The warfare surveillance systems used in Gaza are being repackaged as peacetime governance tools
Oracle and Palantir's military AI is positioned to become the digital backbone of reconstruction, continuing a pattern from Iraq and Afghanistan
The artificial intelligence that selected bombing targets in Gaza will soon process aid applications. The tracking systems that monitored enemy movements will monitor civilian populations. The cloud infrastructure that hosted military analytics will store biometric identity data.
This isn't speculation. Leaked documents reveal that the Gaza International Transitional Authority framework, drafted by the Tony Blair Institute, describes digital governance architecture that precisely matches the Oracle-Palantir technology already deployed in Israel's military operations. The same systems. The same companies. Only the stated purpose has changed.
It's a pattern with precedent. In Iraq and Afghanistan, defence contractors who supplied wartime logistics seamlessly pivoted to reconstruction work. But the Gaza model represents something more insidious. Where previous contractors built physical infrastructure that could eventually be replaced, these companies are installing the digital operating system of governance itself—creating permanent dependence on the firms that profited from the conflict.
The technology transfers intact
Palantir announced its strategic partnership with Israel's Defence Ministry in January 2024, providing operational software for military campaigns. UN Special Rapporteur Francesca Albanese has concluded there are reasonable grounds to believe the company's platforms powered the AI systems used in Gaza operations—programmes with darkly revealing names.
"Lavender" and "Gospel" analyse intelligence databases to generate target lists. "Where's Daddy" tracks individuals and alerts forces when they enter family homes. These aren't peripheral tools. They represent the core of how modern warfare processes information and selects targets.
Oracle provides the foundation on which this operates. Through its Jerusalem Region data centre, launched specifically to serve Israeli defence customers, the company hosts the cloud infrastructure for military analytics. Oracle ran confidential projects with the Israeli Air Force and the IDF's secretive Unit 81 intelligence division.
Now examine what the Gaza reconstruction framework requires. Digital identity platforms need secure cloud storage and biometric analysis. Border control demands real-time tracking and pattern detection. Aid distribution logistics require predictive analytics to allocate resources.
The capabilities are identical. Cloud infrastructure for sensitive military data becomes cloud infrastructure for civilian records. AI that identifies enemy targets becomes AI that identifies aid recipients. Surveillance systems that track combatants track civilians seeking assistance.
This isn't technology being repurposed. It's military infrastructure being relabelled.
Following the money to Blair's institute
The reconstruction plan emerged from the Tony Blair Institute for Global Change, an organisation whose funding structure tells its own story. Since 2021, Larry Ellison's foundation has provided at least £257 million—dwarfing all other TBI donors combined. Ellison, Oracle's founder and executive chairman, has essentially bankrolled Blair's think-tank into existence.
TBI insists these donations are "ring-fenced" for social and climate programmes, not Middle East work. But former employees paint a different picture. In interviews with Lighthouse Reports and Democracy for Sale, they described TBI functioning as an "Oracle dealership", with their work amounting to "tech sales" for Ellison's company.
These weren't casual observations. Staff recounted joint retreats between TBI and Oracle executives, with Oracle personnel inserting themselves into TBI calendars to "scope out opportunities" in countries where the institute operates. Multiple former employees characterised the relationship as operational integration rather than arm's-length philanthropy.
Blair himself now appears in Trump's Gaza peace plan as potential chair of the transitional authority's "Board for Peace". If appointed, he would oversee reconstruction whilst his institute's dominant funder stands to benefit from the very technology stack his organisation's framework describes. The arrangement has the appearance of procurement guidance written by the companies positioned to win the contracts.
Also proposed for the GITA board: Marc Rowan, chief executive of Apollo Global Management. Both Rowan and Ellison were major donors to the same pro-Trump super-PAC, with Ellison's $15 million contribution in 2022 marking his largest political gift on record.
The network isn't coincidental. It's a carefully constructed alignment of political access, technical capability, and financial interest.
How Iraq's lessons were learned
Halliburton dominated reconstruction in Iraq and Afghanistan through its KBR subsidiary, securing over $2.3 billion in contracts. By 2006, an astonishing fact emerged: contractors actually outnumbered soldiers in Iraq. The privatisation of warfare had reached a point that would have been unthinkable in previous conflicts.
The Congressional Commission on Wartime Contracting eventually documented between $31 billion and $60 billion in waste, fraud and abuse. Investigators found systematic overcharging, shoddy work, and what amounted to organised profiteering. Yet few companies faced meaningful consequences. They had become too embedded to replace.
Here's what changed. Physical infrastructure projects could be audited. When Halliburton billed excessive amounts for basic services, investigators could document the fraud. Buildings, roads, and power plants could be assessed for quality and value.
Digital governance systems operate in shadows. Their costs are opaque. Their functionality requires expertise that only the original vendor easily provides. And crucially, they create deeper lock-in. Halliburton's laundry services could be handed to other providers. But digital identity platforms and border control systems become the substrate of governance itself. Replacing them means replacing how administration fundamentally operates—a transition that becomes prohibitively difficult once dependencies are established.
The World Bank's Digital West Bank and Gaza programme, updated in July 2025, already provides the procurement vehicle. It itemises everything from bandwidth capacity to data management consulting, establishing frameworks ready for rapid deployment.
Gaza's reconstruction has learned Iraq's lessons. Make the dependency harder to see. Make it harder to audit. Make it impossible to remove.
What governance means under surveillance
"Digital governance" sounds neutral, almost boring. Its implications are anything but.
When Israeli officials floated linking facial recognition to food aid distribution earlier this year, the international criticism focused on the dystopian optics. But the proposal revealed the underlying logic: comprehensive surveillance presented as administrative necessity.
Mark Duffield at the University of Bristol has studied how digital technology functions in humanitarian contexts. He warns of "cybernetic rationality"—systems of control that operate through data flows rather than physical presence. This "remote governance", Duffield argues, risks entrenching existing power imbalances whilst presenting itself as neutral technical efficiency.
UN experts have specifically flagged the dangers of digital identity programmes in conflict settings, particularly when biometric data becomes mandatory for accessing aid. Recent breaches and the systematic exclusion of vulnerable populations demonstrate the human rights risks. In environments where people are already at risk, administrative tools easily become instruments of control.
The question of who controls these systems determines everything. When Oracle hosts data on sovereign cloud infrastructure designed for intelligence agencies, and Palantir provides proprietary analytics software, Palestinian control becomes theoretical. The companies retain ownership of the platforms, expertise in their operation, and capacity for remote access.
Syrian digital rights advocates, writing about post-conflict reconstruction, warn that digital ID systems without rights-based legal frameworks quickly transform from public services into surveillance apparatus. The infrastructure remains identical. Only the justification shifts from security to efficiency.
Ellison himself has been explicit about his vision. After the September 2001 attacks, he offered to fund a national identity card system with digitised biometrics. He has spoken enthusiastically about using AI and constant surveillance to create societies where "citizens will be on their best behaviour".
That vision now finds its testing ground in Gaza.
The alternatives being ignored
Different approaches exist. Open-source platforms like MOSIP for digital identity and Mojaloop for payments have been successfully deployed in countries including Ethiopia, allowing local communities to maintain control rather than depending on foreign military contractors.
These models prioritise sovereignty over speed, building capacity for self-governance rather than efficient dependency. They require investment in local technical expertise, longer development timelines, and genuine commitment to Palestinian control.
But procurement structures favour established players. Oracle and Palantir can point to existing contracts, proven capabilities, and rapid deployment because their systems already operate in the region. Alternative approaches appear slower and riskier, even when they better serve long-term interests.
The incentive structures push relentlessly towards efficiency for donors rather than sovereignty for Palestinians. International agencies face pressure for quick results and measurable outcomes. Established contractors offer turnkey solutions. The path of least resistance leads directly to the companies that profited from the conflict.
Consider the uncomfortable reality: the UN's World Food Programme maintains major contracts with Palantir despite UN Special Rapporteur Albanese explicitly calling for review of such relationships on ethical grounds. The organisations documenting humanitarian needs increasingly depend on companies whose technology enabled the crisis.
A business model for endless conflict
Gaza's reconstruction matters beyond Gaza. If American military contractors successfully transition from enabling warfare to administering peace using identical surveillance technologies, it establishes a template.
Other post-conflict territories will face similar choices about digital infrastructure. The precedent of Oracle and Palantir—profiting from both destruction and reconstruction whilst maintaining technological control—could become the expected model rather than a troubling exception.
This is the circular economy of modern conflict. Companies sell targeting systems during warfare. They sell identity systems during reconstruction. The technology stack remains constant. The revenue streams flow continuously. Only the contracts change from defence to development, from military operations to humanitarian logistics.
The architecture of surveillance persists whilst its stated purpose transforms. What was battlefield analytics becomes governance infrastructure. What tracked enemies tracks civilians. What enabled targeting enables administration.
Iraq and Afghanistan created billionaires through physical reconstruction contracts plagued by waste and fraud. Gaza promises something more elegant: digital systems that embed contractors permanently into governance itself, creating dependencies too fundamental to remove.
The choice being made isn't between reconstruction and no reconstruction. It's between digital governance designed for Palestinian sovereignty and digital infrastructure designed for perpetual control—between systems that serve populations and systems that manage them.
Right now, the companies that profited from surveillance during conflict are positioned to profit from surveillance during peace. The technology hasn't changed. The business model hasn't changed. The power relationships haven't changed.
Only the language has shifted from military necessity to administrative efficiency, from defence operations to digital governance, from targeting to identity management.
The infrastructure remains. So does the question of who it really serves.