THE CURRENT Issue 1072 · July 30, 2025

Castles in the Sand 

Twenty years after Disengagement, Gush Katif still haunts our memories

Castles in the Sand 
Photos: Avi Ohayon, Yossi Zamir, Mark Neiman, Moshe Milner, Amos Ben Gershom – GPO, Michael Giladi, Yossi Zamir – Flash 90, Kevin Fryer – AP, Daniel Ventura, Michael Jacobson, IDF Spokesman
It’s been 20 years since the destruction of the communities of Gush Katif, a move that even one-time proponents admit set the stage for the Hamas takeover of the Gaza coast. While families then still believed there could be a reprieve from the decree up to the last minute, they had no choice but to watch as three decades of life were bulldozed to rubble. How did they, and the nation, move on with their lives?

Did People Really Believe It Would Happen?

AS tens of thousands of soldiers and police converged on the red-roofed, sun-drenched communities of Gush Katif just after Tishah B’Av in August 2005, families barricaded in their homes were carried out onto waiting buses — while a large swath of the nation looked on in horror. The bulldozers followed, obliterating the 21 thriving settlements on the Gaza coast that had miraculously bloomed on the sand dunes for nearly three decades.

In addition to the unfathomable national loss in both property and security following the Disengagement Plan of then-Prime Minister Ariel Sharon, the personal trauma was devastating as well. The government promised that “every family would have a solution,” but the night they lost their homes, hundreds of families with many, many children were either dumped on street corners, shuttled from one hotel to another because contracts hadn’t been signed, or dropped off in front of dormitories that had been given a half-hour notice. And it took over a decade for many of those families to finally see permanent housing solutions in new communities in the center of the country.

For over a year, dozens of families were living in cramped motel rooms, which were supposed to be just a week-long temporary station. The more fortunate ones were set up in a “caravilla park,” rows of prefab caravans set up on what had been a watermelon field outside Ashkelon. Whatever initial compensation was allotted for their large, beachfront homes and thriving businesses was quickly depleted, used for daily living expenses, the caravilla’s forced $450 monthly rental, and even continued mortgage payments on their destroyed homes.

Meanwhile, the very government that ousted the communities didn’t take into account that, in addition to national devastation, every family suffered a major, life-shaking trauma — removal from their homes, financial ruin, and intense feelings of betrayal.

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