Climate resilience can no longer be viewed as supplementary to humanitarian response.
In Gaza, two crises have merged into one: a war that has released carbon equivalent to an entire nation's annual emissions, and a warming planet that answers with floods, lethal heat, and disease. The most densely populated and conflict-worn communities find themselves at the intersection of human violence and atmospheric consequence, where each emergency erodes the capacity to survive the next. What is unfolding there is not merely a regional tragedy but a preview of what happens when fragile systems meet compounding pressures with no room left to recover.
- Gaza's war has pumped 33 million tonnes of CO₂e into the atmosphere—equal to Jordan's entire yearly output—while the planet simultaneously turns its own forces against a population with nowhere to shelter.
- Temperatures above 40°C, catastrophic flooding, and collapsing sewage systems have unleashed waves of diarrhea, hepatitis A, and hypothermia, killing at least 11 children before February ended.
- Nearly 800,000 Gazans—four in ten residents—now live in flood-prone zones, and over 3,000 displaced people lost their shelters to a single season of heavy rain.
- Aid organizations warn that treating conflict response and climate adaptation as separate missions is no longer viable, as each crisis shortens the window before the next one arrives.
- Experts are pressing for water and sanitation infrastructure built to withstand both bombs and storms, alongside solar energy access and stronger disease surveillance networks.
- The pattern is not exclusive to Gaza—Yemen, Pakistan, and other fragile states signal that climate disruption is ceasing to be an emergency and becoming the permanent condition.
A research team at Queen Mary University of London has calculated that the Israel-Gaza war has released roughly 33 million tonnes of carbon dioxide equivalent—the equivalent of Jordan's annual emissions, or 7.6 million cars running without pause. Military operations alone contributed 1.3 million tonnes, with the remainder coming from construction, rubble clearance, and rebuilding. The carbon, however, is only part of what is killing people.
As the war continued, Gaza's already fragile systems faced a warming atmosphere. Last summer, temperatures exceeded 40°C with no functioning electricity grid to offer relief. Then came the rains: heavy March downpours flooded streets, destroyed more than 3,000 displaced people's shelters, and left nearly 800,000 residents—close to 40 percent of the population—living in flood-prone areas. At least 11 children, including newborns, died from hypothermia by early February. The World Meteorological Organisation now places a 91 percent probability on at least one of the next five years breaching the 1.5-degree warming threshold.
The heat, the flooding, and the collapse of sewage and sanitation infrastructure created ideal conditions for disease. Diarrheal illness, hepatitis A, and skin infections spread rapidly through overcrowded camps. Aid workers describe a mechanics of collapse: when waste accumulates, sewage fails, temperatures rise, and people are packed together, transmission becomes nearly inevitable. The same dynamic is playing out in Yemen, Pakistan, and other places where systems were already stretched thin before climate pressure arrived.
Humanitarian experts now argue that separating emergency response from climate adaptation is a framework the world can no longer afford. Asif Hussain of SKT Welfare and others are calling for investment in resilient water and sanitation systems, expanded disease surveillance, and solar energy access. Their case is not theoretical: without climate resilience built into aid itself, the systems meant to keep people alive will fail faster and more completely as crises continue to overlap.
The numbers arrive first, stark and almost incomprehensible. A research team at Queen Mary University of London calculated that the Israel-Gaza war has released roughly 33 million tonnes of carbon dioxide equivalent into the atmosphere since it began. To make that weight tangible: it equals what Jordan produces in an entire year, or the annual emissions of 7.6 million cars running continuously on a highway. The study, published in One Earth last April, found that active military operations alone—artillery fire, rocket launches, the machinery of combat—accounted for 1.3 million tonnes of that total. The rest came from building defensive structures and the grinding work of reconstruction: clearing rubble, laying new roads, raising buildings from foundation to roof.
But the carbon is only half the story. As the war burned through fuel and explosives, the planet itself was warming, and Gaza—already one of the most densely populated places on Earth, already fragile—sat directly in the path of that heat. Last summer, temperatures climbed past 40 degrees Celsius. Thousands of people had nowhere to shelter from it. The electricity grid was damaged or absent. Food spoiled in the heat. Bodies dehydrated. The World Meteorological Organisation now estimates there is a 91 percent chance that at least one of the next five years will exceed the 1.5-degree warming threshold that scientists have long warned against. When air warms, it holds more moisture—roughly seven percent more for every degree Celsius. That moisture falls as rain, and in March, heavy downpours turned Gaza's streets into standing water. More than 3,000 displaced people lost their shelters to flooding. By early February, at least 11 children, including newborns, had died from hypothermia after prolonged exposure to cold and wet. The UN estimates that nearly 800,000 Gazans—almost 40 percent of the population—now live in areas prone to flooding.
The heat and the water and the damage to infrastructure created conditions for disease to spread with terrifying speed. Diarrheal illness, hepatitis A, skin infections, and other communicable diseases moved through the population. Rodents and insects infested the camps. Sewage systems that were already strained began to fail entirely. Asif Hussain, who leads the UK aid charity SKT Welfare, explained the mechanics of collapse to journalists: when waste piles up, when sewage has nowhere to go, when temperatures climb, and when large numbers of people are forced into tight spaces, disease transmission becomes almost inevitable. The problem is not unique to Gaza. In Yemen, in Pakistan, in other places where systems are already fragile, climate is no longer an occasional disruption. It is becoming the baseline condition. Rainfall patterns shift and stay shifted. Droughts persist. Heat becomes the normal state. These changes directly threaten water access, food production, the ability of people to earn a living.
Humanitarian experts are now arguing that the old way of thinking about aid—treating emergency response and climate adaptation as separate problems—no longer works. Once infrastructure fails under the combined weight of conflict and climate pressure, the consequences for public health spiral quickly. Communities face repeated emergencies with less time and fewer resources to recover between them. Hussain and others are calling on policymakers to invest in water and sanitation systems that can withstand both shocks, to strengthen disease surveillance networks, to expand access to sustainable energy through solar technology. The argument is not abstract. It is that climate resilience is no longer a luxury or a supplementary concern. In many places, it has become essential to keeping humanitarian response itself alive. Without it, the systems that keep people alive will continue to fail, faster and more completely, as crises overlap and compound.
Citas Notables
Understanding the environmental impacts of conflict is essential if we are to fully account for the drivers of climate change. Greater transparency around military emissions will help ensure these impacts are no longer overlooked.— Dr Frederick Otu-Larbi, Lancaster University and University of Energy and Natural Resources in Ghana
When waste accumulates, sewage systems collapse, temperatures rise, and large populations are displaced into overcrowded areas, the conditions for disease transmission escalate rapidly.— Asif Hussain, CEO of SKT Welfare
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
When you look at 33 million tonnes of carbon, what does that actually mean for someone living in Gaza right now?
It means the war itself is a climate event. It's not just the immediate destruction—the buildings flattened, the people displaced. It's that every explosion, every military operation, is pumping greenhouse gases into an atmosphere that's already warming the region. So you have two crises happening at once, and they're making each other worse.
How does that work exactly? The heat and the flooding seem like opposite problems.
They're not opposite at all. Warmer air holds more moisture. So you get more intense rainfall events. In March, streets became lakes. People lost their shelters. Then you have the heat waves—40 degrees Celsius—and people with no electricity, no shade, nowhere to go. Both extremes stress the same fragile systems.
What happens to disease in that environment?
It explodes. You have overcrowding, damaged sewage systems, water scarcity, heat. Those conditions are perfect for diarrhea, hepatitis, skin infections to spread. And the healthcare system is already broken from the conflict. So outbreaks become very hard to contain.
Is this specific to Gaza, or is this a broader pattern?
It's broader. Yemen, Pakistan, other places where systems are already strained—climate isn't an occasional shock anymore. It's becoming the normal condition. Droughts last longer. Heat is more intense. And when you layer conflict on top of that, the whole thing collapses faster.
What would actually help?
Experts are saying climate adaptation has to be part of emergency response, not separate from it. Better water systems, disease surveillance, solar energy. But the real shift is treating resilience as essential, not optional. Because without it, communities just face one crisis after another with no time to recover.