Beneath the surface: What Palestinians think about themselves and their future - opinion

After 48 years of living and working with Palestinians, there is a good chance that I know more Palestinians personally than almost any other Jewish Israeli.

I have spent much of my life in Palestinian homes, offices, universities, refugee camps, villages, and cities. I have known presidents, prime ministers, political leaders, academics, businesspeople, students, activists, and militants. I have negotiated with Hamas leaders and worked closely with Palestinians devoted to peace with Israel.

What follows is not scientific research. These are impressions accumulated over nearly five decades, shaped by thousands of conversations, personal relationships, and attempts to understand what lies beneath Palestinian political statements, slogans, and opinion polls.

My most important observation is that there is often a considerable gap between how Palestinians speak politically and how they live their lives. There is also a gap between the political identity Palestinians feel obligated to project and the questions they privately ask about their society, leadership, and future. I noticed this contradiction decades ago.

In Palestinian political discourse, words such as compromise and concession often imply weakness, surrender, or betrayal. Leaders who speak defiantly and insist on every Palestinian right without qualification may attract greater admiration than those who speak the language of moderation.

Yet many of the same Palestinians demonstrate remarkable moderation in their personal lives. They negotiate, compromise, and cooperate every day. Some of the harshest statements against Israel I have heard came from Palestinians who welcomed me into their homes, treated me as family, and maintained genuine friendships with Israelis.

This is not hypocrisy. For a people who have lived for generations without freedom, resistance is also the language of dignity. Compromise can sound like accepting injustice. Political defiance declares that Palestinians have not surrendered their national rights.

But the language protecting collective dignity can also prevent honest political discussion. Repeating familiar slogans becomes easier than questioning whether they still serve Palestinian interests.

I believe this is where Palestinian society finds itself today.

Traditional political strategies have failed to deliver their promises. Fatah promised diplomacy and negotiations would bring independence, yet its logo still displays rifles and a grenade, hardly symbols of peace. Hamas promised armed resistance would liberate Palestine.

Neither has delivered freedom. The Palestinian Authority has failed to establish accountable democratic government. Gaza has suffered catastrophic destruction, while the West Bank remains occupied and settlements continue expanding.

Palestinians know these realities better than anyone. But acknowledging failure is difficult when national identity has been built around the strategies being questioned.

Consider armed resistance. Palestinian opinion polls have frequently shown substantial support for armed struggle. Israelis often interpret this as evidence that Palestinians prefer violence to peace.

But I wonder about the questions pollsters often do not ask. Would you personally pick up a gun and fight? Would you send your son to fight? Would you risk losing your home, your family, and everything you have built? I believe that support would decline dramatically, perhaps to only a few percent.

The difference between endorsing resistance as a principle and personally accepting its consequences is fundamental.

For generations, Palestinian political culture has celebrated sacrifice, steadfastness, and resistance. These values preserved national identity under extraordinarily difficult circumstances. But there is a difference between honoring sacrifice and asking whether further sacrifices will bring freedom closer.

Gaza has made that question unavoidable. The devastation following October 7 has forced a painful confrontation with political and military choices. Israel bears responsibility for its decisions and actions, but Palestinian leaders must also be accountable for theirs. If Palestinians deny that responsibility then they themselves are denying the political agency they demand.

I believe growing numbers of Palestinians recognize that killing Israelis will not bring liberation. Yet understanding what has failed does not automatically produce agreement about what should replace it.

There is also a profound crisis of representation, made worse by President Mahmoud Abbas's decision to postpone Palestinian elections for another year. The last legislative elections took place in January 2006 and the last presidential elections took place in 2005. An entire generation has reached adulthood without choosing its national representatives. Millions who were children or not even born when Hamas won are still judged for a political choice they never made. They have been denied the opportunity to choose differently.

New political initiatives have begun emerging outside the Fatah-Hamas divide. Samer Sinijlawi's New Path electoral list collected 9,200 endorsement signatures when only 3,000 were required. The New Path is a Palestinian political party with peace with Israel at the top of its agenda. This demonstrates a willingness to organize around alternatives.

Young Palestinians want freedom from occupation but also want freedom from corruption, authoritarianism, and unaccountable leadership. They want to choose, challenge, and replace their representatives rather than inherit their parents' political loyalties. Palestinians cannot renew their national movement while mechanisms for political renewal remain closed.

Palestinians take enormous pride in their steadfastness, attachment to the land, and refusal to surrender their national identity. Remaining on the land, educating children, building businesses, developing institutions, and preserving communities are also forms of resistance. They may establish stronger foundations for independence than another cycle of violence.

This requires Palestinians to ask difficult questions. What kind of society do they want? What leadership do they deserve? What strategy can achieve independence? How can their national movement serve the people rather than political organizations?

Palestinians must answer these questions themselves. But their political thinking does not develop in isolation. Israeli policies and statements constantly influence Palestinian choices. When Israeli leaders declare that Palestinians will never have independence and that Israel will permanently control their land, they strengthen those arguing that moderation is useless. A Palestinian advocating negotiations must explain what those negotiations could achieve.

Imagine instead an Israeli leader saying: If Palestinians elect leaders genuinely committed to peace with Israel, they will find a genuine partner in Israel. Such a statement would not transform Palestinian society overnight. But it could strengthen Palestinians searching for alternatives to violence, failed negotiations, and the leadership of the past.

After 48 years, I remain convinced that Palestinian society possesses far greater capacity for pragmatism, moderation, and political change than its public rhetoric suggests. Political changes often begin quietly, in private conversations, family discussions, and questions younger generations ask their parents. But those changes must eventually find political expression.

The central question facing Palestinians is not whether they will continue struggling for freedom. It is whether they are prepared to redefine what that struggle should look like, what it should achieve, and who should lead it.

But there is another question: Will Palestinians be allowed to make those choices themselves? Palestinian freedom cannot mean only freedom from Israeli occupation. It must also mean freedom to choose, challenge, and replace Palestinian leaders.