Inside Every War-Torn Country, Quiet Corridors of Tension
Across nations at conflict, there exist pockets where the collision of violence feels distant—yet it is never truly absent. In Acre, a historic port city on the Mediterranean coast north of Israel, the long shadow of violence has taken on a subtler form. The city, once home to a Palestinian majority that was displaced during the founding of the State of Israel, now shows a mosaic of coexistence where Arab-Israeli citizens populate about a third of the population. In public spaces, messages of coexistence and peace still echo, even as underlying strains surface in daily life.
In conversations on the street, some residents insist that normalcy endures: Jews and Arabs live alongside each other without overt friction. Mustafa, a longtime local near a currently quiet facility, suggests the atmosphere has remained calm since the October 7 Hamas attack on Israel. Yet this calm was not universal in recent memory. During past clashes, Acre and other mixed cities experienced a painful rupture in the idea of peaceful coexistence, as groups from both sides attacked one another, resulting in casualties and widespread property damage. The sense of neighborliness frayed, and distinctions between communities hardened, with some residents supporting or opposing broader regional forces.
Today, descendants of native Palestinians who remained after waves of deportations constitute about 20% of Israel’s population. Some identify as Israeli Arabs, while others feel distanced from the Israeli state and identify more with Palestinian kin beyond the borders that existed before the country’s founding. Increasing marginalization in recent years and perceived official indifference have deepened this distance, raising concerns that a future flare-up near national borders could threaten the same fragile balance that locals have fought to maintain.
“They Won’t Let Us Speak Freely”
At the edge of one of the world’s oldest ports, a resident named Ayam reflects on his hometown’s fragile sense of safety. He finds it hard to speak openly, yet when he does, emotion overcomes him. The feeling, he notes, is that the latest Gaza war and Acre’s recent riots have tightened the reins on public discourse, making it difficult to express personal opinions without fear of consequences. The image of a televised crisis from Al Jazeera lends gravity to the moment, even as the immediate impact on households remains uneven. The fear of mass violence against civilians and a looming threat to daily life weighs heavily in his mind, and he struggles to articulate the pain without breaking down.
Ayam’s memories drift to his grandmother, who lived through displacement in Jordan. He recalls the moment of separation and the weight of family ties—an emblem of what many Palestinians in the area have endured. The question that lingers for him and others is why their community continues to bear hardship when they are equally human and deserving of safety. Expressions of anger and longing mingle as he speaks, with a stubborn resolve to keep speaking despite the risks. In recent weeks, authorities have arrested dozens of Palestinians for online content seen as supportive of Gaza and have curtailed demonstrations that express solidarity with Palestinians.
Patrols and Protective Measures
To reduce the risk of renewed violence in mixed cities like Haifa, local authorities and residents have organized patrols and community watch efforts. The collective memory of the 2021 conflicts weighs heavily, and the trauma remains contagious—families recount the fear of harm to children and homes. Observers note that political shifts toward more conservative governance have added to a perception of Arabs as second-class citizens, intensifying tensions and complicating everyday interactions. In Nazareth and Haifa, young Arab residents report a persistent fear of discrimination and scrutiny, with some expressing concerns about safety when moving through neighborhoods where tensions rise quickly.
One resident, Shahd Shahbari from Nazareth living in Haifa, describes a climate of caution that affects daily life. The sense of belonging is fractured as both peoples inhabiting the same streets struggle with mutual distrust. Ayam insists that the original Palestinians remain united in their humanity, even as the external pressures of the region ripple through their neighborhoods. He points to the stubbornness of conflict that keeps resurfacing in discussions among neighbors and laments that the older wounds continue to color today’s attitudes, including among those who wish to live side by side peacefully. The stones underfoot in Acre’s historic streets bear witness to a long history of coexistence and conflict, a tension that now repeats itself with new, localized strains.