The humanitarian sector has always had its issues in Palestine, but the way it has been operating since the genocide in Gaza began is more troubling than ever.

(Article by Falastine Saleh republished from MiddleEastEye.net)

After signing the Oslo Accords in 1993, and under the guise of “state-building”, international donors and major NGOs arrived with pre-packaged liberal agendas, throwing around terms like “empowerment”, “development”, and “statehood”.

On the surface, they came to help. In reality, their presence served other purposes, ones far removed from supporting Palestinian liberation.

These organisations, whether intentionally or not, have actively depoliticised the Palestinian struggle, fragmented grassroots movements and enforced a dependency on international aid that prioritises foreign policy interests over the needs of the people.

By framing and packaging the issue as one of “development” or “humanitarian aid”, NGOs shifted the focus from addressing the structural violence of Israeli occupation to solving technical problems. The Palestinian struggle for freedom was reduced to issues like “capacity building”, completely stripped of its political essence.

This tendency has never been more obvious than during the ongoing genocide in Gaza, where the humanitarian organisations scramble to respond to the immediate crisis, but their avoidance of addressing its root causes is deafening.

Their focus is solely on distributing aid while avoiding naming the man-made nature of the catastrophe or holding Israel accountable for its war crimes.

Palestinian ’empowerment’

The arrival of these organisations fractured Palestinian civil society in ways that ultimately served their own agendas.

Before their interference, the Palestinian liberation movement was led by grassroots groups – workers, farmers, students, feminists, youth organisations and political parties – who were united in their fight against Israeli colonialism. NGOs came in and compartmentalised this collective resistance, introducing donor-friendly frameworks that imposed their own definitions of Palestinian “empowerment”.

What they failed to recognise – whether intentionally or not – was that these groups weren’t advocating for better wages, land rights or gender equality; they were fighting for their survival and freedom from the Israeli occupation in a naturally intersectional manner.

Even worse, over the years, Palestinian civil society became reliant on the funding these NGOs attracted. But that funding came with strings attached.

International donors, driven by foreign policy interests, set the terms, creating funding criteria that discouraged political organising and penalised those who dared to confront the realities of Israeli colonialism.

Once bold and uncompromising, Palestinian NGOs were pushed to self-censor in order to preserve their funding.

This dependency didn’t just neutralise Palestinian activism – it allowed the occupation to thrive. By stepping in to provide services and aid that should legally be the responsibility of the occupying power, the very existence of humanitarian organisations in Palestine reinforces the system of oppression they claim to fight.

They may not have built the prison walls, but they definitely help maintain them.

As we confront the horrific reality of genocide today, the failures of the humanitarian sector have become painfully clear to me – I’ve lived them.

At the onset of the genocide in Gaza, I worked in the advocacy and communications department of a prominent international NGO. What I witnessed was more than complicity; it was an active erasure of Palestinian voices. The lies, gaslighting and manipulation I experienced went far beyond anything I could have imagined.

Appeasing Zionists

One incident stands out vividly. The organisation chose to partner with an Israeli group, a decision quietly orchestrated by the regional office and withheld from local staff until the last possible moment.

When we found out, we were outraged. We explained that such a partnership not only violated the organisation’s mandate but carried deeply problematic political implications, especially at this critical moment.

Our concerns were dismissed outright by the predominantly white regional management. They accused us of bias and even questioned our commitment to human rights and the organisation’s mission.

Despite our objections, they went ahead, prioritising the approval of donors and appeasing leaders within the organisation known for their staunch Zionist views.

But the manipulation didn’t stop there. Everything we wrote – from tweets to reports – had to go through a gruelling “sign-off process” that felt more like censorship. They even hired a white European staff member whose sole job was to edit and approve anything that came out of our department.

This person blocked statements that called out Israel for its war crimes, insisted on inserting false equivalences into our reports, and decided which truths were palatable enough for publication.

It didn’t matter that we were Palestinians living under occupation, writing from experience. Our voices were silenced in favour of narratives that prioritised the organisation’s political interests and donor relations.

The racism within the humanitarian sector extends far beyond policies – it permeates hiring practices and workplace culture.

In a recent interview with a prominent international NGO in Palestine, I was met with a question that was as insulting as it was telling: “How are you going to separate being Palestinian from the work?”

With that one question, my years of experience, skills and professionalism were brushed aside, reduced instead to my Palestinian identity – a problem in their eyes. Clearly, being Palestinian made me unprofessional, biased and unfit in their framework.

Unbearable hypocrisy

The questions only got worse.

I was asked how I would “manage my frustration” as a Palestinian working within their so-called red lines. They referenced a panel I had participated in where I had criticised humanitarian organisations for their complicity in Gaza’s genocide and asked me to justify my remarks.

My response – that these criticisms were based on facts and should not be swept under the rug – made them visibly uncomfortable. I left the interview feeling angry, attacked and deeply discriminated against.

This isn’t just about one bad interview or one terrible organisation. It’s about a sector that systematically silences Palestinian voices.

As Palestinians, we’re seen as too emotional, too biased, too unprofessional to work in an industry that claims to champion justice and human rights.

It’s a whole sector where we’re expected to strip ourselves of our identity, to become hollow mouthpieces for statements that dilute the truth, serve the status quo, and enable their failure to act.

The hypocrisy is unbearable. While our people are being massacred in Gaza, we’re subjected to anti-Palestinian racism by the very organisations that claim to stand for human rights. These institutions demand neutrality from us, yet they themselves are anything but neutral.

I’m done with this sector for the most part. I count myself lucky to have developed other skills, ones I can use to make a living without compromising my values.

I urge every Palestinian NGO worker to do the same. Build something outside this oppressive system because the system will never change. It wasn’t designed to.

Palestinians deserve better. We will fight for our freedom, we will fight to serve justice, and we will do it on our terms, not theirs.

The views expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily reflect the editorial policy of Middle East Eye.

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