For nearly two months, Israeli forces have waged a relentless assault on Tulkarm and its refugee camps, turning entire neighborhoods into war zones. Armored vehicles patrol the streets as soldiers occupy homes, forcibly evicting families at gunpoint to convert their dwellings into military bases. The offensive has displaced over 4,000 families, with many left homeless after Israeli bulldozers destroyed or damaged nearly 3,000 homes. The human toll is staggering—13 civilians killed, including a child and a pregnant woman, while dozens more have been injured or arrested in raids.  

The destruction extends far beyond casualties. Streets once teeming with life now lie in ruins, scarred by earth barricades and the charred remnants of vehicles and shops. In Nur Shams camp, a suffocating siege has cut off access to basic necessities, with troops controlling movement through arbitrary checkpoints and prolonged detentions. "They don’t just want to occupy land—they want to erase our presence," says a camp resident, surveying the rubble of his former home.  

Israel’s tactics—home seizures, forced evacuations, and systemic property destruction—amount to collective punishment, a violation of international law. Yet the global response has been muted, emboldening the military’s campaign of displacement. With each passing day, more families are pushed into homelessness, their livelihoods and history reduced to debris. "We’re living in a nightmare with no end in sight," admits a schoolteacher, her voice trembling.  

As the assault enters its 58th day, Tulkarm’s people face an existential threat. The once-vibrant camps now resemble ghost towns, their schools shuttered and clinics overwhelmed. Survivors speak of a methodical erasure—not just of buildings, but of their very right to remain. "They can demolish our homes, but not our resolve," says an elderly man, clinging to the keys of his destroyed house. For now, resistance means survival, even as the world looks away.