The Israel Lobby and the Engineered Famine in Gaza

by Sarah Neumann | Sep 23, 2025 | 

https://original.antiwar.com/Sarah_Neumann/2025/09/22/the-israel-lobby-and-the-engineered-famine-in-gaza/

Amid one of the most severe humanitarian crises of the century, the gap between the value-driven rhetoric of American foreign policy and the realities on the ground is becoming increasingly apparent. This chasm is deepened by reports of child malnutrition, images of long queues for water and bread, and news of halted aid convoys, revealing the complex relationship between power and narrative-building in Washington. In recent months, as food insecurity has intensified and warnings of famine in parts of Gaza have grown, the tone of criticism in the American capital has shifted. Phrases that once cautiously spoke of the “unintended consequences of war” have given way to more explicit statements about deliberate obstacles to humanitarian aid. This change is not a simple difference in expression but a sign of the erosion of a long-standing pattern of organized influence that has shadowed decision-making for years. The price of this pattern is being paid today, first by the people of Gaza, and second by the credibility and global standing of the United States. At the core of this shift lies a clear reality: when access to basic necessities of life, such as food, water, medicine, and fuel, is regulated based on military and political considerations, one can no longer speak of “inevitable consequences of war.” This is the point where political and legal responsibility begins.

In this context, the shift in the approach and language of some members of Congress takes on a significance that transcends daily partisan disputes. Representatives who for years considered “support for the ally” a self-evident principle requiring no justification now speak about the relationship between security and ethics, referencing “legitimate leverage” and “specific human conditions.” This change signifies a quiet yet tangible transition of the American legislative body from its long-standing self-censorship. Although this transformation is not uniform or universal, it is transforming the language used to describe the crisis as much as it is changing the American political landscape. Technical reports on food insecurity indicators, frequent news of blocked humanitarian aid, and medical testimonies about malnutrition collectively paint a new picture of the crisis, one in which neutral phrases are no longer effective. When women and children face the risk of death whether they stay in shelters and starve or venture out to find water and food; when the distribution of aid is governed not by need and vulnerability but by policies of “collective punishment”; and when restrictions become a recurring pattern, the legal and political mind is forced to reassess the situation. What is happening is no longer merely the result of uncontrolled factors but the product of designed mechanisms. The link between these mechanisms and political support in Washington is the point where the discussion of famine becomes tied to the issue of American sovereignty and collective conscience.

The role of the Israel Lobby extends beyond financial matters and stems from a unique combination of ideological synergy, structural access to legislative centers, and the ability to redefine the boundaries of permissible discourse. Three main pillars, neoconservative networks, Christian Zionist movements, and professional lobbying organizations, have built a model of “support for the ally” over decades that even defines what “moderation” is. In this model, criticism of policy quickly morphs into criticism of identity; questioning the prioritization of humanitarian aid over military operations is reduced to a test of party loyalty; and attempts at ethical assessment are marginalized through labeling. The result of this process is the erosion of a discursive space that once allowed for disagreement based on data and logic. This space has gradually shifted from “policymaking” to “narrative management.” When this narrative management coincides with the control of humanitarian access, it carries a practical message: famine is engineered not only in warehouses but also in the realm of meaning. Vocabulary is softened to conceal the harshness of suffering, and images are presented in a way that pushes fundamental questions out of the spotlight.

American public opinion, however, shows a different direction, slowly but steadily. Polls indicating declining support for the continuation of the war, even with temporary fluctuations, point to a strengthening desire to end the current situation. Voter preferences are leaning towards a ceasefire and unrestricted access to humanitarian aid. In this mirror, the gap between official language and public sentiment becomes more apparent: security rhetoric loses its credibility when confronted with images of deliberate starvation, and narratives of “moral exceptionalism” collapse under the weight of evidence. The gap between policymaking committees and the public conscience will, sooner or later, manifest itself at the ballot box and in electoral coalitions; but even before that, it has institutional consequences: the more insistence there is on old red lines, the more limited the space for public dialogue becomes and the higher the cost of stating the obvious. Where precise vocabulary is abandoned, politics becomes costless at the level of speech and costly at the level of human lives.

The external consequence of the persistence of this situation is also clear. The United States, which for years has tried to maintain an image of a “rules-based mediator,” increasingly resembles a “party to the conflict” in the mirror of Gaza, a change that is not merely symbolic and has a direct impact on its ability to set rules and build consensus in the Global South. Wherever America tries to advance a multilateral mechanism, the recent memory of the engineered famine is placed on the table as evidence against its claims of neutrality and justice. Legal language, when marginalized in one major case, loses its credibility in others, and soft power is slowly but steadily depleted. In a world where rivals have well understood that today’s conflict is a battle of narratives and legitimacy, the erosion of soft power carries a heavy cost, especially when rival capitals turn every image of a water queue and every malnutrition chart into evidence against the claimed ethical leadership.

The media plays a dual role in this crisis. On one hand, by focusing on technical details, such as route security, warehouse capacity, or distribution risks, they marginalize human suffering and reduce public awareness to a heap of numbers and terminology. On the other hand, every small opening, an independent field report, a doctor’s testimony, or an image of a queue, can become a crack through which the simple truth of the catastrophe breaks through the mass of words. The battlefield of meaning and the battlefield of aid are not separate at this historical moment; they are one front where every linguistic retreat leads to a reduction in real access. In these conditions, the tendency towards generalization is more than a stylistic habit; it is a mechanism that dims the possibility of judgment and reduces everything to “conflicting narratives.” But beneath these narratives, hungry bodies and the weary eyes of children measure reality by a different standard.

From a legal perspective, the burden of proof lies with the policy that restricts access. International humanitarian law is clear on the immunity of civilians, the priority of aid, and the prohibition of collective punishment. Any interpretation that suspends these principles effectively paves the way for turning an “exception” into a “rule” and blurs the line between the legal system and the logic of power. When this blurring is accompanied by organized political pressure, which increases the electoral cost for critical representatives and shifts the boundaries of discourse in favor of a particular narrative, not only ethics but also national sovereignty is damaged. Sovereignty, in its precise meaning, is the ability to make independent decisions based on public interest and declared values. If a network, through media labeling and structural cost-imposition, can prevent representatives from deciding based on field data and legal criteria, even under the guise of “supporting an ally”, the result is the demotion of America’s status from an arbiter of rules to a party in the dispute.

Ultimately, what is seen in the mirror of Gaza is also an image of America itself: a country oscillating between two definitions of power; power as the imposition of an ally’s will, or power as the preservation of minimum humanitarian standards. This oscillation is not merely theoretical; it is tied to the future of its soft power and rule-setting ability. Gaza is not a remote stage on the margins of the moral geography; it is connected to the heart of the global debate about meaning and legitimacy. Every response formed there echoes back to Congress, universities, newsrooms, and ballot boxes. If official language continues to try to hide apparent suffering in metaphors, public memory will do its work: it will place the scenes side by side, weigh the words, and from this assessment, forge a new standard for honesty and leadership. An engineered famine not only reduces bread and medicine but also depletes the reserve of meaning, that very collective resource that enables politics to say “no” to pressures and accept the cost. On this horizon, the question of the Israel Lobby is no longer just about a powerful actor; it is a question of how far American policy is prepared to choose between powerful narratives and stark realities, a choice that becomes more costly the longer it is delayed.