NARRATIVE: El-Alamein, June 2026 — Egypt plays its hand to save Gaza

El-Alamein: the involuntary symbol

El-Alamein. The Mediterranean coastal city west of Alexandria, made famous by the Second World War battles fought there in 1942–1943. It was there, in June 2026, that Egypt chose to convene an emergency meeting between Palestinian factions and mediators in an attempt to save the second phase of the Gaza ceasefire agreement. The choice of venue was deliberate: El-Alamein is embedded in collective memory as a turning point, a moment when the course of a war shifts. Egypt was hoping history would repeat itself.

The initial meeting had been scheduled for Wednesday, June 4, 2026. It was postponed to Sunday — a warning sign in itself. Hamas had requested the delay, denouncing "ongoing Israeli operations" and calling the meeting "meaningless" under those conditions. The implication was stark: Kyiv strikes Russia while diplomats talk; Gaza bleeds while mediators prepare.

The framework: the October 2025 Sharm el-Sheikh agreement

To understand the urgency of El-Alamein, the framework must be recalled. In October 2025, at the Sharm el-Sheikh summit presided over by Donald Trump, a 20-point ceasefire agreement was signed between Israel and Hamas. Phase 1 of that agreement provided for: a ceasefire, a prisoner and hostage exchange, a partial Israeli withdrawal behind a "yellow line" leaving Israel controlling approximately 53% of Gaza, and a massive influx of humanitarian aid. By June 2026, Israel was in reality controlling 64% of Gaza — or more, according to some sources — well beyond what the agreement stipulated.

There is a tragic geometry to this conflict. Every agreement signed seems to carry more symbolic weight than legal weight. The Sharm el-Sheikh deal produced a "truce" during which more than 900 Palestinians were killed according to Hamas, and during which Israel extended its control well beyond the agreed limits. Calling that a ceasefire is using words to avoid seeing reality.

Hamas and the Palestinian factions

The Hamas delegation was led by Khalil al-Hayya, the movement's leader in Gaza. With him: Nazar Awad, along with representatives from Islamic Jihad and the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP). The presence of these three factions was significant: any final agreement would need to be accepted by all of them to carry legitimacy on the ground. It was also the source of complications: Islamic Jihad and the PFLP held even harder positions than Hamas on the question of disarmament.

Hamas's position at El-Alamein was clear: complete Phase 1 of the agreement — stop Israeli assassinations, open crossing points, allow the Gaza National Administrative Committee to enter — before any discussion of Phase 2. On disarmament, Hamas drew a distinction between heavy weapons it was prepared to surrender and light arms it wished to keep. For the other factions, the position was even more rigid: "Islamic Jihad and the PFLP refuse to hand over their weapons."

The mediators: Egypt, Qatar, Turkey

Egypt played a central role in convening and organizing the talks. Egyptian intelligence chief Hassan Rashad led the mediation efforts. Cairo had crafted a weapons proposal published in the Egyptian newspaper Al-Shorouk: a gradual and progressive process of arms collection and inventory, under Palestinian national supervision, with no transfer to Israel, linked to the establishment of an administrative committee and an international stabilization force.

Qatar and Turkey rounded out the mediator table. Egypt had explicitly invited Ankara and Doha to put forward "new proposals" to bridge the gap between the demands of American envoy Nickolay Mladenov — tasked by Trump with overseeing the Peace Council — and Hamas's position. The newspaper Al-Arabiya reported that Egypt was working hard to "find a way out and resume negotiations on phases 1 and 2 of Trump's peace plan."

I look at the mediator table and wonder whether multiplying the players helps or complicates things. Egypt, Qatar, Turkey — three countries with their own regional agendas, their complex relationships with Hamas, their calculations vis-à-vis Israel and the United States. Multilateral mediation can produce durable agreements because it engages multiple guarantors. It can also produce vague agreements because each mediator allows through ambiguities that suit its own interests. Gaza needs a clear agreement, not a text open to unlimited interpretation.

Hamas disarmament: the Gordian knot

Phase 2 of the Sharm el-Sheikh agreement envisioned, in the American and Israeli reading: the complete disarmament of Hamas and other Palestinian factions, a gradual Israeli military withdrawal from Gaza, the deployment of an international stabilization force, and the establishment of a Palestinian technocratic government. It is on the disarmament question that Phase 2 has been stuck for months.

Hamas has said repeatedly that it would not surrender its weapons while Israel remains in Gaza. The logic is strategic: disarming before a full Israeli withdrawal means being left defenseless before an army controlling 64% of the territory that has killed more than 900 Palestinians since the October 2025 ceasefire. Egypt's proposal for "gradual disarmament under national supervision" was precisely designed to defuse that objection — by asking Hamas not to disarm now, but to accept a process.

The National Administrative Committee: the other obstacle

Alongside disarmament, Phase 2 called for the entry into Gaza of the Gaza National Administrative Committee — a body of 15 independent Palestinian technocrats tasked with managing the territory's day-to-day affairs during the transition. The committee had been formed in January 2026. By June 2026, Israel had still not authorized its entry into Gaza. The committee members remained waiting, outside the territory.

Mladenov, the American representative of the Peace Council, had presented the factions with a roadmap that explicitly linked the committee's entry to disarmament. Hamas considered that conditionality unacceptable: why disarm before seeing whether civilian administration can function? Israel, for its part, conditions everything on the neutralization of Hamas's military capabilities. This vicious cycle explains the urgency of El-Alamein.

There is a question no one wants to ask plainly: what does Israel actually want in Phase 2? Every Israeli demand — total disarmament, maintained military control, blocking the administrative committee — has the practical effect of prolonging the occupation while asking Hamas to renounce its resistance capabilities. That is not a negotiation. It is capitulation disguised as a peace process. And Hamas knows it.

The days of consultations: "positive progress"

Despite the initial tensions — the postponement from June 4 to June 8 — meetings finally got underway at El-Alamein on Sunday, June 8, 2026. The newspaper Al-Qahera News, close to Egyptian services, reported that the meeting focused on a roadmap for completing Phase 2 of the agreement. Discussions included bilateral meetings between factions and mediators, then with Mladenov.

On Thursday, June 11, Hamas spokesperson Hazem Qassem announced "acceptable convergences" on complex issues. Hamas political bureau member Hossam Badran spoke of "real progress." These encouraging statements should not be read as a sign that an agreement was imminent — they are part of routine diplomatic communication. But they suggested that the factions had found common ground on certain intermediate points, notably a unified Palestinian position on the roadmap.

The red lines that remained

Despite the "progress," positions remained irreconcilable coming out of the El-Alamein week. Palestinian factions unanimously demanded that "militias" collaborating with the Israeli army be disbanded before any disarmament of resistance groups — a condition they deemed necessary to preserve social stability in Gaza. They refused any arms transfer to Israel. They conditioned any progress on Phase 2 on Israel respecting its Phase 1 obligations, including stopping airstrikes and opening humanitarian corridors.

Yet during these negotiations, the Israeli military continued its operations. Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu declared shortly before the El-Alamein meetings that he had ordered the army to extend its control to 70% of Gaza — or more. That declaration, made while mediators were preparing to negotiate, sent a politically disastrous signal for the credibility of the peace process.

Netanyahu ordering the expansion to 70% while mediators gather at El-Alamein is a sign that the right wing of the Israeli government does not want a deal based on Trump's plan. It wants a total military victory. And as long as Netanyahu remains politically dependent on his far-right coalition allies, he cannot accept an agreement that entails a significant withdrawal from Gaza. That is the real impasse — not between Hamas and the mediators, but between Netanyahu and his own political survival.

Why Cairo is so invested

Egypt has deep strategic interests in resolving the Gaza conflict. It shares a border with the enclave through the Rafah crossing — a critical transit point for humanitarian aid. Destabilization in Gaza directly threatens security in the Sinai Peninsula, where extremist groups have historically found refuge. President Abdel Fattah el-Sisi has a domestic political interest in demonstrating that Egypt can play a constructive role in resolving regional crises — it reinforces his diplomatic credibility and his relationships with Washington and the Gulf states.

Egypt also operates as a discreet guarantor of American interests in this process. It has direct communication channels with Hamas that Washington does not possess — the United States does not recognize Hamas and does not negotiate with it directly. Cairo plays the role of interpreter and conduit between the American vision of the "Trump plan" and the political reality of Hamas. That central position gives it considerable diplomatic leverage in the region.

Egypt's weapons proposal

The weapons proposal developed by Egypt — published exclusively in Al-Shorouk — was technically sophisticated. It envisioned a gradual process: first an arms inventory under Palestinian national supervision, then a phased collection linked to concrete steps (establishment of civil administration, deployment of the stabilization force, Israeli withdrawal). The process would be "Palestinian-led," would exclude any arms transfer to Israel, and would be linked to progress on other aspects of the agreement.

This proposal implicitly acknowledged that the total and immediate disarmament demanded by Israel was politically unviable for Hamas. It sought a process Hamas could accept without appearing to surrender. It also sought to reassure Israel that Hamas would not remain permanently armed. If both sides were acting in good faith, this proposal could serve as a basis. The problem is precisely that good faith — which neither of the main parties is clearly demonstrating.

I respect the sophistication of the Egyptian proposal. It shows that Cairo's diplomats understand the political constraints on each side. But even the most brilliant proposals are worthless without the will to execute them. Hamas has legitimate reasons to distrust a disarmament process in which Israel remains the dominant actor. And Israel has its own reasons to distrust any process that leaves Hamas with a power base. Between two legitimate distrusts, beautiful proposals stay on paper.

The scenario of renewed hostilities

The most tangible short-term risk is a breakdown of the truce and a return to full-scale hostilities. Since October 2025, ceasefire violations have accumulated on both sides — but mainly on the Israeli side, according to Hamas, which counted more than 900 Palestinians killed since the agreement came into force. If Phase 2 never gets off the ground and violations continue, Hamas could announce that the ceasefire is void and resume fighting.

Such a scenario would be catastrophic for Gaza's civilian population. After more than two years of war since October 2023, with a toll approaching 73,000 deaths according to Palestinian sources, a return to full-intensity combat would be devastating. It would also weaken regional mediators and place international pressure on Washington and Europe to intervene more directly.

Trump's role in the final equation

Any final resolution of the conflict will inevitably run through Washington. It was Trump who forged the Sharm el-Sheikh agreement. It was Trump who appointed Mladenov. It is American pressure that can compel Israel to accept a more significant withdrawal and Hamas to accept a gradual disarmament. But Trump has shown a tendency to declare premature victories ("we're entering Phase 2," January 2026) and to disengage when negotiations become complex.

The picture is dark but not hopeless. Egypt, Qatar and Turkey have real interests in avoiding a new open war. The United States has a political interest in showing that the "Trump plan" can work. And even Hamas has an interest in not resuming a war it cannot win militarily. Those converging interests are the only real hope of saving the agreement.

I am skeptical, but not nihilistic. Impossible peace agreements do exist. Oslo was signed. Camp David produced something. Those deals had their dramatic limits — but they also produced periods of reduced violence. If El-Alamein manages, even just barely, to keep Hamas at the table and prevent a resumption of hostilities for a few more months, that is a partial success in a context of near-total impossibility.

Reconstruction pledges: figures and realities

International conferences on the reconstruction of Gaza have produced substantial pledges — tens of billions of dollars announced by Gulf states, the European Union and the United States. But the conditions for disbursing those funds remain tied to political requirements that no one can guarantee: credible Palestinian governance, the absence of Hamas control over the funds, international oversight mechanisms accepted by all parties.

The reality on the ground, after more than two years of conflict, is devastating. Entire neighborhoods of Gaza have been razed. Water, electricity and health infrastructure is destroyed or severely damaged. Estimates of the total reconstruction cost range between $50 and $80 billion — a sum that exceeds the capacity of the Palestinian Authority alone and demands a massive and sustained international commitment. Without a solid political agreement in Phase 2, those funds will remain on paper.

The post-conflict governance challenge

The most formidable challenge in Gaza is not financial — it is governance. Who administers the territory after an agreement? The Palestinian Authority led by Fatah has been absent from Gaza since 2007. Its local legitimacy is contested. Hamas, militarily weakened, retains a political and social presence that military crushing has not eliminated. Attempts to deploy an international monitoring force run into Israel's refusal to accept any presence that might constrain its own operations.

No durable reconstruction is possible without answering that governance question. The experience of post-conflict reconstruction in Afghanistan, Iraq and Libya teaches that money without legitimate institutions produces corruption and instability, not peace. Gaza needs an administration capable of distributing aid, maintaining public order and guiding a transition toward a representative Palestinian authority. Today, no one knows who could play that role.

I measure the scope of the problem with a simple question: after two years of war and billions of dollars in international humanitarian aid, living conditions in Gaza are worse than before October 7, 2023. That is not only the toll of the war — it is the toll of the international community's collective failure to impose a political solution. Can El-Alamein change that equation? I hope so. I am not convinced it can.

Egypt as indispensable mediator

Egypt occupies a structurally unique position in the Gaza crisis. It shares a border with the territory, controls the Rafah crossing — a vital artery for humanitarian aid and the movement of people — and has maintained established communication channels with Hamas for decades. Cairo has an obvious interest in stability at its northeastern border: a Gaza in permanent war generates refugee flows, Islamist pressure and regional destabilization that Al-Sisi's Egypt wants to avoid at all costs.

But Egypt's mediation role has its limits. Cairo has no means to compel either Israel or Hamas — it can only facilitate and convey. Its credibility as a neutral mediator is challenged by Israel, which suspects Egypt of tolerating smuggling tunnels. And Egypt itself fears that any deal too favorable to Hamas could strengthen the Muslim Brotherhood, its historic domestic enemy. That delicate position explains the ambiguities in Egyptian mediation.

Qatar and Turkey: sponsors with agendas

Qatar hosts Hamas's political bureau in Doha — giving it unique access to the organization's leadership. That proximity is double-edged: it enables mediation, but it also creates suspicions about Qatari impartiality. Doha has an interest in preserving its role as indispensable mediator in regional crises — that is part of its soft-power strategy as a small, wealthy state seeking lasting security.

Erdogan's Turkey plays a different card: explicit rhetorical support for the Palestinians and Hamas earns it popularity in the Arab and Muslim world, but complicates its role as a mediator acceptable to Israel. Ankara and Tel Aviv have severed diplomatic relations. Nevertheless, Turkey maintains informal channels and can apply pressure on Hamas when its interests demand it. In this crisis, even ostensibly partisan actors can play a useful role if their interests converge with the search for a partial peace.

The multiplicity of regional actors in the Gaza crisis is both a strength and a weakness. A strength because it offers multiple channels of communication and pressure. A weakness because each actor has its own priorities that only partially coincide with a durable peace. The result is fragmented, often contradictory mediation, where progress is slow and reversible. El-Alamein is the perfect illustration of that.

The multiplicity of mediators in the Gaza conflict is both a strength and a weakness. A strength because it offers several channels to keep dialogue alive. A weakness because each actor imposes its own conditions and creates competitive dynamics between mediators that complicate coordination. I remain convinced that without a more unified and sustained diplomatic architecture, partial agreements will continue to hold by miracle rather than by design.

What El-Alamein can and cannot do

The El-Alamein meeting of June 2026 accomplished one essential thing: keeping Palestinian factions and mediators at the same table, in a context where everything seemed to be pushing toward rupture. The "positive progress" signaled by Hamas may reflect the maintenance of dialogue more than any substantive advance. But maintaining dialogue is itself precious when war remains the alternative.

What this meeting cannot do: resolve the fundamental conflict. The deadlock between Israel's demand for prior disarmament and the Palestinians' demand for prior withdrawal was not resolved at El-Alamein. It cannot be resolved in a Mediterranean hotel between diplomatic technicians. It can only be resolved by a strategic-level political decision — in Washington, in Tel Aviv, and perhaps in Ramallah.

Gaza waits, and the world watches

While diplomats were negotiating at El-Alamein, Gaza's population was surviving. Firsthand accounts of daily life there remain rare in Western media — difficult access, disrupted communications, witnesses in danger. What we know: crossings remain insufficiently open for humanitarian aid, the administrative committee has still not been allowed to enter, and airstrikes continue.

El-Alamein may have avoided the worst in June 2026. The saving of the Gaza agreement is not a victory — it is a postponement. The real question remains unanswered: who will govern Gaza after the war? On that question, El-Alamein has no answer.

By Maxime Marquette, columnist

Editorial stance

I am not a journalist but a columnist and analyst. My expertise lies in observing and analysing the geopolitical, economic and strategic dynamics that shape our world. My work is to take political strategies apart, to understand global economic movements, to put the decisions of international actors in context and to offer analytical perspectives on the changes that are redefining our societies.

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