By Dima Abusaqer
In the Gaza Strip, the right to education is no longer merely a matter of curricula or teaching quality; it has become an existential battle fought by an entire generation against erasure and systematic ignorance.
Before October 2023, Gaza recorded one of the highest literacy rates in the region, with illiteracy not exceeding 3%. Palestinians viewed education as their strongest and most enduring weapon. Today, however, this vibrant intellectual landscape has been transformed into what academics describe as “scholasticide,” where the collective mind of society is targeted through the destruction of its intellectual infrastructure.
The story begins with more than 625,000 students being deprived of access to their schools. The destruction of schools was not merely collateral damage from military operations; rather, it appeared to be a direct assault on the community’s collective memory.
The remaining schools that escaped bombardment were forced to open their doors as shelters for tens of thousands of displaced families. Classrooms once designed for forty students became overcrowded spaces filled with the pain of displacement, where blackboards and textbooks disappeared, replaced by the daily struggle to secure food and clean water.
At the level of higher education, the tragedy becomes even deeper.
Major universities in Gaza—such as the Islamic University and Al-Azhar University—have been reduced to rubble. These institutions, once beacons of knowledge that graduated doctors, engineers, and intellectuals, have turned into gray, hollow structures or temporary camps where people cook over firewood. As a nineteen-year-old young woman, I was supposed to be experiencing my passion during my second year of university. Instead, I now find myself trying to rebuild what the war has destroyed within me. This loss represents a forced suspension of life itself. This generation completed high school under extremely harsh conditions, amid repeated displacement and the absence of regular examinations, only to find themselves trapped in an endless “waiting room,” growing older while their academic dreams remain frozen in the moment the war began.
Even the alternative solutions proposed by the international community, such as “online learning,” seem disconnected from Gaza’s reality.
How can a student attend a virtual class while living in conditions resembling the Stone Age?
Searching for a weak internet signal often requires climbing piles of rubble, while the constant electricity outages force students into cruel choices: should they charge their phones to attend a lecture, or preserve the remaining battery power to light the darkness of their tents at night?
When opportunities inside Gaza disappeared, international scholarships became the last lifeline. Yet the closure of vital crossings, most notably the Rafah Crossing and Kerem Shalom Crossing, tightened the blockade around that hope as well. Hundreds of outstanding students were denied the opportunity to join universities abroad, becoming prisoners within the borders of the Strip, watching their visas and opportunities vanish day after day because of prolonged restrictions, coordination obstacles, and travel bans.
Despite this darkness, the determination of the people continues to emerge as a genuine act of resistance. Amid the ruins and tents, volunteer teachers, in coordination with UNRWA and local organizations, have begun establishing alternative “educational tents.” Here, the goal is no longer educational luxury, but rather the fight to keep the Arabic alphabet alive in the minds of children. They teach basic literacy and arithmetic to prevent an entire generation from slipping into illiteracy. In Gaza today, education is no longer simply an institutional duty; it has become a powerful expression of a people’s determination to resist ignorance and prove their survival through holding onto the pen.
Rebuilding Gaza is not limited to pouring concrete and reconstructing the walls of schools and universities. It must begin with restoring dignity and hope to an entire generation that has nearly been erased from the calculations of history. Gaza’s students are not asking for impossible sympathy or temporary solidarity. They are demanding their fundamental human right, guaranteed by all international conventions: the genuine return to their classrooms, so they may build with their own hands the future they deserve.
#FromTheGround
Education and professional training are universal rights. Ensuring access to these rights is the responsibility of governments, civil society, and activists worldwide. Through its “From the Ground” column, Yalla Study seeks to amplify the voices of those who have been denied access to education. The situation in Gaza serves as a stark reminder that without recognition, protection, and action, the right to education can quickly become an empty promise.
