He’s not wrong. Despite having spent 13 years running a peacebuilding organization, including much of the past few years gathering research for a book on peacebuilding, and having many friends and colleagues in Israel, Palestine, and all surrounding areas, I haven’t posted or written anything on the matter until this. This is for a few reasons.

Firstly, a great number of people I consider close, including some I hold a pastoral presence for, are personally affected by this conflict. In many instances, my role is to listen, be present, and hold sacred space for people to process big feelings. I recognize that some of those people may feel that trust is broken if they know my positions on this conflict, and that’s especially true if they are in a psychological state of dysregulation.

Secondly, like many things, my thoughts are complex, nuanced, and wordy. If taken out of context, people may come to conclusions that are inaccurate about what I believe. I seek to offer more heat than light, and this topic warrants itself to the term “irreducibly complex”.

Lastly, with three kids, work, and extra work beyond my day job, I find little time to write out everything on my mind, and this is something that has taken me over a year to finish writing.

Still, I feel a moral obligation to contribute meaningfully and humbly, if insignificantly, to this significant moral moment, as several more people have asked since. I’ll start you where I started with him. I replied:

“I believe two things that likely deviate from what you’re hearing; this violence isn’t surprising, but it’s absolutely solvable. And to understand those both, you have to understand the science of trauma, and the history of occupation.”

Trauma

Before I can explain how trauma makes the current situation predictable, I think it’s important to explain what’s commonly understood about trauma in research psychology. I’ll try to keep it brief, and if you’re interested to learn more, much of this information can be found in books like The Body Keeps the Score by Bessel Van Der Kolk, among other leading titles on the subject.

Trauma is best described as the rewiring of a brain in response to a threatening stimulus. Often diagnosed as PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder), it seems most common when two criteria are met:

1. An adverse experience triggers a sympathetic nervous system response (flight-fight-freeze response), often for an extended duration (minutes, not seconds)
2. The one experiencing an adverse experience is unable to immediately remove themself from the traumatizing stimulus; in other words, they experience a loss of agency

Common triggers of PTSD are thus predictable. Military combat is a ripe environment for PTSD. In contrast to how someone who hears a gunshot and has a sympathetic nervous system response might run away in seconds (something I once experienced outside a movie theater many years ago), soldiers in combat are trapped in danger and unable to physically remove themselves from harm’s way for minutes, hours, or even days. Sex abuse survivors are often traumatized either by being physically overpowered by their assailants or losing agency through a “freeze” response when their sympathetic nervous system takes over. Children who experience various forms of abuse are often traumatized, as they are both physically smaller than their parents/abusers and frequently unable to escape the abuse. There are countless more situations, but the pattern is clear. The brain rewires itself as a coping mechanism to adverse experiences, seemingly in preparation for future defense needs.

The effects of trauma are significant, many, and enduring. Here are just a few:

• The brain rewires connections to the sympathetic nervous system, so that when similar stimuli happen, the survivor may immediately go into fight-flight-freeze mode. Survivors might experience these bouts of intense dysregulation at an unhealthy frequency
• Some experience disassociation in which they experience a cessation of emotional or even physical sensations as a coping mechanism
• They may experience trouble focusing, holding a job, maintaining healthy relationships, or remembering things
• Recurring nightmares are common, as are sleeplessness and other sleep issues
• They are more likely to engage in risky behaviors, put themselves in dangerous situations, and/or find themselves in toxic relationships
• They are disproportionately likely to engage in substance abuse
• They are more likely to abuse loved ones, and be abused by others
• Many experience a decrease in proprioception, or the sense of being in one’s own body

There’s a host of other long-tail effects, including increases in risk of heart disease, cancer, and other seemingly unrelated ailments. One common theme across the many effects, both biological and psychological, is that the traumatized person’s mind essentially optimizes for short-term survival over long-term wellbeing. Those with the most touchy sympathetic nervous system are seemingly rewired to treat any prospective risk as an existential threat, flooding the body with stress hormones like adrenaline and cortisol to aid in survival.

Trauma may be a neurological experience of the individual, but its secondary effects reach the family, friends, and communities. Traumatized people may be emotionally unavailable parents, abusive spouses, absent-minded employees, and prejudiced elders. Of course, being traumatized does not damn one to fall into any of these categories, but rather, simply increases the likelihood of any one of these conditions. Trauma is not deterministic. Many survivors of trauma go on to live healthy, happy, and productive lives. But the patterns are clearly recognized.

Much has been written on the topic of “intergenerational trauma,” but whether it is merely a narrative and psychological phenomenon, or an actual biological one, is poorly understood. One intriguing study suggested that a grandmother’s diet during gestation of a female fetus could affect not only their offspring, but the grandchildren’s metabolism. If this seems fantastical, remember that the egg that became you was formed in your mother when she was still in utero during your grandmother’s pregnancy, predating you by a generation. While I haven’t seen a study yet that suggests children and grandchildren hold biological markers of previous generations’ trauma, I wouldn’t be surprised to see that we learn more about the biological pathways that may make intergenerational trauma a medical fact and not just a social phenomenon. No matter, it’s clear that trauma has secondary effects on those close to traumatized individuals.

Jewish Trauma Prior to Israel

Connecting trauma to Jews in Israel seems obvious, but I’d argue it is poorly understood, both in its causes and its effects. Most people may immediately assume that the Holocaust is the dominant driver of intergenerational trauma in Israel (indeed it is a large one), but at no point were Holocaust survivors the majority population in Israel. While the majority of European Jews in Israel come from affected families, European Jews, all together, comprise less than half of the Israeli Jews. This isn’t in any way to minimize the depth and significance of the Holocaust on Israel, but rather to acknowledge that the traumatic experiences that led Jews to Israel were broader and more recent than just one great tragedy.

For instance, after the founding of Israel, over 600,000 Jews arrived in Israel from Muslim-majority countries from North Africa to Asia, many of whom were either forced or threatened with violence to leave. While some came shortly after the founding of Israel in 1948, many of these mass migrations happened in the 1950s and 1960s from Morocco, Iran, and beyond. For instance, in 1920, as much as 40% of Baghdad’s population was Jewish. Today, only four Jews live in all of Iraq.

Similarly, over 750,000 Jews moved to Israel during the 1980s and 1990s from the former Soviet Union. While the timing of the mass migration from Russia is most attributed to changing rules for Russian emigration, the removal of Jewish emigration laws was wisely used by many given the generations of pogroms, violence, and antisemitism Russian Jews faced. As a testament of Jewish ambitions to leave Russia, the population of Russian Jews dropped from five million in 1897 to less than a quarter a million today.

If trauma convinces our bodies that threats are existential on the personal level, a narrative of existential threat continues to permeate the collective Jewish psyche today. Much like the sympathetic nervous system can treat all risks as existential, a community with many traumatized people may treat all acts of violence, prejudice, or possibly even criticism of its government as though it amounts to an attempt of complete eradication.

I think this is something that non-Jews are particularly blind to. For instance, if someone attacks a church, kidnaps white people in Mexico, or writes scathing criticism of US foreign policy (all of which has occurred), I may be horrified, afraid, or defensive. But at no point will I consciously or subconsciously interpret those actions as viable and plausible attempts of eradicating “my kind” (whichever of my identity groups is at stake). I may see myself in those victims, and fear for the safety of myself and my family, but I do not believe there is any force that exists which could possibly wipe out all Christians, white people, or Americans. I do not live in fear of communal existential risk.

But as an example in 1972, when the Black September militant group killed 11 members of the Israeli Olympic team in Munich, the effects were profound. It was understood as more than just an attack on Israel. It was experienced by Jews in Israel and beyond as an existential threat. And in kind, many experienced the same dysregulation we’ve come to understand traumatized people experience, with its many ramifications.

While I don’t believe that Hamas, Al Quds Brigade, Iran’s Revolutionary Guard, or even the combination of all anti-Semitic forces across the globe could pose an existential threat to Jews, Judaism, or Israel, I recognize why that narrative is so potent. Israeli Jews are composed of generations who fled countless existential threats, and now comprise just a moderate majority in a New Jersey-sized sliver of a seemingly belligerent region of substantially larger nations. As such, many Jews (at least a sizable minority, and possibly a majority) see the world as teeming with existential threats to Jews and Judaism itself. It doesn’t have to be true to feel true.

In Thomas Schelling’s The Strategy of Conflict, he denotes a key challenge with existential risks: in game theory when the cost of “losing” is infinite (like death), there’s often no price too high to avoid an existential outcome (like in the game theory of the Hobbesian Trap). Applied to moral philosophy, if survival itself is at stake, one feels little compulsion to take the high road, for survival itself can be seen as an intrinsic value. For many, this means that when facing an existential threat, there is no higher moral good than survival.

So if you view Israeli policy as surprisingly brutal, you likely underestimate the dynamics at play. This isn’t to suggest that these policies are not brutal, only that Israeli policy toward Palestinians is not surprising when put into the context of trauma. The October 7th attack by Hamas is perceived by many Israeli Jews as an existential threat to not only them as individuals, but to Israel and Judaism.

And I see this in the faces, voices, and written words of my Jewish and Israeli friends. Friends who are typically critical of Israeli policy, including those who abruptly donned their fatigues and kissed their children goodbye as they joined their fellow reservists at the announcement of tzav shmoneh, are responding in a matter that only can be understood from the view of perceived existential threat. Some in a state of dysregulation, others in the numbness of dissociation. Frantic calls to loved ones, and nervous laughs over wine to the soundtrack of sirens. Humanity persists in its various forms, though life largely continues as it had before.

Continued Palestinian Trauma

If you live in the US, the words I’ve written above may be relatively familiar to you. Until quite recently, what I found to be woefully lacking in our public discourse is a recognition of the humanity of Palestinians. More than just a people, they are persons; individuals with hopes and fears. Palestinians have names. If we can acknowledge their humanity, we must recognize the trauma that persists within the Palestinian people.

The initiation of the Nakba, or the expulsion of Palestinians from the land that was once Palestine, is only the beginning of Palestinian trauma. Immediately before and after the formation of Israel in 1948, somewhere between 1,000 and 15,000 Palestinians were killed inside the borders of what is now Israel, and some 750,000 either were forcibly removed or fled. Some 500 Palestinian villages were demolished, and the majority of this population became refugees in the surrounding countries.

Conflicts between Israel and its neighbors often resulted in further turmoil for the Palestinians. The Six-Day War in 1967 resulted in the Gaza Strip and West Bank falling under Israeli military occupation, the latter of which paved way for the creation of West Bank settlements and the Al Aqsa Mosque tacitly incorporated into Israeli territory. In 1982, the Lebanese Civil War created the conditions that led to the murder of 400–3,500 Palestinian refugees at the hands of a local Christian militia group (the wide range of fatalities representing a lack of consensus). The refugee camps have remained as places of economic and social isolation, with little protections. The West Bank now is riddled with 144 settlements, containing at least 500,000 Israelis, which occupies 60% of its area. Not only has much of that land been forcibly taken from its inhabitants, but checkpoints render five-minute walks into multi-hour journeys, subjecting local Palestinians to violence, intimidation, and humiliation. It is most notable in East Jerusalem, where house demolitions and land appropriations have removed thousands of Palestinians from their homes, and newly constructed roads bar access to Palestinians.

In short, just as we can view the behavior of Israeli policymakers and the Israeli public from the humanizing lens of trauma, we can and must offer a similar view to Palestinians who have faced both generations of and generational trauma. This trauma continues. In this, we can acknowledge that Palestinians too face dysregulation, dissociation, a sympathetic nervous system that treats all risks as existential. And great violence can become justifiable to those who perceive threats as existential.

Nowhere does this lens of trauma matter more than in the Gaza Strip. To explain why, we must first take stock of the basic demography of the region. Gazans are young, impoverished, densely-populated, and repeatedly traumatized. Before October 7, about half of the 2.3 million residents were under the age of 18 years old, and 40% were under 14. Some 80% of Gazans are Palestinian refugees from other parts of Israel, and the jobless rate was an astounding 46%. As a result, 81% of Gazans lived below the poverty line before October 7. The region is a miniscule 141 sq miles, giving it a population density between that of Boston and San Francisco.

Like many Israelis and Palestinians in the region, there’s a long history of traumatic experiences that have plagued Gaza. But we don’t even have to go far back to demonstrate sufficient traumatizing stimuli for your average Gazan. At 18 years old, the average Gazan was born in 2006. By the time they were a year old, election violence and the Hamas takeover of the region had already occurred. The Gazan war of 2008 killed hundreds of civilians, damaged tens of thousands of homes, destroyed half of its medical infrastructure, and decimated Gazan family farms. This left 50,000 Gazans homeless, over 400,000 without running water, and a million without electricity, resulting in astute food shortages. All that by age two for our average Gazan.

When the Gazan War of 2014 began, which ultimately killed over 1,000 civilians in Gaza, our average Gazan was eight years old. At ages 13 and 16, they likely witnessed more death, as conflict between Hamas and the IDF continued to result in civilian casualties in Gaza. Most notable in the psychology of trauma is the particular effects of continued aerial bombings. Much of the Israel Defense Force’s approach of engaging Hamas and other militant groups hinged on aerial bombardment. Whether targeted as claimed or indiscriminate as accused, the result is the same. Many, if not most, Palestinians in Gaza have been trapped in a prolonged state of fear as bombs continue to drop around them, while they have no agency to remove themselves from danger. This is the precise recipe for trauma.

And if Gazans experience this level of trauma repeatedly, we can only assume they experience proportional levels of dysregulation, dissociation, and the many complications that come with it. And the narrative around this trauma likely creates a justification for violence in the face of what seems to be an existential threat.

So again, if you view Hamas’s attack on October 7 as surprisingly brutal, you likely underestimate the dynamics at play. This isn’t to suggest that their attacks, including on October 7th are not brutal, only that such violence is not surprising when put into this context of trauma.

And when I speak to my friends from Gaza, though fewer in number than those I know among the Israelis, I hear the fear in their voices. The frantic attempts to get signs of life from family in a region that often has no phone, internet, and even electricity. Those trapped inside Gaza listen to each bomb dropped, waiting to see if the next will be their end. Notably, their lives do not largely go on as usual. Their lives are profoundly affected even in survival.

And this trauma reveals what exists inside all of us. The ability to love, to fear, to hate, to stand for peace, and to justify violence. The dynamics at play are fundamentally human.

While the lens of trauma may help us make sense of how we got here, it doesn’t help us understand how we get out of the cycle of predictable violence. For that, we must turn to the history of occupation.

Defining Occupation

Readers may fault me for failing to mention the particulars of the decades of history preceding and following the creation of Israel as a modern state. From the Balfour Declaration and the Sykes-Picot Agreement, to the violence perpetrated by Stern’s Gang or inspired by the Grand Mufti of Jerusalem, and the many bouts of violence that cemented escalating conflict for generations, there is much to delve into. While my formal and informal education covered these topics in great detail, I think both those supportive of Israeli defense and those of Palestinian resistance make a grave mistake in their reading: that conflict is intrinsic to the region, and this situation is particularly unique. I believe neither are true.

We can quickly debunk the narrative that “war in the Middle East” is a perpetual reality. For most documentable history, the entire world was riddled with endless cycles of conflict, and there was nothing particularly notable about conflict in this particular region. More specifically, the region today containing Israel and Palestine was relatively peaceful during the time under Ottoman rule, which stretched from the 16th Century until British occupation in 1917. Instead of an empty narrative around inevitable “holy war,” this conflict is best categorized with other failures of the crumbling British Empire during their decolonization phase, which sowed seeds of discord and violence in South Africa, Nigeria, and across the Asian sub-continent (including what is now India, Pakistan, and Bangladesh). In each case, arbitrary borders, stratified social orders (often by cultural, ethnic, or religious lines), weak public institutions, and a lack of national identity left most of these new states teetering. So, in this way, Israel and Palestine were not unique then, and the dynamics of their conflict are not unique today. This is not an endless and inevitable religious conflict.

But further complication, while already existing before the Six Days War, became clearer after. While most of those post-colonial conflicts resolved in the decades that followed (though conflict and tensions may remain), whether through violence or reconciliation, the state of Israel has engaged in a set of policies that comprise what is best described as “occupation”. And without understanding occupation, you can’t fully understand the conflict, because you can’t end this conflict without ending the occupation.

According to the 1907 Hague Regulations (Fourth Hague Convention), a “territory is considered occupied when it is placed under the authority of the hostile army.” This is understood to mean under control of a foreign military without consent, local government limitations due to said foreign power, and decision-making by the occupying power over the occupied territory and its people. So does Palestinian territory in the West Bank and Gaza Strip fall under this definition? I believe so. Here are a few aspects that give credence to this belief:

• We cannot consider Palestinians in the West Bank or Gaza as formally “annexed” by Israel, as they have not been granted Israeli citizenship, rights, nor benefits. Palestinians do not receive an Israeli passport, cannot work within Israel, nor vote in Israeli elections. So by default, Palestinians have been and remain citizens of a different national identity (Palestine). This classifies the Israeli military as foreign.
• The West Bank has been occupied by the Israeli military since the Six Days War in 1967, which includes appropriation of land, building of settlements which are only to be populated by Israeli citizens, dozens of Israeli-only roads that crisscross the West Bank, separating Palestinians from their homes, jobs, and family land, and checkpoints to cross these new boundaries. Palestinians in the West Bank are barred from accessing over half of the land within the West Bank by the Israeli military.
• In the West Bank, nearly all security is administered by the Israeli military, and while Israeli settlers are governed by Israeli law, the Palestinians of the West Bank are ruled by martial law (by the Israeli military). For them, there is no due process. While Gaza was under formal military rule from 1967 until 2005, many aspects of its condition before the current conflict have remained akin to occupation (more on that later).
• Across all Palestinian territories, Palestinians can be detained by Israeli forces without cause, held without charge, and have no legal recourse in court if abused by the military. It’s estimated that over 7,000 Palestinians are currently being held in this manner (and have been since before the war), including children.

Whether Gaza is formally occupied is a topic of more contested debate. While it was formally occupied by Israel (by its own admission) from 1967 until 2005, the subsequent years are more difficult to determine. In the absence of the formal occupation, a contested election in 2006 put Hamas in power of the governance of Gaza, and frequent rocket attacks from within Gaza into Israel certainly do not give the impression of a formal occupation. But the daily lives of those in Gaza are strongly influenced by Israel, including militarily. Gazan airspace and territorial waters are strictly controlled by Israel, for instance. Key infrastructure like electricity and water are under the control of the Israeli government, as well as other key public services and border control, including the power of approval at the border with Egypt. Whether Gaza meets a legal definition of occupation is less useful to understanding the dynamics; Gazans experience Israel as an occupying force.

One could argue that conflict in the region is merely another manifestation of proxy wars, which were a common feature of the 20th century. Nearly all of the military, financial, and political support Israel receives internationally is from the United States, whereas Iran funds and equips paramilitary groups (fairly called “terrorist groups”) in the region, like Hezbollah, Hamas, and Palestinian Islamic Jihad. Iran considers the US a mortal enemy, and supports militant groups throughout the region. The US considers Iran a significant threat to its interests and likely invests heavily in clandestine operations to counter Iranian influence in the region. Proxy war is a well-suited framing of the conflict, it just isn’t as illustrative in terms of solutioning. After all, proxy wars and occupations aren’t mutually exclusive.

While some find the above compelling, others refer specifically to Israeli policy differently, including the term “apartheid,” which is a Dutch term meaning “apart-hood” that became synonymous with white domination in South Africa in its post-colonial era. Whether this term is apt, we can recognize other forms of prejudice against Palestinians in Israeli policy, including:

• While Palestinians living in Israel (referred to as “Arab Israelis”) have rights as citizens of Israel, they still face discrimination by Israeli law, including in land, housing, and infrastructure development. Funding is similarly unequal in sectors like education and healthcare.
• Those moving to Israel will similarly face prejudiced barriers. While those deemed Jewish by the Israeli state can easily immigrate under the “Right to Return” (in reference to Jewish expulsion from the region by Romans in the first century), Palestinians have no equal path to immigration to Israel (true even for living Palestinians born in what is now Israel). It is clear whom the Israeli state prefers to come.
• The 2018 Nation-State Law declared Israel as the “nation-state of the Jewish people” and removed Arabic as an official language. This comes at a time when other former ethno-nation-states have strived to expand their national identities to incorporate ethnic groups beyond those native to their land, including Ireland, Germany, Singapore, and Malaysia.
• Intermarriage between Arab Israelis and Jewish Israelis is illegal within Israel, though marriages performed outside the country can be recognized upon the couples return. One could argue this is due to the role of religious institutions in marriage laws generally and not explicit government policy, but it creates yet another significant barrier between communities.

I believe the apartheid lens, even if not wholly inaccurate, gives us little in terms of how to solve the conflict. As I think the significant population imbalance was a large driver in the eventual resolution in South Africa, it is not an applicable case study here. Rather, the lens of occupation gives us ample historical context to pull from. And just as a threat doesn’t have to actually be existential to feel existential, an imbalanced conflict doesn’t have to meet our definition of occupation to feel like occupation to those living in it. So while I believe it qualifies as an occupation, you don’t have to agree with that determination in order to understand how resistance is predictable in any context that is perceived as occupation.

And rather than only moralizing the various forms of Palestinian resistance, violent and non-violent alike, I think it’s more important to put it into the context of occupation, including how other groups of people have responded to occupation throughout history. In recognition of the Fundamental Attribution Error (the cognitive bias of judging a person or people as innately “good” or “bad” rather than the context they are coming from), humanizing Palestinian resistance is crucial, even in its most brutal forms.

The Dynamics of Occupation

If Palestinians are experiencing Israel as an occupying force, and if we want to understand Palestinian perspectives, from peacebuilders to militants, we should understand the patterns of occupation in history. From this lens, we can both better understand the forms of resistance we see, violent or otherwise, and find a pathway out of it. Ireland presents a particularly useful case study.

British occupation of Ireland traces all the way back to the Norman invasion of 1169, met with Gaelic resistance over the subsequent centuries. Though centuries passed with conflict and resistance, Ireland didn’t completely fall under British rule until 1601. By this point, the local population began to resemble what we recognize today: a poorer Catholic majority, and a wealthier Protestant minority descending from English and Scottish settlers spanning generations. Conflict abounded with too many rebellions, wars, and other conflicts over the subsequent centuries to recount. Irish suffering widened from punitive laws to mass casualties when British policy helped create the Great Famine, leading to over a million deaths and two million Irish fleeing the isle, all while British policy continued to permit the export of Irish food to England throughout the famine. This sowed the seeds of Irish independence, but not until violence crescendoed generations later, leading to the Irish partition of 1920. This resulted in the creation of a free and independent Ireland, while the British retained territory in the north, dubbed “Northern Ireland”, where there was a disproportionate number of Protestants. Naturally, this left Protestants in the Republic of Ireland and Catholics in Northern Ireland as vulnerable minorities in these newly formed countries. Catholics in Northern Ireland faced particularly harsh conditions including discrimination in employment, housing, voting, and policing, including warrantless searches and imprisonment without charges. To Catholics in the north, this felt like British occupation, complete with an “imported” population aligned with the occupying power.

This set the stage for “The Troubles”, a period of conflict forming in the 1960s that arose to violence when peaceful protest was met with violent British response. The result was the radicalization of Irish nationalist groups across Catholics in Northern Ireland. These groups led to the formation of paramilitaries, including the most famous, the Provisional Irish Republican Army, or as it’s commonly called, the “IRA” (technically the IRA was the non-violent official group, whereas the Provisional IRA was the informal, violent group). Deemed a terrorist organization, the IRA expanded from attacking British forces in Ireland to include targeting political, commercial and infrastructural targets. In escalation, these forces attacked civilians both in Ireland and on the British mainland. At times the violence was sectarian; Protestants and Catholics fighting one another in the streets of Belfast. But to call the conflict sectarian, or religious, was to miss the true dynamic. It was a guerilla campaign between a violent resistance movement and an occupying power.

The 1972 “Bloody Sunday” shooting of 13 unarmed Irishmen further escalated violence, after which Irish resistance forces carried out a staggering 1,300 bombings. And the results were telling; more than half of the 3,500 deaths during the Troubles were civilians, at the hands of both the IRA and British forces. IRA targets spread to England, and in 1991, they made an assassination attempt against the British Prime Minister.

A recognition for the need of reconciliation began to rise, with two short-lived ceasefires in 1994 and 1996. It wasn’t until the Good Friday Agreement of 1998 that the aim of such efforts expanded beyond just reducing violence to addressing the underlying structural injustices that gave the IRA and other resistance operations legitimacy. It brought together the political parties within Northern Ireland, as well as the Irish and UK governments. It included weapon decommissioning by paramilitary groups and a rescission of emergency laws that UK forces used to occupy Northern Ireland. It included prisoner releases and sweeping human rights reforms.

The agreement wasn’t perfect, but it was certainly profound. Sectarian violence and paramilitary activities plummeted to near non-existent levels. Tensions may arise, but no longer escalate to outright conflict. There’s still work ahead in terms of whether Northern Ireland rejoins Ireland (an attractive option in post-Brexit UK), but it is clear that the conflict is largely over.

While aspects of conflict in Ireland are particular, much of the journey to escalating violence and sustainable peace is a generalizable trend. There have been a total of 163 foreign occupations since 1900, many of them inspiring resistance (violent or otherwise), leading to a combined 544,000 deaths (source). Many of these occupations are familiar to us, like the ongoing Russian occupation of eastern Ukraine, or American occupation in post-war Iraq. Others are ever slightly fainter in our collective memories, like the Syrian occupation of much of Lebanon, or the Vietnamese occupation of Cambodia. Some occupations are met with little resistance after the initial conflict or war that brought such occupation, like the Turkish occupation of northern Cyprus. Others are met with fierce resistance, like the short-lived German occupation of Soviet land during World War II. Some end in returned independence, like Libya from Italy, while others are formally annexed, like Puerto Rico by the United States (which in 2020 passed a referendum in support of Statehood). Most importantly, some occupations ended peacefully, like that of Ireland, while others were followed by widespread bloodshed, like the end of the British occupation of India and its subsequent partition.

And from this historical context (including some of Collard-Wexler’s research), we can recognize that violent resistance is more likely when:

• A conflict is longer in duration
• Is preceded by a war between the occupier and the occupied
• The occupied population suffers mass killing at the hands of the occupier
• The ethnic, racial, and/or religious identity is perceived as significantly different between the occupier and the occupied
• The occupied experience an increase in restrictions over their civil liberties

Suddenly, Palestinian resistance, both nonviolent and violent alike, can be recognized as clearly fitting the model of response to the specifics of its occupation. It’s long-lasting, unequal, exceptionally lethal to civilians, severely limited economic and social freedom, at the hands of an occupier they view as sharing little cultural kinship with them.

Contrary to common depictions of Palestinians as savagely violent, only a small portion of Palestinians actively take up arms in resistance. The Palestinian government has no formal army, navy, or airforce, and the Palestinian Security Services is seen as a tool of oppression by Palestinians, as its focus is in policing its own people while sharing security intelligence with the Israeli government (and not fight it). Those who seek to engage in violent resistance must join one of the armed resistance militias like the Al Aqsa Martyrs’ Brigade, Hamas’s Izz ad-Din Al-Qassam Brigades, or Palestinian Islamic Jihad. Combined, these groups contained some 50,000 active militants before October 7th, out of a population of five million in Gaza and West Bank combined. If we subtract women (50%), and male children (42% under 15) and elderly (3%), there’s about 1.4M adult Palestinian males (counting 16-year-olds means “adult” in the broadest of terms, but that’s the age cutoff given by the quoted statistic). So less than 4% of adult Palestinian men are engaged in violent resistance. Even if we focus on Gaza, where the majority of these militants live (as many as 40,000), we find that just 6% of Gazan adult males are engaged in violent resistance. These numbers appear in a similar range to the percent of adult males in Northern Ireland who were a part of the IRA (approximately 2%).

Why am I surprised that only 6% of Palestinian adult men are engaged in violent resistance? Because I grew up in rural America. If the wretched conditions of Gaza were imposed on the rural lands of the Pacific Northwest where I grew up, I can’t help but assume that well over a third of eligible men in my region would engage in violent resistance (and they are already armed). Or more accurately, if you were to ask them, at least half would claim that they would do so. In case you read this as hyperbole, when my father passed away, he had a Glock, shotgun, two rifles, and an AR-15, along with what I estimated to be around 20,000 rounds of ammunition (needless to say, I didn’t count). This might seem excessive, but where I’m from, it’s not unheard of. I wouldn’t be surprised to see them engage in terrorist tactics like that of Hamas as a method of resistance. And I’d argue that’s true in much of the US outside a select few cities. The United States has more registered firearms than people. So in comparison to what I’d expect from Americans facing similar conditions, 6% seems shockingly low.

Further solidifying the dynamics of occupation, rather than conflict between equal parties, is the vast disparities in military and economic power. Not only has Israel almost double the population, nearly four times the geographic size, and 26 times the GDP than those of Palestine, but it has a significant military advantage. Israel’s military has 170,000 active military personnel, and nearly a half a million reservists. Its $23B annual military spend has enabled it to build an arsenal of over 2,000 tanks, over 300 combat aircraft, five submarines, and the “Iron Dome” defense system which intercepts 90% of rockets fired into Israel from Gaza or Lebanon. The military might of Israel contrasts sharply with the informal resistance composed of the previously mentioned paramilitaries, which are not only outnumbered by at least three-to-one, but lack formal military training, less capable equipment, and likely receive inadequate food and little to no pay. The weapon of choice has remained rockets donated and smuggled into Gaza from Iran, which are increasingly ineffective against the Iron Dome. While a power imbalance does not qualify a conflict as an occupation, it’s often a common characteristic of one, much like many of the occupations we’ve mentioned from Ireland to Ukraine.

The public participation in Israeli military action is notable, as a full two-thirds of Israeli Jewish men will serve in the IDF at some point, as well as half of the women (both subject to mandatory conscription, with conditions). While state violence benefits from the legitimacy of the government even in occupations, it still is worth considering to what extent public participation occupation plays a role (though, again, mandatory service is a huge driver, and Israel does have an increasing number of “refuseniks,” who conscientiously object to military participation). This isn’t to suggest Israelis are inherently more violent either, that would be similarly prejudiced. It too exists in a context that leads to a probable outcome. It’s just to note that the participation in violent conflict in both Israeli and Palestinian societies is similar, though expressed through different channels (former military versus informal paramilitaries). What is clear is that the common narrative that Palestinians are inherently or disproportionately more violent is clearly not true, and often used to justify disproportionate violence against both Palestinian resistance and civilians more broadly.

The outcomes of the conflict maps this disproportionality. From 1948 up until September 2023 before this bout of violence, if we tally all wars, terror attacks, and other acts of violence, some 25,000 Jewish Israelis have been killed, whereas some 90,000 Palestinians have been killed. The most recent conflicts have disproportionately affected civilians in Gaza, and the current spate of violence follows this trend (more on that later).

I can imagine some may take issue with the term “Palestinian resistance”, preferring “terrorism”. Calling Hamas a terrorist organization certainly appears accurate, but it’s largely unhelpful. Terrorism, often categorized as political violence against civilians by a non-state actor, is simply one method of resistance. Many more Palestinians are engaged in non-violent forms of resistance, but all forms of resistance point to both its cause and purpose: ending occupation. And here we can clearly acknowledge the legitimacy of Palestinian grievances, while vehemently rejecting acts of terrorism like that of the attack of October 7th. And in order to find a solution, we must be able to do both. I believe this sentiment is best encapsulated by the words of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. when he said:

“But it is not enough for me to stand before you tonight and condemn riots. It would be morally irresponsible for me to do that without, at the same time, condemning the contingent, intolerable conditions that exist in our society. These conditions are the things that cause individuals to feel that they have no other alternative than to engage in violent rebellions to get attention. And I must say tonight that a riot is the language of the unheard.”

Acknowledging that Palestinians experience occupation gives context to the conditions in which terrorism can arise, and the source of how to stop it. History would suggest that violence will not end without the end of occupation.

Trouble At Hand

Which brings us to the attack of October 7th, 2023, and the attack of Gaza in response. Over a thousand Hamas militants crossed into Israel and engaged in an unprecedented, indiscriminate attack on Israelis. By the end of the attack, some 1,200 Israelis were killed, the majority of which were civilians. Among those killed included 12 children under 10, including reportedly two infants, 25 people over the age of 80, and 364 attendees of a music festival. Forensic evidence and witness statements suggests acts of rape and sexual abuse of victims. Some 200 hostages were captured and brought back to Gaza. It was truly a horrific attack.

The scale of the attack itself requires context. Not only was it the third largest terror attack in world history by fatalities but also the most deadly attack per capita, at roughly one fatality for every 10,000 Israelis. An equivalent to the US would be an attack that killed 40,000 Americans (13 times larger than the fatalities on September 11th, 2001). It was also the worst attack in Israeli history, and 31 times as fatal as the next largest attack in Israeli history, which occurred in 1978. It was the deadliest day for Jews since the Holocaust.

While the attack was unprecedented in this scale and brutality, that such a large attack occurred at that time should come as no shock. Netanyahu returned to power in November of 2022 with what is likely the most right-wing coalition in the history of the Knesset (Israeli parliament). This tenuous coalition is the product of several years of political instability, with five elections just since 2019. Netanyahu was ousted in 2021, only to return after building a fragmented coalition with fringe parties. These parties need no external description; they are eager to share their extremism in their own words. Far-right leader of the pro-settler Religious Zionism Party and Israeli Finance Minister Bezalel Smotrich called for creating “sterilization zones” against Palestinians in the West Bank. Since the conflict began, Heritage Minister Amihai Eliyahu suggested dropping a nuclear bomb on Gaza, while Agricultural Minister Avi Dichter called Israel’s military offensive “Gaza’s Nakba”. Netanyahu, while likely less than pleased to be seated with these partners, has made it clear his political ambition to stay in power overrides any distaste for unsavory positions, policies, or rhetoric. Moreover, he likely had to offer significant concessions to these fringe parties to build this fragile coalition.

Likely as a result, much of early 2023 saw not only significant expansion of settlements, but also increased violence against Palestinians in the West Bank. Significant raiding of Palestinian villages took place in the summer, while settlers felt more brazen in their attacks against the Palestinians adjacent to their newly established settlements. Between Israeli forces and settlers, 241 Palestinians were killed in 2023 before the October 7th attacks, while some 5,000 Palestinians were under Israeli detainment or prison, an increase from the year before.

I don’t believe these killings pose a justification for the October 7th attack, nor are they even attributable, given that intelligence reports suggest this attack was being planned for over a year, pre-dating Netanyahu’s re-election. What it does suggest, however, is that this attack did not come at a time of relative peace, at least not for Palestinians. It follows the expected dynamics of occupation, and so while we may be shocked at its scale and brutality, we shouldn’t be surprised at its timing.

Returning to the political reality in Israel, the current coalition led by Netanyahu was extremely susceptible to collapse before the violence began. Not only is Netanyahu shepherding more extreme parties than ever before, but they recently passed reforms seeking to limit the Israeli Supreme Court, ostensibly furthering the power of the Knesset, and therefore the ruling party. Notably, these reforms could further escalate settlements and appropriations of Palestinian land. Starting in January of 2023, Israeli protests against these laws quickly grew from tens of thousands to hundreds, reaching a peak of over a quarter million people. It’s worth mentioning that many Israeli protesters not only saw Netanyahu’s coalition as undermining Israeli democracy but as detrimental to Palestinian human rights, which has remained a growing concern among the Israeli left (perhaps for generations, but certainly growing rapidly in the past decade). One could say that Netanyahu is the wrong man at the wrong time.

So the attack created two real political threats to Netanyahu. Firstly, his party and coalition, which represent the rightest “security and defense” agenda, fundamentally failed at their core job. Under the “pro-defense” government, an unprecedented attack took place due to the absolute incompetence of their defense leadership, even when reports suggest the Israeli government was tipped off about a potential attack a year before, only to dismiss it as “unrealistic”. From this perspective, his coalition is likely done for, as well as his time as Prime Minister.

But, eventual reality can be delayed by the immediate escalation of war. So while we can point to an unprecedented attack on traumatized Israelis as drivers of intense public reaction and endorsement for a brutal response, there is a very real political driver in which as soon as the military action subsides, there will likely be a day of reckoning for Netanyahu. As such he and his coalition are deeply incentivized to drag out military operations for as long as possible (note: I wrote this line originally in late 2023, and it has sadly played out accordingly). Just how long they will play this hand remains to be seen.

And, within this context, the Israeli response to the attack has been relentless and brutal. In the first four months since October 7th, the Israeli military has dropped 45,000 bombs (weighing 65,000 tonnes) on Gaza, and as of time of publication, has killed over 45,000 people (a number guaranteed to rise with the thousands presumed dead but missing) and destroyed some 70% of all homes, as well as 80% of the hospitals, and much of their infrastructure. The civilian casualties are unprecedented in modern times, and while determining who is truly a civilian may be difficult given the clandestine nature of Hamas, the 17,000 children and 8,000 women killed suggests that civilians comprise the majority of the fatalities. For context, just 11,000 civilians have been killed in Ukraine in the two years since the war with Russia started, and Ukraine has a population of 43 million. Nearly two percent of Gazans have died in this conflict, and it appears far from over.

This has been notably the most violent conflict for children in decades. 16,000 deaths in less than a year is wretchedly astounding. In the 24 tracked countries, Save the Children found that in 2019, nearly 3,000 children were killed across 24 conflicts across the world. So if this war ended tomorrow, we would have still witnessed a fivefold increase in the global death rate of children in conflict, just because of Israeli bombings of Gaza. Even when you remove the timebound, it is staggering. In the 11 years of the Syrian conflict, 12,000 children died in a country of 22 million. In the 12 years of Afghanistan’s recent wars, over 8,000 children died in a country of 40 million. In the two years since Russia’s invasion of Ukraine began, 600 children have died in a country of 40 million. Averaging over 40 children dying a day in Gaza, the per capita per year death rate at 1 per 140, or 120 times more deadly for children than the Syrian conflict, the second highest measured.

And this points to a troubling truth; the civilian casualties cannot be explained away as accidental, necessary, or a product of incompetence. More Gazans have died since October 7th than Israeli Jews have in all military battles and terrorist attacks since 1948, assuming the available numbers are largely accurate. Key factors make this conflict particularly deadly; Gaza is densely populated, and children represent a disproportionate percentage of the population. But the tactics being used by the Israeli military are telling. Doctors in Gaza reported treating children with sniper wounds to the head and chest, while videos posted online showed Shaaban al-Dalou, a 19-year old engineering student being treated in a hospital tent, being burned alive after an Israeli bombing. The conflict has inspired a new acronym for humanitarian workers: WCNSF, or “Wounded Child No Surviving Family”. The more optimistic interpretation would be of a complete disregard for human life in Gaza. But when matched with the aforementioned rhetoric of Israeli policy makers, the absolute destruction of Gaza and the killing of its people appears to be quite literally the objective. The accusations of genocide are understandable, and in the least, the Israeli military is clearly committing war crimes.

While there are increasing calls for a ceasefire, including from demonstrations around the world, a cessation of violence will not commence a permanent state of peace. The seeds of the next cycle of trauma meets the moral paradox that only promises future isolation, violence, and death. But there is a way out. This conflict, like nearly every conflict in history, will have its end.

A Vision for Lasting Peace

The available options for a viable peace plan have dwindled. Essentially every generation has been faced with three options, a two-state solution, a one-state solution, or do nothing and let the situation continue to deteriorate further in the face of changing demographics, expanded settlements, and cycles of attacks, retaliations, and detentions.

The Two State solution has remained for most of the conflict as the most likely candidate. After all, it has a lot going for it. The 20th Century vision of an ethno-nation-state fits neatly with this vision, where ethnic Arabs would belong to a Palestine, and ethnic Jews would belong to a future Israel. At face value, it makes sense, as parties to this conflict seemingly have little desire to live together, and thus separated land, government, and populations seems to be an attractive prospect for many.

But it isn’t without some clear challenges:

• Palestine is no longer composed of a contiguous piece of geography, and at least in this generation, it seems unimaginable for Israel to permit free travel through its territory between disjointed Palestinian territories.
• Past negotiations between Israeli and Palestinian diplomats suggest that the official Israeli position is likely to remain that a future Palestinian state cannot have a military, nor rights to its air space or sea access. While the impulse for this position seems somewhat understandable given the consistent presence of rockets in current Palestinian territory, a true two-state solution cannot exist without complete sovereignty of both nation-states.
• There are significant population considerations. Will all Arab Israelis be welcome in Palestine? Will they be forced to move? What about the Palestinian refugees in the neighboring countries, will they have a right to move into the newly formed Palestinian country? There are the makings of significant population movements, and if the partition of the Asian subcontinent teaches anything, it is that it could result in more abundant violence before settling into a new stasis.
• The Israeli settlements in the West Bank only further complicate the mess, both with people and land rights, especially in East Jerusalem. While land swaps could aid in a small portion of settlement conflict, Palestinian sovereignty would most certainly require a complete dismantling of the entire settlement network with its network of infrastructure. The movement of people would be significant, with nearly 700,000 Israeli settlers residing in the West Bank, including East Jerusalem, and the Golan Heights.

As a result, belief and support in a two-state solution dropped to all time lows, even before the current violence broke out.

The One State solution has been the seemingly most infeasible option for generations. Firstly, it stands as a rebuke to the ethno-nationalist ambitions of either peoples. This would be troubling to both parties for both principled and practical reasons. Principally in the idea of not just having a home for Palestinians, but a Palestine, and that Israel isn’t just a home for Jews, but a Jewish Nation. These distinctions are not inconsequential. But practically, both fear their sense of security and wellbeing if this future state rendered either party a minority within a unified country. Furthermore, who would be welcomed into this new state? Would Jews around the world still qualify for aliya, or the right-to-return? Would Palestinians in UNRWA camps and the global diaspora be granted citizenship and a right to return?

Here is where I will make a somewhat outrageous claim. While it will likely take more than a generation to become a reality, I believe an eventual peace deal will most closely resemble a one-state solution. How could I, after listing the inadequacies of the option, suggest it?

I believe the One State solution’s success is deeply rooted in the looming death of the notion of an ethno-nation-state. It’s easy to take nation-states for granted. Much of the 20th Century was dominated by nation-states, and many of the most powerful holding long European histories. A group of people who share an ethnic, linguistic, and/or cultural kinship share contiguous land, all governed under a “legitimate” government (from monarchies to representational democracies). But the ethno-nation-state is not the only social-governmental arrangement possible. Most empires from history, from the ancient Akkadian Empire, to the relatively recent Ottoman Empire, had one government structure presided over territory with cultural, linguistic, and even religious diversity. Now, to be clear, these empires were not democratic, and some were incredibly repressive. I am not suggesting these structures pose a better alternative. However, they do reveal that the idea that each ethnic group requires its own nation-state is not a historical fact. And post-ethno-nation-states like the United States or Singapore are not without historical precedence.

And we are living in the dying years of the nation-state around the world. The strong shift toward pluralism in western countries like Canada, the UK, France, and Germany has revealed an embrace of national identities beyond ethnicity, language, and religion. And yet, each of these countries has experienced what some consider shocking expressions of right-wing ethno-supremacy. One could argue that the boundaries of national identity are one of the foundational questions being grappled with around the world today. Even historically plural countries like India and Indonesia are grappling with their own national identities. Despite the rise of an ethno-centric right around the world, I believe the trendline of pluralism will ultimately prevail, with an increasing number of states shifting from ethno-national to pluralist.

This puts many struggles for independence in an awkward position. Most modern-minded, democracy-loving people tend to support self-determination and autonomy. Groups of people should be able to govern themselves if they so choose. But this heuristic rarely plays out. Many support Scottish ambitions of independence after the wake of Brexit, but then call Catalan ambitions foolish. It’s easy to dismiss Northern Cyprus claims to independence as tenuous, but surely the arguments against Kurdish independence hardly represent an equitable interpretation of the principle of self-determination. South Sudan was welcomed with legitimacy, while Western Sahara, with its long-running de facto independence, rarely even makes the map. From Cabinda to South Ossetia, the principle of self-determination most often gives way to political realities, often determined by either powerful backers or detractors.

However, one seemingly necessary condition for legitimate independence of an aspiring ethno-nation-state is relative ethnic homogeneity of the population. For instance, the growing population of non-Catalans in Catalunya could further weaken and delegitimize national ambitions.

Applying these trends to Israel and Palestine, both would fall short of meeting this criteria, albeit for different reasons. For Palestinians, a lack of contiguous space for an ethno-state is doubly affecting the presence of settlements, which eat into the largest Palestinian territory. A complete dismantling of settlements would be required for any viability, as land exchanges likely couldn’t carve off perfectly ethnically-aligned boundaries.

Israel faces two obstacles in its own case for Jewish sovereignty. The first we’ve mentioned; the presence of two million Arab Israelis within current Israeli borders, who would exist as a large minority in a newly legitimized ethno-state. The second issue is most particular to the Jewish community; what exactly is a Jew? While Jews are most associated with the Jewish faith as a religious community, Israel is not and should not be a theocracy, and the case for aliya is made through genealogy, not a declaration of faith. The idea of Jews as an ethnicity gets bumpy, as there are clear ethnic categories of Jews, from Ashkenazi and Sephardic to Mizrahi and Yemenite. However, genetic testing does suggest shared kinship among nearly all Jews in the world, much like the Roma diaspora. It is notable though, that while most genealogic-based granting of citizenship in other ethno-nation-states typically only extend two or three generations and require extensive documentation, the Jewish diaspora likely began over 1,900 years ago. Even then, the “Right to Return” laws stray from this ethnic interpretation; converts to Judaism are welcome, while ethnic Jews who convert to other religions are not. In short, definitions of Jewish identity do not fit neatly into the box of ethnicity in the way one may say “Scottish” or “Yamato,” and its duration of legal legitimacy guaranteeing citizenship rights after centuries is truly unprecedented. In a sense, Israeli policy presents Jewishness as a nationality, but in strategically exclusive terms. So Israel as an ethno-nation-state is a tenuous proposition, while Israel as a religio-nation-state seemingly anti-modern.

As such, Israel has struggled with its fundamental identity within Judaism for much of its history. More than being a “home for Jews,” it is now official policy that it is a “Jewish State”. If “Jewish” means religious, it creates a religio-nation-state, which would be met with global outrage, especially from Jews. If it’s an ethno-nation-state, it fails to be a true democracy, in which its citizens are equally endowed with legal rights and privileges. Increasingly, the two-state solution presents Israel with an identity crisis within itself.

In short, in a context where two national identities share a geographic space, an ethno-nation-state is untenable. Rather, a plural (or even plurinational) state which invites the full participation of its citizens, with equal rights, is the only way forward. If group autonomy is impossible, then a nation in which individual freedoms, both civil rights and liberties, are guaranteed is the next best option. Rather than striving for a 20th century ethno-nation-state like the historic France, the future lies in a state that represents the realities of pluralism in the 21st century, like today’s Belgium or Singapore.

There is much lacking in detail in this vision. Would the name of this new state be Israel? Palestine? Israel-Palestine? The Land of Canaan? Would aliya remain while Palestinian refugees are welcomed back? Would its population default to ethnic parties like Lebanon, or political ideologies like Italy? There is much uncertainty.

This too is not without historical precedent. The replacement of the current Israeli governmental structures may feel tantamount to the end of Israel as a home for the Jews. But South Africa did not cease to be a nation-state after the fall of Apartheid. While the government had to be reimagined, truth and reconciliation conducted, and protections guaranteed for all citizens, not just the privileged class from before. The results weren’t just a significant improvement in the lives of the oppressed, but created new opportunities for the future for all South Africans, even those who clutched to Apartheid as a guarantee of security. The end of apartheid eventually led to increased economic growth, the poverty rate dropped by 18%, and violent crime dropped by a nearly a half. Now, the work is still not complete as South Africa still struggles with inequality, violence, and poverty, but the data are clear; ending Apartheid was good for all South Africans, including the white ones who perceived themselves as having the most to lose. Israel isn’t South Africa and vice versa, but we see clearly that a nation can recreate its state in a equitable and dignified way to address injustice, and not only survive, but thrive.

I recognize that this proposal seems fantastical in context today, but I argue that it’s also inevitable. Sooner or later, every violent conflict comes to an end. Out of the 8,000 or more conflicts in recorded history, only around 150 are currently ongoing. So over 98% of all known conflicts have concluded. And of all current conflicts, not one of them predates 1900 (the apparent longest running conflict is the Taureg rebellions in Mali, which have been ongoing since 1916). Conflicts end.

So I argue that whether in five, 15, or 50 years, this conflict too will end. And when it does, I do not believe the option for a two-state solution will be viable. Rather, an entirely new state will rise to replace both, or more practically, Israel will adopt a new constitution that redraws the lines of national identity, much like South Africa did at the end of Apartheid.

This future is possible, and I believe inevitable, but it does feel distant. Lasting, peaceful resolution depends on crucial conditions being met, and until they are, there is little hope of progress. And we must acknowledge the conditions for peace.

The Conditions of Peace

There are two parties which are both necessary, though alone insufficient, in making a lasting peace agreement possible. The Israeli electorate, and the American electorate. Notably missing from this simplistic list are Palestinians, leaders of the surrounding Arab nations, and the international community at large. These other parties each play crucial roles in possible peace arrangements, but ultimately, they only have influence, and not direct power.

The Israeli voters naturally play a significant role in the process. But to be clear, Israeli leadership, the Knesset, and other policymakers, often do not represent the perspectives of the average Israeli (before this war, Netanyahu’s approval rating stagnated at around 40%). So a majority of Israeli voters supporting a peace deal would not suffice in tipping the scale. Pro-peace Israelis would need to conjure so much support that they can elect a ruling coalition in the Knesset who perceives themselves as having a mandate to make a sustainable peace deal. This sets a high bar, as such a coalition may require in excess of 60% of voters to align accordingly (even if through various parties). This needed groundswell of support is hard to imagine today, when the conflict today has radically reduced Israelis’ support for an independent Palestinian state. But without it, and a loud rebuke of the nationalist and pro-settlement parties, peace will most certainly remain impossible. Israeli voters are a crucial ingredient to any future peace settlement.

The second required party is that of the American voters. Similarly, US foreign policy often diverges greatly from the opinions, perspectives, and interests of the American people. But the US government’s positions on Israel have remained steadfast while great changes in American perspectives have come to pass. The US government is a significant funder of the Israeli government, having given $200B in military aid (inflation adjusted) to Israel since 1946, far surpassing total aid (military and economic aid) to any other country over the same time period. At around $3.6B in military aid to Israel per year before this war, the funding amounts to nearly 9% of all US international aid (while Israel contains just 0.1% of the world population). These contributions typically compose around 15% of Israel’s military budget, while the government also offers a modern welfare state with robust pensions, universal healthcare, disability benefits, and free childhood education with affordable post-secondary education. Notably, US taxpayers support the military costs of a country that can afford to provide a functioning welfare state that is sorely absent at home in the US. At the time of writing, a $14B bill is in Congress to offer additional military aid to Israel even while simultaneously criticizing Israeli military tactics.

The support from the US government is more than financial. Through a series of treaties, Israel and the United States have reciprocal policies that make moving people, resources, and commerce easy between the two countries. This relationship has historically been a boon to Israel’s economic development, though this dependency has shrunk in the previous decades. Lastly, Israel benefits from the US’s political coverage of it in international affairs. The US is an ally, and is unabashed in demonstrating its support. Most notably, out of the 83 times the United States has used a veto in the UN Security Council, 42 times were blocking resolutions against Israel. In short, Israel has spent very little political capital to see its interests represented in international affairs.

As such, it will require a significant American population taking decisive yet continued political action to encourage US support of a sustainable peace deal. As a prerequisite to that, they would first need to influence change in US policy like winding down military aid and ceasing America’s role as Israel’s veto-happy pal in the global arena. In short, Americans would need to show they no longer wish for the US government to support Israeli occupation.

This would represent a huge departure not only in US policy, but in American opinions. For much of the past 40 years, American public opinion has largely aligned with the official “pro-Israel” positions taken by the US government. This change is crucial because, without US financial and political support, not only would the state of Israel be more isolated and disemboldened, but Israeli citizens would feel the effects, further adding pressure to Israeli policymakers.

So far, I have focused on the American and Israeli peoples, because the established policies are so deeply entrenched, a lasting peace deal is simply impossible without overriding significant standing policies, cultural inertia, and even societal ideals.

Discounting the ability of Palestinians to influence the outcome of this conflict could likely anger readers aligned on both sides of this conflict. To those who are more aligned with the Palestinian clause, it may sound paternalistic, and overly indexed on “western” power, while diminishing recognition of Palestinian agency. To those more aligned with Israel, it may seem denying the role of Hamas and other militant groups as active participants in conflict, and their responsibility in it.

Both may be true to an extent, but to the latter, I would summarize my previous case that the easiest way to stop anti-occupation forces, militant, terrorist, or otherwise, is to end said occupation. To those who accuse me of the former paternalism, I would argue that it’s an apt description. In short, Palestinians have very little sway over their political institutions, and their institutions little sway over conflict. There have been two Palestinian elections since 1948 (1997, and 2005/6). If every Gazan supported an absolute ceasefire tomorrow, the bombs would still be falling. In contrast, Israelis have had 25 legislature elections in that time frame, including five just in the previous six years. Israeli voters could ostensibly oust the ruling coalition in Knesset and vote in an anti-occupation, pro-peace coalition this year if they had the numbers to support it. Palestinians simply do not have the political outlets available, which in turn may even influence the recruitment of paramilitary groups. Therefore, Hamas can be both culpable in its use of violence and yet lack the political power to initiate a peace process.

The causal pathways of influence are unclear across all these parties. An obvious pathway is that of Americans successfully changing US policy against Israeli occupation, which then adds pressure to Israeli voters, who then vote in a pro-peace coalition, who both unilaterally end occupation policies and extend a peace offer. I can only assume a peace offer would be received by Palestinian policymakers in the absence of occupation policies (though the Good Friday Agreement included both anti-occupation changes and peace terms in one deal). Another pathway may be through a truly partial intermediary (which the US has to date failed to be). This will take years, likely decades, and may even extend beyond our lifetimes. But again, the conflict will end one day.

And so today, it is easy to lose hope. We are witnessing the most lethal conflict for children in a generation, witnessed growing antisemitism, and seemingly have accomplished little to safeguard the peace and safety of Jews and Arabs in the region and beyond. But this is not an endless, unsolvable, holy war. Every conflict has its end, and we must acknowledge the necessary ingredients to make peace possible. Only then can we begin working toward meeting those conditions. To quote Rami Elhanan, a parent who lost his daughter to a suicide bombing in Jerusalem;

“We are in a circle of blood for the last 75 years. And this is just another round. Nobody expected the viciousness and the cruelty of this round, but it was expected. You cannot put two million people in a box, close the cover, and expect nothing will happen….We are doomed to live here together, and we have to choose whether to share this land or to share the graveyard underneath it.”