In Gaza’s darkened hospitals, life now hangs by a thread, not just because of wounds or disease, but because the fuel that powers every breath, every heartbeat, every glimmer of medical care, is gone.

Generators that once kept intensive care units alive are shutting down. Premature babies in incubators lie between life and death, while dialysis patients are turned away. In Al-Shifa Hospital, where emergency rooms once bustled with 600 cases a day, silence has taken over. No lights, no machines, just fear and the scent of despair.

Medical staff fight exhaustion and heartbreak with bare hands. “We’re counting the minutes,” says Dr. Mohammed Al-Najjar, standing outside an operating room with no guarantee of electricity. “Each flicker of light could be the last.” Nurse Mona Ashour adds, “We are not heroes, we’re human. We just want our patients to survive.”

Hospitals are operating at less than 20% of their capacity. Over 80% have been forced to shut down departments entirely. Fuel deliveries are blocked, water is almost gone, and waste is piling up. Children with cancer miss chemotherapy, ICU patients await certain death, and mothers pray over silent incubators. “Death is arriving with the silence,” says Dr. Al-Hams from Nasser Hospital. “Israel knows the fuel is gone,  and is still blocking access.”

According to Al-Dameer, this is no accident. The denial of fuel and medicine is a deliberate act of collective punishment, a war crime under international law. Article 33 of the Fourth Geneva Convention forbids this. Yet the international community remains paralysed, issuing statements while Gaza gasps.

UNRWA calls fuel the “lifeline” of Gaza, but the line has been cut. Over two million people now face disaster not because of a natural crisis, but because cruelty has been turned into policy. And as Gaza’s hospitals fall silent one by one, the world watches ,  in knowing silence.