As hunger grips Gaza, law and order crumbles

As more Palestinians in Gaza edge toward starvation, law and order is breaking down across the besieged strip.

Armed gangs are taking over the streets of Gaza City, fistfights and stabbings are commonplace in long queues for food, and the occasional aid trucks that arrive must brave mobs of looters. The chaos is taking many forms, and neither Palestinian nor Israeli forces are doing anything to stop it.

With Gaza on the brink of famine; children already dying of starvation, according to the United Nations; and aid supplies slowed by Israeli restrictions, the malnutrition death rate is expected to rise in the coming weeks. Also on the rise are desperation and violence.

“Hunger sometimes pushes people to the brink,” says Mohammed Abu Kmeil, a marketing executive and father of two living in Gaza City.

Violence has been spreading in Gaza since the Hamas-run government withdrew its local police force from the streets in the wake of an Israeli attack last month that killed 11 officers, including a senior commander, who were accompanying U.N. trucks carrying aid to northern Gaza.

The Israeli army, meanwhile, withdrew the bulk of its troops from Gaza in January, leaving fighting forces only in and around Khan Yunis in the south, and establishing only sporadic checkpoints and tank patrols elsewhere.

No police, no order

With neither Hamas police nor Israeli soldiers providing security, the Gaza Strip has fallen prey to generalized and often violent disorder.

Fistfights break out in dayslong lines at the few functioning ATMs in Rafah and Deir al-Balah; men carry knives and fight over aid. The Monitor has heard many accounts of individuals knifed for a bag of flour.

“Since when do we carry knives [to grab] a bag of flour or rice?” Yousri Al Ghoul, a writer in northern Gaza, posted on Facebook last week. “Everyone who carries a bladed weapon must be held accountable before they become a scourge.”

A correspondent

A large crowd waits outside an ATM in Gaza. Fights often break out in the dayslong lines to collect cash.

“Where are the Gaza police and the military forces?” Mr. Ghoul wondered. “Decisive control must be taken, otherwise the future will be grave.”

There is no sign of any such control. Gunshots ring out daily in Deir al-Balah, not from Israeli weapons, but from handguns wielded by local residents. Family disputes that escalate into fatal shootings are now a regular occurrence.

The only authorities on the streets these days are Gaza’s economy ministry monitors, dressed in black civilian clothes, who occasionally inspect markets in Rafah and Deir al-Balah to try to stamp out price gouging by pressuring vendors to sell their goods at normal prices.

In an attempt to fill the void left by the absence of the police, “popular protection” groups have formed in Rafah City, formed by local young men in masks, equipped with batons, who attempt to maintain security in markets.

Yet prices remain high, and looting is rampant.

Food – a life or death decision

The U.N. has attributed much of the looting of its trucks to “spontaneous distribution,” by which they mean displaced people, hungry and desperate, stopping trucks and helping themselves to aid before it can reach its intended destination.

But not only individuals are to blame, say local residents.

The bulk of the canned meats and tuna, flour, and other aid items make their way not to families in need, but to markets where they are sold at exorbitant prices, they point out. Rice and flour cost 30 times more than they did before the war. This suggests that organized, armed groups and profiteers are behind much of the trade, and are tightening their grip on northern Gaza.

“The main reason for the scarcity is that ... if aid does come in, it is stolen by force of arms by thieves and thugs,” says Mahmoud Mattar, an accountant in Gaza City.

A correspondent

Palestinian children in Gaza wait to receive food cooked by a charity kitchen amid chronic food shortages.

The lack of security has made searching for food a life-and-death decision in Gaza City, where the World Health Organization says that 1 in 6 children are malnourished, and that patients in hospitals are dying from dehydration and malnutrition.

Mr. Abu Kmeil, the marketing executive, recalls watching the arrival in his neighborhood of a convoy of aid trucks. “I knew I would not be able to get anything because attackers would target the trucks as soon as they arrived, and that they would be armed with knives,” he says.

“I witnessed scenes that filled me with fear,” he remembers. “People were falling over, and others were stepping on them. Some people were snatching bags from others.”

An incident on Feb. 29 highlighted the dangers of trying to find food. When desperate Gaza City residents mobbed one of several aid trucks brought in by local businesspeople in coordination with Israeli officials, Israeli troops opened fire on the crowd. Over 100 people died, either shot by Israeli soldiers or crushed in a stampede.

Flour a “precious treasure”

Airdrops by parachute can also be risky.

During a drop over Gaza City last week, the parachute on one of the heavy crates failed and the pallet crushed to death five of the hundreds of people amassed for a chance to collect some food.

As the five individuals bled to death, others raced to the other landing crates in the hopes of getting their hands on a bag of flour or a ready-cooked meal.

Others are more fortunate.

After two days without food, Abu Fady Ramadan, a 40-year-old house painter, last week finally spotted an airdrop parachute descending not far from his home.

He left his shelter and chased after the parachute as fast as he could, running nearly 2 kilometers, until he finally arrived at its landing site.

As dozens descended on the crate, he was able to pull away a 10-kilogram sack of flour and a small carton of children’s milk amid the scrum. “To me, they were like precious treasures,” he says.

Mr. Mattar, the Gaza City accountant, says he does not go to aid distributions or airdrops “because it is not safe” due to the chaos.

“I will not run after food drops or go at night and risk my life. I have a family” to take care of, he says.

Then Mr. Mattar thinks again. “But maybe I will have to, tomorrow. No one knows what hunger might do to you.”