Questioning the Narrative: What’s Really Happening Around Gaza Aid Hubs?

On 11 July, The Guardian published a deeply troubling article claiming that nearly 800 Palestinians had been killed near food distribution hubs in Gaza since late May. It’s a confronting read. The figures are alarming, the implications clear: Israeli soldiers are accused of firing on starving civilians.

But when you look more closely, the article starts to unravel. It presents a narrative that feels emotionally charged, politically tilted, and, crucially, unbalanced in its sourcing and assumptions.

First, the central claim — that 798 people have died at or near aid hubs — is based on figures provided by the Gaza Health Ministry. That fact alone should raise eyebrows. This is not an independent, impartial institution. It is controlled by Hamas, a terrorist organisation with every incentive to inflate civilian casualties and direct blame toward Israel. For years, Hamas has used figures and images to control the narrative and mobilise global outrage. That doesn’t mean every number is false, but it certainly demands scrutiny. Unfortunately, The Guardian offers none.

More troubling is the article’s central assumption: that Israeli Defence Forces are systematically or carelessly killing civilians queuing for food. No serious motive is ever offered. Why would the IDF do such a thing? It would be politically disastrous and militarily counterproductive. Israel has nothing to gain from killing civilians, especially not in such a visible and public context.

On the other hand, Hamas has clear reasons to disrupt aid that bypasses its control. There are credible, on-the-ground accounts of Hamas operatives firing into crowds to create chaos or prevent civilians from accessing aid distributed outside Hamas channels. These reports — from journalists, aid workers, and CCTV footage — are conspicuously absent from The Guardian’s coverage. That silence speaks volumes.

This isn’t the first time these accusations have surfaced. A nearly identical claim was made on 17 June, again reported uncritically by The Guardian, that dozens were killed while waiting for food trucks (link). That story was later debunked by CCTV footage, which showed a stampede triggered by panic — not IDF fire. But no retraction came. And now, just weeks later, the same narrative is recycled, this time with an even higher death toll and the same lack of evidence.

The latest article can be found here: “Nearly 800 killed in Gaza at food hubs and on aid convoy routes since late May – UN”

Language throughout the article is emotionally loaded. It speaks of “militarised” food hubs and “shots fired” as if the context were a peaceful food market, not an active warzone where an internationally recognised terrorist group uses human shields and fires from civilian areas. There is no distinction made between deaths caused by stampedes, crowd panic, or the fog of war — all are swept together in a vague yet damning indictment.

Perhaps most telling is what the article leaves out. There is no mention of Hamas’ strategic interest in controlling aid. No mention of why the Gaza Humanitarian Foundation (GHF) was created in the first place — namely, to prevent Hamas from diverting food and supplies. There’s no discussion of the inherent risks of delivering aid in a warzone where one party refuses to adhere to international norms and embeds within the civilian population.

The result is a piece of journalism that feels less like an effort to illuminate and more like an attempt to indict. It assumes the worst of Israel, grants uncritical credibility to Hamas-controlled sources, and makes no space for complexity or alternative explanations.

This is not to say Israel is beyond reproach. Far from it. But criticism must be rooted in truth, not assumption; evidence, not emotion. In times of war, when lives are at stake and public opinion has real-world consequences, it is not just irresponsible to report one-sided narratives. It is dangerous.

As readers, we must ask hard questions. Who benefits from this version of events? Why are certain facts highlighted while others are ignored? And most importantly — what if the story is more complicated than the headline suggests?

In the pursuit of peace and justice, truth must remain our standard. Without it, we become not voices for the voiceless, but amplifiers of whatever story suits our sympathies.