Why there’s no stopping the genocide in Gaza

As Israel’s military campaign in Gaza enters its 22nd month, the world faces a defining test of our collective commitment to international law and human rights. A new report by UN special rapporteur Francesca Albanese lays bare a chilling reality: over 60 multinational corporations — including 'big tech' like Amazon, Microsoft, Alphabet (Google), defence manufacturers like Lockheed Martin and Elbit Systems, even online travel agency Bookings.com and homestays and tourism experiences firm Airbnb — are deeply enmeshed in what she terms an ‘economy of genocide’.

These corporations, Albanese argues, are not passive bystanders — they are enablers, profiting from Israel’s war on Gaza and its decades-long illegal occupation of Palestinian territory.

From weapons manufacturing to cloud computing, biometric surveillance to real estate listings in illegal settlements in the West Bank, the involvement of these companies constitutes not just moral indifference but legal complicity.

Albanese’s report is not simply a human rights document; it is an indictment of a global corporate order in which mass violence becomes a market opportunity. This is not a new story. Throughout history, corporations have profited from war and conflict, with the tacit approval or active encouragement of powerful nation-states.

During both World Wars, companies such as Krupp and IG Farben in Germany, General Motors in the US and Vickers in the UK scaled up production to arm militaries and fuel the machinery of violence. In Nazi Germany, industrial firms supplied the regime with everything from tanks to Zyklon-B gas. Some, like IBM, have been accused of facilitating genocide by providing the punch-card systems used to catalogue and target Jews.

In apartheid South Africa, multinationals supported the regime by supplying vehicles and surveillance tools used to repress the Black majority. In Iraq and Afghanistan, firms like Halliburton/ KBR and Blackwater raked in billions in no-bid contracts, turning reconstruction and private security into corporate windfalls.

Russian companies like the Wagner Group have exploited conflict zones in Sudan and across Africa to generate substantial revenue through a mix of military, political and economic activities. In Sudan, Wagner secured lucrative gold mining concessions by providing military support, weapons and training to the RSF forces in exchange for privileged access to natural resources.

Likewise, Chinese defence firms, particularly state-owned giants like Norinco and Chengdu Aircraft, profited significantly from the recent India–Pakistan military escalation.

The Gaza case, however, offers a uniquely modern iteration of this historical pattern. Lockheed Martin leads the F-35 fighter jet programme, supplying aircraft used extensively in Israel’s bombing campaigns. These jets, capable of carrying over 18,000 pounds of ordnance, have helped turn Gaza’s neighbourhoods into rubble. Between 2023 and 2024, Israeli military spending surged 65 per cent, with major arms manufacturers reporting record profits.

Palantir, IBM and Hewlett Packard have supplied software, databases and predictive policing tools that aid in identifying targets and controlling Palestinian movement. The result is a digital architecture of war — automated, scalable and highly profitable.

Big tech has become a pillar of this economy. Amazon and Google, under the $1.2 billion Project Nimbus contract, provide cloud and AI services to the Israeli government and military. When Israel’s internal military cloud collapsed in October 2023, Microsoft Azure stepped in to provide critical infrastructure.

These services, once marketed for logistics or customer support, now enable automated kill lists and battlefield analytics. The deployment of these dual-use technologies, Albanese warns, is more than a violation of human rights — by testing them on real populations, Gaza has been turned into a laboratory for future military applications.

Beyond software and sensors, the physical infrastructure of occupation is also deeply commercialised. Caterpillar and Volvo supply bulldozers used to demolish Palestinian homes. Booking.com and Airbnb list vacation rentals in illegal West Bank settlements, profiting from what is effectively the tourism of colonisation.

Meanwhile, companies like Orbia and Glencore provide irrigation and fuel, sustaining illegal agricultural developments on confiscated land. Banks and asset managers like BlackRock and Vanguard hold major stakes in many of these corporations, reaping returns from their war-linked portfolios.

This vast supply chain of complicity is not some accident of globalisation. It reflects structural incentives within corporate architecture itself: war, displacement and repression are profitable. From the colonial exploitation of rubber and minerals in Africa to the recent mining of coltan in the Democratic Republic of Congo, often using forced labour and fuelling conflict, corporations have consistently found ways to monetise suffering.

Surveillance and cybersecurity firms like Palantir have thrived during the ‘War on Terror’. Media houses see revenue spikes during conflict. Financial institutions profit from war bonds and defence stocks. Even food and logistics companies like Nestlé and Cargill have operated in zones of mass violence, sometimes accused of tolerating or benefiting from forced labour.

And yet, accountability remains rare. Some firms have faced legal and reputational consequences. Volkswagen and Siemens, for instance, eventually acknowledged their use of forced labour under the Nazis. But far more often, corporations evade justice through complex supply chains, lobbying and legal loopholes.

In Gaza, Albanese’s report makes it unequivocally clear, international law places obligations not just on states but on private actors too. Corporate entities and their executives can be held criminally liable for aiding and abetting war crimes, genocide and crimes against humanity.

What must be done is clear. First, the UN Security Council must impose sanctions on the companies named in the report, freezing their assets, and asking member-states to cancel government contracts.

There is precedent: sanctions helped bring down apartheid in South Africa and curtailed corporate involvement in Balkan war economies. Second, financial institutions of member-states must divest from these firms. Pension funds, sovereign wealth funds and asset managers cannot claim neutrality while profiting from genocide. Third, courts in the West must begin proceedings against executives under the principle of universal jurisdiction.

Several European countries have already used such laws to try alleged war criminals. They can, and should, apply the same standard to corporate leaders.

The international community must go further. The Rome Statute must evolve to explicitly include corporate liability. The International Criminal Court (ICC) should investigate not only generals and ministers but also CEOs who knowingly supply the machinery of mass violence.

Reparations must be considered, not just from states but from companies that have profited from the suffering of Palestinians. An apartheid wealth tax, akin to proposals in post-apartheid South Africa, could fund reconstruction and support displaced communities.

Francesca Albanese’s report is not just an exposé, it is a roadmap. It names the corporations, tracks their investments, and exposes the contracts. It demands that we stop pretending that economic violence is somehow separate from physical violence. If we are serious about ending the horrors in Gaza and preventing future genocides, then the corporate machinery behind them must be dismantled.

Ashok Swain is a professor of peace and conflict research at Uppsala University, Sweden. More of his writing may be read here