Irina Tsukerman Talks Egypt’s Help on Gaza, Migration

Sada ElBalad English (SEE) news website made an interview with Irina Tsukerman, American Lawyer and National Security Analyst.

The interview came as follows:

From a legal and political perspective, how do you assess Egypt’s mediating role, and President Sisi’s role in particular, in achieving the ceasefire agreements in Gaza?

Egypt’s mediation in the Gaza conflict remains one of the most strategically layered exercises in modern diplomacy. Legally, Cairo occupies an exceptional space. It is not a combatant party, yet it is not a disinterested observer. Its involvement is built on a long-standing combination of treaty legitimacy, geographic proximity, and regional authority. The Camp David framework, though often treated as historical background, still provides the implicit legal and political scaffolding that allows Egypt to operate as a stabilizer when war erupts. President Abdel Fattah el-Sisi has refined this position into a disciplined form of geopolitical craftsmanship. His government understands that Egypt’s influence now lies less in its military weight and more in its ability to manage chaos through legally bounded, politically flexible mediation.

Politically, Sisi’s strategy balances regional legitimacy and self-interest. He inherited a legacy in which Egypt is expected by Arab publics to stand for the Palestinian cause while being expected by Western allies to maintain peace with Israel. To reconcile these opposing expectations, he has cultivated a posture of indispensable pragmatism. Egypt under Sisi no longer pretends to be an ideologically driven champion of pan-Arab solidarity. Instead, it presents itself as the custodian of regional order. This shift allows Cairo to command credibility in Jerusalem, Washington, and the Arab capitals simultaneously. The effectiveness of this approach lies in its restraint. Sisi prefers to project calm authority, not revolutionary zeal, recognizing that influence is sustained not by slogans but by results that others cannot replicate.

In legal terms, Egypt’s actions fit within the “good offices” doctrine of international law, which allows a state to facilitate negotiation between conflicting parties with their consent but without assuming liability for the outcome. This distinction is critical. It gives Sisi’s government the legal clarity to intervene diplomatically while shielding it from the political consequences of any future breakdown. Egypt can thus act as a bridge without being accused of partiality. The legal subtlety also enables Cairo to sustain parallel relationships with Hamas and Israel, where every exchange of intelligence or humanitarian coordination is covered by the umbrella of facilitation rather than recognition.

Sisi’s mediation framework contains two distinct operational layers. The first is public and symbolic, built around humanitarian rhetoric and calls for de-escalation that appeal to Arab and international audiences. The second is confidential and transactional, involving Egyptian intelligence officers coordinating logistics, prisoner swaps, and ceasefire enforcement with both Israel and Hamas. This duality is not hypocrisy but realism. It allows Cairo to speak two diplomatic languages at once: one of empathy and one of control. The public narrative protects Egypt’s moral standing, while the covert mechanisms secure its strategic interests and border stability.

The management of the Rafah crossing illustrates this interplay between law and strategy. International humanitarian law obliges Egypt to facilitate the flow of aid and protect civilians, yet Egypt’s domestic security demands limit the extent of that access. The Sinai Peninsula remains a volatile theater, and Cairo cannot risk uncontrolled movement across its border. Sisi’s government, therefore, interprets its legal obligations through the lens of conditional responsibility. Every convoy of aid is vetted, every list of evacuees scrutinized, every period of crossing opening carefully synchronized with the state’s security calculations. This meticulous control transforms Rafah from a mere border post into a mechanism of leverage. By controlling humanitarian flow, Cairo commands political attention from both allies and adversaries.

Unlike earlier Egyptian administrations, which often treated mediation as a form of Arab duty, Sisi treats it as an asset. Each ceasefire he brokers enhances Egypt’s diplomatic capital. When Cairo delivers calm, it gains recognition and aid commitments from Washington and the European Union. When it holds back, it reminds everyone that without Egypt, there is no access, no communication, and no humanitarian coordination. This leverage is particularly valuable in a region where new powers such as Qatar and Turkey seek to dominate the Palestinian file. Egypt’s approach demonstrates that enduring influence comes from reliability, not ideological theatrics.

From Washington’s perspective, Egypt’s mediation is a strategic necessity. The United States relies on Cairo to execute functions that no Western power can perform without becoming entangled. When Egypt negotiates with Hamas, it does so under a legal and moral cover that protects both American and Israeli interests. Sisi’s ability to deliver tangible results, such as pauses in fighting or evacuation corridors, earns him practical respect. For U.S. policymakers, Egypt represents the anchor that prevents the Gaza crisis from escalating into a regional war. Legally, Egypt’s mediation enables Washington to uphold humanitarian obligations indirectly, maintaining distance while preserving influence.

For Israel, Egypt is both a buffer and a partner. The two governments share an understanding that Gaza’s instability is not merely a Palestinian issue but a transnational security problem. Israeli leaders trust Egyptian intelligence to communicate with Hamas on sensitive matters precisely because Cairo’s interests align with theirs in preventing spillover violence. The legal structure of mediation allows Israel to maintain the appearance of disengagement from a group it designates as terrorist while still keeping crucial lines of communication open through Egyptian intermediaries. In this way, Egypt serves as both shield and conduit, enabling coordination without political exposure.

Regionally, Egypt’s performance in the Gaza ceasefire reinforces its claim to leadership within the Arab world. Sisi has shown that while oil wealth or ideological influence can sway politics, only Egypt possesses the institutional infrastructure to manage crises with discipline and continuity. The ability to combine legal precision, intelligence coordination, and political symbolism gives Cairo a kind of diplomatic gravity that newer regional players still lack. This is why, even as Gulf states accumulate wealth and influence, they turn to Egypt when the situation requires a negotiator capable of enforcing the outcome rather than merely proposing it.

Ultimately, Egypt’s role in mediating the Gaza ceasefire under President Sisi reflects a sophisticated synthesis of law, politics, and self-preservation. The Egyptian state uses legality as its armor and mediation as its instrument of survival and relevance. Each truce negotiated through Cairo not only limits bloodshed but also reinforces Egypt’s image as the gatekeeper of regional stability. The strategy is not ideological but institutional, not moralistic but systemic. Through his carefully controlled engagement, Sisi has ensured that no ceasefire in Gaza can exist without Egyptian fingerprints on it, and no conversation about Middle Eastern security can proceed without Egypt at the table.

Do you believe that international pressure, including the American position, was sufficient to support Egypt’s mediation efforts? What could have been done differently?

International pressure surrounding Egypt’s mediation was uneven, reactive, and at times contradictory. The United States, the European Union, and regional powers expressed strong rhetorical support for de-escalation, yet they failed to provide the consistent political and logistical backing necessary to translate that pressure into a sustained diplomatic framework. Egypt was left to shoulder the heavy lifting of negotiation, coordination, and crisis management largely alone. The imbalance revealed the extent to which global powers have become accustomed to outsourcing Middle Eastern stability to regional actors without granting them the institutional support that such a role requires.

From Washington’s perspective, the administration’s approach reflected a mixture of strategic calculation and domestic caution. President Trump’s foreign policy has been defined by transactional realism, where symbolic displays of support replace complex multilateral coordination. The White House welcomed Egypt’s mediation but refrained from fully integrating it into a broader U.S.-led framework for post-conflict stabilization. The result was an episodic engagement pattern that amplified Cairo’s short-term burden while diminishing the long-term credibility of U.S. diplomacy. American officials were content to praise Egypt’s leadership while withholding the deeper commitments, financial, political, and technical, that could have made the ceasefire architecture more durable.

European governments also expressed solidarity with Egypt but contributed little beyond statements and limited humanitarian aid pledges. The European Union’s diplomatic machinery remains fragmented, and its member states continue to prioritize internal political calculations over cohesive foreign policy. France and Germany oscillated between calls for restraint and concerns about migration spillovers, while Brussels confined itself to bureaucratic declarations. This vacuum reinforced Egypt’s indispensability but also its isolation. Without external burden-sharing, Cairo was forced to rely on its own limited economic and intelligence resources to sustain negotiations with both Israel and Hamas.

In the Arab world, Egypt encountered a different kind of challenge. While regional actors publicly endorsed its mediation, they often pursued competing agendas behind the scenes. Qatar, through its financial ties to Hamas, sought to maintain its own influence over the Palestinian file. Turkey used rhetorical escalation to reassert its presence in Arab affairs while contributing little to de-escalation. Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates, focused on their respective regional realignments, were content to let Egypt play the role of mediator as long as it prevented instability from spreading. This fragmentation weakened the collective Arab diplomatic front and left Cairo without coordinated support among its supposed partners.

The international community’s failure to synchronize its pressure also reflected a broader structural issue. Modern ceasefire diplomacy tends to be reactive rather than preventive, driven by humanitarian urgency rather than strategic foresight. Western powers treat each outbreak of violence as an isolated event rather than part of a continuous geopolitical pattern. Egypt, by contrast, operates with a long-term understanding of Gaza’s volatility. This mismatch of strategic time horizons creates a persistent gap between Egypt’s tactical capabilities and the global community’s political will. The absence of an integrated pressure mechanism, combining diplomatic leverage, conditional aid, and security coordination, made it nearly impossible for Cairo’s mediation to produce sustainable results.

One critical dimension that could have been improved was the alignment between humanitarian diplomacy and political enforcement. While Washington and European capitals frequently invoked the need for aid access and civilian protection, they failed to operationalize those objectives through coordinated monitoring or financial support mechanisms. Egypt faced the paradox of being expected to enforce humanitarian standards without receiving the resources to sustain them. A joint humanitarian coordination cell involving Egypt, the United States, and selected European partners could have enhanced accountability while relieving Cairo of unilateral responsibility.

American policy could also have benefited from greater consistency. The U.S. message alternated between public encouragement for ceasefire diplomacy and private skepticism toward Egyptian control over Gaza’s humanitarian logistics. This dual messaging confused other actors and emboldened spoilers. A more coherent approach, one that treated Egypt not merely as a facilitator but as a strategic partner, would have amplified pressure on both Hamas and Israel to adhere to ceasefire terms. Instead, Washington relied on intermittent diplomatic interventions that provided political cover but little enforcement power.

Another missed opportunity lay in the lack of integration between diplomatic and economic instruments. Egypt’s mediation took place amid severe domestic financial strain, rising debt, and inflation. International actors could have linked their support for Cairo’s economic stabilization to its conflict management efforts, thereby strengthening both. Economic incentives such as targeted development aid for Sinai or investment in cross-border infrastructure could have served as confidence-building measures that enhanced Egypt’s leverage in the negotiations. Instead, Egypt’s mediation unfolded against a backdrop of fiscal exhaustion, making it more difficult for Sisi to sustain prolonged diplomatic engagement.

The failure of international coordination also exposed the limits of rhetorical diplomacy in an era of asymmetric warfare. Public calls for restraint and ceasefire are meaningless without credible enforcement mechanisms. Egypt’s experience demonstrated that diplomacy without coercive or material backing is a fragile enterprise. The absence of a unified Western position allowed regional spoilers to manipulate the process, prolonging violence and undermining the legitimacy of negotiated pauses. A more assertive international coalition, one capable of linking compliance with tangible rewards or penalties, could have reinforced Egypt’s mediation and elevated it from crisis management to conflict transformation.

Ultimately, the international community’s engagement with Egypt’s mediation was symbolic rather than strategic. Western and regional actors expected Cairo to deliver stability without sharing the risks or costs. The result was a ceasefire that rested on Egypt’s credibility rather than on a collective international commitment. The lesson is clear: mediation cannot succeed when it depends on one actor’s political stamina and economic capacity alone. Egypt played its role with discipline and professionalism, but without consistent international reinforcement, even the most skilled mediator can only buy time, not peace.

Are there additional international legal mechanisms that Egypt or other states could activate to ensure the durability of the ceasefire and the delivery of humanitarian aid?

Egypt’s mediation has always operated in the narrow space between politics and law, where international mechanisms are often invoked but rarely enforced. There are, however, several instruments available within the framework of international humanitarian and conflict resolution law that could enhance the sustainability of the ceasefire if Cairo and its partners chose to pursue them with genuine political will. These tools are not new, but their implementation depends on diplomatic choreography and consistent international backing, which have historically been lacking. The first of these is the legal reinforcement of ceasefire agreements through registration under the United Nations framework, which would transform informal arrangements into binding obligations under international monitoring. Egypt could, in theory, propose that future ceasefire understandings be codified in UN Security Council resolutions or deposited with the Secretary-General to provide legal continuity beyond political cycles.

Such registration would not only formalize commitments but also create a reference point for accountability. A ceasefire lodged with the United Nations acquires a legal character that informal memoranda lack. Violations would then be documented within the UN system, giving Egypt and its allies a stronger basis to demand compliance. This approach has been used in other conflicts, where ceasefire terms were embedded into resolutions or peacekeeping mandates, allowing for greater consistency. For Cairo, the challenge lies not in drafting the text but in persuading the permanent members of the Security Council to adopt it without distortion.

Another mechanism that could strengthen Egypt’s position is the establishment of an international monitoring mission authorized under Chapter VI of the UN Charter. Egypt, in coordination with the Arab League and the African Union, could lobby for a technical observer mission to oversee the implementation of humanitarian corridors, prisoner exchanges, and border crossings. The presence of neutral observers would not only legitimize Cairo’s efforts but also reduce the burden on Egyptian security forces, which currently act as both mediator and enforcer. Even a small civilian observer contingent, equipped with satellite verification and field reporting capabilities, could increase transparency and reduce the space for misinformation or manipulation by local actors.

Beyond the UN system, Egypt could also activate mechanisms under international humanitarian law through the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) and the Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA). By formally inviting these organizations to manage or monitor aid flows through Rafah, Cairo could demonstrate compliance with humanitarian norms while transferring part of the administrative burden to recognized international bodies. This arrangement would create legal insulation for Egypt, protecting it from accusations of politicizing aid or obstructing relief operations. It would also enable better data collection, which could later serve as evidence in case of war crimes investigations or humanitarian reviews.

Regional frameworks offer another layer of opportunity. The Arab League and the Organization of Islamic Cooperation (OIC) both possess legal and diplomatic instruments that could be revitalized to support the ceasefire. Egypt could propose a joint Arab humanitarian oversight committee that coordinates with the United Nations but remains politically anchored in the region. Such a mechanism would serve both symbolic and practical purposes: it would reaffirm Arab ownership of the peace process while creating a structured channel for humanitarian engagement. Egypt’s credibility within these organizations would position it as the natural convener of such an initiative.

The African Union also provides a potential platform that has been underutilized in the Palestinian context. As a member state, Egypt could request that the AU Peace and Security Council consider establishing a special envoy for the Gaza crisis. This envoy could serve as a bridge between African and Arab institutions, reinforcing legal and diplomatic coordination. The move would project Egypt’s leadership beyond its immediate neighborhood and embed its mediation within a broader continental framework, which could attract international funding and recognition.

Another legal mechanism involves the use of the Geneva Conventions’ Article 1 obligations, which compel all signatories to ensure respect for the conventions in all circumstances. Egypt could invoke this clause in coordination with sympathetic states to demand that parties to the conflict, including Israel and Hamas, adhere to humanitarian obligations. While such a move would not guarantee enforcement, it would elevate the discourse from political rhetoric to legal accountability. It would also allow Cairo to frame its mediation not merely as a regional initiative but as part of a global effort to uphold the laws of war.

In terms of humanitarian law enforcement, Egypt could encourage the creation of a joint legal review mechanism involving regional and international experts to assess violations during each phase of the ceasefire. This body could operate similarly to truth and reconciliation commissions, compiling factual records and recommending accountability measures without immediate judicial proceedings. By initiating such a mechanism, Cairo would demonstrate leadership in shaping post-conflict justice while avoiding direct confrontation with any side.

For the long-term sustainability of the ceasefire, Egypt could also advocate for the establishment of a legally defined reconstruction fund for Gaza, governed by an independent multilateral board. This fund would ensure that post-conflict reconstruction remains transparent and insulated from political exploitation. It would also provide a lawful channel for aid, investment, and contracting that reduces the risk of diversion to armed groups. Egypt’s participation in such a framework would reinforce its image as both mediator and guarantor of regional stability.

Finally, Egypt’s legal strategy could benefit from anchoring its mediation in a doctrine of cooperative sovereignty. This approach would frame Egypt’s interventions not as interference in the affairs of others but as a collective exercise of regional responsibility recognized by international law. Such framing would give Cairo stronger moral and legal standing when negotiating with external powers or defending its actions against criticism. The key lies in aligning Egypt’s diplomatic initiatives with international norms while maintaining control over their execution. The more Egypt integrates its mediation into existing legal structures, the more difficult it becomes for external actors to marginalize or bypass its role.

With the growing calls in the United States for a permanent ceasefire, how do you view the potential impact of Sisi’s efforts on strengthening or weakening the relationship between Cairo and Washington?

The relationship between Egypt and the United States has always been a study in pragmatic complexity. It is not driven by sentiment but by overlapping strategic interests. In the context of the Gaza ceasefire, President Sisi’s mediation once again positioned Egypt as a central interlocutor between Washington and the broader Arab world. Yet, this role carries both opportunities and risks. The growing American calls for a permanent ceasefire have placed Cairo in a delicate position, balancing its traditional cooperation with the United States against the realities of its own regional obligations and security imperatives. The result is a dynamic where Sisi’s success in brokering calm may either consolidate or complicate the U.S.–Egyptian partnership depending on how Washington interprets Egypt’s broader strategic intentions.

On one hand, Egypt’s contribution to maintaining relative stability in Gaza has reaffirmed its indispensability to U.S. regional policy. The Biden-era skepticism toward Sisi’s leadership gave way under Trump to a more transactional yet pragmatic approach. Trump’s administration views stability as the cornerstone of strategic success, and Egypt delivers stability better than most regional actors. By demonstrating control over its borders, coordinating with Israeli security agencies, and maintaining dialogue with Palestinian factions, Egypt reinforces its image as a partner that can achieve results where others cannot. For Washington, which is seeking to reduce its direct involvement in Middle Eastern conflicts while retaining influence, this is a valuable asset.

However, the growing American domestic push for a permanent ceasefire complicates this dynamic. While much of the U.S. foreign policy establishment recognizes Egypt’s indispensable mediating role, segments of Congress and civil society have become increasingly critical of the humanitarian toll in Gaza. The expectation in these circles is that Cairo should not merely manage ceasefires but also push for a broader political settlement. This expectation is unrealistic. Egypt’s national interests are defined by border security, regional equilibrium, and the containment of Islamist influence, not by the pursuit of an abstract peace process. When Washington’s moralistic discourse clashes with Cairo’s pragmatic strategy, friction inevitably follows.

From Egypt’s perspective, permanent ceasefire proposals risk transforming it from a facilitator into a guarantor of outcomes it cannot control. The durability of any ceasefire depends not only on Egyptian mediation but on the behavior of Hamas, Israel’s military calculations, and the willingness of external actors to enforce terms. If the United States pressures Egypt to enforce a peace it cannot secure, Cairo risks being blamed for failures beyond its capacity. Sisi understands this danger and has therefore been cautious in framing his efforts as mediation rather than sponsorship. He presents Egypt’s role as a stabilizing bridge rather than a permanent anchor, thereby maintaining legal and political flexibility.

Trump’s approach to Egypt under these circumstances has been notably pragmatic. He views Sisi as an ally who delivers results without ideological complications. The Trump administration prioritizes measurable outcomes, calm borders, controlled aid flows, and reduced regional escalation, over idealistic visions of conflict resolution. This has created an alignment of expectations between Cairo and Washington at the executive level, even as parts of the U.S. political class continue to view Egypt through the lens of human rights concerns. Trump’s tolerance for authoritarian partners who maintain order fits well with Sisi’s governance model, making the bilateral relationship one of functional convergence rather than moral alignment.

The military and intelligence dimensions of the relationship remain robust. Egypt continues to receive American military aid, and U.S.–Egyptian intelligence coordination has deepened in counterterrorism and border security. The shared objective of preventing Hamas from rebuilding its operational infrastructure aligns their interests even when their rhetoric diverges. However, Cairo’s growing cooperation with Russia and China in other sectors, including arms procurement and infrastructure investment, raises concerns in Washington about Egypt’s long-term orientation. Sisi’s balancing act between global powers reflects a desire to diversify Egypt’s partnerships without undermining its American alliance, but it introduces an element of strategic ambiguity that Washington finds unsettling.

Within the American political spectrum, Egypt’s role in Gaza is interpreted through competing lenses. Realists view Sisi as a stabilizer who prevents the region from descending into chaos. Progressives see him as an autocrat whose repression undermines the moral credibility of U.S. diplomacy. The friction between these narratives shapes congressional debates on aid and arms sales. Sisi’s challenge is to ensure that Egypt remains too important to alienate. Each successful mediation effort reinforces that indispensability, providing Trump with tangible evidence that Egypt’s partnership delivers returns. As long as Cairo remains central to regional crisis management, the transactional basis of the alliance will hold.

Yet Egypt’s credibility also depends on its ability to manage perception. When Cairo is seen as acting in coordination with Washington and Israel, it risks alienating Arab and domestic opinion. When it appears too sympathetic to Palestinian grievances, it risks undermining trust in Washington. Navigating this dual audience requires a careful calibration of rhetoric and policy. Sisi’s government manages this by emphasizing humanitarian narratives while allowing security cooperation to proceed quietly behind the scenes. The strategy allows Egypt to maintain its partnership with the United States without appearing to compromise its Arab identity.

In the long run, the strength of Cairo–Washington relations will depend on whether the United States views Egypt’s stability as a strategic goal in itself or as a means to an end. If Washington reverts to episodic engagement, the relationship will remain transactional. If, however, Trump’s administration translates its rhetoric of partnership into structured cooperation through economic support, joint reconstruction planning, and coordinated regional diplomacy, the alliance could evolve into a more enduring strategic framework. For Sisi, the objective is clear: to institutionalize Egypt’s role as the gatekeeper of regional order so that no American administration can afford to bypass it.

The paradox of the U.S.–Egypt relationship lies in its asymmetry. Egypt needs American military aid, but the United States needs Egyptian geography, intelligence, and diplomatic access. The balance is delicate but functional. In the context of the Gaza ceasefire, Sisi has once again demonstrated how Cairo turns necessity into leverage. By positioning itself as both problem-solver and buffer, Egypt ensures that even when Washington criticizes its domestic policies, it cannot escape its dependence on Egyptian mediation. The calls for a permanent ceasefire may complicate the rhetoric of partnership, but they also reaffirm the reality that without Egypt, there is no sustainable calm in Gaza and no credible path for U.S. influence in the region.

What legal and humanitarian challenges does Egypt face in managing the Rafah crossing, particularly regarding the entry of aid and the evacuation of the wounded?

The Rafah crossing represents one of the most complex humanitarian and legal chokepoints in modern conflict management. For Egypt, this narrow border passage is not merely a logistical route but a symbol of sovereignty, security, and political responsibility. Its management involves layers of coordination between Egyptian authorities, international organizations, and Palestinian actors, each with conflicting objectives and expectations. The crossing has become the focal point of humanitarian diplomacy, where every truck and every medical convoy carries implications for Egypt’s international standing and domestic stability.

The legal challenges stem from the ambiguous status of Gaza itself. Since Egypt is not an occupying power and Israel maintains control over Gaza’s airspace and maritime access, the Rafah crossing operates within a grey zone of international law. Cairo is not legally obligated to keep it open under the Fourth Geneva Convention, yet international pressure routinely places Egypt in the position of being the de facto humanitarian lifeline for Gaza’s population. This tension between sovereign discretion and moral responsibility defines Egypt’s predicament. Every decision to open or close Rafah risks either international condemnation or domestic backlash.

The humanitarian dimension is equally fraught. Egypt faces enormous logistical strain in managing the flow of goods, medical aid, and displaced persons while ensuring that the crossing does not become a channel for weapons smuggling or militant infiltration. The Egyptian security establishment views the Sinai Peninsula as a volatile region where militant groups affiliated with the Islamic State have exploited previous conflicts to infiltrate through Gaza. As a result, the military maintains stringent inspection procedures that slow down aid delivery. While these measures are legally defensible as national security precautions, they fuel criticism from humanitarian agencies that view delays as life-threatening.

Rafah’s management also involves coordination with multiple Palestinian authorities, including Hamas, whose control over Gaza complicates Egypt’s legal position. Engaging with Hamas directly risks accusations of legitimizing a designated terrorist organization under U.S. and European law. Avoiding engagement, however, creates operational paralysis since Hamas controls the Palestinian side of the crossing. Egypt’s solution has been to conduct indirect coordination through intermediaries while framing its actions as purely humanitarian. This balancing act reflects Cairo’s broader approach to diplomacy: pragmatic, compartmentalized, and focused on preserving maneuverability.

The evacuation of the wounded presents another layer of complexity. Each patient must be vetted not only for medical eligibility but also for security risk. Egyptian medical facilities in North Sinai and Ismailia have treated thousands of Palestinians, yet the process remains slow and bureaucratic. Cairo fears that Hamas operatives could disguise themselves as evacuees, a concern grounded in past incidents. The humanitarian cost of this caution is undeniable, yet from Egypt’s perspective, any breach could endanger national security and undermine public confidence in the state’s control over its borders.

International law offers limited clarity on this situation. While the Geneva Conventions call for the protection and evacuation of civilians, they do not impose obligations on third-party states to facilitate crossings in an active conflict zone unless explicitly mandated by the United Nations. Egypt’s cooperation with the Red Crescent and the World Health Organization provides a partial legal shield by placing aid operations under neutral auspices. Still, the burden of execution falls on Egyptian institutions, which often lack the infrastructure to handle the scale of humanitarian demand. The challenge is not just legal but logistical and administrative.

The humanitarian pressure also intersects with Egypt’s economic crisis. Each humanitarian operation requires significant financial and logistical resources at a time when Cairo is managing inflation, currency devaluation, and a growing debt burden. The cost of maintaining security and infrastructure at Rafah strains Egypt’s already overstretched budget. This economic dimension rarely receives international acknowledgment, yet it influences every decision about how much aid can be processed, how often the crossing can remain open, and how many foreign medical teams can be accommodated.

Cairo’s predicament is further complicated by the politicization of humanitarian aid. Donor countries and international NGOs often use the flow of assistance to signal their political alignments. Some Western states tie funding to specific monitoring mechanisms that Egypt views as infringements on its sovereignty. Regional actors, including Qatar and Turkey, use aid shipments to assert influence over Gaza, sometimes bypassing Egyptian coordination channels. This creates a fragmented system where Cairo’s control is challenged not only by militant actors but also by competing international agendas.

To mitigate these tensions, Egypt has sought to formalize aid operations through bilateral agreements that regulate the flow of humanitarian goods and establish verification procedures. By turning ad hoc arrangements into structured legal frameworks, Cairo hopes to retain authority while deflecting criticism. The approach reflects Egypt’s preference for procedural control over ad hoc crisis management. The government’s goal is not only to manage the Rafah crossing efficiently but also to ensure that the narrative remains one of national sovereignty rather than external dependency.

Ultimately, Rafah represents both Egypt’s strength and its vulnerability. It underscores Cairo’s indispensable role in regional stability, but it also exposes the limits of that role under the pressures of international law, humanitarian expectations, and security imperatives. Every decision taken at Rafah carries multiple consequences: legal, moral, and political. The crossing is no longer just a border; it is a test of Egypt’s ability to balance humanity with national security, legality with pragmatism, and international expectations with domestic realities.

How is Egypt’s role legally interpreted in the United States, and is it seen within U.S. decision-making circles as part of America’s national security framework in the region?

Within the United States, Egypt’s role is viewed through a dual lens of strategic necessity and legal pragmatism. American policymakers see Cairo not only as a regional stabilizer but also as a cornerstone of the Middle East’s security architecture. Legally, Egypt occupies a unique position because its peace treaty with Israel forms one of the few enduring pillars of U.S. foreign policy in the region that has weathered changes in administration and ideology. Washington’s security establishment treats Egypt’s role less as a temporary arrangement and more as an institutionalized component of its long-term defense posture in the Middle East.

At the legal level, Egypt’s relationship with the United States is codified through military aid frameworks, intelligence-sharing agreements, and bilateral memoranda of understanding. These arrangements are rarely publicized in full but are consistent with Section 502B of the U.S. Foreign Assistance Act, which allows security assistance to governments that are considered vital to U.S. interests despite concerns about governance. Successive administrations have justified continued support to Cairo under this clause, arguing that Egypt’s mediation in Gaza and its management of the Suez Canal directly affect American national security and global trade. The practical interpretation of these laws prioritizes stability over reform.

In national security circles, Egypt’s role in the Gaza ceasefire fits into the broader legal doctrine of delegated stabilization. The United States prefers to empower regional actors to manage local crises rather than commit U.S. forces directly. Egypt’s mediation serves as a legal and political substitute for American involvement. By positioning Cairo as the primary intermediary, Washington fulfills its obligation to promote regional peace under international law without assuming direct liability for outcomes. This division of responsibility is a hallmark of modern U.S. diplomacy, which seeks to manage conflicts through proxies rather than occupation or intervention.

Trump’s administration has expanded this framework by embedding Egypt’s role into a broader concept of transactional alliance. The legal foundation of this approach lies in executive discretion. The president’s authority to direct foreign policy allows the White House to bypass legislative constraints and treat Cairo as a flexible partner in crisis management. This approach prioritizes results and operational coordination over normative concerns. Trump views Egypt’s reliability as an asset that justifies continued aid regardless of congressional debates. The Pentagon and intelligence community share this assessment, seeing Cairo as a critical partner in counterterrorism and maritime security.

Within the Pentagon’s strategic calculus, Egypt’s geographic location is irreplaceable. The control of the Suez Canal grants Egypt leverage over global maritime trade routes and naval movements. The United States views access to the canal as a legal entitlement derived from longstanding defense cooperation. In every major military contingency in the Middle East, American planners factor Egyptian airspace and sea routes into their logistics. This dependency anchors Egypt within the U.S. national security framework in ways that few allies can replicate. Legally, this relationship is sustained through defense cooperation agreements that allow U.S. vessels and aircraft to transit with minimal restrictions.

The intelligence dimension of the relationship also shapes how Egypt is perceived in Washington’s legal and strategic hierarchy. Cooperation between the CIA and Egypt’s General Intelligence Service is among the most robust in the region. Joint operations in counterterrorism and information-sharing on Hamas, Islamic Jihad, and ISIS-affiliated groups in Sinai have reinforced the perception that Egypt functions as an extension of the U.S. security ecosystem. This cooperation provides Cairo with legal protection from the harsher scrutiny that other authoritarian allies face. Washington’s legal tolerance for Egypt’s internal policies is directly proportional to Cairo’s intelligence utility.

Yet this interpretation is not without contention. Within the U.S. Congress, there are ongoing debates about whether continued military aid to Egypt violates the Leahy Law, which prohibits assistance to foreign military units involved in human rights abuses. The State Department frequently issues waivers, arguing that cutting aid would jeopardize U.S. national security. The recurring use of such waivers demonstrates the tension between America’s legal commitments to human rights and its strategic need for Egypt’s cooperation. This duality has become an enduring feature of U.S. policy: Egypt is both a partner and a test case for how far Washington is willing to stretch its legal definitions of necessity.

In broader policy circles, there is also recognition that Egypt’s role goes beyond Gaza. American analysts see Cairo as a stabilizing influence in Libya, Sudan, and the Red Sea corridor. These regions intersect with U.S. counterterrorism and maritime security priorities, making Egypt’s participation indispensable. The legal framework that binds these collaborations is not a single treaty but an accumulation of executive agreements, intelligence compacts, and defense protocols. Together, they form a lattice of obligations that effectively embed Egypt into the operational structure of U.S. national security.

Trump’s perspective on this relationship has been shaped by his administration’s emphasis on burden-sharing. He views Egypt as part of a regional alliance system that reduces the need for direct American intervention. In this context, Sisi’s actions in Gaza and beyond are treated as contributions to a collective security architecture rather than as isolated acts of diplomacy. By interpreting Egypt’s mediation through this lens, Washington justifies continued military aid as part of a larger deterrence posture against Iran and other destabilizing forces. The legal logic is that supporting Egypt serves the broader purpose of maintaining a balance of power favorable to the United States.

In the end, Egypt’s role is perceived in Washington as both legally justified and strategically irreplaceable. While American officials may express concern over Egypt’s domestic politics, those concerns rarely translate into policy shifts. Cairo has embedded itself so deeply into the machinery of U.S. regional strategy that disentangling the two would require a fundamental redefinition of American interests in the Middle East. For Trump and his administration, Egypt’s reliability and geographic centrality outweigh any legal or ethical objections. Within this framework, Egypt is not merely a partner but an integral component of how the United States projects stability, enforces deterrence, and manages crises across the broader Middle East.

What guarantees should be included in any future ceasefire agreement to prevent its collapse, and can international law provide those guarantees?

A long-term ceasefire in Gaza requires a structure that transforms the fragile calm into a self-sustaining system of deterrence, accountability, and reconstruction. Gaza’s history of intermittent truces has shown that ceasefires declared without clear mechanisms for enforcement inevitably collapse under the weight of distrust. The first requirement is definitional clarity. The parties involved need to agree precisely on what constitutes a cessation of hostilities, the parameters of humanitarian access, and the limits of military redeployment. Every ceasefire document that has failed in Gaza has done so because it allowed room for competing interpretations. Legal precision, codified in a formal agreement deposited with the United Nations or endorsed by the Security Council, would turn the ceasefire from a political gesture into a binding commitment that survives leadership changes and shifting narratives.

Verification mechanisms are indispensable in this environment. Gaza is a densely populated and heavily surveilled territory, yet it remains opaque in terms of operational control. The deployment of an international observer mission under Chapter VI of the UN Charter, composed of technical experts, humanitarian officials, and security monitors, could establish a factual record of compliance. The mission would operate under strict neutrality and report violations on a scheduled basis to an international oversight body. This would counter the culture of denial that has characterized past truces and create a transparent framework for public accountability. Egypt’s proximity and credibility position it as the logical host for such coordination, bridging the gap between international law and regional enforcement.

Accountability provisions would determine whether this ceasefire becomes sustainable. Every agreement in Gaza collapses not because of lack of intent, but because of the absence of credible consequences. A tiered system of penalties—warnings for minor infractions, suspension of reconstruction privileges for repeated violations, and sanctions referrals for egregious breaches—would give the agreement teeth without making it unmanageable. The process should be automatic and depoliticized, allowing no party to manipulate violations for propaganda. When both Israel and Palestinian factions understand the cost of noncompliance, deterrence begins to take shape.

Humanitarian guarantees must be insulated from political bargaining. In Gaza, aid has repeatedly become a weapon of war, used to extract concessions or reward loyalty. To prevent this, humanitarian corridors need legal protection and international oversight. Pre-cleared supply routes, monitored border crossings, and verified commodity lists would ensure that aid reaches civilians without being diverted for military use. Cairo’s experience at Rafah makes it the only actor capable of maintaining this balance. By embedding these arrangements within the ceasefire text, Egypt and the international community could create an operational firewall between political negotiations and human survival.

The central obstacle to this vision remains Hamas. The group’s organizational structure and ideological foundation are fundamentally incompatible with a transparent and enforceable ceasefire. Hamas does not view ceasefires as political endpoints but as intervals to recover and rearm. Its leadership sees the absence of war not as peace but as strategic patience. Every pause becomes an opportunity to rebuild tunnels, replenish weapons, and strengthen social control. This cyclical approach undermines any notion of permanence. The group’s reliance on asymmetrical warfare means that calm periods are instrumental rather than transformative, serving military necessity rather than civilian recovery.

Hamas’s control over Gaza’s civil administration further erodes the credibility of any legal framework. It fuses governance with resistance, ensuring that ministries, charities, and municipal offices operate as extensions of its military wing. This hybrid structure shields the group from accountability by blurring the distinction between political authority and armed actor. When international monitors demand compliance, Hamas can deflect responsibility by invoking its governance role. When military action is needed, it claims the mantle of resistance. This dual identity renders it immune to both diplomatic pressure and legal constraint.

Moreover, Hamas has an entrenched interest in maintaining a low-intensity conflict rather than true peace. The group’s political legitimacy within Gaza is sustained by its narrative of resistance. A lasting ceasefire would deprive it of its central ideological currency. Economic recovery and demilitarization threaten its internal cohesion, as social progress would shift loyalty away from militant networks toward technocratic governance. Hamas’s leadership understands this and therefore undermines initiatives that could produce a genuine political transition. Its very survival depends on instability, which means it cannot act as a reliable guarantor of peace.

For Egypt and the international mediators, this creates a legal and political paradox. Any ceasefire that excludes Hamas risks immediate collapse on the ground, yet any agreement that includes Hamas institutionalizes the very forces that prevent stability. The solution lies in gradual marginalization rather than abrupt exclusion. By introducing phased arrangements that link reconstruction aid, economic access, and political participation to verified disarmament benchmarks, mediators can force Hamas into a choice between governance and militancy. The process would be long and contested, but it would gradually shift the center of gravity away from the group’s military apparatus.

International law provides tools but not authority. It can define obligations, mandate observers, and authorize sanctions, but it cannot substitute for the political will required to enforce them. A sustainable ceasefire in Gaza depends on a coalition of enforcement—Egypt as mediator, the United States as guarantor, and European partners as funders—that combines legal formality with operational leverage. The law offers the vocabulary of peace; power delivers its grammar. Without synchronized enforcement, even the most elegant agreement will become another entry in the archive of failed truces.

In Gaza, the path to an enduring ceasefire lies not in drafting new documents but in transforming the balance of incentives. Hamas has to face a situation where breaking the ceasefire isolates it economically, politically, and militarily. Only then will legality align with reality. Until that alignment occurs, international law will continue to write agreements that Hamas has no intention of honoring, and Egypt will continue to manage the aftermath of their collapse. The challenge, therefore, is not the absence of law but the persistence of a political actor for whom law is merely a battlefield by other means.

How can President Sisi and Egypt help advance Gaza’s reconstruction in a way that prevents renewed conflict, and what role can the United States play in that process?

President Sisi’s strategy for Gaza’s reconstruction begins with the recognition that Egypt is both mediator and gatekeeper. Its control over the Rafah crossing gives it leverage that few other actors possess. Cairo has learned from past experiences that reconstruction cannot precede stabilization and demilitarization. Any rebuilding effort that allows Hamas to retain control will only result in the next cycle of war. Egypt’s vision therefore rests on conditional reconstruction: aid and development projects are to be linked to concrete steps toward disarmament, governance reform, and international oversight. Sisi understands that rebuilding Gaza’s infrastructure without changing its power structure would merely rebuild the battlefield.

Egypt’s reconstruction capacity is unmatched in the Arab world. Through its state-backed enterprises such as the Arab Contractors and the Engineering Authority of the Armed Forces, it has proven capable of mobilizing labor, equipment, and materials at extraordinary speed. Cairo has already demonstrated its ability to construct new cities and industrial zones across Egypt in record time, which it now aims to replicate in Gaza. Yet Egypt will not risk its own credibility or security by empowering Hamas in the process. Reconstruction contracts, under Cairo’s proposal, should bypass Hamas’s patronage networks entirely, instead flowing through a neutral international reconstruction authority. This entity would be supported by Arab League legitimacy but controlled by a joint Egyptian-American-European oversight board to ensure financial transparency.

Economic stabilization is central to Cairo’s plan. Sisi envisions connecting Gaza’s reconstruction to Egypt’s broader development strategy. Egyptian companies could employ thousands of Gazans in Sinai, linking the region’s economic future to Cairo’s megaprojects such as the Suez Canal Zone and the New Administrative Capital. By binding Gaza’s economy to Egypt’s, Cairo seeks to replace dependence on militant groups with dependence on legitimate regional trade. This linkage would create a feedback loop of stability: the more Gaza benefits economically from cooperation with Egypt, the less incentive Hamas has to sabotage it.

However, Egypt’s approach depends on external political and financial backing. The United States plays a pivotal role in ensuring that Cairo’s leadership in Gaza’s reconstruction receives both legitimacy and material support. Washington’s presence reassures European donors and creates a political shield for Egypt against accusations of dominance or occupation. The U.S. can mobilize institutions such as the World Bank and USAID to provide transparent financing mechanisms, while the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers can help implement and supervise major infrastructure projects. American participation also ensures that reconstruction aligns with long-term stability goals rather than short-term humanitarian optics.

At the same time, Egypt and the United States face an increasingly complex regional environment. Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates, two of the region’s most influential powers and traditional funders of Arab reconstruction efforts, have stated unequivocally that they will not contribute either financially or militarily until Hamas is dismantled and replaced by the Palestinian Authority or another credible governing body. Riyadh and Abu Dhabi see no logic in rebuilding Gaza under the same leadership that destroyed it. They view Hamas as both an Iranian proxy and an ideological threat to regional moderation. Their position reflects a broader shift in the Arab world: reconstruction funds are now political instruments, not automatic responses to war. By conditioning their support on Hamas’s removal, Saudi Arabia and the UAE are effectively aligning with Egypt’s demand for a fundamental transformation of governance before recovery begins.

This stance complicates but also strengthens Egypt’s position. On one hand, it limits the immediate pool of Arab reconstruction financing, increasing Cairo’s reliance on Western aid. On the other, it gives Egypt greater leverage to insist that political reform precede rebuilding. With Riyadh and Abu Dhabi standing firm, Cairo can argue that any return of funds depends on concrete political progress in Gaza. This shared Arab front forces the United States and European Union to confront the reality that there can be no meaningful reconstruction while Hamas remains in power. Egypt can now speak with the weight of the Gulf behind it, reinforcing its demand that reconstruction be tied to credible governance.

From a security standpoint, Cairo’s plan integrates reconstruction with disarmament. Egypt has repeatedly warned that Gaza’s militarization undermines any long-term stability. The plan therefore envisions phased demilitarization monitored by international observers, with economic incentives tied to compliance. Infrastructure materials, fuel, and heavy equipment would only enter Gaza through approved channels, and their distribution would be tracked digitally to prevent diversion. The aim is to transform reconstruction itself into an instrument of verification, turning every ton of cement and every generator delivered into proof of compliance with the ceasefire.

The United States’ role is to provide diplomatic coherence to this process. Washington can use its leverage with Israel to secure logistical access for reconstruction materials while coordinating with Arab states to maintain conditionality. By aligning donor conditionality with U.S. diplomacy, the Biden administration can ensure that financial aid supports demilitarization rather than perpetuates Hamas’s hold. American envoys can also facilitate dialogue between Cairo and Ramallah to help the Palestinian Authority reestablish an administrative presence in Gaza, a key precondition for Saudi and Emirati participation.

The challenge remains that Hamas continues to treat reconstruction as an opportunity to rebuild its arsenal. Its control over border revenues, smuggling routes, and patronage networks gives it both the incentive and the capability to co-opt external aid. Unless these channels are severed, Gaza’s physical reconstruction will serve as a façade for its military recovery. Egypt knows this better than any other actor. Its intelligence services have observed firsthand how Hamas exploited past truces to reinforce its military capabilities under the guise of humanitarian projects. Hence, Cairo’s insistence that no reconstruction take place without a verified security arrangement and that all funds pass through monitored accounts.

For Egypt, Gaza’s reconstruction is ultimately about regional balance. Cairo does not seek to dominate Gaza but to stabilize it within a framework that restores Egyptian influence and neutralizes Iranian proxies. For Washington, supporting this model is an opportunity to consolidate a rare Arab consensus: Egypt as the implementer, Saudi Arabia and the UAE as financial anchors once Hamas is removed, and the Palestinian Authority as the eventual civilian administrator. This alignment could finally create the conditions for Gaza to move from a perpetual war zone to a governed territory integrated into the regional economic system. Only through this structure can reconstruction serve as both recovery and deterrence, ensuring that Gaza’s rebuilding marks the end of a cycle rather than the preparation for another.

Can international legal accountability for potential human rights violations or war crimes be achieved?

The pursuit of international legal accountability in the Gaza conflict faces a labyrinth of legal, political, and institutional challenges. While the mechanisms for accountability exist in theory, their application is hindered by the fragmented nature of international law and the political constraints surrounding its enforcement. Gaza presents one of the most complex environments for any judicial process because of overlapping jurisdictions, competing narratives, and the absence of uncontested sovereignty. Both Israel and Hamas claim legitimacy while accusing each other of grave violations, yet neither is willing to subject itself fully to the jurisdiction of an external tribunal. The International Criminal Court has formally opened an investigation into alleged crimes committed by both parties, but the process has been slow, constrained by evidentiary access and the broader geopolitical implications of prosecuting state and non-state actors in an active conflict.

Egypt views accountability through a pragmatic lens. Cairo understands that legal proceedings alone cannot substitute for political resolution. From Egypt’s standpoint, any process that seeks justice without stabilizing the situation risks perpetuating the cycle of retaliation. Egypt supports investigations into serious violations, but it prefers such efforts to be coordinated through regional mechanisms rather than being left solely to international institutions that may not understand the complexities of Gaza’s environment. Cairo favors the use of Arab League or African Union legal committees to supplement international efforts, thereby ensuring that accountability is balanced with regional stability. Egypt’s concern is not to obstruct justice but to prevent legal processes from being weaponized for political ends.

Hamas remains the single greatest obstacle to credible accountability. As a non-state armed group, it operates outside traditional legal frameworks yet claims the privileges of a government when convenient. Its deliberate embedding of military assets within civilian areas creates immense difficulties for investigators. Hamas’s internal security forces suppress dissent, obstruct international monitoring, and manipulate documentation of casualties to fit its narrative. It has no judicial independence or transparent recordkeeping. Even when confronted with evidence of war crimes such as executions of suspected collaborators or the use of human shields, Hamas simply denies wrongdoing or blames Israel. This culture of impunity ensures that accountability cannot take root as long as Hamas governs Gaza.

Israel, for its part, operates under the constraints of both democratic oversight and intense international scrutiny. Its military investigations are frequent and detailed, but they are conducted within the Israeli judicial framework, which the international community often views as insufficiently independent. The Israeli government maintains that its own system of military justice meets international standards, yet this position clashes with the expectations of international bodies seeking external verification. The result is a stalemate in which each side invokes legality to defend its actions while refusing to acknowledge the authority of external adjudication.

For the United States, accountability has become a balancing act between principle and policy. Washington supports human rights and the rule of law but recognizes that full-scale international prosecution could destabilize key regional partners. The U.S. prefers targeted sanctions and diplomatic pressure over referrals to international courts. It views accountability as a gradual process embedded in political reform rather than as an immediate judicial exercise. In this sense, Washington’s policy aligns more closely with Cairo’s pragmatic approach than with the activist agenda of some European states. Both countries see accountability as one instrument among many, not as an end in itself.

The challenge lies in designing a framework that allows justice to proceed without derailing the fragile architecture of ceasefire and reconstruction. One proposal circulating in diplomatic circles involves the establishment of a hybrid tribunal composed of international jurists and regional legal experts. This model, similar to tribunals used in Sierra Leone and Cambodia, would combine international legitimacy with regional ownership. Egypt could play a central role by hosting such a tribunal in Cairo, giving it a measure of proximity to evidence and witnesses while maintaining a neutral environment. This approach would also alleviate concerns that the International Criminal Court lacks local understanding or that national courts are too politicized.

However, for such a tribunal to be effective, there must be cooperation from both sides, and that remains elusive. Israel has no intention of subjecting its soldiers to international prosecution, and Hamas will never willingly expose its commanders to justice. Therefore, enforcement would depend on political pressure and selective targeting of individuals who fall under international jurisdiction. Interpol red notices, travel bans, and asset freezes are more likely instruments than actual trials. Accountability, in this sense, becomes a mosaic of partial measures rather than a comprehensive legal reckoning.

International law also struggles with the asymmetry of the Gaza conflict. While state actors like Israel can be held accountable for their conduct under the Geneva Conventions, non-state actors such as Hamas operate outside most of these frameworks. Although Hamas is bound by customary international humanitarian law, there is no effective enforcement mechanism. The International Criminal Court theoretically has jurisdiction, but without arrests or access to Gaza, it cannot proceed beyond issuing symbolic warrants. This imbalance has produced a situation where legal institutions appear more capable of judging states than armed groups, feeding perceptions of bias and undermining trust in international justice.

Still, the prospect of accountability cannot be dismissed entirely. Even limited investigations and documentation create a deterrent effect. By systematically recording violations, international and regional observers lay the groundwork for future prosecutions once political conditions change. For Egypt, this process also serves a strategic purpose. By documenting both Israeli and Hamas violations, Cairo reinforces its role as a neutral broker while preserving leverage over both sides. Accountability, when properly managed, becomes a diplomatic tool as much as a moral imperative.

Ultimately, international legal accountability in Gaza will not emerge from courtrooms alone. It will require the convergence of political will, regional cooperation, and sustained international engagement. Egypt’s pragmatic legal diplomacy, supported by U.S. political cover, could provide the scaffolding for such an effort. True accountability is not only about punishment but about creating the conditions where violations are no longer profitable or sustainable. That will only occur when Hamas is replaced by a governing entity capable of adhering to international law, when Israel accepts external verification mechanisms, and when the world’s major powers agree that justice in Gaza is not a substitute for peace but its foundation.