The Tragic Loss of Our Shared Future: Sari Nusseibeh’s vision for a harmonious coexistence shattered

The writer is a retired professor of philosophy and held the post of the Palestinian Liberation Organization representative in Jerusalem

As someone who is one year younger than Israel and has lived in Jerusalem for the majority of my life, the current reports about the suffering of Israeli civilians and the destruction of entire neighborhoods in Gaza make me feel disconnected from myself.

During my upbringing, I believed that Palestinians lost most of their country to Jewish settlers in 1947-48 due to conspiracies and betrayals, rather than a display of power or careful planning. Therefore, I was devastated in 1967 when I discovered that Israel, which I thought was weak and dependent on foreign powers, was actually capable of defeating the forces of three major Arab countries in just six days.

The shock was quickly replaced by curiosity about Israel’s hidden strength. I decided to explore the enemy and uncover their secret. One thing that caught my attention was how modestly even their leaders lived. I also discovered that the government provided care for its people, including healthcare, housing, and national insurance, right from the beginning. Moreover, there was a strong sense of Jewish identity and mutual support among the population.

I spent time in a kibbutz, where I listened to people of all ages express their unwavering love for what they believed would be an ideal future state. I couldn’t help but be amazed. My enemy became a source of admiration. I then made a decision to let go of the Palestinian tragedy I grew up with and instead embrace the idea of Palestinians and Israelis building a shared future together.

Later on, I took on a teaching position at Birzeit University in the occupied West Bank. I was filled with hope and determination. My students, who were all Palestinians, came from various places, including Gaza, the West Bank, and Israel itself. Many of them had already experienced imprisonment for resisting Israel’s occupation.

The Melian dialogue, which is about the challenging choices imposed by powerful forces, became a favorite topic of discussion. Is history on the side of the powerful or those fighting for a just cause? For most of the students, the answer was clear: they would fight in any way possible for justice.

Israel considered universities in the occupied territories as “hotbeds of nationalism” and attempted to shut them down (interestingly, recent Israeli bombings in Gaza have also targeted educational institutions). However, this only strengthened their resolve. By the late 1980s, a popular uprising against the occupation started, led by these very students and colleagues who saw it as a struggle for freedom and independence.

Israeli intelligence services recognized that this was a political struggle that required a political solution, as did many who believed in a two-state resolution. Eventually, Israeli leaders, including Yitzhak Rabin, realized that negotiation with the Palestinians was necessary, rather than crushing them. This led to the establishment of the Palestinian Authority as a potential government for a future Palestinian state around 30 years ago.

Since then, the prospects of ending the occupation and establishing a peaceful Palestinian state have rapidly declined. The real problem lies in the clash between two incompatible doctrines: Israel’s “security first, then freedom for Palestinians” and the Palestinians’ “our freedom first, then security for all.” Did this clash conceal a denial of the reality that two peoples must share the same land? Perhaps. Is it accurate to say that the relentless focus on security killed the chances for peace? Maybe. In any case, it paralyzed the negotiation process and empowered radicals and skeptics on both sides.

In Israel, this manifested as a significant shift towards extremist groups determined to “take it all,” which is evident in the current fight over judicial reforms and democratic values. In Palestine, it resulted in the failure of the Authority’s project, accompanied by growing disillusionment with peace and a loss of competition with the long-abandoned option of armed struggle, now embodied in Hamas-controlled Gaza. Last Saturday’s events, therefore, were not a surprise in terms of “if,” but rather a shock in terms of “when” and “how.” This situation will persist as long as the basic formula is not understood.

This week, my mind has reminisced about the many former students and colleagues who dedicated themselves to the vision of peace with justice, as well as the friends and acquaintances in Israel who shared the same dream and worked tirelessly for it. I remember the allies along Gaza’s borders in the early 1980s, who reached out to us. I recall the Israeli academics who joined protests against the construction of yet another separation barrier on the campus of al-Quds University. I think of the colleagues who spent their Sabbath traveling to the southern hills of Hebron to stand in solidarity with a shepherd community facing harassment from Israeli settlers.

I think about the good people from all walks of life on the other side of the divide who believed that we could, and must, collaborate to build an ideal future for both peoples. And I cannot help but feel that our dream is the betrayed victim of this tragedy. Once again, the media reduces us all to perpetrators and victims, constantly shifting from one role to the other and overlooking the unresolved and shared human tragedy that originated in 1948 and continues to haunt us.