In Gaza, thirst has become a new form of violence. As the Israeli onslaught enters its second year, the deliberate deprivation of water stands as one of the most brutal tactics of this ongoing war—a silent, suffocating method of control, punishment, and destruction.

Water, once scarce but still reachable, has now been weaponised. Bombed desalination plants, dismantled pipelines, and a crippling blockade on fuel have rendered the strip’s water network all but useless. Even international pleas to allow basic repairs have been ignored. For civilians, the message is clear: survival itself has become forbidden.

In Nuseirat, municipal engineers struggle to provide residents with water just one day a week. Elsewhere, displaced families sheltering in overcrowded camps face relentless hardship, with dozens relying on a single tap, if it even works. For parents, watching their children grow ill from drinking unsafe water is a daily torment. “We’re already living in ruins,” one father said. “Now we must beg for a sip.”

Health conditions are rapidly deteriorating. With sanitation systems in collapse and clean water nearly extinct, preventable diseases spread like wildfire—especially among children weakened by hunger and trauma. Yet amid this unfolding disaster, those responsible face no consequence.

This is not collateral damage. It is a campaign of denial, calculated and precise. Under international law, the use of thirst and starvation as tools of war constitutes a war crime. But in Gaza, such laws seem to dissolve into silence.

The blockade must end. The bombs must stop. And those who have turned water into a weapon must be held to account. Until then, Gaza’s people—2.3 million of them—will continue to endure not just war, but a deliberate drying out of life itself.