The myth of coexistence in Palestine was never just a political fantasy—it was a fragile, half-believed hope, whispered in cafés and university lecture halls, scribbled in the margins of peace accords. But Gaza has shattered it. Not with a single bullet or airstrike, but with the slow, deliberate erosion of trust, the normalization of cruelty and the realization that for too many Israelis and Palestinians, the idea of sharing a future has become an insult.
Ghada Karmi, the Palestinian physician, scholar, and Nakba survivor, put it plainly in a recent interview: *”I have begun to doubt that [coexistence] is possible.”* Her words carry the weight of a lifetime spent straddling two worlds—Jerusalem, where she was born, and exile, where she built a life. As the 78th anniversary of the Nakba looms, her despair is not just personal. It is a diagnosis of a region at the brink, where the only certainties are destruction and the question of who will inherit the wreckage.
How did Gaza become the graveyard of coexistence? The answer lies in three interlocking failures: the collapse of moral imagination, the weaponization of historical trauma, and the global enablers who have turned a half-century occupation into an untouchable status quo. But the story is bigger than bombs and blockades. It is about the slow death of a dream—and the people who refuse to let it go.
The Myth That Never Was: Why Coexistence Failed Before It Could Begin
In 1948, when Ghada Karmi’s family fled Jerusalem, the world watched as 700,000 Palestinians became refugees. The Nakba was not just a displacement; it was the birth of a paradox. The same land that had been home to Muslims, Christians, and Jews for millennia was now being reframed as a zero-sum game. Zionism, with its promise of a Jewish homeland, clashed with Palestinian nationalism, which saw the same territory as irrevocably theirs. The result? A conflict where coexistence was never the goal—it was the casualty.
Yet, for decades, the illusion persisted. In the 1990s, the Oslo Accords briefly reignited hope. Palestinian and Israeli activists—like those in the Peace Now movement—argued for a binational state. Even some Israeli leaders, such as Abba Eban, a former foreign minister, flirted with the idea. But the roots of failure were already planted:
- Land as a weapon: Israel’s settlement expansion in the West Bank—now home to over 700,000 settlers—was never about security. It was about ensuring Palestinians would never have contiguous territory. As Brookings Institution analyst Daniel Kurtzer noted, *”Settlements are not obstacles to peace; they are the peace process itself.”*
- The Holocaust as a shield: The trauma of the Holocaust became a moral cudgel, used to justify actions that would be unthinkable elsewhere. As Ghada Karmi observed, *”The oppression Jews endured was met by a feeling of superiority—we are better, so we can do this.”* This mindset, internalized by generations, made compromise impossible.
- The global silence: The U.S. And EU, despite their rhetoric, have consistently prioritized Israeli security over Palestinian rights. As International Crisis Group director Robert Malley put it, *”The international community has treated Palestine as a charity case, not a partner in peace.”*
By 2023, Gaza became the proving ground for this failure. When Hamas’s October 7 attacks killed 1,200 Israelis, the Israeli response was not just retaliation—it was genocidal in intent, according to the UN’s legal advisory. The death toll in Gaza now exceeds 73,000, with 20,000 children among them. The numbers are not just statistics; they are the ledger of a society that has decided coexistence is a liability.
The Addiction That Keeps the Conflict Alive
Ghada Karmi’s analogy of Western support for Israel as an “addiction” is more than metaphor. It is a diagnosis of a geopolitical disease. The U.S. Alone provides Israel with $3.8 billion annually in military aid, while European nations turn a blind eye to war crimes. Why?
Part of the answer lies in the Holocaust industry—a complex of museums, memorials, and political narratives that ensure Israel’s crimes are framed as self-defense. As historian Deborah Lipstadt warned, *”The Holocaust has become a sacred cow, untouchable. And that sacredness is used to justify anything.”* When Israeli officials invoke the Holocaust to defend massacres in Gaza, they are not just invoking history—they are weaponizing it.
But the addiction runs deeper. Israel serves as a strategic proxy for Western powers. Its military-industrial complex—the IDF’s annual budget is $24 billion—fuels arms manufacturers like Lockheed Martin and Elbit Systems. Meanwhile, Israel’s tech sector, home to companies like Cybereason, benefits from a brain drain of Palestinian and Arab talent, who are often denied visas to work abroad.
The result? A system where the cost of peace is higher than the cost of war. As Robert Malley, former U.S. Special envoy for Iran, told Archyde, *”The longer this conflict drags on, the more entrenched the interests become. Settlements, military bases, economic dependencies—none of this can be undone without a reckoning. And no one wants that reckoning.”*
The Nuclear Wildcard: When Desperation Becomes Apocalypse
Israel’s nuclear arsenal—long a taboo subject—is now the elephant in the room. With 90 nuclear warheads, according to the Nuclear Threat Initiative, Israel has never confirmed nor denied its existence. But the threat is real. In 2023, Israeli officials hinted at a “Samson Option”, a doomsday plan to destroy Gaza’s infrastructure if Israel faces existential threat.
Ghada Karmi’s fear is not unfounded. If Iran’s retaliation escalates—or if Israel’s right-wing government, led by figures like Benjamin Netanyahu, perceives defeat—Israel may choose mutual annihilation over surrender. The doctrine of “no first use” is a fiction; Israel’s military has long signaled it would use nukes if conventional war becomes unwinnable.
Yet, the real tragedy is that this nuclear brinkmanship is not about deterrence—it is about desperation. A society that has spent decades justifying occupation through fear cannot imagine a future without war. As Ghada Karmi asked, *”How can you imagine a future for Israelis when their way of life is perpetual conflict?”* The answer? You can’t. Not until the addiction to violence is broken.
The Only Path Forward: One State, No Illusions
Ghada Karmi’s vision—a single democratic state where Palestinians return and Israelis choose to stay as equals—is radical. But it is also the only framework that acknowledges reality. The two-state solution is dead. Settlements have made a Palestinian state impossible. And Israel’s apartheid policies—documented by Human Rights Watch—have ensured Palestinians will never have equal rights in a Jewish state.
Yet, the obstacles are monumental:
- The demographic time bomb: By 2050, Palestinians will make up 55% of the population in historic Palestine. Israel’s current policies are designed to reverse this through ethnic cleansing. As historian Ilan Pappé argues, *”The goal is not just control—it is demographic dominance.”*
- The settler mindset: The majority of Jewish Israelis now see Palestinians as a threat, not partners. A 2023 Peace Index survey found that 60% of Israelis oppose a Palestinian state. The idea of sharing power is anathema.
- Global complicity: The U.S. And EU will never abandon Israel unless domestic pressure forces them to. The Bipartisan Policy Center’s 2020 peace plan was a non-starter because it demanded Palestinians accept a Bantustan state.
So what changes? The answer lies in three uncomfortable truths:
- Israelis must confront their complicity. The average Israeli citizen is not a monster—they are products of a system that teaches them Palestinians are the enemy. Breaking this cycle requires education, not just in schools but in workplaces, media, and culture.
- Palestinians must reject the myth of the “good Israeli.” Not all Israelis are oppressors, but the state’s policies are. Distinguishing between individuals and the system is crucial.
- The world must stop enabling the status quo. Divestment campaigns, like those targeting Caterpillar and HP, are not just moral stances—they are economic pressure points.
Ghada Karmi’s despair is understandable. But despair is not the end—it is the beginning of reckoning. The question is no longer if coexistence is possible, but how. And the answer may lie in the most unlikely of places: the courage to admit that the old ways have failed.
The Takeaway: What Now?
If you’ve read this far, you’re either a believer in justice or a skeptic who wants to understand the unraveling. Here’s the hard truth: There is no easy way out. The path forward requires:
- Israelis to recognize that their security is not built on Palestinian suffering.
- Palestinians to refuse to be divided by the occupier’s playbook.
- The world to stop treating Israel as untouchable.
Ghada Karmi’s latest novel, Mojana, is set in medieval Baghdad—a world where coexistence was possible. The lesson? It wasn’t magic. It was choice. The question for today is whether we choose to repeat the past or rewrite it.
What would it take for you to believe in a different future? Write to us at [email protected]—we want to hear your thoughts.
