If you were a Palestinian, what would you believe about your future? Would you see any real path to freedom, or would you conclude that the world has accepted your permanent subjugation by Israel? Would you still trust in negotiations after decades of talks that delivered neither sovereignty nor dignity? Or would you begin to believe that only faith, resistance, or sheer endurance remain?
This is not a rhetorical exercise; it is the question Israelis must confront if we are serious about our own future. Because a people that sees no horizon will not disappear, and a conflict without a political solution will not end. This must be the essential lesson learned from the two years’ war in Gaza.
If you were in the shoes of Palestinians, would you still believe that freedom is possible? Imagine living your entire life under restrictions you did not choose, governed by forces you cannot influence, living under a government that you cannot change because you don’t even have the right to vote.
Would you hold on to hope or would you begin to doubt that anyone, anywhere, truly intends for you to be free? Would you turn to religion, to the belief that Allah will ultimately deliver justice, when every earthly path seems to have failed?
You tried diplomacy. You engaged in negotiations. Your national movement recognized Israel on 78% of the land between the river and the sea, asking only for a state on the remaining 22%, the territories occupied in 1967. And still, statehood has not come. So what remains? What can a people do to preserve their dignity and identity without feeling that they are being asked to simply surrender their most basic national aspirations?
This is not a question about justifying violence or denying Israel’s right to security. It is a question about understanding the human reality on the other side, and asking ourselves, honestly, whether our current path offers them any credible reason to believe that freedom will ever come. This is what is happening for decades as Palestinians watch the horizon of their future shrink with each passing year.
These are not comfortable questions, but they are necessary ones. If we want a different future, Israelis must be willing to confront the possibility that, from the Palestinian perspective, the political horizon has effectively disappeared. And when people see no horizon, they do not simply disappear – they search for alternatives. Some will choose faith. Some will choose resistance. Some will choose despair.
The real question we must ask ourselves is whether we are helping to create a reality in which hope is still possible, or one in which it is steadily being extinguished.
The last two-and-a-half years should convince us beyond a shadow of a doubt that there is no military solution to this conflict. Military power can destroy, deter, and delay, but it cannot resolve a national struggle rooted in identity, rights, and the simple human demand for dignity and freedom.
We have seen extraordinary displays of force, and we have paid unbearable costs. Yet the fundamental reality has not changed. Violence has not brought security; it has deepened fear, hardened positions, and ensured that the next round is only a matter of time.
If we continue to rely primarily on force, we should not be surprised that Palestinians, seeing no political horizon, turn elsewhere – for meaning, for hope, for a sense of agency. And we, in turn, will continue to face a reality in which our own security is fragile and temporary.
The lesson is not that Israel should abandon its right and duty to defend its citizens. It is that defense alone is not a strategy for ending this conflict.
The only path that has ever shown even the faintest promise is the path we have too often walked away from: a credible political process that offers both peoples something real to hold on to. For Palestinians, that means a genuine, tangible route to freedom and statehood. For Israelis, it means security that is not built on perpetual control over another people but on mutual recognition and agreed borders. Without that, we are not managing the conflict – we are ensuring its continuation.
What would convince Palestinians that Israelis are genuine about peace?
The answer is not complicated.
A clear declaration of readiness for a two-state solution; an immediate freeze on all settlement construction; firm action to arrest violent settlers and prevent ongoing attacks; the removal of about 900 gates and checkpoints all around the West Bank; the release of billions of shekels in Palestinian tax revenues that Israel is holding; and a demonstrated willingness to negotiate sincerely toward a two-state agreement based on the June 4, 1967, lines. These are concrete steps that could signal to Palestinians that Israel is prepared to end the conflict, not merely manage it.
What would convince Israelis that Palestinians are truly serious about making peace? Clear and consistent choices could begin to change perceptions. For example, a call for Palestinian national elections based on a new election law that prohibits parties that support armed struggle from running – that would essentially mean an unequivocal renunciation of armed struggle, a sustained commitment to teaching peace and coexistence in Palestinian schools, and religious leaders using their influence in mosques to preach reconciliation rather than incitement.
These are not symbolic gestures; they are signals that could reshape Israeli public opinion and rebuild a measure of trust that has been deeply eroded. If Israelis are to believe that peace is possible, they must see not only words but a sustained cultural and political commitment on the Palestinian side.
In any genuine two-state solution, we, Israelis and Palestinians alike, will have to accept some fundamental truths. Both peoples are here to stay. The land between the river and the sea is the homeland of two peoples. Jerusalem must be a shared city, serving as the capital of both states. The Palestinian right of return will find its primary realization in the Palestinian state, alongside agreed arrangements that respect the realities of both sides.
And beyond borders, we will need to build deep, cross-border cooperation in as many areas of life as possible – economics, water, environment, health, culture, technology, and education – so that peace is not just signed but lived.
Israeli-Palestinian peace is the only foundation upon which a truly new Middle East can be built – not through attempts to reshape the map by force but through the hard, necessary work of mutual recognition and partnership.
The writer is the Middle East director of the International Communities Organization and the co-head of the Alliance for Two States.