I’ve spent the past week interviewing Palestinian students in Gaza whose academic futures hang by a thread. While their peers worldwide prepare for fall semester, 70 young Palestinians with admission letters from Canadian universities remain trapped behind sealed borders.
“My acceptance letter came the same day our neighborhood was bombed,” Laila Mahmoud told me via a spotty WhatsApp connection from Deir al-Balah. The 22-year-old received a scholarship to study environmental engineering at the University of Toronto last March. “I was literally holding my future in one hand while my present was being destroyed.”
Mahmoud represents just one of 70 Palestinian students caught in this educational limbo. Each has secured admission and funding from Canadian institutions but cannot exit Gaza due to the continued closure of the Rafah crossing and Israel’s tight control over all other exit points.
The ongoing war has devastated Gaza’s educational infrastructure. According to UNESCO, over 80% of school buildings have been damaged or destroyed since October 2023. All six universities in Gaza have sustained significant damage, with the Islamic University of Gaza and Al-Azhar University rendered completely non-functional after direct strikes.
Canada’s response has been mixed. In April, Immigration Minister Marc Miller announced a special program to expedite study permits for Palestinians with Canadian university acceptances. This initiative followed sustained pressure from Canadian academic associations and human rights groups.
“We made commitments to these students,” Miller stated at the time. “But without coordinated diplomatic efforts to secure their exit from Gaza, these permits are essentially symbolic.”
Behind this seemingly humanitarian gesture lies a complex diplomatic stalemate. Canadian officials have been engaged in talks with Egyptian authorities who control the Rafah crossing, but progress has been minimal. Egyptian officials cite security concerns and overcrowding at border facilities.
Meanwhile, Israeli authorities maintain that all border crossings must remain under strict security protocols, effectively giving them veto power over who leaves Gaza. The Canadian government has been reluctant to apply significant pressure on Israel regarding this specific humanitarian issue.
“What’s particularly frustrating is that other countries have managed to extract their nationals,” explains Dr. Sarah Henderson, director of the International Education Rights Coalition. “Jordan, Turkey, and even the United States have negotiated successful extractions for students. Canada seems unwilling to expend the necessary political capital.”
The students I spoke with described an impossible situation. Ahmed Bakr, accepted to McGill University’s computer science program, has already deferred his admission twice.
“My scholarship won’t be extended again,” he explained from a relative’s home in Khan Younis. “I’ve been taking online classes when electricity allows, but that’s not sustainable. My entire career depends on leaving.”
International human rights frameworks explicitly protect the right to education, even during armed conflict. The Fourth Geneva Convention, to which Canada is a signatory, requires parties to conflicts to facilitate education for affected civilians. The United Nations Security Council Resolution 2601 (2021) specifically calls for the protection of education in conflict zones.
“This isn’t just a humanitarian issue, it’s a legal obligation,” notes Farida Hassan, a human rights attorney who has petitioned the Canadian government on behalf of several students. “Canada has obligations under international law to ensure these students can exercise their right to education.”
The economic impact on these students is severe. Many have exhausted savings paying for application fees, English proficiency tests, and visa processing. Universities have demonstrated flexibility by deferring admissions and maintaining scholarships, but institutional patience has limits.
“We’ve kept positions open for two academic cycles,” one Canadian university administrator told me, requesting anonymity to speak candidly. “But we face institutional pressures. Each deferred student represents a spot that could go to someone else.”
Some universities have organized online coursework, but Gaza’s infrastructure makes this nearly impossible. Electricity remains available only 2-4 hours daily in most areas. Internet connectivity is unreliable, and many students have lost laptops and study materials in bombings.
A coalition of Canadian academic institutions, including the University of British Columbia, McGill University, and the University of Toronto, issued a joint statement last month calling on the Canadian government to “take extraordinary measures” to secure the students’ safe passage.
“Canada must do more than issue permits,” said Dr. Michael Thompson, president of the Canadian Association of University Teachers. “These students represent Gaza’s future. Their education isn’t just personal advancement—it’s about preserving intellectual capital that will be essential for rebuilding.”
The families I spoke with described the psychological toll of perpetual waiting. “My daughter was the first in our family to be accepted abroad,” said Umm Rania, mother of a student accepted to Dalhousie University. “Every day she asks if there’s news. I have no answers anymore.”
With the fall semester approaching, time is running out for these students. While Canadian immigration officials indicate they’re working “through diplomatic channels” to resolve the impasse, concrete progress remains elusive.
“Education shouldn’t be collateral damage in this conflict,” Laila Mahmoud told me as our connection began to fail. “We just want what students everywhere want—a chance to learn, to grow, to build something better than what surrounds us now.”
For these 70 students, the path to Canadian classrooms remains blocked by politics, bureaucracy, and conflict—a stark reminder that in war zones, even the promise of education cannot overcome sealed borders.
