GAZA — A storm is brewing inside Israel’s ruling coalition over a narrow corridor of land in southern Gaza, known as the Morag Corridor, that has become a potent flashpoint in the war’s eleventh month. Established by the Israeli military in April 2025 during the Rafah offensive, the corridor stretches roughly 14 kilometers and cuts through southern Gaza from east to west. It was intended to split the strip, block Hamas’s movements, and create what Israeli officials describe as a “strategic buffer” zone to prevent smuggling and reinfiltration.
Yet what began as a tactical maneuver has now morphed into a symbol of political betrayal for Israel’s far-right. As ceasefire negotiations—brokered by the US, Qatar, and Egypt—appear to hinge on Israel relinquishing its hold over this corridor, the backlash from nationalist lawmakers and war veterans has turned fierce. Figures like Itamar Ben-Gvir, Israel’s national security minister, have accused Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu of preparing to “trade soldiers’ blood for political survival.” According to Israeli media, members of the ruling coalition’s ultra-nationalist flank are threatening to collapse the government if any part of the corridor is handed over.
The outrage is not only political—it is visceral. The corridor was seized in a brutal ground campaign that left dozens of Israeli soldiers dead. For right-wing ideologues, it now represents a sacred line that must not be crossed. They claim that abandoning it would be tantamount to inviting Hamas back into areas from which it had been forcefully expelled and would render the deaths of Israeli soldiers meaningless. Some hardliners have compared any retreat to the 2005 disengagement, when Israel withdrew from Gaza entirely, a move they still cite as a historic mistake that empowered Hamas.
For Netanyahu, the dilemma is mounting. On one side is the growing international pressure led by Washington and Doha, pushing for a 60-day ceasefire that would include hostage exchanges and humanitarian access. On the other side are the voices within his own cabinet threatening to turn him into a pariah among his base if he agrees to what they perceive as a territorial concession. Despite vague public assurances, Netanyahu has so far avoided confirming whether the corridor will remain permanently under Israeli control.
The controversy has spilled into public debate, with families of fallen soldiers demanding clarity on the government’s intentions. Their presence at recent demonstrations in Tel Aviv has further polarized opinion. They argue that the government’s ambiguity is sowing mistrust and dishonoring those who died securing the area. Meanwhile, voices in Israel’s security establishment have begun quietly warning that clinging to the corridor indefinitely could provoke broader military entanglement, especially if Hamas uses the ceasefire to regroup in nearby areas.
The Morag Corridor, a tract of sand and blood, has become the crucible in which Israel’s wartime consensus is fracturing. What was once seen as a technical maneuver to secure Israel’s southern flank has now emerged as a political litmus test—one that could determine the fate of Netanyahu’s government and the trajectory of the Gaza war itself.
