Empty Vaults, Flickering Hope: The Paradox of Gaza’s Bank Reopenings 

In a fragile gesture toward normalcy amid the devastation of a two-year war, two Bank of Palestine branches in Gaza have partially reopened under a ceasefire, yet the symbolic act underscores a deeper economic crisis as the banks operate without any physical cash, leaving throngs of residents able to perform only administrative tasks while still forcing them to rely on a predatory black market of exchangers who take exorbitant fees for access to currency, a situation resulting from what UN experts label a Israeli “financial stranglehold” that has blocked new money from entering the strip and destroyed over 90% of its banking infrastructure, leaving hope for economic revival flickering but entirely dependent on a political resolution that allows cash to flow back into the territory.

Empty Vaults, Flickering Hope: The Paradox of Gaza’s Bank Reopenings 

In a landscape defined by rubble and loss, the simple act of standing in line can feel like a revolutionary act. For the first time in two years, throngs of Palestinians in Gaza City and Deir Al-Balah are not queueing for scarce bread, potable water, or humanitarian aid. They are waiting for a bank. But the reopening of two Bank of Palestine branches, a fragile symbol of a ceasefire taking root, presents a stark paradox: the institution is open, but the money is gone. 

This isn’t a story about finance; it’s a story about the ghost of an economy, the resilience of hope, and the profound meaning of normalcy in a place that has been severed from it. 

The Queue for a Phantom Withdrawal 

The scene outside the Bank of Palestine in Gaza City is one of anxious anticipation. Men and women of all ages clutch faded identification cards and old bank statements, their presence a quiet testament to a shared, desperate need. For many, it is the first time they have been able to perform any administrative task with their accounts since the war began. 

Ramadan Al-Jumla, 55, spent hours in the sun only to confront the hard truth at the teller’s window. “If the bank is open or closed, there’s no difference because there’s no money,” he stated, his words heavy with a practicality forged by two years of survival. He had come to update his account after receiving a mobile notification—a digital ghost from a past life—but left with empty hands. His lament, “I wish there was money,” echoes the sentiment of thousands. 

The brutal reality is that the bank’s reopening is, for now, a logistical formality. The safes are empty. The fighting that has killed over 71,000 people, according to the Gaza Health Ministry, and displaced nearly the entire population, has also systematically dismantled the territory’s financial infrastructure. A 2024 World Bank report found a staggering 93% of operational bank branches in Gaza had been destroyed. The last working ATM went dark last year, severing a critical digital artery. 

The “Financial Stranglehold” and the Rise of the Exchangers 

This cash crisis didn’t happen in a vacuum. In a September 2025 report, UN experts described it as a deliberate “financial stranglehold,” accusing Israel of blocking the inflow of new currency into Gaza. This has created a severe economic emergency, decimating any semblance of a formal economy and giving rise to a precarious, and often predatory, black market for cash. 

For much of the war, Palestinians needing physical shekels have had to rely on “exchangers”—individuals with clandestine access to bills, often through networks of businessmen. The process is simple in theory, brutal in practice: a person electronically transfers funds to an exchanger’s account and, after a significant fee, receives a portion of that value in physical cash. 

“If you want to take money out, they take half,” Al-Jumla revealed, highlighting the extortionate rates born of absolute scarcity. This system forces people to make impossible choices: pay a 50% penalty to access their own savings for essentials, or watch the digital number in their account become meaningless in a cash-only economy. 

Amer Al-Sultan, 30, voiced the collective anxiety of a generation watching their future evaporate. “Will we live under the mercy of exchangers?” he asked, his question piercing to the heart of the matter. It’s a query about dignity and autonomy as much as economics. “We demand that [Israel] bring money in for the banks so we can live. We want money so we can manage our affairs.” 

The exchangers represent a regression to a pre-modern financial state, where trust is fragile and exploitation is rampant. While CBC’s freelance videographer on the ground, Mohamed El Saife, notes that transaction fees have recently decreased, their very existence underscores the total collapse of the formal systems that underpin a functioning society. 

Banks as Beacons: The Deeper Meaning of a “Useless” Gesture 

Given the absence of cash, why did people like Ali Al-Sadeq, 39, call the bank’s reopening a “big achievement”? The answer lies in the profound symbolic power of institutions. 

In a territory where entire city blocks have been flattened, where universities, hospitals, and government buildings lie in ruins, the simple act of a bank opening its doors is a physical declaration that not everything has been erased. It is a piece of the old world, stubbornly reasserting itself. 

“We were all struggling during the entire duration of the war in regards to the cash and withdrawals,” Al-Sadeq said. For him and others, the bank is not just a building; it is a cornerstone of civil society. Its reopening is a tiny, flickering signal that the long, slow journey back from the abyss might be beginning. 

Khaled Shamiya, 54, articulated this sentiment perfectly. “Without banks, there is no life,” he stated. “Banks are a way to find a solution in the catastrophic economic situation we’re in.” He isn’t just talking about loans or savings accounts. He is referring to the foundational role banks play in facilitating commerce, paying salaries, enabling rebuilding, and restoring a sense of predictable order. They are the circulatory system of a modern economy, and in Gaza, that system has been in cardiac arrest. 

The Long Road Ahead: Cash is Just the First Step 

The reopening of these two branches is a critical first step under the fragile current ceasefire, but it is merely the outer gate of a long and complex path to economic recovery. The challenges are Herculean: 

• The Cash Infusion: Before any real transactions can occur, a massive and secure shipment of currency must be allowed into Gaza. This requires high-level coordination and political will, which remains tenuous. 

• Rebuilding Trust: The Palestinian Monetary Authority and banks must convince a traumatized population that their deposits are safe and that the system is stable. This will take years. 

• Physical Reconstruction: With 93% of branches destroyed, rebuilding the physical network is a monumental task that cannot begin in earnest until the siege is fully lifted and construction materials flow freely. 

• The Human Capital: Bank employees, like all Gazans, have been scattered, displaced, and traumatized. Reassembling a skilled workforce is another hidden challenge. 

The people in those lines know this. They are not naive. They stand in the heat, not because they expect to walk away with a stack of shekels today, but because they are investing in the idea of a tomorrow. They are performing a ritual of normalcy, willing it into existence through their collective patience. 

As Ali Al-Sadeq put it, “The Gaza Strip is destroyed but we have hope. Despite all the destruction, the Bank of Palestine opened and it is an achievement.” 

In the end, the story of Gaza’s reopening banks is a powerful metaphor for the territory’s entire predicament. It is a story of a people grasping for the tools to rebuild their own lives, confronting a system that is physically present but functionally hollow. The empty vaults are a cruel reminder of the devastation, but the determined faces in the queue are a testament to an unyielding will to reclaim not just their money, but their future. The banks are open. Now, the world must help fill them with meaning.