Gaza City, Gaza Strip – In a clothing shop in Gaza City’s Sheikh Radwan neighbourhood, Firas Zaqloul stands helplessly as he tries to pay for his purchases. The problem is that he can’t get the seller to accept his money. Zaqloul’s home was destroyed during Israel’s genocidal war on Gaza, burying his Palestinian identity card beneath the rubble.
Without it, he says, he has been unable to open a bank account or electronic wallet, leaving him dependent on increasingly scarce and badly-worn banknotes that many merchants refuse to take. Since the war began on October 7, 2023, Israel has severely restricted the entry of cash into Gaza, while its military campaign has devastated much of the territory’s banking infrastructure. The result is an economy in which people may technically have money but struggle to access it, or find someone willing to accept the notes in their possession.
According to the Palestine Monetary Authority, which oversees banking, Israeli attacks have destroyed more than 50 bank branches across Gaza, as well as dozens of cash machines. Large quantities of cash were also trapped inside the vaults of damaged or destroyed banks. Even after the October 2025 ceasefire allowed banks to reopen some branches, services remained limited largely to administrative transactions, without providing badly needed new liquidity.
Palestinians in Gaza say they find it difficult to open new accounts for anyone using replacement identification documents issued after 2023, depriving thousands of people unable to access the electronic banking system at a time when digital payments have become increasingly essential. In the same clothing store, 23-year-old student Israa Najm waits for a notification to appear on the shopkeeper’s phone. There is a crisis of trust between the seller and the buyer.
The last time I received cash was a year ago, but no one wanted to take it from me because the notes were worn out.” Due to the lack of cash, everyday transactions are now increasingly complicated. Inside Abu Jabara Food Mall, modern technology stands in the way of 45-year-old Najwa Kahil’s attempts to buy food for a reasonable price. She explained that using electronic payments made it more difficult to haggle with shopkeepers, and struggles with using the payment apps.
Sometimes I feel I’m begging when I go out to buy; I feel like I’m 100 years old, not 45. Everything is suffering, from buying food, cooking over a fire, and filling water. I spend all day just suffering.” For Mohammed Awida, a 22-year-old nut seller, shopping now requires planning that would have been unimaginable before the war.
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