Photo via Doctors With Africa
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The roots of the Palestine-Israel conflict lie in the long-standing Nakba (“catastrophe”) of 1948, when over 700,000 Palestinians were displaced from their homes as the state of Israel was established on much of historic Palestine. In the aftermath of the Six‑Day War in 1967, Israel occupied the West Bank, East Jerusalem and the Gaza Strip, territories Palestinians regard as part of their homeland. Gaza, home to about 2.3 million Palestinians, has long lived under a blockade and severe restrictions by Israel and Egypt, with major humanitarian consequences.
Tensions have repeatedly escalated into open war. On October 7th, 2023, the militant group Hamas launched a surprise attack on Israel, after decades of occupation, blockade and failed negotiations. Israel responded with massive aerial bombardment and a ground invasion of Gaza, stating the goal was to eliminate Hamas’s military capacity. The consequences for Gaza’s civilian population have been catastrophic. Thousands of Palestinians, many of them women and children, have been killed, vast areas of infrastructure have been destroyed and most residents have been displaced from their homes.
In October 2025, the Global Sumud Flotilla (GSF) made headlines as activists from dozens of countries attempted to sail through the Mediterranean and penetrate Israel’s naval blockade of Gaza. What began as a symbolic humanitarian mission escalated into a geopolitical standoff, arrests, deportations and allegations of abuse in detention. The flotilla’s story illuminates multiple tensions: humanitarian imperatives, international law, state sovereignty and the politics of visibility.
The Global Sumud Flotilla was launched in mid-2025 under the banners of various civil society initiatives, including the Freedom Flotilla Coalition, the Global Movement to Gaza, the Maghreb Sumud Flotilla and Sumud Nusantara. The flotilla was conceived as a coordinated maritime convoy of more than 40 vessels and about 500 participants from over 44 countries, making it arguably the largest civilian attempt to challenge Israel’s blockade of Gaza. Its stated goals included delivering humanitarian aid to Gaza, opening a people-led humanitarian corridor and drawing global attention to the ongoing genocide of Palestinians.
Activists set sail in late August and early September from ports in Barcelona, Genoa and Tunis, among others, converging on the eastern Mediterranean. The flotilla carried mostly symbolic amounts of aid: food, medicine and small supplies. But its real purpose was political: to pierce the silence around Gaza’s suffering and challenge Israeli restrictions. Spain and Italy initially deployed naval escorts for segments of the route, though both governments later withdrew full support once the flotilla approached Israeli-controlled waters.
From early on, tensions were evident. On October 1st, reports emerged that Israeli forces had started intercepting flotilla ships, detaining dozens of individuals. Israel claimed it diverted the vessels and assured that key participants, such as Greta Thunberg, were “safe,” though critics argued that this belied a more aggressive strategy.
By October 3rd, the Israeli military had intercepted nearly all remaining vessels of the flotilla, including the final boat, Marinette, about 42.5 nautical miles from Gaza. The flotilla was effectively halted in international waters, with its participants taken into custody. Israel maintained that the blockade was legal under wartime conditions and that intercepting vessels was a necessary security measure.
Once detained, the activists faced processing, deportation, and in many cases, accusations of mistreatment. It is reported that Israel had detained 479 participants and deported 341 by October 6th. Among those deported was Swedish climate activist Greta Thunberg, who arrived in Athens to a cheering crowd. On her return, she described the flotilla as “the biggest ever attempt to break Israel’s illegal and inhumane siege by sea.”
Activists from Switzerland and Spain lodged formal complaints about detention conditions. They alleged that Israeli authorities used “inhumane detention conditions, humiliating and degrading treatment.” These claims included beatings, forced confessions, blindfolding and denial of medical care and food. A U.K. journalist who was part of the flotilla described “torturous conditions” in Israeli custody, saying that guards threw prisoners’ medicine in the trash and mocked them: “They were totally and utterly insensitive to the possibilities of any of us dying.”
Among the more striking accounts was that of U.S. activist David Adler, who claimed that he and others were “kidnapped, stripped, zip-tied, blindfolded and sent to an internment camp … And for the next five days, on and off, we were psychologically tortured.”Adler also said he and another Jewish activist were forced to pose in photographs with Israel’s National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir. Another activist said guards dragged Greta Thunberg by her hair, beat her and forced her to kiss the Israeli flag in front of others.
Israeli officials categorically denied the abuse accusations, stating that detainees’ legal rights were respected. They characterized the flotilla as a public relations stunt with ties to Hamas. Yet the discrepancy between the official narrative and the testimonies of detainees drew sharp international criticism and speculation about the extent to which Israel’s conduct in detention aligns with global human rights norms.
By October 7th, Jordan’s state news reported that Israel had deported 131 additional activists via the Allenby Bridge crossing. The deportation tally continued to mount as detainees were processed and relocated across the region.
Across the globe, the flotilla mobilized solidarity protests, diplomatic tensions, and media scrutiny. The Swiss government organized protests over curtailed access to detained nationals. Meanwhile, Greek and Slovak authorities received deportees, with Athens witnessing celebrations for returning activists. The flotilla reignited calls for international action on Gaza, but it also brought to the fore complicated legal, moral and strategic questions.
From a legal standpoint, observers asked: under what conditions can a state enforce a naval blockade? Does humanitarian law permit neutral vessels to challenge such blockades? The flotilla’s interception in international waters tested the boundaries of maritime law, states’ rights and humanitarian prerogatives. For Israel, the blockade is defended as a security buffer against arms smuggling to Hamas. Critics argue it constitutes collective punishment of Gaza’s besieged civilian population.
Politically, the flotilla succeeded in reviving public debate. The dramatic images of activists in custody, deportations and accusations of abuse renewed media attention on Gaza’s humanitarian crisis, crises that in many countries had been overshadowed by ongoing conflict. For participants, the moral act of breaking a blockade held symbolic power. As one activist mused, if global awareness does not follow, “what is the point of even risking oneself at sea?”
But the mission also faced internal limits: the flotilla did not penetrate Gaza, the aid delivered was modest and many participants were quickly expelled. The gesture-oriented nature of such missions invites critiques about efficacy. Yet in the context of Gaza’s siege and wartime conditions, symbolic acts can have an outsized influence.
The flotilla also revealed the risk of escalation. Israel’s use of force, detention practices and the framing of activists as provocateurs underscored how civil society confronts states in deeply asymmetrical settings. The flotilla’s fate suggests that large-scale civilian attempts to break blockades may increasingly meet militarized responses.
In early October 2025, a ceasefire agreement was announced for the conflict. President Donald J. Trump declared a “breakthrough” after the signing of a 20-point framework, even as many of Gaza’s residents remained skeptical of its scope or sincerity. From the perspective of Palestinians and their advocates, the deal was a necessary pause, though by no means a true cessation, of Israel’s intensive bombardment and occupation of Gaza.
Critically, the agreement stipulates that Israeli forces must halt hostilities, allow full humanitarian access and withdraw to what is termed the “yellow line.” Simultaneously,
Palestinian groups, primarily Hamas, were required to release Israeli hostages and accept governance changes. Yet within a month of implementation (October 10th to November 10th), Gaza’s Government Media Office reported that Israel had carried out at least 282 separate violations of the cease-fire: 124 aerial/ground bombings, 88 shootings of civilians, 52 home demolitions and the detention of 23 Palestinians. This steady drip of violence, despite a declared truce, underscores the contempt many Palestinians feel is shown by the occupation powers toward their lives.
Beyond Gaza, the occupied West Bank has seen escalating settler violence and military operations. Recently, Israeli settlers and security forces launched attacks that left Palestinian communities reeling; Israeli forces killed at least three in Gaza in the last 24 hours, as settlers torched homes and property in villages like Beit Lid and Deir Sharaf, according to Palestinian officials. Meanwhile, Israel continues a policy of mass imprisonment, detention without charge and now mass deportation. According to reports, Israel has deported more than 150 freed Palestinian prisoners abroad, a measure human rights advocates say is yet another layer of collective punishment.
These facts combine to suggest this: yes, the ceasefire is a diplomatic milestone, but it does little to dismantle the structures of occupation, blockade and structural violence which underlie the conflict. The bombing may have “paused,” but the material siege remains: humanitarian aid flows at a trickle instead of the promised volume, homes continue to be destroyed, families remain displaced and entire communities live under the threat of sudden assault. The promise of full aid delivery and Israeli withdrawal has been undermined by repeated violations. Erosion of rights, freedom of movement and access to basic services remain the daily reality for Palestinians.
While diplomatic rhetoric from international offices recommends caution and long roads ahead, for Gaza’s civilian population, the war has not truly ended. It has merely entered a new phase: one of “no war, no peace,” in which the machinery of suppression continues under a different guise. Until the root causes, the occupation of territory, the siege of Gaza and the lack of full Palestinian self-determination are addressed, this cease-fire risks becoming yet another interlude in a larger, unfinished injustice.
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This article was edited by Sinhawe Haji and Georgie Javier.
Anika Bobeck 
Daniela Cadena Hernandez 
Sara Starace