The Board of Peace must address the basic needs of the Palestinian population

Peace in Gaza is not about big discussions in Davos but about guaranteeing that everyone has access to medicine and a place to sleep, says Hassan Herzallah, a writer based in Gaza.

On January 22, 2026, the founding charter of the “Board of Peace” was officially signed on the sidelines of the World Economic Forum (WEF) annual meeting in Davos, Switzerland, in the presence of world leaders and international officials. It was presented as a mechanism to coordinate Gaza’s reconstruction, mobilise international funding and usher in a new phase of “peace and stability.” The language was reassuring: urgent rebuilding, humanitarian support, a historic opportunity.

That morning, I was not following Davos.

I was inside a tent in the Al-Mawasi camp, in the south of the Gaza Strip, after a winter storm had flooded the ground beneath us. We woke up to damp blankets and belongings we tried to save before they were ruined. While architectural renderings of the future of Gaza were projected on large screens in Switzerland, I was spreading a piece of cloth under a pale sun, hoping it would dry.

A friend told me about the Davos announcement with a hint of irony: “Congratulations. There’s now a Peace Board to rebuild Gaza.”

I looked around at the tent I cannot even afford to replace and wondered: what kind of reconstruction begins when we cannot secure a simple tent? If rebuilding is truly the priority, why are we still living under fabric?

If reconstruction is to mean anything, it must begin with the basics: safe shelter that withstands the first winter storm, reliable electricity, access to medical care, open crossings for urgent cases and direct support to families who have lost their homes. Without these foundations, peace risks becoming another announcement rather than a lived reality.

This raises a legitimate question: are we looking at a genuine mechanism to protect civilians, or another political forum for discussion?

From inside Gaza, this is not a theoretical debate. It is a question about the future.

More than 80% of Gaza’s buildings External linkhave been destroyed or severely damaged. Entire neighborhoods have disappeared. Hundreds of thousands remain in tents, overcrowded schools turned shelters, or beside the ruins of their homes. For the third consecutive winter, the tent has become a daily test of survival. When it rains, water seeps in from the edges. When the wind rises, we hold the poles with our hands. At night, fabric does not provide real safety.

Most people in Gaza live without reliable electricity. Our days are governed by the sun. If it shines long enough, we charge a small battery using solar panels. If it doesn’t, everything ends early. On the same day the Peace Board was announced, I was moving between cafés searching for electricity and internet so I could download my university lectures. I checked the percentage on my phone battery while reconstruction plans were being displayed on giant screens in Davos and across social media.

Owning a tent has become a privilege. It can cost around $500 under restrictions on basic materials. Some families live under torn sheets or plastic covers. When billions of dollars are discussed for reconstruction while people are still searching for temporary shelter, the gap between political discourse and daily human need becomes painfully visible.

Since the ceasefire announced on October 11, 2025, we were told a new phase of the war had begun. But approximately 415 Palestinians have been killed and more than 1,152 injured External linkin addition to continued recovery of bodies from beneath the rubble. A ceasefire on paper has not necessarily translated into safety on the ground.

The overall death toll since the beginning of the war has topped 70,000External link. According to a report in The GuardianExternal link newspaper on January 30, 2026, the Israeli army acknowledged that the figures provided by Gaza’s Ministry of Health, estimating around 70,000 dead, were “largely accurate.”

That acknowledgment marked an important shift after months of questioning the numbers.

But acknowledgment is not accountability. 

Recognition does not rebuild a home or restore a civilian life. On the day of the announcement, I spoke with another friend about the Board of Peace. He listened quietly and said, “Peace does not come from political statements, but from actions.” He added, “The reconstruction plans so theatrically presented in Davos are simply meant to placate the global public and its demands for action on Gaza…”

He said that politically conditioned reconstruction could become another form of pressure, one where failure is ultimately blamed on the victims themselves.

Debate over the Board has not been limited to Gaza. The Guardian reported that Israel objected to some proposed members, arguing they did not align with its policy. Some analysts have questioned whether the Board constitutes a credible international institution or rather a vague framework with unclear authority.External link In an episode of Swissinfo’s Inside Geneva podcast, Richard Gowan from the International Crisis Group stated plainly: “I don’t really think this is a credible international institution.”

Criticism alone, however, is not enough. If the Board wishes to be judged by its capacity to make a difference, there are immediate steps it could prioritise, not years from now, but in the coming months.

As a Palestinian living in Gaza, the priorities are clear: safe shelter that does not flood during the first winter storm. Reliable electricity that allows a student to study and a family to live with dignity. A functioning healthcare system capable of receiving patients without extraordinary exceptions. Open crossings for urgent medical cases. Direct compensation for families who have lost their homes and livelihoods.

After survival comes the prevention of social collapse: reopening schools and universities, restoring internet access, providing psychological support for children and youth, and creating temporary employment that preserves a minimum level of income.

In the longer term, rebuilding homes and infrastructure, water networks, electricity grids, hospitals, schools, must be accompanied by economic programmes that enable families to stand on their own. But all of this remains fragile without guarantees that destruction will not be repeated. Accountability and credible protection mechanisms are essential to prevent another cycle.

There is also a crisis of trust. People here no longer ask how many pledges are made; they ask when the tents will disappear.

Peace, as discussed in Davos, appears as a political framework. Peace, as we need it here, is a condition for survival.

It begins on the day when owning a tent is no longer considered an achievement. It begins when a child does not die from cold. It begins when I can study and work without organising my life around sunrise.

The Peace Board will not be tested only in conference halls but here in Al Mawasi, in the camps, in hospitals, in homes yet to be rebuilt and in those that collapsed over their residents.

If it can transform promises into tangible change in people’s lives, it may indeed mark a new beginning. If it remains another political framework above an unchanged reality, then peace will remain a beautiful word, one that does not live under a real roof.

Edited by Virginie Mangin/livm/sb