When Borders Close, Bodies Become Bargaining Chips

The Rafah crossing between Gaza and Egypt will reopen only when the final Israeli body is returned, Israeli officials announced this week. This single sentence encapsulates one of the most morally complex aspects of modern conflict: when human remains become the key to human movement.

The crossing, Gaza's only gateway to the outside world that doesn't go through Israel, has been effectively sealed since Israeli forces took control of the Palestinian side in May 2024. For 2.3 million Palestinians trapped in Gaza, this border represents more than geography—it's their lifeline to medical care, education, and escape from a war zone that has claimed over 46,000 lives.

The Anatomy of a Hostage Exchange

The mechanics are stark in their simplicity. Hamas and other Palestinian groups hold the remains of Israeli soldiers and civilians killed during the October 7, 2023 attack and subsequent conflict. Israel controls the border crossings. Each side possesses what the other desperately wants, creating a marketplace where grief becomes currency.

This isn't unique to Gaza. Similar dynamics have played out in conflicts from Syria to Colombia, where armed groups have learned that controlling human remains—or living hostages—provides leverage that conventional weapons cannot. The difference lies in scale and visibility. Few conflicts trap 2.3 million people behind borders controlled by their adversaries.

The families on both sides exist in parallel universes of anguish. Israeli families cannot properly mourn or conduct religious burials without their loved ones' remains. Palestinian families watch relatives die from treatable conditions because they cannot reach hospitals in Egypt or elsewhere. Both groups' suffering becomes instrumental to their leaders' broader political objectives.

The Border as Weapon

Modern warfare increasingly targets civilian infrastructure—not just to win battles, but to shape post-conflict political arrangements. Border crossings represent the ultimate chokepoint, where military control translates directly into civilian suffering.

Egypt finds itself in an impossible position. Opening Rafah without Israeli consent risks escalating tensions with its most important regional security partner. Keeping it closed makes Egypt complicit in Gaza's isolation. Cairo has largely chosen the path of least resistance, deferring to Israeli security concerns while providing humanitarian aid through other channels.

This dynamic extends beyond the Middle East. When Russia controls Ukrainian grain exports, when Turkey manages Syrian refugee flows, or when the US determines asylum processes at its southern border, we see similar patterns: borders becoming tools of statecraft, with civilian populations bearing the cost.

The International Community's Blind Spot

International law is remarkably clear about civilian access to medical care and freedom of movement, yet remarkably ineffective at enforcing these principles when they conflict with security concerns. The Geneva Conventions require occupying powers to facilitate civilian welfare, but provide few mechanisms for enforcement when compliance threatens perceived security interests.

European Union officials have called for Rafah's reopening while simultaneously negotiating migration deals that keep their own borders closed to asylum seekers. United Nations agencies document the humanitarian crisis while lacking the political leverage to address its root cause: the weaponization of border control.

This selective application of humanitarian principles reveals an uncomfortable truth about the international system. When great powers or their allies control borders, humanitarian law becomes advisory. When adversaries do the same, it becomes grounds for sanctions or intervention.