[Cairo] In mid-April, a text message appeared on the phones of several residents of the Bureij refugee camp in central Gaza. It was unsigned but claimed to be from Israeli intelligence.
“To the concerned residents of Bureij,” the message read in Arabic. “We are examining the possibility of exiting the Gaza Strip. You are invited to an interview tomorrow, Tuesday, April 22, between 2 a.m. and 9 p.m. at the Netzarim corridor. For coordination, please contact Capt. Abu Al-Majd via WhatsApp at the following number.”
A Gaza resident shared the message and an accompanying screenshot with The Media Line.
Hamas reportedly warned civilians not to respond to the messages, saying they were part of a psychological operation. But for many desperate Gazans, it sounded like a sliver of possibility—a rare chance to escape.
Reports have emerged of Israeli authorities using similar text messages, encouraging Palestinians to present themselves for departure interviews and offering them the possibility of relocation. In some cases, residents say financial incentives were discussed.
Hussein, a 41-year-old farmer from central Gaza’s Deir al-Balah, said he acted on a similar message.
I begged them. I told them I wanted to leave Gaza forever. I can’t take it anymore.
“I begged them,” he recalled, describing how he approached Israeli soldiers at the Netzarim corridor, a narrow, militarized artery cutting through Gaza. “I told them I wanted to leave Gaza forever. I can’t take it anymore.”
He told The Media Line the soldiers’ response was blunt: “There’s no evacuation. Go back to where you came from.”
Now back in Deir al-Balah, Hussein shares a tent with six family members, surviving on dwindling rations.
“Since March, the aid stopped,” he said. “We are being starved in front of the whole world, and no one moves. Hamas dragged us into this war, and instead of pulling out, they just keep making it worse.”
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In a written request for comment, The Media Line asked the Israeli military to clarify the purpose of the messages as well as the military’s policy for interacting with civilians seeking to leave. The military directed The Media Line to the Shin Bet, Israel’s internal security agency, which said it was unable to comment.
Hussein’s desperation is not unique. While more than a million Palestinians in Gaza have been forcibly displaced by Israeli bombardments and ground operations, a quieter, more complex story is emerging—that of civilians actively trying to leave on their own.
Israel’s response to this wave of despair is complicated. It insists it has no plan to forcibly transfer Gaza’s population, but senior officials have discussed establishing government bodies to facilitate “voluntary emigration.”
The concept of relocating Palestinians from Gaza, once taboo, is now openly debated in Israeli policy circles. In January, Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu said publicly that “voluntary relocation is the best solution for Gaza.” According to Israeli media, officials have explored coordination with third countries and even offered logistical support for those willing to leave—though few details have been made public.
The rhetoric from some senior ministers has grown more explicit. On March 9, Finance Minister Bezalel Smotrich announced plans to establish an Emigration Authority under the Defense Ministry, calling it a “historic opportunity” to resolve the Gaza issue in the long term.
Aid organizations and human rights groups argue that under the current conditions, there’s no such thing as voluntary movement.
When people are starving, traumatized, and under constant threat, leaving is not a choice. It’s survival.
Several human rights and aid groups, including Israeli organizations, have recently condemned efforts to promote Palestinian emigration from Gaza. In a May 7 statement, aid agencies criticized Israeli plans to control humanitarian aid through private firms and establish a restricted aid zone near Rafah, warning it could lead to mass displacement. “When people are starving, traumatized, and under constant threat, leaving is not a choice,” a Red Crescent official in Gaza City told The Media Line, speaking on condition of anonymity. “It’s survival.”
Between October 2023 and May 2024, more than 100,000 Palestinians left Gaza, mostly through the Rafah crossing into Egypt. Some were injured civilians in need of urgent care. Others paid brokers thousands of dollars to secure passage for their families. The process was murky, exploitative, and, for many, a last resort.
That exodus largely halted in May 2024, when Israeli forces seized control of the Philadelphi corridor, sealing Gaza’s southern border and cutting off the only remaining civilian exit.
A Gallup International survey conducted in March 2025 found that 52% of Gazans would leave the strip if given the opportunity. Thirty-eight percent said they wanted temporary relocation, while 14% would leave permanently. The younger and more displaced the respondent, the more likely they were to consider it.
The reason is brutally simple: those still in Gaza have no access to safety, jobs, education, or health care.
Rana Salem, a 32-year-old schoolteacher displaced from northern Gaza to the Nuseirat camp, speaks for many when she says the war has stolen her children’s future.
My children are still young. I don’t want them to grow up surrounded by rubble and ruins. I want them to have a future.
“We’re a small family, and my children are still young,” she told The Media Line. “I don’t want them to grow up surrounded by rubble and ruins. I want them to have a future—a real one. I want them to forget the blood, to forget the sound of drones and warplanes that never leave the sky. That sound alone is enough to destroy a child’s nerves.”
As Gaza’s humanitarian crisis deepens, the international response has been fragmented and inconsistent.
Canada has approved hundreds of humanitarian applications. Belgium granted asylum to more than 1,400 Palestinians in six months. France is approving nearly 90% of new Palestinian asylum requests. Even the UK—rarely generous on asylum—granted protection to several Gazans, including one family who entered under a legal loophole initially designed for Ukrainians.
Australia, meanwhile, issued nearly 3,000 visitor visas to Palestinians, though many applicants remain stranded due to paperwork and transport delays. Turkey and Greece have become key transit points, while Indonesia pledged to host 1,000 wounded and orphaned Palestinians. The Netherlands is reviewing temporary transfers for children needing medical treatment.
In recent months, leading Arab states have firmly rejected proposals to relocate Palestinians from Gaza, citing fears of permanent displacement that would undermine the Palestinian national cause. At a March 4, 2025, emergency summit in Cairo, Egyptian President Abdel Fattah el-Sisi called such plans an “injustice” that Egypt “cannot take part in.” He also warned that plans to relocate Gazans to neighboring Arab countries would threaten regional stability.
For those who do leave Gaza, the journey is only the beginning of a new set of uncertainties. Many are stuck in limbo—unable to work, reunite with family, or find long-term housing. Some report being treated with suspicion or hostility. Others quietly adapt, haunted by the guilt of having made it out.
For many still in Gaza, even that reality is preferable to life in the strip.
“No one wants to hear us,” Hussein said. “Not the world. Not Hamas. Not the army. We’re stuck between those who want to use us and those who want to forget us.”