From Montreal to Gaza: The Streets Demand an Arms Embargo as Ceasefire Hopes Hang in the Balance 

While high-level ceasefire talks involving the U.S., Israel, and Hamas generated a narrative of potential progress, a concurrent pro-Palestinian demonstration in Montreal revealed a deep and pervasive public distrust of such diplomatic efforts, with protesters vocally condemning Israel’s wartime tactics and intensifying their central, specific demand for the Canadian government to implement an immediate and comprehensive arms embargo on Israel, framing the conflict as a “genocide” fueled by external weapons and highlighting a critical chasm between official optimism and grassroots movements that are demanding tangible accountability from their own government rather than relying on what they see as a flawed and cyclical peace process.

From Montreal to Gaza: The Streets Demand an Arms Embargo as Ceasefire Hopes Hang in the Balance 

Meta Description: As high-stakes ceasefire talks unfold, a groundswell of public dissent in Montreal and across the globe challenges the narrative of progress, demanding Canada halt arms exports to Israel and questioning the very foundations of a lasting peace. 

Key Takeaways: 

• A Montreal pro-Palestinian demonstration, part of a coordinated international day of action, voiced deep skepticism towards new U.S.-led ceasefire proposals. 

• Protesters are intensifying calls for a comprehensive, bilateral Canadian arms embargo on Israel, framing the conflict as a “genocide” fueled by external weapons. 

• The public’s cynicism contrasts with official optimism, highlighting a critical trust deficit and a generational shift in how the public engages with foreign conflict. 

The Chasm Between the Negotiating Table and the Street 

In the shadow of Place des Arts’ towering modernist structures, a different kind of performance unfolded this past Saturday—one of raw emotion, collective grief, and simmering frustration. While diplomats and political leaders broadcast cautious optimism about a potential ceasefire in the two-year-old Gaza conflict, the hundreds of demonstrators in downtown Montreal delivered a starkly different review: they are not buying it. 

The news cycle was dominated by a flurry of statements. Hamas expressed a conditional willingness to release hostages. U.S. President Donald Trump, in a characteristically direct Truth Social post, announced Israel had agreed to an “initial withdrawal line.” Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, in a televised address, credited military pressure for Hamas’s shift. Yet, on the ground in Montreal, these headlines were met not with celebration, but with a weary and practiced skepticism. 

“It’s very complicated,” said Amil Benshagram, a protester at the rally, his voice cutting through the chill of the autumn air. “I hope it will be the last time, but I think that it will not be respected by Trump and Israel.” This sentiment, a blend of desperate hope and defensive pessimism, echoed throughout the crowd. It underscores a profound and growing chasm between the high-stakes theatre of international diplomacy and the grassroots movements that watch, protest, and demand accountability. 

This demonstration was not an isolated event. It was a local node in a global network of dissent, an “international call to action” seeing dozens of cities mobilize simultaneously. Their central, unifying demand, repeated on signs and in chants, was a direct challenge to Canadian foreign policy: an immediate and comprehensive bilateral arms embargo on Israel. 

The Anatomy of a Protest: More Than a Ceasefire Demand 

To view this gathering solely through the lens of a “pro-Palestinian demonstration” is to miss its deeper texture and strategic focus. The sea of Palestinian flags, waving like crimson tears against the grey sky, was symbolic of solidarity. But the specific grievances were sharply targeted at the Canadian government’s role in the conflict. 

Rama Al Malah, one of the attendees, articulated this with precision. “We’re here today… to say that we are continuing to demand a real and comprehensive bilateral arms embargo,” she stated. “We do not want Canadian-made weapons and arm components to continue fuelling this genocide after two years.” 

The word “genocide,” charged and legally significant, is used deliberately. For the protesters, it is not mere rhetoric but a legal and moral framework that obligates Canada, a signatory to international genocide conventions, to cease any material support. Their argument hinges on public reports and investigations that have repeatedly pointed to Canadian-made military components, particularly aerospace parts and light-armoured vehicle systems, being used by the Israeli military. 

This shifts the protest’s focus from a distant conflict to a tangible, domestic responsibility. It’s a move from “Stop the war” to “Stop enabling the war.” Hicham Chebahi, who has been demonstrating consistently for two years, made this connection personal for Canadians. “As Canadian citizens, our first ask is to stop dealing with Israel — to stop providing them guns and material for that.” 

This represents a significant evolution in activist strategy. It bypasses the often-intractable debates over historical claims and immediate triggers, and instead focuses on a concrete, actionable policy lever within Canada’s direct control. 

A Symphony of Distrust: Why the Public Isn’t Cheering the Deal 

The timing of the protest, concurrent with what President Trump framed as a potential breakthrough, reveals a deep and pervasive distrust of the official narrative. The demonstrators’ skepticism is not rooted in a desire for perpetual conflict, but in a painful history of failed agreements and broken promises. 

From their perspective, the current framework, even if it leads to a temporary pause, fails to address the fundamental power imbalances and root causes of the conflict. Key Hamas demands, such as a permanent end to the hostilities and a full Israeli withdrawal, remain points of negotiation. Meanwhile, Netanyahu’s repeated and public commitment to the “demilitarization of Hamas” is seen by protesters as a euphemism for a continued military campaign that has already exacted a staggering human cost—roughly 67,000 lives in Gaza, according to the article. 

This creates a cognitive dissonance for those in the streets. How can one celebrate a ceasefire announcement while news reports on the same day detail dozens killed in ongoing Israeli strikes? For Al Malah and others, the pattern is clear: “It has consistently been the U.S. and Israel that have stood in the way of a ceasefire, with Israel unable to hold its side of the bargain.” 

This distrust extends beyond the immediate actors to the very architecture of the peace process. The reliance on President Trump, a figure seen by many as an unpredictable mediator, and the leadership of Netanyahu, a politician facing domestic pressures of his own, offers little assurance of a just and durable peace. The protest, therefore, is not just against the war, but against a peace process they believe is designed to fail, perpetuating a status quo of occupation and violence. 

The Human Cost: The Hostages, The Hopeful, and The Hardened 

Amid the political demands, the human element of the tragedy remains the most potent. The rally was not devoid of hope, but it was a hope tempered by immense sorrow. The plight of the hostages, held for two years, casts a long shadow. 

Montreal Rabbi Lisa Grushcow, speaking the day before the protest, identified their return as the paramount concern. “It’s very hard to know what will come next or to have confidence in what will come next, but there’s a tremendous amount of hopefulness because this situation can’t be tenable forever,” she noted. Her words reflect a different kind of hope—one born not from confidence in political leaders, but from sheer exhaustion and a universal desire for the safe return of loved ones. 

This hope, however, clashes with the lived reality of those like Hicham Chebahi, for whom two years of weekly demonstrations have hardened into a permanent state of advocacy. His hope is not for a return to the pre-war status quo, but for a fundamental restructuring of the relationship between Israel and Palestine, one that begins with the world ceasing to supply the weapons of war. 

Canada at a Crossroads: The Geopolitics of an Arms Embargo 

The demonstrators’ core demand places Canada in a difficult geopolitical position. A formal bilateral arms embargo would represent a dramatic rupture with not only Israel but also with the United States, its closest ally and the primary architect of the current ceasefire plan. Canada has historically walked a careful line, expressing concern for civilian casualties and supporting humanitarian pauses, while stopping short of condemning Israel’s core military campaign or halting the lucrative and long-standing defence trade. 

The protesters are forcing a public conversation about this duality. Can Canada position itself as a neutral advocate for peace while simultaneously supplying the components that one side uses in a conflict the UN’s top court has said plausibly involves acts of genocide? 

The answer to this question will define Canada’s role on the world stage for years to come. Will it adhere to a traditional alliance-based foreign policy, or will it pivot toward a principles-based approach that aligns with the demands of a growing segment of its citizenry, as seen in the streets of Montreal? 

The Long Road Ahead: When the Headlines Fade 

As the crowds dispersed from Place des Arts, the ceasefire talks continued in distant capitals. Whether this particular round of diplomacy succeeds or fails, the movement witnessed in Montreal has demonstrated a resilience and strategic clarity that suggests it will outlive any single news cycle. 

The call for an arms embargo is more than a policy prescription; it is a moral litmus test. It reflects a public that is increasingly informed, interconnected, and unwilling to accept the slow pace of diplomatic compromise in the face of overwhelming human suffering. The flags in Montreal were not just for Palestine; they were banners for a new kind of international accountability, one that starts at home, demanding that no Canadian weapon, no Canadian dollar, and no Canadian silence contributes to the violence abroad. The ceasefire may be negotiated by world leaders, but the demand for a just peace, it seems, is being written in the streets.