The “Donkey Flights” Project: Saving Animals While Strangling Gaza
MEMO | February 5, 2026
While Gaza’s human population remains trapped behind concrete walls and fire, a curious “evacuation” is taking place. Under the banner of the “Donkey Flights Project,” an Israeli organization named Starting Over Sanctuary has been working with the IDF to collect, “rehabilitate,” and export Gaza’s donkeys to sanctuaries in France and Belgium. To the Western donor, it is a heartwarming tale of saving the innocent from “slavery” and abuse. But to the Gazans whose hospitals, ambulances, and fuel supplies have been pulverized, the removal of these animals is the final act of a scorched-earth policy.
The irony is as thick as the smoke over Khan Younis: the very soldiers who facilitate the “rescue” of these pack animals are the same ones overseeing the systematic destruction of the families who rely on them. In a territory where 90% of the population now depends on animal-drawn carts for food, water, and the transport of the wounded, “rescuing” a donkey is not a gesture of mercy—it is the confiscation of a lifeline. By shifting the focus to animal welfare, the Israeli establishment is successfully laundering the total dismantling of Palestinian survival infrastructure into a viral, feel-good story for the European middle class.
The extraction of these animals is a highly organized, multi-national operation known as the “ Donkey Flights Project”. Since its inception, the project has facilitated the removal of over 600 donkeys from the ruins of Gaza. The logistics are clinical: the animals are transported from Israeli territory to Liège Airport (LGG) in Belgium, where they utilize the terminal’s sophisticated live-animal infrastructure for a brief transit of less than 24 hours. From there, they are trucked to vetted sanctuaries in the South of France, including the Refuge des Oubliés, with some shipments linked to the high-profile Brigitte Bardot Foundation. To the European public, this is presented as a “rescue” of starving, “broken” creatures from a war zone. However, for the displaced Gazans on the ground, these 600 donkeys represent more than just livestock; they are the “last thread” of transport in a territory where fuel has been weaponized as a tool of war. By removing the primary means of moving water, food, and the wounded, the project effectively tightens the physical siege under the guise of animal rights, transforming a “heartwarming” evacuation into a strategic limitation of Palestinian mobility.
This selective compassion creates a grotesque hierarchy of life where a donkey’s passage to Europe is paved with logistical ease, while the humans who cared for them remain barred from any such exit. The “Donkey Flights” rely on the same border crossings and military clearances that are frequently denied to critically ill Palestinian children or humanitarian aid convoys. Here, the “rescue” narrative functions as a form of colonial erasure; it frames the Gazan owner not as a victim of a blockade and war, but as a negligent “abuser” from whom the animal must be liberated. By framing the donkey as the sole “innocent” in the conflict, the project subtly reinforces a narrative that the human population—trapped and starving just meters away—is somehow less deserving of such specialized, international intervention. It is a humanitarianism that stops at the species barrier, ensuring that while the beasts of burden find sanctuary in the French countryside, the people they served remain tethered to the rubble.
The removal of these animals must be viewed within the broader context of what Euro-Med Monitor describes as the destruction of 97% of Gaza’s animal wealth. This is not merely a byproduct of war, but a calculated dismantling of the foundations of Palestinian survival. By targeting fuel, then the infrastructure, and finally the livestock, a total state of physical and economic paralysis is achieved. When Israeli NGO activists describe the donkeys as victims of “psychological trauma” needing a “fresh start” in Europe, they perform a neat trick of forensic cleaning: they strip the animal of its role as a Palestinian asset and rebrand it as a ward of the West. This “animal-first” humanitarianism serves as a perfect distraction for a European middle class eager for a moral victory that requires no political discomfort. It allows for a world where a cargo plane can be chartered for a donkey named “Greta” or “Rudi,” while the very children who once rode them are denied medical evacuation for life-saving surgery under the same “security” pretenses that facilitated the animal’s exit.
Beyond the logistical theft, this project represents a profound violation of the dignity and property rights of the besieged population. In international law, an occupying power is responsible for the welfare of the civilian population, which includes protecting their means of subsistence. Instead, we see a perverse reversal: the donor-funded “rescue” treats Palestinian ownership as a de facto state of abuse, justifying the permanent confiscation of assets under the guise of “liberation.” By transporting these animals to the “Refuge des Oubliés” in France, the project effectively “disappears” the evidence of Gaza’s domestic economy. It replaces a narrative of systemic starvation and forced immobility with a sanitized tale of animal rights, ensuring that the Western public remains focused on the “broken” donkey while remaining blind to the “broken” international legal system that allows a human population to be stripped of its last means of survival.
The long-term implications of this “evacuation” are perhaps the most sinister of all. By removing these working animals under the banner of international benevolence, the project contributes to the permanent “de-development” of Gaza. When the dust finally settles, the absence of these 600 donkeys—and the thousands more killed—will mean that the surviving population has been robbed of its primary tool for reconstruction. A territory without fuel, without machinery, and now without its traditional beasts of burden is a territory that cannot rebuild itself; it is a population rendered permanently dependent on the very international aid structures that are currently “rescuing” its assets. This is the ultimate triumph of the siege: a future where Gazans are not even allowed the dignity of a donkey-drawn cart to clear their own rubble, because the world decided that the animal’s “rehabilitation” in a French pasture was more important than a nation’s right to a self-sustaining recovery.
Ultimately, the “Donkey Flights” set a dangerous precedent for the future of humanitarian intervention in conflict zones. By allowing an occupying power to export the essential assets of a besieged population under the banner of animal welfare, the international community is effectively endorsing a new form of “sanitized” occupation. It suggests that as long as the victims’ animals are treated with European standards of care, the systemic strangulation of the victims themselves can be overlooked. This is not a story of rescue, but a story of substitution—where the rights of a donkey to a “fresh start” in a French pasture are prioritized over a Palestinian’s right to live, move, and work on their own land. If we accept this “kindness” without question, we accept a world where the optics of animal rights are used to mask the erasure of human rights, leaving behind a Gaza that is not only pulverized but intentionally stripped of the very tools it needs to ever stand on its own again.
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