This piece follows my ongoing Substack series, Understanding the Israeli–Palestinian conflict, Parts 1 through 3, with Part 4 and beyond currently in progress, as well as my separate essay "UN Resolution 181 for Palestine: The Stupidest Resolution Ever Passed." If you've read those, you'll already see the tragic structure taking shape well before even the Six-Day War in 1967. The cycle was visible even then—and now, it's just repeating with greater stakes.
There are few conflicts as layered in tragedy as the Israeli-Palestinian one. But at a certain point, history ceases to be an explanation and starts becoming an excuse. The Palestinians have been wronged, dispossessed, and betrayed. But they are also at a crossroads. One path leads toward a future—diminished but livable. The other leads, slowly but inexorably, toward their own destruction.
The Deal They Rejected
To understand what happened in 1947, we must first understand what Palestine was—and wasn't. For four centuries, the region had been part of the Ottoman Empire (modern Turkey), never an independent state or nation. When the Ottomans chose the losing side in World War I, they forfeited their Middle Eastern territories to the victorious Allies. Britain received the League of Nations Mandate for Palestine in 1922, inheriting a territory with a complex demographic mix: a growing Jewish population (through both immigration and natural increase) and an established Arab population, both of whom had developed competing national aspirations during the final decades of Ottoman rule.
By the 1940s, Britain—exhausted by World War II and facing violent resistance from both Jewish and Arab groups—decided it had had enough. The mandate was unworkable, the violence escalating, and the costs unsustainable. Britain handed the problem to the newly formed United Nations, which recommended the partition of Mandatory Palestine into two states: one Jewish, one Arab. The Jewish Agency accepted UN Resolution 181. The Arab world rejected it entirely, refusing to accept any Jewish sovereignty over what they considered Arab land, despite the fact that neither Arabs nor Jews had ever governed this territory as an independent state. The Palestinians, such as they were politically organized, followed the lead of the Arab League and refused. When Israel declared independence per the UN timeline on May 14, 1948, the surrounding Arab states invaded and war ensued. Israel survived and at the war's end they occupied territory beyond the partition lines. The Palestinians got nothing.
To understand the magnitude of this miscalculation, consider the counterfactual: had the Arab side accepted partition, Palestinians would today control 45% of historic Palestine, including the fertile coastal plains around Jaffa and significant portions of the Galilee. Instead, they gambled everything on total victory and lost.
But what happened next is critical and almost entirely forgotten in today's discourse: the Arab armies that claimed to be fighting for Palestine were, in fact, fighting for themselves.
Jordan invaded the West Bank and East Jerusalem, then formally annexed them in April 1950—a move recognized only by Britain and Pakistan. King Abdullah I was expanding his Hashemite kingdom, not building Palestinian sovereignty. For 19 years, no Palestinian political institutions were permitted.
Egypt took control of Gaza but treated it as occupied territory under the All-Palestine Government—a paper entity with no real power. Palestinians there remained stateless, denied Egyptian citizenship, confined to the strip under military administration.
Syria, Iraq, and Lebanon used Palestinian refugees as political pawns. Syria and Iraq denied them citizenship and employment rights. Lebanon went further, legally prohibiting Palestinians from over 70 professions and confining them to camps that became permanent slums. As of 2023, third-generation Palestinian refugees in Lebanon still cannot own property or work in most fields.
No Arab state attempted to create a Palestinian state on the land they controlled. They did not even pretend to do so. Jordan even banned Palestinian political parties and suppressed early nationalist organizing. Their concern was not Palestinian self-determination, but regional influence and territorial gain.
Decades of Decline
In the decades since, the Palestinians have lost land, lost leverage, and lost leadership. They became pawns of Arab regimes, tokens in Cold War proxy games, and victims of their own factions. Yasser Arafat clung to maximalist rhetoric long after it became unviable. Hamas built a politics on permanent war. And in between, everyday Palestinians lived in camps, under curfews, or in exile, waiting for justice that never came.
The pattern established in 1947 repeated itself for seventy years: instead of building institutions for governance, Palestinian political energy went into resistance movements, dependence on external patrons, and maximalist rhetoric.
Then came the fateful decision: Hamas won democratic elections in 2006, largely due to Fatah's corruption and failures—but quickly turned Gaza into a one-party autocracy and Iranian proxy. Hamas promised resistance, dignity, and governance. But what followed was betrayal on an industrial scale.
According to Israeli intelligence and regional estimates, Hamas redirected hundreds of millions in aid annually toward tunnel construction and weapons stockpiles—money meant for schools, hospitals, and infrastructure. With Iranian funding and training, over 300 miles of military tunnels were constructed beneath Gaza. Hamas leaders and their families accumulated substantial personal wealth while Gaza's unemployment rate reached 47% and 80% of the population became aid-dependent. The "resistance" became a protection racket serving Tehran's regional ambitions, and the people of Gaza paid the price.
Then came October 7, 2023—Hamas's most spectacular failure, strategically, morally, and politically. A massacre that killed over 1,200 Israelis and wounded Israeli psychology at its core. Years of foreign aid and the Palestinian future were sacrificed for one day of bloodshed. Public celebrations were documented in Gaza and parts of the West Bank, though others, particularly abroad or under occupation, responded with shock or silence. Still, the symbolism of revenge was momentarily intoxicating—and ruinously short-lived. That celebration turned to horror when the retaliation came. The war that followed turned Gaza into rubble, and whatever remained of Palestinian credibility into dust.
No Return, No Fantasy
Here is the unspoken truth: The Palestinians will not regain the territory they rejected, lost in war, or surrendered through political delay. Not the homes of 1948. Not the full West Bank. Not East Jerusalem in its entirety. The political will simply does not exist.
Moreover, the strategic landscape has fundamentally shifted. The Abraham Accords normalized relations between Israel and major Arab states without resolving the Palestinian issue. Saudi Arabia is negotiating its own normalization deal. The Arab world has moved on—not out of callousness, but out of recognition that other priorities (Iran, economic development, regional stability) matter more than a conflict that shows no signs of resolution.
This is not just about power. It's about time. Seventy-six years have passed. Generations born in refugee camps have lived and died. Borders have been hardened by war, blood, and fear. The world will not reverse that clock.
The Choice: Tragedy or Catastrophe
So what now? Accept a truncated, imperfect state—or cling to maximalist demands such as the return of all refugees, the reversal of 1948 borders, or the dismantling of Israel itself—that lead to an open grave.
A realistic Palestinian state might encompass 22% of historic Palestine: Gaza (fully), 60-70% of the West Bank (the Areas A and B currently under Palestinian control, plus additional territory), and neighborhoods in East Jerusalem as a capital. Discontiguous? Yes. Smaller than hoped? Absolutely. But sovereign, internationally recognized, and economically viable with proper development and regional integration.
Such a state would require genuine democratic institutions, transparent governance, and economic policies focused on development rather than resistance.
Compare this to Singapore—a city-state that transformed from colonial port to global financial center despite having only 278 square miles. Success depends not on size but on governance, economic development, and peaceful relations with neighbors.
The alternative is not romantic resistance—it's slow strangulation. Palestinian birth rates remain high, but so does emigration of the educated class. Gaza lies in ruins. The West Bank fragments further under settlement expansion. International attention spans wane. And younger Palestinians increasingly see emigration, not liberation, as their path forward.
Because if they cannot—if the goal remains maximalist demands such as the return of all refugees, the reversal of 1948 borders, or the dismantling of Israel itself—then the result will be nothing. Or worse.
October 7 was not resistance—it was political theater disguised as revenge, and it backfired spectacularly. Hamas gambled that a spectacular atrocity would somehow improve Palestinian bargaining position. Instead, it triggered the most devastating military response in Gaza's history and gave Israel's right-wing government carte blanche for operations that previous Israeli leaders would have considered too costly politically.
On Genocide: Words Matter in a War Fought in a Shoebox
The suffering in Gaza is undeniable and heartbreaking. Tens of thousands of civilians have died, homes reduced to rubble, families shattered. But suffering—even massive civilian casualties in war—does not automatically constitute genocide. Words have meanings, and genocide has a specific legal definition under international law: the intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnic, racial, or religious group. The Palestinian population has grown consistently over decades. In 1948, there were approximately 1.4 million Palestinians in historic Palestine. Today, there are over 5 million Palestinians in the West Bank, Gaza, and Israel proper, plus millions more in the diaspora. This is not the demographic pattern of genocide.
What Palestinians have endured is the consequence of a tragic cycle: military defeats, failed leadership, abandonment by Arab allies, and Israeli responses to repeated attacks. But context matters enormously here. The entire region from the Jordan River to the Mediterranean Sea is roughly the size of New Jersey. You could drive across it in two hours. In this impossibly cramped geography, you can lose half your country in a single battle—which is exactly what happened to both sides multiple times. This is war in a shoebox between two peoples who both claim the same land and both live with existential fear.
The Israelis don't want to die either. When Hamas fires rockets, when terrorists infiltrate kibbutzim, when suicide bombers target buses, Israelis respond—sometimes proportionally, sometimes not, but always with the knowledge that in a territory this small, strategic depth doesn't exist. There's nowhere to retreat to. The genocide charge isn't just factually wrong—it's strategically catastrophic for Palestinians. It hardens Israeli public opinion, discredits Palestinian moderates who might negotiate realistically, and turns what should be a political negotiation into a moral crusade where compromise becomes impossible.
The existential risk now stems not from an external extermination plan, but from a political strategy that refuses to acknowledge limits, consequences, or the irreversible cost of delay.
A Warning, Not a Condemnation
This analysis does not deny the suffering Palestinians have endured—displacement, occupation, civilian casualties, and the daily humiliations of life under military control. It does not exonerate Israel's settlement policies, which violated international law and undermined Palestinian moderates who preached coexistence. It does not ignore the failures of international institutions, Britain's imperial legacy, or the cynical manipulation by Arab regimes who waved the Palestinian flag while slamming their doors shut.
Israeli leaders made their share of errors—settlement expansion, tactical missteps in negotiations, timing failures. But Israeli mistakes were largely about how to manage the conflict, while Palestinian leadership consistently chose whether to engage with reality at all.
But acknowledging these failures doesn't change the fundamental calculus: in politics, as in engineering, there are no perfect solutions, only trade-offs. And the trade-off Palestinians face is brutal but clear.
There is no going back. There is only forward. And if Palestinians cannot accept that the future will offer them less than what was once promised, then the future may offer them nothing at all.
Sometimes, survival is a victory. Sometimes, compromise is the only path to dignity. And sometimes, the hardest truth is the one that saves you.