The NCF Secretary General asks: When charities like the Quakers sponsor the acceptance of Gazans in to study in universities in Paris and London, and when governments like that in the UK bring children to London for medical treatment do they realise what they are doing? Should they be focussing, instead, on reopening hospitals and universities INSIDE Gaza? Because all evidence is that those that leave through the Rafah crossing are unlikely be allowed to return. Are the do-gooders that help Gazans leave contributing to and supporting the Ethnic Cleansing of Gaza? NCF Research Officer Rathi Ramakrishnan addresses the question:

“Mobility is not a privilege, it is a basic human right.” This is what activist and writer Ahmad Abushawish wrote in response to the recent developments regarding the Rafah Crossing between Gaza and Egypt, echoing not only a view shared by many Palestinians but a principle etched in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. Everyone has the right to freedom of movement and residence. Everyone has the right to leave any country, including their own and to return to their own country. Article 13 affirms this basic right, often forgotten in practice.

Take the example of the Rohingya community, an ethnic minority in Myanmar, who were denied citizenship, subjected to extreme violence and forced to flee. Nearly one million Rohingya refugees live in camps in Bangladesh today, where they cannot access healthcare, education or safety. The prospect of re-entering Myanmar is a remote one, almost certainly a one-way journey to persecution and likely death.

Or the 150,000 Sahrawi refugees who have lived for decades in camps in Algeria after fleeing Western Sahara in the mid-1970s, following conflict between Morocco and the Polisario Front. The United Nations initially committed to organising a referendum that would allow the Sahrawi people to exercise their right to self-determination. That referendum has never materialised because much of the Western Saharan population now resides in Algeria and there has been a concomitant population transfer of Moroccans to Western Sahara. Negotiators could not agree on who would have the right to vote under a self-determination framework. As a result, generations have now grown up in exile. In 2025, the UN Security Council voted in favour of Morocco’s plans for Western Sahara. This leaves the original referendum plan largely dormant and reinforces the absence of a tangible route for the Sahrawi refugees’ return or exercise of choice over their homeland.

When survival depends on leaving, movement ceases to be voluntary. It was announced in early January that Israel is preparing to reopen the Rafah Crossing, one of seven main border crossings in Gaza. It is the only one between Egypt and Gaza, and has been sporadically opened over the course of the last two years to allow the inward flow of aid and outward flow of people, especially after Israel declared the Erez (Beit Hanoun) and Kerem Shalom (Karem Abu Salem) crossing points closed until further notice. Israel’s “Coordination of Government Activities in the Territories” (COGAT) later announced that the Rafah Crossing will open in the coming days exclusively for the exit of residents from the Gaza Strip to Egypt. Several Palestinians who have left prior to this announcement have been unable to return to Gaza, and any more who choose to leave might never get the chance to return. Clearly, this move is neither a benevolent gesture from Israel’s leaders, nor a clearly defined crime.

What Can the International Community Demand in Response?

Volker Türk recently became the first UN Human Rights Chief to use the term “apartheid” when describing the situation in Gaza, branding it a “systematic asphyxiation” of Palestinians. Others have warned that an exit-only crossing risks functioning as “ethnic cleansing” cloaked in humanitarian language. This is a term that, while widely recognised as a moral atrocity, is not a clearly defined or punishable crime under international law. Genocide, by contrast, requires proof of intent, which the UN cannot establish without an independent inquiry. This in turn depends on Security Council approval and remains vulnerable to veto by a handful of powerful states. The paradox is stark. International law on sovereignty can be bent to allow intervention in Venezuela, yet remains so rigid when tasked with preventing forced displacement. Law suddenly encounters narrow definitions and enforcement barriers when it comes to protecting people. Rafah is also not a conventional border. There is no transparent record of who leaves, why and who is allowed to return. Without clear data, intent is hard to establish and the international community has no enforcement mechanism to ensure that refuge stays temporary.

While rejecting the reopening of Rafah outright is neither realistic nor empathetic, the response of regional actors to claims of a unidirectional Rafah has largely been confined to statements of resistance. The Arab states have been among the most vocal in expressing concern, issuing joint statements rejecting any scenario in which Rafah reopens in a one-sided manner. Their warning is not a call for Palestinians to remain in place at all costs, but a fear that large-scale, unmanaged movement would further weaken the Palestinian cause by turning temporary refuge into permanent displacement. Citing security concerns in Sinai, Egypt has been hesitant to allow the entry of swathes of Palestinians, finding itself in an acute bind. Opening Rafah risks accusations of enabling forced migration, while keeping it tightly shut risks reinforcing Palestinian suspicions that Egypt is enforcing the blockade rather than protecting them. Egypt has therefore repeatedly insisted that any reopening be bidirectional. In practice, however, regional actors have little leverage beyond diplomatic opposition.

In the United States, the response has been marked by mixed signals rather than a clear position. The recent January announcement regarding the crossing was preceded by Israel’s Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu meeting with the US President Donald Trump in Florida. Donald Trump publicly hailed Benjamin Netanyahu as a hero, claiming Israel’s actions align neatly with his peace plan. Yet parallel reporting suggests that U.S. officials have grown increasingly frustrated with Netanyahu’s lack of commitment to generate a credible end to the war. This uncertainty is compounded by shifting American priorities elsewhere. Renewed advances in Venezuela risk pushing Gaza further down the list of urgent concerns.

There is an urgent need to broker a stronger framework for the reopening of the Rafah Crossing. This should ensure that aid enters Gaza at scale and reaches civilians directly, so that leaving does not become the only option for survival. It should also protect those who depart, through temporary legal status, safety guarantees and a credible right of return. This will prevent exit from turning into permanent exile.

Setting the scene: Recent and Historical Developments

The concerns that regional actors, critics and Palestinians have raised can be attributed to both a recent history of explicit statements that advocate removing Palestinians and a longer term historical trend. Even the limited opening of the crossing remains contingent on the return of the remains of Staff Sergeant Major Ran Gvili, with Hamas reportedly beginning searches for the remains of the final hostage in northern Gaza. Beyond this, a series of parallel actions are further undermining civilian survival, raising questions about whether exit is being enabled as other options are being systematically closed. On 1 January, shelters belonging to roughly 100 Palestinians were destroyed by Israel’s military in the Nur Shams refugee camp in northern Gaza, further accelerating the movement of civilians southward toward Rafah. At the same time, Israel has suspended permits for around 40 humanitarian organisations, including Médecins Sans Frontières and UNRWA, citing unproven links to Hamas. Since 7 October 2023, more than 1,700 health workers have been killed and approximately 77% of Gaza’s road network has been damaged, severely restricting aid delivery. Alongside these measures, the damage of infrastructure like hospitals, schools, water pumps etc. and the looming possibility of death in a warzone, work to narrow the space for survival inside Gaza. This effectively steers civilians toward departure as the only remaining means of accessing food, medical care and safety.

Using Rafah as a demographic engineering mechanism can be situated as part of a much longer pattern. In 1948, more than 750,000 Palestinians have been forcibly displaced. Also, Israel’s authorities have seized an estimated 52,000 dunams of Palestinian land in just the past two years alone. Documents leaked in late 2023 further revealed that the mass removal of Palestinians from Gaza was discussed as a viable option at the highest levels of Israel’s government. Senior officials, including figures associated with the ruling Likud party like Knesset member Revital Gotliv, Finance Minister Bezalel Smotrich and Minister of National Security Itamar Ben-Gvir, have openly articulated support for mass removal. They often resort to a biopolitical imagination to describe the necessity of removing Palestinians for Israel’s immunity.

These developments show two things clearly. First, when viewed alongside other recent policies and statements, it is difficult to see the reopening of the Rafah border as part of any genuine peace effort. The evidence instead points to a gradual nudge of Palestinians out of Gaza, without clear conditions for return. Secondly, the selective reopening of Rafah is not new or exceptional, but part of a long history of Palestinian displacement carried out in stages rather than in a single moment. Reopening Rafah without firm commitments to reconstruction, continued humanitarian access and guarantees of return risks becoming not an act of relief, but a form of forced displacement under a humanitarian veil.

Fear, Hope and Uncertainty: The Palestinian State of Mind

If Palestinians choose to leave through Rafah, that choice is being made under extreme duress. The decision itself carries immense psychological weight, leaving behind memories, their community and home. Fear of the future dominates every immediate decision, for there is no certainty they will cross safely, that the border will remain open long enough, or that basic needs such as shelter, food, and healthcare will be available once they do. Palestinians who manage to leave Gaza often find themselves legally stranded. In Egypt, many are issued short-term tourist visas that expire after roughly 45 days, rendering them undocumented and unable to access basic services. In Europe, including the UK, tightened immigration rules have increased barriers: biometric requirements cannot be met when visa centres in Gaza do not exist, and recent legal changes have narrowed the right to family life for those with relatives already in the UK. As a result, many Palestinians live in limbo, neither recognised as refugees nor treated as lawful residents, unable to access healthcare, education or employment.

Ultimately, the choice is stark: leave with the risk of never returning, or remain where starvation, untreated illness and war are increasingly certain. Agency has long been constrained in Gaza and yet, for some, exit may offer the first chance in years to pursue education, reunite with family abroad or access life-saving care. Long-term visions that picture the Rafah Crossing as bidirectional offer distant hope, though they remain extremely vulnerable to geopolitical unpredictability. From Algeria to Myanmar, history suggests that this will not be the first time a group is forced to make peace with “option b”, nor the first to leave their homelands knowing return may never come. It is a bleak state of affairs in which the heaviest burden of unchecked political desires and egos falls on people whose aspirations are simply a regular meal, a chance to make a living and get a good night’s sleep.

With British Prime Minister Sir Keir Starmer set to join Donald Trump’s Gaza peace board, Rafah should operate as a rights based crossing, not as a demographic engineering mechanism. It must operate bidirectionally, alongside a substantial and sustained increase in aid entering Gaza so that leaving does not become the only means of survival. An independent monitoring body could be stationed at the border to document who leaves, while providing documentation to Palestinians who cross so they can access urgent medical care, shelter and legal protection. Managed this way, Rafah could become the foundation for reconstruction and recovery, and a positive step toward a future in which Palestinians and Israelis alike can move beyond mere survival and live with dignity in their homelands.