هذا التقرير متاح أيضًا بـ العربية
There is no doubt that those who planned and carried out the 7 October operation three years ago took regional dynamics and the balance of power into account. To varying degrees, they were counting on the role neighbouring Arab and Muslim states could play in providing political and logistical support, particularly if the confrontation entered more difficult and complex stages. That calculation rested on the view that the battle was not merely Palestinian-Israeli, but part of a broader conflict in which Arab, Islamic and Christian dimensions intersect in confronting the Israeli project and its repercussions for the region.
For historical, geographical and political reasons, attention turned first to Egypt in the opening hours of Operation Al-Aqsa Flood. Egypt is more than a neighbouring state sharing a border with the Gaza Strip. Its influence in the Arab world and the wider region has made it one of the most important actors in the Palestinian cause for decades. It is also the state most closely bound up with the conflict’s repercussions, and the most affected by any attempt to reshape spheres of influence or alter the geopolitical balance along its eastern border and in the surrounding region.
Today, three years after the war began, much of the uncertainty of the early days has cleared. Slogans have given way to the realities of the battlefield and calculations of interest and politics. Egypt’s role in the war now warrants a measured reassessment, objective discussion and constructive evaluation. This raises numerous questions about what Cairo did and what it could have done.
Through five main questions, we examine Egypt’s position and how it developed, setting aside slogans and preconceived judgements. These lead to the most important and contentious question: during this brutal war, did Egypt do everything it could to support the Palestinians and protect their cause, or did it leave other options unused?
How did Cairo view the war?
Egypt set out its position within hours of the 7 October operation and the confrontation and Israeli response that followed. In a statement issued on the morning of Saturday, 7 October 2023, the Foreign Ministry warned of the “grave dangers” of the ongoing escalation between the Palestinian and Israeli sides. It called for the utmost restraint and for civilians to be spared further danger. It also urged international actors involved in efforts to resume the peace process to intervene immediately to stop the escalation. It called on Israel to halt its assaults and provocative acts against the Palestinian people, abide by international humanitarian law and fulfil its responsibilities as the Israeli power.
From the outset, the statement outlined Cairo’s chosen approach. It appeared closer to seeking a political middle ground than explicitly aligning with the Palestinian resistance or adopting rhetoric grounded in the Palestinians’ right to resist occupation and defend their land. Egypt takes this approach to several regional issues, including those that directly affect its interests and national security. Cairo believes that maintaining a distance from the parties to a conflict gives it greater room for political manoeuvre and strengthens its ability to mediate when crises intensify.
Developments in the following days quickly made Egypt’s approach clearer. Alongside the war’s Palestinian, humanitarian and political dimensions, Cairo treated it as a matter directly affecting Egyptian national security. The displacement of Gaza’s population therefore became a major priority, and rejecting the transfer of Palestinians to Sinai became one of the clearest and most consistent red lines in official statements.
Egypt’s rejection of displacement was linked to its solidarity with the Palestinians and opposition to the elimination of their cause. But it was also tied to direct security and strategic calculations, perhaps more urgently from the Egyptian state’s perspective. Cairo saw the transfer of hundreds of thousands of Gaza’s residents, perhaps more, to Sinai as a scenario that might begin as “temporary displacement” before becoming, over time, a permanent reality that would be difficult to reverse. The Egyptian state believes it cannot bear the demographic, security, political and economic consequences.
President Abdel Fattah el-Sissi’s remarks at a joint news conference with German Chancellor Olaf Scholz on 18 October 2023, just 11 days after the war began, offered one of the clearest indications of Egypt’s calculations on displacement. In rejecting the transfer of Palestinians to Sinai, el-Sissi suggested the Negev desert inside Israel as a hypothetical alternative destination for Gaza’s residents, if Israel’s declared aim was to move civilians temporarily until military operations ended.
The reference to the Negev revealed the substance of Egypt’s objection more than it offered a geographical proposal. For Cairo, the problem was not only the removal of Palestinians from their homes, but also the prospect of Egyptian territory receiving the displaced population and bearing the consequences. This could ultimately mean the elimination of the Palestinian cause at the expense of Egyptian national security. Egypt’s approach to the war thus became clear early on: protect its border and national security and prevent a new demographic and political reality from being imposed in Sinai, while preserving the Palestinian cause and preventing its elimination.
https://t.co/bBVGmH91uc— NoonPost (@NoonPost) April 2, 2025
Yet an assessment of Egypt’s position based solely on security considerations remains incomplete. Cairo also showed a clear determination to prevent the elimination of the Palestinian cause. This stemmed from its recognition that the fall of Gaza and the displacement of its residents outside the Strip would not simply alter the course of the Palestinian-Israeli conflict, but could bring a broad strategic shift in the regional balance of power in Israel’s favour.From this perspective, Gaza is not only part of Palestinian land; it is also part of Egypt’s geopolitical surroundings. Emptying the Strip of its population or ending its Palestinian status could therefore create a new strategic reality on Egypt’s eastern border, confronting Cairo with security and political arrangements radically different from those that had prevailed for decades.From the first days of the war, Egypt’s position combined two priorities that are difficult to separate: rejecting the elimination of the Palestinian cause, and protecting Egyptian national security and preventing the conflict’s repercussions from spilling into Sinai. This overlap may well be the most important factor in understanding many of Egypt’s positions and actions over the subsequent years of war.
How did Cairo act?
On this basis, diplomacy emerged as the main, and perhaps almost the only, tool Cairo chose to manage the war’s repercussions. Three main milestones defined these efforts and reflected the role Egypt wanted to play from the outbreak of the confrontation.The first came about two weeks after the war began, when Cairo called for the “Cairo Peace Summit” on 21 October 2023. It sought to shift the crisis from open military confrontation towards international political and diplomatic action. It aimed to link de-escalation, civilian protection and a guaranteed flow of humanitarian aid to efforts to address the political roots of the crisis, by reviving a settlement process leading to an independent Palestinian state. It also renewed its firm rejection of any outcome in which the war would end in the “liquidation of the Palestinian cause at the expense of any state in the region” — a direct reference to its fears of displacement and changes to the demographic and political realities surrounding Gaza.The second milestone came during the November 2023 truce, when Cairo moved from mobilising political support to a more direct mediating role, in cooperation with Qatar and the US. These efforts produced a temporary humanitarian truce that included an exchange of detainees and prisoners and an increase in aid entering the Strip.https://t.co/jB3fQmpuTT— NoonPost (@NoonPost) February 13, 2025
The third and most prominent milestone came in October 2025, when Sharm el-Sheikh hosted the negotiations that led to the agreement ending the war in Gaza, with Egypt, the US, Qatar and Türkiye acting as mediators. Days later, the city hosted the “Sharm el-Sheikh Peace Summit,” co-chaired by el-Sissi and US President Donald Trump, with broad international participation. The aim was to consolidate the agreement and turn an understanding between the warring parties into a process with broader political and international backing.
Cairo’s network of relationships and communication channels with the various parties, maintained throughout the years of conflict, helped it assume this role. Egypt has official relations and longstanding security and political understandings with Israel. It also maintained direct contact with Hamas despite their deep political and ideological differences, alongside its close ties to the US and the regional and international powers involved in the crisis.
These relationships gave Cairo a relative advantage rarely available to other regional actors, allowing it to mediate by conveying messages, hosting negotiations and helping formulate understandings between parties that are difficult to bring together directly. But the ability to mediate is one thing; the ability to turn mediation into lasting political results is another. That depends on the outcomes of this role, its limits and the extent of its actual success, which will be discussed later.
Was that all Egypt could do?
Egypt’s diplomatic role throughout the years of war cannot be ignored or denied, whether in de-escalation and mediation or in confronting plans to displace Palestinians outside Gaza, regardless of the motives and calculations behind its approach. But acknowledging that role does not remove the most pressing and contentious question: was diplomacy the most Cairo could offer Palestinians facing one of the bloodiest and harshest wars in their modern history? Did the Egyptian state have no other tools it could use as it watched a people being killed, besieged and starved in full view of the world, just metres from its border?
Diplomacy was not Cairo’s only tool. Its geographical and political influence, and the nature of its relations with Israel, give Egypt political, economic and security leverage that it did not use fully or, in some cases, even seriously threaten to use. Throughout the war, critics argued that using some of this leverage could have raised the cost to Israel of continuing military operations and provided additional pressure that might have helped hasten an end to the war and save thousands of Palestinian lives.
Foremost among these sources of leverage is the Egyptian-Israeli peace treaty. Activists, political groups and sections of Arab and Muslim public opinion called for it to be used to exert political pressure on Israel, or at least for Egypt to threaten to review aspects of the relationship associated with it. Questions were also raised about the Suez Canal and the passage of ships linked to Israel, as well as security coordination and economic and trade relations between the two countries. According to this argument, all were areas in which Egypt could have increased pressure on the Israeli government to varying degrees.
The paradox becomes even sharper in the economic sphere. As images of killing, destruction and hunger emerged from Gaza, Arab and Muslim economic boycott campaigns intensified as a means for the public to isolate and pressure Israel. Yet trade indicators showed that economic relations continued, and that the value of trade between Israel and Egypt, as well as a number of other Arab states, even rose during periods of the war.
This exposed one of the most controversial contradictions in the regional position generally, and Egypt’s in particular. Official political statements condemned Israeli violations, rejected displacement and called for an end to the war and the entry of aid. Yet economic and trade relations continued as military operations expanded and the death toll rose.
This contradiction fuelled a widespread sense of betrayal among sections of the Palestinian and Arab public. They saw continued economic relations at the height of the war as undermining part of the declared political message in practice and weakening attempts to isolate Israel economically and politically.
The disparity also exposed Cairo to sharp criticism, clouded assessments of its diplomatic efforts and reinforced a narrative that its actions towards Gaza were driven in significant part by the priority of protecting Egyptian national security and preventing the war’s repercussions from spilling into Sinai, more than by a willingness to bear direct political and economic costs in defence of the Palestinians. This raises a question that is difficult to avoid when evaluating Egypt’s position: to what extent can declared support for Palestinian rights and calls for an end to the war be reconciled with continued economic and trade relations with the very party whose military operations Cairo is simultaneously working through diplomacy to stop?
The dilemma was less about a lack of leverage than the limits of Cairo’s willingness to use it, and the costs it was prepared to bear to turn its declared political position into direct material pressure on Israel. This is the gap between diplomacy that seeks to manage a crisis and a policy that uses power to change its course.
The Sharm el-Sheikh agreement: solution or trap?
As the war escalated to unprecedented levels, deaths and injuries rose, and internal displacement, starvation and destruction spread. Israeli military operations approached the Egyptian border and the Philadelphi Corridor, and incidents affected Egyptian targets, whether intentional or unintentional. Cairo faced an increasingly complex predicament that it could no longer address with the same tools or at the same pace.
The continuing war was no longer merely a humanitarian and political crisis inside Gaza; it was beginning to impinge directly on Egyptian national security. The need for an agreement to stop the war became more urgent, or at least for a period of calm that would make it possible to reduce escalation, contain the risk of a regional conflagration and create space for subsequent political efforts.
In this atmosphere, Cairo intensified its diplomatic efforts and contacts with Washington and the Trump administration, seeking a way to halt the war’s escalation. Arab public anger had reached high levels, directed not only at Israeli policies and US support for them but also at the conduct of Arab governments. Egypt was foremost among them because of its geographical position, political influence and direct role in Gaza affairs.
Each party, for its own reasons and calculations, needed a breathing space. Trump needed an achievement he could present as a breakthrough in one of the most prominent and consequential international crises, reinforcing his image as a “peacemaker.” Egypt needed to stop the escalation along its border and cement its position as the principal regional mediator and host of the negotiations. Palestinians desperately needed a truce to halt the killing and continuous bombardment, even temporarily, and give them a chance to catch their breath after long months of war, siege and attrition.
Yet the central dilemma was that the process leading to Sharm el-Sheikh began before all the elements of the agreement had been sufficiently developed to address the roots of the crisis and ensure a lasting end to the war. What was presented as a route to a solution thus began to contain the seeds of a later crisis. In the most pessimistic reading, it even turned from an opportunity to end the war into a political trap whose consequences had merely been postponed.
The parties did not arrive in Sharm el-Sheikh with the same objective. They came together temporarily because of divergent interests. Israel’s foremost priority was to recover its remaining hostages and resolve the issue with as few strategic concessions as possible. Trump sought a major political and diplomatic achievement he could present as a personal success on the most prominent issue on the international agenda at the time. Cairo, meanwhile, sought to defuse the flashpoint on its eastern border and prevent a further slide towards a confrontation directly affecting its national security. It also sought to give Palestinians room to regroup and prepare for the more complicated discussion of the “day after” the war.
Sharm el-Sheikh therefore represented a temporary meeting of conflicting interests more than a shared vision. Each party secured part of what it wanted, while the most sensitive issues were deferred. Here lay the dilemma: the truce turned from a first step towards peace into merely a pause between two rounds of conflict. This was the real test facing the agreement from its inception, and one that everyone appears to have failed except the Israel.
Did Egypt succeed as a guarantor?
Before the Sharm el-Sheikh agreement, Egypt acted primarily as a “mediator”: a party seeking to narrow differences, convey messages, propose initiatives and host negotiations, without necessarily taking direct responsibility for the parties’ compliance with their commitments. Cairo’s direct involvement in the agreement moved it, at least in theory, into a different position. It was no longer merely a mediator between two warring parties, but one of the agreement’s principal guarantors and a key partner in consolidating it and ensuring that its phases were implemented and its obligations met.
Yet the agreement’s first year raises serious questions about the gap between this presumed role and events on the ground. Israeli violations continued almost daily throughout the year. More than 1,400 Palestinians were killed after the ceasefire took effect, while more than 1.2 million people continued to face acute hunger. Meanwhile, Israel continued its military expansion inside the Strip and imposed effective control over vast areas covering more than two-thirds of Gaza’s territory.
The paradox is that these developments did not take place in the absence of a political agreement or guarantors. The agreement was in force, its guarantors were present and the parties’ obligations had been declared. This takes the question beyond documenting Israeli violations to the guarantors’ own ability to enforce compliance with the agreement. Egypt is foremost among them because of its geographical position and central role in the negotiations.
Despite these continuing breaches, Egypt’s actions remained largely confined to traditional diplomatic tools: statements of condemnation and warning, political contacts and action in UN and regional forums. It also held intensive meetings with leaders of Palestinian factions, particularly Hamas, which showed considerable flexibility during the negotiations. On some issues, this amounted to painful concessions, made in the hope of securing a lasting end to the war and stopping the suffering of Gaza’s residents.
According to this reading, Israel did not respond with similar flexibility. Nor did Cairo intensify pressure by using its political and economic leverage, alongside its direct relations with Israel, to raise the cost of continued violations or push for the implementation of the agreement’s remaining obligations. The same dilemma that has accompanied Egypt’s role since the war began thus returns more sharply: if the limits of a mediator’s tools can be understood, to what extent can those of a guarantor’s tools be understood?
Ultimately, a guarantee derives its political value not simply from signing an agreement or hosting negotiations, but from the ability and willingness to defend it when it is violated. If the response to breaches remains limited to statements, meetings and contacts, without more effective pressure, the distinction between a “mediator” and a “guarantor” becomes more a matter of description than practice.
After a year of the agreement, preceded by two years of genocidal war, conditions on the ground therefore remained far from the goals Sharm el-Sheikh was supposed to help achieve. Violations continued, alongside a suffocating humanitarian crisis, Israeli expansion inside and outside the Strip that was approaching the point of swallowing it whole, obstruction of efforts to implement political obligations and round-the-clock Israeli blackmail. There was no real breakthrough to put the agreement back on track or turn its guarantees into a means of enforcing implementation.
Three phases and a test
On the third anniversary of 7 October, Egypt’s handling of the Gaza war can be understood in three main phases, each with its own calculations, tools and tests. The first was containment during the war’s first year. Egypt focused primarily on preventing the confrontation from spilling into its territory and opposing plans to displace Palestinians into Sinai. Alongside this, it sought to reduce escalation and secure temporary truces and exchanges of prisoners and detainees between the two sides. Cairo acted as a mediator seeking to contain the war’s repercussions and prevent it from becoming a broader regional crisis directly affecting Egyptian national security.
The second phase can be described as an effort to forge a settlement. During the second year, Cairo became more deeply involved in formulating arrangements to end the war, participating in truce negotiations and discussing “the day after” scenarios and Gaza’s reconstruction. These efforts culminated in the Sharm el-Sheikh agreement in October 2025, the peak of Egypt’s diplomatic role and an attempt to move from managing the crisis to helping shape a political way out.
The third phase was perhaps the most difficult: the test of Egypt’s role as guarantor during the third year, the first after the ceasefire agreement. The test was no longer Cairo’s ability to bring the parties to the negotiating table or reach an agreement, but its ability to protect that agreement and ensure its obligations were met when one party began to violate it.
Cairo clearly faltered in this test. Despite its diplomatic successes and continued ability to communicate with the various parties, its impact on the ground remained limited as Israeli violations continued and implementation of several provisions was obstructed. After three years of war, Egypt has proved itself a mediator that cannot be bypassed in any settlement concerning Gaza. It has yet to prove itself a guarantor with sufficient tools to enforce the agreement when it is violated.
Cairo is credited with thwarting a scenario in which the Palestinian cause would be eliminated through displacement into Sinai, and with maintaining its rejection of the displacement of Gaza’s residents despite political pressure. It also helped reduce the intensity of the war compared with the period before October 2025, even though it did not succeed in ending it or fully stopping the violations.
But its policy of balancing between the parties and avoiding alienating any of them has so far left it unable to translate its political influence and role as guarantor into the ability to impose its vision or compel Israel to fulfil the agreement’s obligations. A clear gap remains between the scale of Egypt’s diplomatic role and its results on the ground, particularly given the leverage it possesses and still avoids using. This raises many questions.
The test is not yet over. Egypt’s continuing efforts to bring Israel back into full compliance give Cairo a new opportunity to redefine its role, moving from an indispensable mediator to an actor capable of influencing events on the ground and imposing a cost for obstructing a settlement. The final judgement on the success of this shift will depend on clear indicators on the ground that will determine Egypt’s role in the next phase: can Cairo push for an end to daily Israeli violations? Can it compel Israel to withdraw from the areas it seized inside the Strip? And can it turn reconstruction promises and plans into action, while ensuring that Palestinians remain on their land and preventing displacement?
