Palestinian journalist Muhannad Qishta longs to visit the graves of his sisters, Reem and Walaa, in Khan Younis, southern Gaza. However, this journey is rendered impossible: their resting place has vanished from the map. Satellite images reveal that the Sheikh Mohammed cemetery in Khan Younis has been replaced by an Israeli military outpost, a stark demonstration of the war’s pervasive destruction.
### The Impact of War on Memory
Qishta’s poignant reflection captures a reality that resonates deeply with many Palestinians: “Even the dead have not been spared from this war.” The emotional implications of losing not just loved ones but also the physical spaces that remember them is profound. The high-resolution images, taken on February 25, 2026, show a landscape where entire neighborhoods have been reduced to rubble. What remains of the civilian population is confined to overcrowded encampments that spill over onto the shores of the Mediterranean.
The updated maps present a heart-wrenching testament to an ongoing catastrophe that has claimed nearly 73,000 lives. According to the Euro-Med Human Rights Monitor, a staggering 94% of Gaza’s cemeteries have been either fully or partially destroyed, displacing markers of memory and mourning. The erasure of geographical landmarks isn’t simply about physical space; it obliterates collective memories and histories.
### Geographical Erasure: A Systematic Approach
The devastation in Gaza is not random but appears methodical, altering the region’s geography beyond recognition. In Rafah, the Saudi neighborhood of Tal as-Sultan, once home to a thriving community, has been flattened into expanses of debris. Initially, U.S. President Joe Biden had signaled a “red line” against further incursions into this area, but Israel proceeded with its offensive without fear of repercussions, demonstrating that consequences for its actions are virtually non-existent.
General views of Rafah now reflect a landscape where few vital landmarks remain standing. This ongoing destruction has far-reaching implications for Palestinian identity and continuity, creating a disorienting experience for those who survive. The Swedish village in Rafah, once host to around 1,300 individuals, has been entirely transformed into a restricted military zone. Originally established to shelter Palestinian refugees in 1965, the village was essential for local livelihoods, revolving around agriculture and fishing. Today, it is all but erased, with military installations replacing homes and community spaces.
### The Grim Reality of Food Insecurity
The agricultural lands of Rafah and Khan Younis, once the food basket of Gaza, are now mostly unusable. The United Nations Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO) reports that less than 5% of Gaza’s agricultural land remains functional. With bulldozers destroying greenhouses and confiscating topsoil, the potential for starvation looms large over the population.
Ola Abu Moamer, a journalist based in Khan Younis, paints a harrowing picture of this crisis. “Scenes of searching for food are cruel, and we are on the verge of a famine that could rear its head at any moment,” she asserts, capturing the desperation faced by families seeking basic sustenance. The extent of displacement is staggering, with 1.9 million of the 2.3 million Palestinians internally displaced, forced to seek refuge in increasingly cramped spaces.
### Enforcing and Deepening the Occupation
This extensive destruction appears aligned with the Israeli government’s agenda, as evidenced by leaked footage of Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu discussing military control over Gaza. He claimed that they now control 60% of the territory and aimed to expand that number to 70%. Despite a supposed ceasefire, the military’s actions continue unabated, raising alarms about the permanence of this occupation.
The humanitarian crisis intensifies as the Israeli military further encroaches upon Palestinian territories. Reports indicate that the occupation violates the terms of the previous ceasefire, illustrating a troubling cycle of violence and displacement that shows little sign of ending. Humanitarian leaders express concern that the deteriorating conditions could become a new status quo, leading to an unimaginable emotional toll for the surviving populace.
In conclusion, Qishta’s reflection underscores an acute loss that transcends physical destruction—it’s about the stories, the memories, and the emotional fabric of a community. As the physical manifestations of these memories fade, so too do the identities tied to them, leaving behind an echo of sorrow and resilience amid devastation.