Peace in Europe is not a standard model for the long and turbulent history of Israel and Palestine. The reality has included periods of low violence and moments where conflict seemed dormant, but these pauses often gave way to renewed bloodshed, cruelty, and sharp political shifts. The region has endured five major bombing campaigns, repeated wars with neighboring states, intifadas, and acts of terror that punctuated years of occupation and siege. Even during times when the issue faded from Western news cycles, systematic restrictions, blockades, and movement limitations persisted in the West Bank and Gaza.
There have been fleeting moments when peace looked feasible. The most notable occurred after the Oslo Accords in 1993. In Washington, Israeli Labor Party leader Yitzhak Rabin and Palestinian leader Yasser Arafat signed accords in a ceremony witnessed by many, including a smiling U.S. president. The world hoped that formal pages would translate into a changed reality on the ground. In a later interview, a journalist reflected on what people believed at the time. There was a sense that the occupation might end and that a Palestinian state would arise in the West Bank, Gaza, and East Jerusalem within five years, with the possibility of a lasting peace taking root.
The Palestine Liberation Organization, then in exile, renounced armed struggle. Israel agreed to permit the return of its leader, Yasser Arafat, who entered Palestine via Gaza and moved toward Ramallah, where a Palestinian Authority was established in what would become the embryo of a future Palestinian state. A five-year window to negotiate a permanent agreement was set, but the most challenging issues were left unresolved. The future of Israel’s military presence in the West Bank, the fate of Palestinians displaced in the prior decades, the status of Jewish settlements, and the status of Jerusalem all remained open questions.
Hamas opposition and Rabin assassination
Public enthusiasm for the peace process did not endure. Polls at the time showed broad support for the initiative, yet factions on both sides condemned concessions. The Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine, a Marxist group, and Hamas, an emergent Islamist faction, argued that too much had been given without guarantees that promises would be kept. The agreement was framed as a first step toward open dialogue, with a plan to build trust before pursuing deeper changes.
On the Israeli side, the division ran deep. Rabin was depicted by some as a symbol of compromise, while others rallied around right-wing voices and ultra-nationalist movements. The climate grew tense, and the political debate turned personal and polarized.
In 1995, tragedy struck when Yigal Amir, a Jewish ultranationalist, assassinated Rabin in Tel Aviv after a public demonstration in support of the accords. The loss stunned many and marked a turning point in Israel’s political landscape. Arafat offered condolences to Rabin’s widow, emphasizing the seriousness of the moment. The assassination helped push some factions to abandon the pragmatic approach Rabin had championed, and in due course a change in leadership altered the trajectory of the peace efforts. The moment became a potent reminder that rhetoric and violence can derail even the clearest political visions for coexistence.
A new era began under Benjamin Netanyahu, who would later question the viability of the agreements and their ability to deliver security. From that point, life for Palestinians grew more constrained: blockades intensified, movement became tighter, and land access diminished. Gaza and the West Bank were increasingly isolated, framed by expanding settlements and a political climate that made a sustainable two-state path more difficult to achieve. The city of Jerusalem faced ongoing pressure as expropriation and settlement activity reshaped the landscape.
Tourist hotels in Gaza
In the mid-1990s the Gaza coast held a different promise. A journalist who witnessed that era recalls staying at a Riviera-front hotel that offered luxury and a glimpse of a potential tourist boom. Wealthier Palestinians and diaspora visitors used those spaces, investing in a future where tourism could become a bridge to peace. Yet the scene shifted quickly; the host city grew quiet, and the once-busy hotels stood mostly empty as conflict returned and security concerns rose. The lull in tourism reflected broader fears about the peace process and its ability to deliver tangible gains for ordinary people.
Public efforts to broker peace continued at intervals. In 2000, a U.S.-led summit at Camp David brought together Ehud Barak and Yasser Arafat in a bid to seal a permanent deal, but the talks collapsed without an agreement. Later, the Annapolis Conference of 2007 brought new negotiations into focus, with George W. Bush and Ehud Olmert meeting Mahmoud Abbas to revive momentum. Abbas, who succeeded Arafat, led the Palestinian Authority during a period of renewed political maneuvering. Olmert, wrapped in his own political battles and war memories in the region, sought paths toward compromise, recognizing the need for sustained dialogue. The discussions were complicated by regional tensions and shifting alliances, even as leaders tried to chart a way forward.
As time progressed, internal political pressures and external support shaped the peace landscape. Olmert’s popularity waned, and the regional media environment—alongside influential financiers and global backers—played a role in how peace initiatives were framed and pursued. The late 2000s brought new realities and the sense that genuine, lasting peace would require changes that were hard to achieve given the political climate. Since Annapolis, there have been limited, if any, significant peace initiatives that achieved durable progress toward a comprehensive settlement.