Netanyahu’s Strikes on Gaza: A Fragile Ceasefire Shatters Amid Manufactured Pretexts and Enduring Expansionism

In a move that has shattered the fragile U.S.-brokered ceasefire barely three weeks old, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu ordered “powerful” airstrikes across Gaza on October 28, 2025, plunging the enclave back into the abyss of bombardment and death.

Explosions rocked Gaza City and Khan Younis, killing at least 104 Palestinians—including dozens of children—in what Gaza’s health ministry described as the deadliest day since the truce took effect on October 10. Netanyahu’s office cited Hamas’ alleged violations: a firefight in Rafah that claimed an Israeli soldier’s life and the handover of remains belonging not to a missing hostage, but to Ofir Tzarfati, whose body Israel had recovered in 2023.

Hamas fired back, denying involvement in the Rafah clash and accusing Israel of “fabricating false pretexts” to escalate, while postponing the return of another hostage’s body in retaliation. But beneath the accusations lies a deeper suspicion: this “false catalyst”—a disputed coffin and a skirmish—serves as the convenient spark for a resumption of hostilities that many saw coming. The ceasefire, hailed by President Donald Trump as a diplomatic triumph, was always at odds with Israel’s long-term ambitions, where peace threatens the relentless march toward a “Greater Israel.”

We knew it wouldn’t last. The truce, which included phased hostage releases and limited aid flows, clashed irreconcilably with the ideological blueprint of territorial expansion that has defined Israeli policy for decades. Beyond the horrors of October 7, 2023—when Hamas’ attack killed an alleged 1,200 Israelis and took 251 hostages—the past two years have been a grim tableau of disproportionate force and engineered displacement.

Since the war’s onset, Israel has razed entire neighborhoods, with UN satellite analysis revealing that as of July 2025, nearly 78% of Gaza’s structures—193,000 buildings—lay damaged or destroyed. By October, the rubble had swelled to 61.5 million tonnes, equivalent to 169 kilograms per square meter of the Strip, burying an estimated 11,000 bodies beneath it.

Gaza now resembles a wasteland: 92% of homes obliterated, 88% of commercial sites in ruins, and up to 92% of structures in Gaza City reduced to dust. Hospitals—735 attacks by June 2025—operate at a fraction of capacity, schools are 90% damaged, and famine grips the north, confirmed by UN-backed reports in August.

This isn’t an aberration; it’s the culmination of a gradual, yearly creep. For decades, Israel has chipped away at Palestinian lands through settlement sprawl and asymmetric conflicts. In the two years pre-October 7, 2023, settler violence displaced over 1,200 Palestinians in the West Bank, with 2023 seeing a record 12,855 new settlement units approved—the highest since 2012.

Gaza’s blockades, tightened since 2007, have been punctuated by “mowing the lawn” operations: 2008-09’s Cast Lead killed 1,400 Palestinians; 2012’s Pillar of Defense, 170; 2014’s Protective Edge, over 2,200; and 2021’s Guardian of the Walls, 260. Each flare-up justified “defensive” escalations that razed infrastructure, displaced families, and expanded buffer zones— a pattern of disproportionate retaliation that shrinks Palestinian space while bolstering Israel’s security narrative.

By 2025, the West Bank’s settlement population hit 700,000, fragmenting the territory into isolated Bantustans, while Gaza’s 2.3 million souls were squeezed into ever-diminishing “humanitarian zones” like al-Mawasi, repeatedly bombed despite designations. It’s expansion by attrition: conflict as camouflage for conquest.

For Netanyahu, these strikes are more than strategic—they’re survival. Facing corruption and bribery trials that could land him in prison, the prime minister has weaponized the war to cling to power, postponing elections and rallying a fractured coalition around endless conflict. Far-right allies like Finance Minister Bezalel Smotrich demand “the destruction of Hamas and the removal of the threat from Gaza,” echoing calls to “exact from it its very existence.”

This isn’t just politics; it’s ideological zeal for a biblical “Greater Israel,” where Gaza’s eradication fulfills a messianic vision. Yet this religious fervor rings hollow: 40-70% of Ashkenazi Jews—the backbone of Israel’s founding elite—are secular, per Pew Research and Israeli demographic studies, viewing faith through a cultural rather than devout lens. Netanyahu’s “false religious justification”—invoking divine right to the land—masks a secular power play, alienating even within Israel, where young conscripts whisper of “despair and rage” in Gaza’s ruins.

The world watches in horror, issuing condemnations that echo into the void. Turkey decried the strikes as a “flagrant violation,” the UN warned of famine’s return, and human rights groups tallied war crimes. Yet action stalls, tethered to America’s unconditional embrace. Since 1948, the U.S. has funneled over $130 billion in aid—$3.8 billion annually in military grants under a 2016 memorandum, plus $16.3 billion since October 2023—transforming Israel’s forces into a regional juggernaut.

This isn’t altruism; it’s entanglement. Critics argue U.S. intelligence and military apparatuses are “compromised” by deep ties: shared tech like Palantir’s surveillance tools, used to track Palestinians, and vetoes shielding Israel at the UN (42 times since 1972). Protests erupted in Denver against lawmakers accepting Palantir donations, highlighting how corporate-intelligence-military nexuses prioritize Israel over ethics. Even as Trump greenlit the ceasefire, his administration’s “Bibisitting” diplomats—frustrated by Netanyahu’s intransigence—reveal a policy adrift, where “America First” bends to forever wars.

But cracks are forming, driven by the young. Gallup’s July 2025 poll showed U.S. approval for Israel’s actions plummeting to 32%, with Gen Z leading the charge: a Harris survey found 60% sympathizing with Palestinians over Israel, rejecting the “manufactured consensus” amplified by legacy media. On X, voices amplify this awakening: “Gen Z on the Gaza War” discussions pit IDF soldiers against Harvard activists, while Israeli youth refuse conscription, haunted by “misery and suffering.”

Gaza’s students, once dreaming of degrees, now plead for survival amid famine. Globally, protests swell—from Denver streets to Israeli refuseniks— as unfiltered images from Gaza pierce the veil. This generational revolt signals a tipping point: where empathy outpaces propaganda, and the “mask is off.”

Netanyahu’s strikes may buy time, but they accelerate the unraveling. As rubble chokes Gaza and youth voices rise, the world inches toward accountability. The ceasefire’s corpse lies amid the debris—a testament to expansion’s cost. For the Palestinians, survival is the new revolution; for the rest, awakening is the reckoning.