Israel-Palestine conflict

Occupied East Jerusalem – Basema Dabash sheds tears daily for the home she and her husband, Raed, were forced to demolish in Sur Baher, in the south of occupied East Jerusalem.

For years, the couple lived under the spectre of losing their home, ever since the Israeli authorities issued a demolition order in 2014. In January of this year, the eviction notice came. And then, on February 12, the family were forced to demolish their home. If they didn’t, they would have been forced to pay the municipality to carry out the demolition.

“We were forced to start demolishing the house ourselves to avoid the municipality’s demolition fees, which can reach 100,000 shekels [$32,000],” Basema, 51, said. “We started by breaking down the inside of the house and sent the municipality photos to confirm that we had begun the demolition, but they demanded that we demolish it from the outside as soon as possible.”

The family soon completed the demolition of the two houses where eight people, including three children, lived. However, this didn’t waive the fine of 45,000 shekels ($14,600), which will continue to be paid in instalments until 2029.

‘Self-demolition’ haunts Palestinians living in East Jerusalem, which has been controlled by Israel since 1967, and illegally merged with West Jerusalem under one Israeli-run administration.

The choice between self-demolition and paying a further fee to the municipality is a simple one – the vast majority of Palestinians can’t afford to pay the exorbitant amount, and resort to demolishing their own homes, despite the immense pain and profound psychological impact it causes.

‘How did we come to this?’

Basema’s troubles started in 2014, when she received a building violation notice from the Israeli municipality in Jerusalem for the building she and her husband shared with their married son, Mohammed, and his family. They appealed at the time to an Israeli court in an attempt to freeze the demolition order.

For more than a decade, the family was forced to pay accumulated fines in an attempt to keep their home. Then, on January 28, they received an eviction notice, giving them a deadline to vacate the house and have it demolished.

The house slated for demolition was 45 square metres (485sq feet), an extension Basema had added to her existing 45-square-metre home. She had also built a similar-sized residence for her married son on top of the extension. The demolition order targeted both the extension and her son’s residence.

The Dabash family tried to obtain a building permit for the house several times, but their requests were rejected by Israel. Despite this, the municipality fines Palestinians and demolishes their homes under the pretext of lacking permits.

“We chose to demolish our own house not only to avoid the fine, but also because the municipal crews show no mercy to anything around the house and deliberately vandalise the entire area under the pretext of demolition, breaking trees and causing extensive damage that we could have done without,” Basema said.

Basema, along with her husband and one of her sons, Abdelaziz, now lives in what remains of their home. Mohammed has also moved in with them, while his wife and children live in her family’s home. The demolition has thus scattered her son’s family, who haven’t yet been able to find a small house to rent due to the high cost of housing.

The family also incurred significant expenses removing the rubble and redesigning the older section of the house to accommodate everyone, not to mention the psychological toll, which has been devastating.

“I stand to wash the dishes and find my tears falling on their own. How did we come to this? Why are we being subjected to this injustice? The house has become cramped and barely fits us. My grandchildren visit us and then cry bitterly when they leave for their grandfather’s house because we have no space,” Basema said sadly.

Increased demolitions

As illegal Israeli settlements continue to expand in East Jerusalem and the occupied West Bank, with building permits easily obtained, Palestinians say the double standards are obvious.

Human Rights Watch has found that Israeli authorities make it “virtually impossible for Palestinians to obtain building permits”, and the Israeli human rights organisation B’Tselem said planning policies in East Jerusalem make it “very difficult for residents to obtain building permits”.

Marouf al-Rifai, spokesperson for the Palestinian Authority’s Jerusalem Governorate, told Al Jazeera that 15 self-demolitions were carried out last February, five in January, and 104 in December.

Demolitions, in general, escalated to unprecedented levels after October 2023, when Israel’s genocidal war on Gaza began. Al-Rifai said that 400 demolitions were carried out in 2025 in East Jerusalem and its surrounding area, either by municipal crews or by homeowners themselves. Prior to that, the number of demolitions had reached a maximum of 180 per year.

The United Nations has reported that demolitions in 2025 displaced 1,500 Palestinians.

“Even the method of carrying out demolitions changed after the war on Gaza,” al-Rifai said. “Previously, demolitions were only carried out after exhausting all legal avenues and giving residents the opportunity to appeal to the courts and freeze the demolitions.”

But Israeli authorities have taken a more punitive position since demolition policy fell under the influence of far-right Israeli National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir, who began pushing for Israeli army bulldozers to carry out demolitions without even notifying the homeowners, al-Rifai said.

In addition, the Palestinian Authority official said, demolition notices for Palestinian homes in Jerusalem increased from 25,000 before the war to 35,000. The town of Silwan alone has received 7,000 demolition notices since 1967.

Fakhri Abu Diab, a member of the Committee for the Defence of al-Bustan Neighborhood in East Jerusalem, told Al Jazeera that self-demolition is a double punishment and pain for the homeowner after the effort and hardship involved in building the house.

“Israel’s goal is to break the morale of the Palestinians and to brainwash them into becoming tools for implementing its plans to demolish homes. When we demolish our own homes, it’s as if we are demolishing a part of our own body,” he explained.

Israel can only demolish a limited number of Palestinian homes annually due to logistical, financial, budgetary, and logistical constraints. Demolition by Palestinians multiplies the number of homes demolished, thus turning the victim into a “demolition contractor”, as he put it.

“I refused to demolish my house myself because of the negative consequences that I and my family would have to live with for the rest of our lives, and the Israeli bulldozers demolished it. If I had done it myself, it would have remained a nightmare that would haunt me.”

No alternative

But the cost of a demolition carried out by Israeli municipal crews ranges between 80,000 and 120,000 shekels ($26,000-$39,000).

Saqr Qunbur couldn’t pay that, and was forced instead, on December 26, to demolish his 100-square-metre (1,076sq-foot) house in Jabal al-Mukabber under the pretext of lacking a permit. He had built it in 2013 and was immediately issued a building violation notice.

Saqr told Al Jazeera that he had lived in the house with his wife and four-year-old child. Since building the house, he has received a total of 80,000 shekels ($26,000) in fines that he’s still paying despite his home being demolished.

Saqr had nowhere to live after being forced to demolish his house, so his neighbour gave him a dilapidated room to live in while he found a place to rent.

“My child has been suffering psychologically since we demolished the house. Every day he asks me why I demolished it, and I don’t know what to tell him. I say it’s so I can build him a better house, but deep down I know I won’t even be able to rent a suitable place,” he explained with anguish.

Saqr chose to demolish his house himself after he says an Israeli officer threatened him, saying, “Demolish it, or I’ll demolish it over your head”. He also wanted to avoid the humiliation that accompanies demolitions carried out by Israel, where police sometimes fire live ammunition and tear gas at family members and carry out assaults, as documented by human rights groups.

“I developed diabetes and high blood pressure after my house was demolished. The doctor said it was due to anger and grief. This is an occupation that wants to expel us from our land, and we want to stay,” he concluded.

The Israeli military has dropped charges against five soldiers, whose alleged sexual abuse of a Palestinian detainee was caught on camera. The video caused international outrage but also led to protests in support of the soldiers in Israel.

Gaza City, the Gaza Strip – Shortly before the call to sunset prayer, Islam Dardouna stretches her hand towards a pot hanging over a makeshift stove fashioned from a battered metal can, with scraps of paper and pieces of wood feeding the fire beneath it.

Then she pauses. She turns her face away from the rising tongues of smoke. Her face stained with a thin layer of soot and her clothes steeped in the lingering smell of fumes, she takes a deep breath but does not immediately lift the lid.

In her right hand, Dardouna holds an asthma inhaler as though it were a ladle or tongs. With her other hand, she tries to prepare food for her three children.

“I can no longer tolerate the fire at all,” the 34-year-old says in a strained voice as she raises the inhaler to her mouth.

“We heat water on it, cook on it … everything. It completely destroyed my health,” she said, pointing to her chest.

Dardouna has been displaced from Jabalia in northern Gaza since the start of Israel’s genocidal war against Palestinians in the territory in October 2023.

She now lives with her husband – 37-year-old Muath Dardouna – and their children in Sheikh Ajleen, west of Gaza City.

A year and a half ago, their home was destroyed. Since then, the family has moved from place to place until they eventually settled in this camp alongside other displaced families.

Everything changed after the war began. But for Dardouna, having to cook daily over an open fire in the face of cooking gas and fuel ranks among the worst.

“Our entire life now is a struggle, searching for wood and things we never imagined we would need one day,” she says. “There is no cooking gas and no gas cylinders. We lost all of that during displacement.”

What makes the situation even harder is that she suffers from asthma and chronic chest allergies, conditions she says began during Israel’s 2008 war on Gaza when she inhaled the smoke of a phosphorus bomb that dropped on her house. Her situation improved over the years, but has dramatically worsened during the current war.

“I developed airway obstruction, and recently there were masses found in my lungs,” said Dardouna, who in January was hospitalised for six days after suffering from oxygen shortage.

“The doctors prescribed an oxygen cylinder for me,” she says, quietly. “But unfortunately, I cannot afford it.”

A prolonged shortage

Like so many others across Gaza, Dardouna is struggling amid a prolonged shortage of cooking gas and fuel that has persisted since the start of the war.

Supplies have remained severely limited even after a “ceasefire” came into effect in October that included provisions allowing the entry of fuel and essential goods into the territory.

However, the quantities that have entered since then remain far below the population’s actual needs, according to official sources in Gaza and United Nations agencies.

The UN Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs says the availability of cooking gas in Gaza remains “critically constrained”, with the limited quantities entering the territory covering less than three percent of what is required.

As a result, many families have been forced to rely on alternative and often hazardous cooking methods.

UN data indicates that about 54.5 percent of households rely on firewood for cooking, roughly 43 percent burn waste or plastic, and only around 1.5 percent are able to cook with gas.

Humanitarian groups warn that such unsafe alternatives endanger people’s health and the environment due to prolonged exposure to smoke and toxic fumes produced by burning plastic and other waste.

Amid these conditions, cooking over open fires made from wood, scrap materials or plastic has become a daily reality across displacement camps and neighbourhoods throughout Gaza.

The crisis has intensified during the Muslim holy month Ramadan, when families must prepare both suhoor meals before their daily fast and iftar meals afterwards.

Firewood has become expensive, requiring a daily budget. Lighting the fire before dawn is also often difficult due to the lack of lighting and unfavourable weather conditions, so the family often skips the pre-dawn meal entirely.

“Today, for example, it’s raining and windy. I couldn’t light the fire,” said Darduna’s husband, Muath, who is also helping out with the daily cooking.

“Even when we break our fast, we wish we could drink a cup of tea or coffee afterwards, but we can’t, because lighting the fire again is another struggle.”

A former psychosocial support worker for children, Muath says it pains him to see his children fasting without suhoor.

“Every detail of our lives is literally suffering,” he says. “Fetching water is suffering. Cooking is suffering. Even going to the bathroom is suffering. We are truly exhausted,” he added.

“Our lives are covered in soot,” Muath says, pointing to the black smoke stains left by the fire.

He describes gas as “one of our dreams”, recalling how “it felt like Eid day” when the family got a gas cylinder a few months ago. “But we don’t even have the stove to use it, and many families are like us,” he said.

“We are living on the edge of nothing. Displacement and war stripped us of everything,” he adds. “We are willing to live with the simplest rights in tents. But there is no heating, no gas, no lighting. It feels like we are living in open graves on Earth.”

Serious implications

In a statement on Wednesday, the General Petroleum Authority in Gaza warned of the “catastrophic and dangerous consequences of the continued halt in cooking gas supplies” to the territory, stressing that the crisis “directly affects the lives of more than two million residents” amid already dire humanitarian conditions.

The authority said Gaza had already been facing a shortfall of about 70 percent of its actual gas needs compared with the quantities that entered after the “ceasefire” announcement.

It added that the “complete suspension of gas supplies places the Gaza Strip before a looming disaster that threatens food and health security”, particularly during Ramadan.

The authority also said that preventing gas from entering the enclave constitutes a “clear violation of the ceasefire understandings”, calling on mediators and international actors to intervene urgently to ensure the regular flow of cooking gas into Gaza.

Across Gaza, many families now rely on ready-made meals from aid distributions and charity kitchens because of economic collapse and the difficulty of cooking.

“Even when food arrives ready hours before iftar,” Muath says, “heating it becomes another problem.”

The frustration of daily survival pushes Muath to the brink.

“As a father now, I cannot even provide the most basic things,” he says. “Imagine my son simply wants a cup of tea … even a little wind can stop me from making it.”

‘The fire suffocates you’

In a nearby tent, Amani Aed al-Bashleqi, 26, sits watching food being cooked over an open fire for iftar while her husband stirs the pot.

She said cooking on fire makes food taste “flavourless” – not because the taste changes, but because “exhaustion and suffering have become part of every bite”.

“We start cooking early so we can finish by iftar, and after breaking the fast, my husband and I are completely exhausted and covered in soot.”

Like Dardouna, al-Bashleqi says the smoke causes severe headaches and health problems.

“The fire suffocates you. All the women in the camp suffer health problems from cooking on fire,” she says. “But we have no choice.”

She has a seven-month-old baby, and her biggest worry is boiling water for his milk.

“Sometimes I boil water and keep it in a borrowed thermos, but I don’t always have one,” she says. “And sometimes when he wakes up at night, I mix the milk with water without boiling it, even though I know that’s not healthy. But what can I do?”

Nearby, Iman Junaid, 34, displaced from Jabalia to western Gaza City, sits with her husband Jihad, 36, in front of the fire preparing food.

Junaid blows on the flames while she pushes an empty plastic oil bottle under the fire.

Behind them, bags full of plastic bottles are piled up. The family collected them to fuel the fire because cooking gas has been unavailable for months.

A mother of six, Junaid says she knows the health dangers of burning plastic, but has “no other choice”.

“My little daughter is one year old, and her chest always hurts because she inhales the smoke,” she says. “Our life is collecting and burning plastic and nylon.”

“With the price of wood rising, we now wish we could even find wood. Gas has become almost impossible … we’ve forgotten it.”

She said there were many promises that gas would enter Gaza after the “ceasefire”, but “nothing happened”.

For Dardounah, the solution is not simply bringing cooking gas into Gaza. “What we need is for life to become possible again,” she says.

“Let gas enter. Let goods enter at reasonable prices. Let there be basic necessities for a normal life.”