Life in limbo for Palestinian families displaced by Israeli military in Jenin

West Bank residents shelter in abandoned university after Israeli offensive forces mass displacement.

A view of empty student residences being used as shelters by displaced families at the Arab American University near Jenin, in the occupied West Bank, on April 9, 2025. Photo by John Wessels/AFP

By Anna Fadiah and Hayu Andini

On the once-vibrant campus of the Arab American University in Jenin, the sound of children playing masks the trauma of war. These children, among hundreds of Palestinians displaced by an Israeli military operation, now run through empty corridors and abandoned lecture halls instead of schoolyards. Their new reality is defined not by textbooks and learning, but by displacement and uncertainty.

The situation emerged after Israel launched a large-scale military operation on January 21 in the Jenin refugee camp. Dubbed Iron Wall, the campaign has forcibly uprooted tens of thousands of Palestinians from the northern West Bank. The operation, described by Israeli officials as a counter-terrorism measure, has left entire neighborhoods in ruins and families struggling to rebuild their lives elsewhere.

One of those displaced is 53-year-old Mohammed Shalabi, a municipal worker now living at the deserted university campus in Jenin. He remembers the day Israeli special forces entered the camp with dread.

Mohammed Shalabi, 53, displaced from Jenin Camp, poses for a portrait inside a student residence now used as a shelter for displaced families at the Arab American University near Jenin, in the occupied West Bank, on April 9, 2025. Photo by John Wessels/AFP

"Everyone knows that when the army enters, it destroys the infrastructure, even the cars," he said.

Shalabi initially fled to nearby villages but later sought shelter at the vacant university buildings, which have become an impromptu refugee settlement. He now shares a studio apartment with several family members, including his 80-year-old father. To protect his father's health, Shalabi avoids discussing the ordeal, but says, “Sometimes he cries, because he lived through the Nakba, and now this.”

Echoes of past trauma

The forced displacement has evoked painful historical parallels for many in Jenin. Residents speak of the Nakba—the mass exodus of Palestinians during the 1948 Arab-Israeli war—and fear history is repeating itself. With no timeline for return, and continued military activity in the Jenin refugee camp, many fear they may never go back.

Displaced resident Umm Majd said that people who have attempted to return have been turned away.

Umm Majd, 53, displaced from Jenin Camp, poses for a portrait inside a student residence being used as a shelter for displaced families at the Arab American University near Jenin, in the occupied West Bank, on April 9, 2025. Photo by John Wessels/AFP

“They told us we no longer have a home, and that we won’t be returning to the camp,” she said.

The United Nations Relief and Works Agency (UNRWA) continues to provide limited aid, but its operations have been severely impacted by recent Israeli laws that restrict coordination with military forces. As a result, access to essential services like food, education, and sanitation remains limited for the displaced families.

Adding to the crisis is the fact that many international aid efforts are now focused on Gaza, where the war between Israel and Hamas has devastated infrastructure and created a severe humanitarian emergency since October 2023. In contrast, the crisis in the West Bank has received little attention from the global community.

“No one is interested in what’s happening here,” said a local social worker who delivers basic necessities like blankets and food to the makeshift camp.

Daily life in a desolate university

The former university campus now resembles a dystopian village. Once bustling with students, its buildings—many still labeled with names like Concorde and Casa Bella—are now silent. Dormitories that once housed young scholars now shelter displaced families trying to survive day by day.

In the absence of public services, life is difficult. Rubbish is rarely collected, most shops remain closed, and the nearest grocery store is a 20-minute walk away. Parents have pleaded for a temporary school for their children, but no such facility has been established.

A family walks through student residences repurposed as shelters for displaced families at the Arab American University near Jenin, in the occupied West Bank, on April 9, 2025. Photo by John Wessels/AFP

Some families cook meals on portable gas stoves, while others sleep on foam mattresses that must be stored each morning to create room in their cramped spaces.

“We have 20 percent of the life we had in the camp,” said Umm Majd, who now shares a two-person dorm room with three others.

Fields near the university have turned into grazing land for goats. Farmers wander the area while displaced children wander the campus, their play marked by the eerie absence of normalcy.

An uncertain future

The Palestinian Authority, already weakened politically and financially, has been unable to provide meaningful assistance to the displaced. Economic conditions across the West Bank have worsened amid the Gaza war, adding to the despair.

Eateries and businesses around the university are either shuttered or undergoing renovations in a bid to survive. Many students—particularly Palestinian citizens of Israel who once crossed into the West Bank for education—have stopped attending the university altogether.

“We live day by day,” said Ahmad Abu Jos, 30, one of the displaced residents. “There’s no outlook because of the lack of work and resources.”

His baby son, Mustafa, is learning to walk in the small apartment they now call home. The smell of cooking and detergent fills the room, a testament to the makeshift lives they are trying to create. Ahmad’s wife, Rama Abu Jos, added, “We left the camp, but not of our own free will. We hope to return home. No one likes life here.”

Warnings of a deeper shift

Concerns are growing that the situation in Jenin is not temporary. In early March, a senior UNRWA official warned that the developments on the ground align with a broader Israeli objective of annexing parts of the West Bank. If true, such a shift would further erode hopes for Palestinian self-determination and deepen the humanitarian crisis.

While Israeli military operations in Jenin continue, residents are left to navigate an existence devoid of basic services, clarity, or assurance. Bulldozers move through the refugee camp, often leaving behind only rubble.

A young boy reads a textbook outside student residences being used as shelters for displaced families at the Arab American University near Jenin, in the occupied West Bank, on April 9, 2025. Photo by John Wessels/AFP

The displaced families now sheltering at the Arab American University live with the trauma of their past and the fear that it is becoming their permanent present.

In the words of Mohammed Shalabi, “We are not just displaced. We are forgotten.”