Gaza's partition: Palestinian peril dressed up as pragmatism

Origins in ambiguity

The accompanying 20-point peace framework, unveiled by Trump in late September, laid the political foundation for this pause, but it was ambiguous from the start—more crisis management than crisis resolution. It placed heavy emphasis on Gaza's stabilisation, made scant mention of the West Bank, and left the central issue of Palestinian sovereignty unresolved. The idea of partition emerges directly from this ambiguity; it aims to make an unstable arrangement sustainable by dividing the problem rather than solving it.

Under the plans, Zone A would stay under Israeli military control and would encompass key border crossings (including Egypt's crossing), parts of northern Gaza, and strategic coastal areas. Zone B would go to a "technocratic Palestinian committee," overseen by the likes of Egypt and the UAE. Advocates call Gaza's partition a temporary security arrangement; critics call it a blueprint for permanent fragmentation.

Trump's team—which has been in the thick of discussions in Israel—includes Vice President JD Vance, Secretary of State Marco Rubio, Middle East Envoy Steve Witkoff, and presidential adviser Jared Kushner, who is also Trump's son-in-law. Their visits—framed as solidarity missions— have helped flesh out Gaza's pending 'reorganisation.'

Of particular note was Vance's visit—his first major foreign trip. In Israel, he urged the "beginning of reconstruction efforts under conditions that prevent Hamas's return". His remarks were interpreted as a cautious endorsement of a divided Gaza: Israel controlling security, Palestinians handling reconstruction under supervision. Rubio praised Israel's "clear-headed approach to separating security and governance".

Meanwhile, Kushner and Witkoff met regional investors to discuss reconstruction in 'designated safe zones'. These investors include Emiratis. The proposals, including 'investment corridors' and 'special economic areas,' fit the new partition logic: security from Israel, finance from the Gulf, and nominal administration from the Palestinians. Presented as post-war stabilisation, this now looks like an experiment in controlled fragmentation, with diplomacy, security, and commerce converging to cement a new geopolitical order.

Devastating effects

Dividing Gaza may seem pragmatic, but the effect would be strategically, politically, and morally devastating. It would tie Israeli forces to indefinite policing and expose them to insurgency from the population they control. Hamas—or whatever succeeds it—would say partition is proof that Israel seeks permanent occupation. The 'Palestinian zone' then becomes both a recruiting ground and a propaganda tool.

Division would not bring peace; it would institutionalise conflict. Israel's own military planners warn that partial reoccupation risks "a Vietnamisation of Gaza"—a low-intensity, open-ended conflict draining resources and legitimacy.

For Palestinians, dividing Gaza into a patchwork of enclaves from a single polity only deepens the existing fissure between Gaza and the West Bank. From an existing whole, partition would prompt the atomisation of the Strip into fiefdoms, each with its own external patron and internal rivalries. Administering Zone B would therefore become impossible, a disintegration that would unfurl under Israeli oversight.

For armed Palestinian factions, partition would confirm that engagement with international diplomacy leads not to liberation but to managed containment. In effect, Gaza's division would complete the political dismemberment of the Palestinian national movement—a shift from occupation to fragmentation without liberation.

On the humanitarian level, the implications are dire. Partition would freeze 1.8 million Palestinians into an overcrowded enclave under perpetual blockade, dependent on external aid and vulnerable to renewed military escalation. Reconstruction efforts would be concentrated in "approved areas," while large swathes of the north would remain off-limits, designated as security buffers. Some fear this will formalise Gaza's isolation, replacing the current siege with a permanent spatial and political divide. As one UN official put it privately, this is "occupation by geometry".

The division of Gaza cannot be separated from developments in the West Bank. In August, Israel approved the controversial E1 settlement plan. When built, this will bisect the West Bank and render Palestinian territorial contiguity impossible. Finance Minister Bezalel Smotrich, a settler, celebrated the move as "the final nail in the coffin of the two-state illusion".

Together, the E1 project and the Gaza partition proposal achieve what war could not: the permanent fragmentation of the Palestinian territories into isolated cantons, with a divided Gaza entirely reliant on external aid, and the West Bank a mosaic of settlements. The idea of Palestinian sovereignty then becomes rhetorical only.

Regional reaction

Regional responses to partition have been mixed. Egypt, which firmly resists Israeli efforts to externalise the Gaza problem, is opposed to formal division. Cairo's red lines are clear: no displacement, no permanent Israeli presence in Gaza. Qatar and Türkiye, which have supported Hamas politically, oppose plans to strip Palestinian territorial integrity. The UAE, though publicly neutral, seems interested in reconstruction projects within the 'Palestinian zone,' but only if the US guarantees oversight.

For Washington, managing these conflicting positions is a diplomatic test. The likes of Vance, Rubio, Kushner, and Witkoff add visibility, but not necessarily strategic consistency. US diplomacy is being conducted through personalities, not institutions. This risks producing fragmented policies that mirror the very divisions they aim to fix.

The Gaza ceasefire has achieved short-term humanitarian relief but not strategic clarity. It has frozen the conflict without resolving its causes, and now faces the risk of mutating into a de facto plan for partition, when partition was never mooted. Dividing Gaza would mark a historic regression: the transformation of a political conflict into a cartographic one, with victors drawing lines on Middle East maps, in place of negotiations. This brings not peace but paralysis—two zones, two authorities, one enduring occupation.

When the ceasefire was first announced, some likened it to a "coffee break" in history: a pause between crises, offering a chance to rethink the future. Partition turns that pause into a dead end. Dividing Gaza will not offer to stabilise the region; it will only institutionalise instability, turning the Strip into a mini West Bank—fragmented, militarised, and governed by proxies. It would discredit moderate Palestinian actors, empower extremists, and end any slim hopes of a two-state solution.

As UN Secretary-General António Guterres warned recently: "A ceasefire is not peace, it is only a chance to make peace." Turning that chance into progress means resisting the temptation to settle for short-term fixes that sacrifice justice for manageability. Partition is just that: seductive, superficial, and ultimately self-defeating.

The far better plan is not to divide Gaza but to reintegrate it politically, economically, and territorially into a broader framework that includes the West Bank and leads to genuine Palestinian sovereignty. Anything less will condemn the region to another cycle of violence, another ceasefire, and another illusion of peace.