The Islamic University of Gaza has been bombed during the war
As countless students across the United Kingdom celebrated securing their university places this week, Mahmoud, a 27-year-old doctor in central Gaza, received the news he had been desperately awaiting while trying to find rest in a crowded shelter. After a grueling night shift treating trauma patients at a makeshift field hospital, he learned he had been awarded a prestigious, fully-funded scholarship to study for a master's in global health policy at the world-renowned London School of Economics.
For a fleeting moment, the news pierced through the constant hum of fear and exhaustion. Yet, his joy was immediately tempered by a brutal, inescapable reality. The email was not a ticket to safety, but the first fragile sign of hope in a months-long battle to escape a relentless war zone. "I was highly emotional and so happy to be awarded the scholarship," Mahmoud shared with BBC News, his voice a mix of elation and profound weariness. "It gave me the energy to keep working. But most of the time, I avoided talking about it, because of the indefinite uncertainty."
Mahmoud is one of just nine students in Gaza who received carefully worded emails this week from the UK government, confirming it was actively "working to facilitate" their evacuation. They are all recipients of the highly competitive Chevening Scholarship, a flagship UK Foreign Office grant bestowed upon individuals with "demonstrable leadership potential" and a commitment to creating positive change in their home countries. If successful, this small cohort would be the first group of students to officially leave the besieged Strip for study in the UK since the war began nearly two years ago. Their potential departure represents a small, hard-won victory following months of relentless campaigning by British politicians, academics, and human rights advocates on behalf of more than 80 Palestinian students who hold offers from UK universities, around 50 of whom have secured full funding.
The Systematic 'Scholasticide' of Gaza
The immense struggle of these individual students unfolds against the backdrop of a far larger, systemic tragedy—what prominent human rights organizations and United Nations experts have unequivocally termed a "scholasticide." This term describes the deliberate and systematic destruction of Gaza's entire educational infrastructure. Before the war, the narrow coastal enclave was home to a dozen universities and hundreds of schools, serving a vibrant community of nearly 90,000 higher education students and over half a million school children. Today, not a single one of these institutions remains undamaged.
A detailed satellite imagery assessment conducted by the Education Cluster and UNOSAT paints a devastating picture: at least 85% of schools have sustained significant damage, with a staggering 72% requiring complete reconstruction or major rehabilitation. The situation for higher education is even more dire. All of Gaza's universities have been systematically destroyed or severely damaged, including the Islamic University of Gaza, which was one of the first to be bombed, and Al-Azhar University. The conflict has not only shattered buildings but has also targeted the intellectual heart of the territory. Reports from Palestinian academic bodies indicate the killing of hundreds of academics, including at least 95 university professors, many of whom were targeted in their homes. For students like Mahmoud, who dreams of one day applying his advanced degree to help rebuild Gaza's shattered healthcare system, the loss of these institutions represents a catastrophic blow to the future of an entire generation.
A Glimmer of Hope, A Heavy Heart
For Mohammed, a 25-year-old aspiring epidemiologist and another Chevening scholar, the day he received his offer to study at the University of Glasgow is carved permanently in his memory. A friend in the UK had managed to pass a message to his brother, who then hurried to the tent where Mohammed was living, urging him to find a rare spot with an internet connection to check his emails. "When I saw the word 'congratulations', I froze for a moment," he recalled, his voice filled with emotion during an interview with Radio 4's The World Tonight. "I felt, just for a moment, that the noise of the bombs and the fear around me faded, and I felt hope again."
But this profound hope is inextricably linked to an equally profound pain. The evacuation process itself is fraught with peril and paralyzing uncertainty. The primary exit for Gazans, the Rafah crossing into Egypt, has been effectively sealed or under highly restricted access for months, with foreign governments needing to engage in complex, high-level negotiations to secure passage for their nationals and approved individuals. The UK government has stated it is "working urgently" but has pointedly given no guarantees or timelines, leaving the nine students in an agonizing state of limbo.
This bureaucratic paralysis forces an impossible, heart-wrenching choice upon them. "It is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, but it will be hard to leave my family behind to face constant displacement, famine, chaos, and insecurity," Mahmoud explained. The war, which began after the Hamas-led attack on southern Israel on October 7, 2023, has killed more than 62,000 people in Gaza, according to the territory's Hamas-run health ministry. The conflict has also precipitated a devastating humanitarian crisis, leading to a formally declared famine crisis in the northern part of the Strip, a catastrophe international aid groups have described as entirely man-made.
The Agony of the Forgotten Scholars
While the nine Chevening scholars cling to a fragile glimmer of hope, dozens of other equally qualified students with different scholarships remain trapped in darkness, feeling forgotten by the very institutions that offered them a lifeline. Manar, a 36-year-old English teacher and mother of three young daughters, was awarded a prestigious Cara Fellowship—a scheme designed specifically for academics at imminent risk of death, injury, or imprisonment—to pursue a PhD in education at the University of Glasgow. Her story epitomizes the sheer determination of Gaza's scholars. She submitted one of her grant applications from the roof of a damaged four-story building, climbing up through the debris simply to find enough signal. As she typed, she saw gunfire directed at a neighboring block, with shrapnel landing nearby.
Having been displaced 14 times during the war, she now lives in a tent with her husband and children, feeling utterly abandoned by the selection process. "It feels like a slow death inside," she says, her voice cracking with despair. "I haven't slept for days. Every day, I wonder which will come first—a message from the UK government, or a missile. I feel deeply disappointed by this process, as some scholarship holders seem to be prioritised over others, even though all of us deserve equal consideration."
Professor Alison Phipps, Manar's designated supervisor and a renowned specialist on refugee integration at the University of Glasgow, celebrated the news for Mohammed but immediately highlighted the painful disparity. "It's been a long, hard road for these nine students," she stated. "But I know that all the eligible students have put in the work equally. There seems to be a kind of bureaucratic block, and it would just really help us if the government could identify what that is, so all the students who meet the thresholds can come out."
The UK government has issued a statement saying it is considering appeals for support from other Gazan students, but has announced no firm decisions. For now, the future for the majority of these scholars remains a terrifying, unanswered question. As Mahmoud prepares for another late night working in the hospital, he stresses that while uncertainty clouds his own future, it is far greater for those who have not even received a preliminary email. "If the UK government does not act now," he warns, "it will lose not only us, but future applicants from Gaza and other regions facing similar challenges." His words are a stark reminder that for these trapped scholars, this is not an escape; it is a responsibility to learn, to grow, and to one day return to rebuild a future from the ashes.
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