The year 2024 saw an unprecedented acceleration of climate change such that the planet experienced its hottest year on record and numerous extreme weather events (Otto et al. 2024, 3). These included heatwaves, droughts, wildfires, storms, and floods, which have accelerated biodiversity loss in habitats such as the Amazon (Otto et al. 2024, 3). This has resulted in the death of thousands and displacement of millions (Otto et al. 2024, 3). The year 2024 also saw the acceleration of what the UN Special Rapporteur on the situation of human rights in the Palestinian territories occupied since 1967, has described as history’s most well-documented genocide in Gaza (Albanese 2024). By 11 November 2024, the number of confirmed fatalities was 43 391 (UNRWA 2024). However, per a 2024 Lancet study this could be nearly 186 000 if indirect deaths are also accounted for (Khatib, McKee, and Yusuf 2024). In addition, some studies have attempted to estimate the CO2 emissions resulting from this. They have found, consistent with other studies of military emissions, that emissions are staggeringly large, though often go unreported (Neimark et al. 2024; Crawford 2019).
Contemplating these ongoing exigencies may posit several questions. For instance, are these crises – one largely environmental, and the other largely social – linked? This may be so in light of the studies on military emissions. Consequently, does one crisis contribute to the other? Is their simultaneous occurrence coincidental, or can causality between them be established through quantitative research? Deeper than a possible unidirectional linear relation of causality between the two, is there a structural element underlying them both which may explain a link between them as well as their exacerbation? If so, can a contention with this structure aid the resistance against both crises?
At the core of these preliminary questions is a question of relationality. As crises pertaining to the planet and its inhabitants, it may seem that the discipline of International Relations (IR) would be best situated to provide answers. This is because of IR’s position as a study of how humanity shares this planetary space (Simangan 2020, 212). Yet, there are suggestions that IR as a discipline is too focused on humans (anthropocentric) or derives from a Western foundation (Simangan 2020). This makes it inadequate in contending with these crises, and may even entrench a contemporary global order which furthers them (Simangan 2020). Indeed, human activities such as mineral extraction, oil drilling, deforestation, agriculture, and urbanisation have been linked to global warming (Dunlap and Brock 2022). They have also been linked to its impacts on extreme weather events, the loss of biodiversity and habitats, and an extinction of species not seen since the fifth mass extinction 66 million years ago (Dunlap and Brock 2022, 2-3; Harrington 2016, 493). If these practices are embedded in the global order sustained by IR, it is pertinent to grapple with the substance of critiques of IR. This is so that these critiques may aid in a possible rethinking of IR which is better able to grasp the relational nature of these crises, their causes, and the impact on all beings constituting Earth’s planetary existence.
Apart from the specific contentions with IR which need exploration, there have been concepts advanced which may advance understandings of human-nature relationality. One such approach has been a terming of the climate crisis as an Anthropocene in which humans have become a geological force in their own right (Steffen et al. 2011). It is argued that this may offer insights into the active role humans have had in shaping the world and how they may take an active role in further shaping it to mitigate the climate crisis (Simpson 2020). However, critiques of this have been advanced which highlight its role in maintaining humans as central as well as espousing the same assumptions and methodologies for which IR has similarly been critiqued (Simpson 2020). Moreover, it may occlude the greater role of specific groups or processes such as the Global North or capital, which if persisting, may not realistically address the crisis (Simangan 2020). Like the critique of IR, this is explored in detail later.
Another approach has come from Marxist understandings of capital’s role in structuring class relations. It is argued that this has created the conditions advancing climate change. Furthermore, this exacerbates the vulnerability of those marginalised on the base of class, including racial and gendered dimensions. The process of capital accumulation has used processes such as industrialisation which contribute to climate change. At the same time, it has created socio-economic conditions which marginalise certain classes of people and hamper their capabilities to adapt to or survive the threats which climate change poses (Perry and Sealey-Huggins 2023).
This seems more promising than the Anthropocene because it shows an awareness of critical inequalities between people. However, this has also been critiqued for its Western foundation, occlusion of non-Western perspectives, and privileging of economic relations over social ones (Grosfoguel 2007, 215). It is also premised on an understanding of history derived from Europe and emphasising the progressive development of humanity (Simpson 2020, 62). Even in the absence of capitalism, there may be conditions persisting which continue climate change and privilege some actors over others (Simpson 2020, 66). Once more, these critiques are explored further below especially as they derive from decolonial theories which also critique IR and the Anthropocene.
There is yet another approach which emerges which is less centrally concerned with humans or capital and asserts a biopolitical power of the state over life and death. Originating in the writings of Michel Foucault, this entails a post-medieval governance strategy regulating populations and life by “making live and letting die” through immeasurable modern modes of control (Quinan and Thiele 2020, 2-3). This may entail interventions to control birth rates, mortality rates, disabilities, and the environment through means technological or economic, themselves derived from political power (Puar 2015, 7). Accounting for the diverse modes and underlying political structure which inform the crisis of climate change and its relation to life, this may offer more insight than Marxist theories or the Anthropocene. This is especially in its consideration of a fundamental of life itself – death. Still, this has been critiqued for similarly having Eurocentric roots which only accounts for race, perhaps similar to Marx, in describing the European states’ encounters outside Europe (Puar 2015, 6). As a related element, European populations’ relations to the state were defined by their human subjectivity while non-Europeans were arguably seen as less than human (Mignolo 2009, 174). In addition, there may even be structures which do not simply make live or let die, but make death, suggesting a necropolitics in which death is privileged (Quinan and Thiele 2020, 3). The maxim could thus change to describe who “gets to live and who must die”. This may account for the impacts of weapons on life, as well as the different forms of life, some understood to be human, and others not (the environment and even humans) (Quinan and Thiele 2020, 3). These feature in an order which can decide and effect who dies (Quinan and Thiele 2020, 3). Could this be the structure underlying an order which decides both if the environment can be degraded and if some humans can die (in the mode of genocide)? Body-politics as a specific theory considering who may die based on who is considered human, may be a more specific structure of this power, or body-power (Mignolo 2009, 174).
These thoughts all guide considerations which aid in a critique of IR’s insufficiencies. They also go beyond simply considering the environment in an anthropocentric, economic, or political power calculus, to encompass a conception in which life itself is rethought. This is such that anthropocentric, economic, or political elements may be understood as modes and not universal determinants of crises. Harrington (2016, 481) envisions that this may reflect a reality in which humans and non-humans, things, and materials all co-exist in complex relations of life and non-life. In this conception, nature itself may not be some pure object separate from humans, but a fluid ecology of being encompassing humans, animals, plants, and non-living beings (anthropogenically occurring or otherwise) (Harrington 2016, 487-488; Grove 2019). With there being no clear distinction between “self” and “other” in this conception, it becomes possible to see climate change as natural without ascribing to this a moral judgement. Instead judgement is reserved for relations existing in nature (neither solely human nor poised against a static imaginary of a pure nature) which destroy life. In the case of climate change and genocide in Gaza, it could be possible that the traditional designations of ecocide and genocide may be a perpetuation of this. This is perpetuated in an order which is violent and fundamentally concerned with destroying nature (human and non-human alike). Rethinking IR may thus propose that in understanding the impact of war on the environment, humans are present as an inextricable constituent of a broader ecology of nature. This would have implications for answering the questions posed above so that in understanding complexity, the causes of crises may be better understood. This perhaps then opens avenues by which these crises may be addressed.
To explore these possibilities, this study discusses the background of Gaza specifically to contextualise the imagination of what rethinking may look like. This is then followed by a discussion of the structure this study follows. This will highlight how a rigorous critique of IR and other theories which goes further than that offered above can yield insights into the modes allowing relational crises to persist. Furthermore, this may offer possible avenues of alternative ways of thinking, which applied to the case study in Gaza, rethinks the impact of war on the environment to reveal the complex relations between the beings constituting its nature. This study proposes alternative ways of thinking by discussing Gaza in a way that may challenge the conventions of IR. It also highlights the central need for Palestinian agency in addressing crises affecting Gaza’s nature (amongst them, genocide, ecocide, climate change). These relational and complex forms may not hold the precise answers. However, they open the door to the possibilities of better understanding this crises and others. They also emphasise the primacy and agency of beings faced by those crises – in this case the Palestinians and Palestine’s environment. Hence, it may be more radical to look at crises from the perspective of sites like Gaza, than to look at Gaza from the perspective of crises like climate change (Mignolo 2007b, 159). Or, it may be more radical to think IR as a Palestinian in Gaza than to study Gaza by thinking IR (Mignolo 2009, 171).
Case Study Background
Israel’s war on Gaza is understood to have begun on October 7, 2023, when Hamas, the group possessing nominal control of the Gaza Strip, launched the Tufan al-Aqsa offensive which has commonly been called a terrorist attack on Israel (Malm 2024). This offensive, as an attack by Hamas fighters with technologically inferior weaponry, nevertheless overcame Israel’s military and technological superiority (Malm 2024). Hamas thus attacked various sites in Israel including settlements and a music festival, killing people and capturing hostages (Malm 2024).
While the specific impacts and arguments of this event will be discussed below, it has been asserted that this cannot be seen as an event in isolation of Israel’s occupation of Palestine and blockade of Gaza. Rather, this was a form of resistance to an ongoing war which began as early as 1917 (Malm 2024; Albanese 2024; Khalidi 2020). While a later chapter contends with this in detail, the basic dimensions are discussed here.
The settlement of European Jews in Ottoman Palestine accelerated in the late 19th and early-20th centuries (Mock, Obeidi, and Zeleznikow 2014, 1251). The Ottoman Empire was later defeated in World War I (Mock et al. 2014, 1251). The diverse population of Palestine and uncertainty as to what would emerge from the Ottoman Empire’s remains, led to the establishment of British administrative control of Palestine (Mock et al. 2014, 1251). This was made possible through a League of Nations Mandate in 1922 (Mock et al. 2014, 1251). The British Mandate of Palestine continued until 1948, when a State of Israel was declared and admitted to the UN (Mock et al. 2014, 1253). This had followed the 1947 proposal of a UN Special Committee on Palestine of two states – one Arab and one Jewish – with the city of Jerusalem under international trusteeship (Mock et al. 2014, 1253). While Israel accepted this, the Arab League did not, and intervened in Palestine until their defeat by Israel in 1949 (Mock et al. 2014, 1253). At this time, many Palestinians were displaced, and precluded from returning by Israel’s absentee laws denying them their property or citizenship (Mock et al. 2014, 1253). At the same time, Gaza came to be populated with many of the people experiencing this displacement (Nijim 2023, 166). While Gaza was under Egypt’s control at this time, it was occupied by Israel in 1967 when the Six-Day War between Israel and Egypt, Jordan, and Syria saw Israel make an unexpected victory and vast territorial gains (Mock et al. 2014). These territories were not incorporated into Israel formally (Mock et al. 2014, 1255). This was so as not to disrupt a Jewish majority and its government, as well as to not counter the narrative of Israel as democratic by denying Palestinians in these territories political rights (Mock et al. 2014, 1255). They thus remained occupied.
Palestinian resistance began emerging in response to this. In Gaza, Palestinians could no longer benefit from the progresses advanced by the Egyptian government in terms of trade and education, and became increasingly dependent on Israel, where many Palestinians in Gaza were exploited for cheap labour (Nijim 2023, 167). In 1968, the Palestinian Liberation Organisation (PLO) was formed and would later come to be acknowledged as the sole legitimate representative of the Palestinian people (Mock et al. 2014). The First Intifada was nevertheless spontaneously launched in 1987 as a resistance of civil disobedience and violence to Israeli occupation (Mock et al. 2014). About 1400 Palestinians died as a result of this, while many more were injured (Nijim 2023, 167). This continued until 1993 when the Oslo Accords were signed between Israel and the PLO, also forming the Palestinian National Authority (PNA) which would ostensibly govern Gaza and the West Bank (Mock et al. 2014, 1258). Still, Israeli settlements continued, as well as its military occupation of Gaza (Mock et al. 2014). Between 2000 and 2005, this saw resistance take form in the Second Intifada (Mock et al. 2014, 1259). This was after Israeli Prime Minister Ariel Sharon had visited the Al-Aqsa Mosque, an Islamic holy site, and the supposed location of the demolished Jewish Second Temple (Mock et al. 2014, 1259; Weizman 2023, 127). In 2005, Israel did withdraw its forces and settlers from Gaza, but maintained a wall around the Gaza Strip, with six checkpoints allowing entry and departure – five controlled by Israel and one by Egypt (Mock et al. 2014; Nijim 2023, 168).
In the 2006 elections, Hamas, which had been established at the beginning of the First Intifada, won more support than Fateh who controlled the Palestinian Authority (Mock et al. 2014; Agha et al. 2024, 4). Fateh and Hamas were then unable to form a coalition and Israel, the US, and other international actors boycotted Hamas unless they abandoned armed resistance (Nijim 2023, 168). A civil war ensued in which Hamas retained full control of Gaza which Israel further besieged, restricting entry and reducing goods supplied to a minimum (Nijim 2023, 168). This has been accompanied by a humanitarian crisis, an ailing economy, and declining provisions of utilities such as water and electricity (Nijim 2023, 168). Gaza is now one of the most densely occupied places in the world, with a population of above 2 million in an area of about 360 square kilometres (Nijim 2023, 175). In addition to the decline in living conditions, it has since seen major bombardment in 2008-2009, 2014, and today (Agha et al. 2024, 4). It is within this context that the fighters of October 7, the humanitarian situation in Gaza, and Gaza’s being itself should be understood. Beyond these political developments, the very identity of Gaza shall be looked at more closely later.
Conclusion
What follows is an attempt to rethink IR for understanding the impact of the war on the environment in terms of Gaza’s context. In doing so, critiques of IR and Western theories may yield insights into which structures perpetuate relations of violence on life and non-life forms which encompass more than humans in a broader conception of nature. This may also yield insights into alternatives which go beyond this.
To do so, the second chapter conducts a literature review which attempts to critically situate the foundations of IR, conflict and security, war and its impacts, the environment and the Anthropocene, and Gaza. This maps the terrain upon which the research design, discussed in the third chapter, is premised. Specifically, this goes beyond the questions above to discuss the rationale of this study as well as its aims. In addition, it discusses a methodology which emphasises a mixed-method approach while discussing its merits and limitations. The fourth chapter develops the critical insights from the literature review to develop a conceptual framework which more expansively considers the relations which exist between beings. This also takes note of key considerations in thinking this way. These include how the “self” and “other” are constructed, how time and history are usually approached, and how the knowledge-producer’s position is vital to consider. The fifth chapter develops this in Gaza’s context by thinking through the complexity of Gaza’s history and relations and how its identity is thus formed. The sixth chapter applies this discussion to understand how the impact of war on the environment in Gaza manifests as ecocide. It further considers how the humanitarian situation could be understood as co-constituting this through genocide. Through both chapters discussing the case study, it is carefully considered what is meant by life and how its indeterminant and relational constitution can allow for agency or violence. The final chapter reflects on the broad themes and evidence presented throughout this study such that the relations between ecocide and genocide are highlighted as implicated in a deeper ecology. This necessitates broader thinking for understanding phenomena such as the impact of war on the environment or genocide which is possible through novel methods. A mixed-methods study is one such method, but this study overall yields other methods which can lead to richer and more diverse forms of knowledge. Thinking about nature and life more expansively could be advanced by thinking not just with data or history, but the marginalised, the dead, animals, plants, and even the non-human.
This represents the work from my Master’s research, which can be found in full here.