ceasefires, aid corridors, even peacekeepers—when the UNSC
falters. It worked in 1956, creating UN forces for Suez.
Yet the UNGA has squandered this power. In October 2023, it passed a truce resolution (120-14); in December, Egypt invoked Resolution 377 for an emergency session. But nothing followed—no sanctions, no humanitarian force, no demand to open Rafah. In 2024, another session fizzled—153 nations backed peace, yet Israel ignored it, shielded by U.S. clout. Why? The UNGA’s resolutions are toothless, mere suggestions. Allies like Germany or the UK bow to U.S. pressure, fearing trade or diplomatic hits. Even Arab states hesitate, caught in geopolitical webs. Resolution 377 could rally a coalition to smash the blockade, but fear of confronting power prevails. Meanwhile, Gaza’s children die, and Palestinians abroad—like those rallying in Dublin or Cairo—watch their homeland burn, betrayed by global inaction.
We cannot let another Gazan starve while their kin abroad weep. We cannot let friends—whether in Palestine or tied to it by blood and heart—carry this grief alone. This is our fight, for those suffering and those watching:
Launch “Sky for Gaza”: Palestinians in diaspora, from Amman to Toronto, must lead. Crowdfund $10 million for a drone fleet—1,000 drones at $5,000 each, delivering food and medicine daily. Partner with tech firms for stealth designs, proven in Amazon’s deliveries. Drop aid to families, not warlords. If Israel shoots them down, let the world see.
Force UNGA Action: Flood diplomats with demands for a Resolution 377 session. Push for a binding coalition—sanctions, peacekeepers, open crossings. Palestinians abroad, with allies in every city, can pack UN plazas, making silence impossible. If the U.S. vetoes peace, let 193 nations override it.
Amplify and Organize: Share Gazan voices—tweets from Jabaliya, stories from cousins in Gaza City. Boycott blockade enablers. Protest at embassies, led by diaspora communities whose pain fuels change. Their rallies in London or Beirut are our blueprint.
Innovate Together: Engineers in Doha, coders in Chicago—design drones.
Lawyers in Ramallah—draft legal challenges. Donors everywhere—fund groups
like Doctors Without Borders, who push for access. Every act counts,
especially from those with Palestine in their hearts.
Suffering in Gaza or watching it from afar—both are unbearable. Palestinians abroad carry Gaza’s pain in their bones, their phone calls unanswered, their dreams haunted. We fight for them as much as for those under siege. A drone dropping flour isn’t just food; it’s proof we haven’t abandoned them. A UN vote isn’t just policy; it’s a signal to every Palestinian in exile: you’re not alone. Break the siege, for the starved and the grieving alike.