Growing up in Jerusalem, I’ve lived the paradoxes of a city that stands as both a bridge and a battleground.
It embodies the dreams and heartbreaks of countless people, a city where mutual existence is both an aspiration and a daily challenge. From this vantage point, I’ve witnessed life’s resilience in even the most strained circumstances. Moments of respect – however fleeting – offered a glimpse of what could be possible when human dignity triumphs over division.
It is this lived experience that inspires my hope for the West Bank. We must reimagine a path forward with the clarity and resilience glimpsed, however imperfectly, between 1967 and 1993.
However, this hope cannot be divorced from the governing conditions shaping our realities. The subordination of God-given human rights and liberties to national governance is not just morally wrong – it is inconsistent with international law.
No government, especially in a democratic context, has the moral or legal authority to reduce human rights to secondary concerns. National power should be limited to what is residual and necessary to preserve the unique character of a nation – not to diminish or suppress the universal rights that bind us all as human beings.
Divisions erase possibility of peace
The years between 1967 and 1993, though flawed, offered a rhythm of mutual existence that feels almost unimaginable today. Markets thrived with diverse voices and intentions; roads connected rather than dividing. While it was far from a just or equal situation, it still carried the potential for understanding.
Today, deeper fractures and towering walls – both physical and ideological – threaten to erase even that possibility. Yet the essence of humanity that brought us together then has not disappeared. It remains buried beneath layers of fear, mistrust, and control.
To rebuild, we must confront the forces that perpetuate dehumanization and strip people of their inherent rights. The first step is to embrace mutual acknowledgment, rejecting narratives that deny the humanity of the other. Our rightful struggle for dignity and freedom must coexist with an uncompromising commitment to justice and shared humanity.
This is not just a moral imperative; it is a legal one, enshrined in international principles that demand accountability for systems of governance subordinating fundamental liberties.
In Jerusalem, we’ve seen how easy it is to fall into cycles of anger and how difficult it is to choose dialogue over division. For West Bank Palestinians, the challenge is monumental but not insurmountable.
It begins with acts of bridging: fostering economic interdependence, reopening lines of communication, and recognizing that our identity is not threatened by engaging with those who see the world differently. Mutual existence does not diminish who we are; it strengthens our ability to dream beyond conflict.I imagine West Bank communities reclaiming their agency to create spaces where resistance is paired with aspiration – where the young are taught to survive and dream. Thriving schools, flourishing businesses, and vibrant cultural centers can transform despair into possibility.
This is not surrender; it is survival with dignity and purpose. It is a reminder that our liberation is political and deeply personal. It is about how we live, treat one another, and prepare for a future where borders may remain, but relationships can transcend them.
This is not a call to ignore what has been lost or what continues to be taken. Instead, it is a call to honor those sacrifices by breaking the cycles of hate and separation that entrap us. By holding fast to our identity without letting it be defined solely by conflict, we can find a strength that governance alone can never grant.
The world is watching, as it always has. Let them see us not as victims or adversaries but as architects of a new future. A future rooted in dignity, mutual existence, and justice. It starts by reclaiming the light of possibility that once flickered between 1967 and 1993. This time, let that light burn brighter and longer – for ourselves and for the generations to come.
The writer is an Israeli citizen born in Tulkarm, living with his wife and two sons in east Jerusalem. He is a freelance journalism fixer, facilitating reporting for correspondents, and a translator.