
Reject politics of fear and revenge
by Ittay Flescher in The Age
It feels surreal to finally write these words, yet after two horrific years a war that has consumed every soul in this land may finally be ending.
When I finally see the return here of the remaining hostages, it will feel like I'm witnessing a modern-day miracle. I imagine Matan Zangauker in the arms of his lion of a mother, Einav, whose relentless, agonising two-year campaign has fuelled a mass movement against the government and for the hostages' release, mobilising thousands of Israelis every Saturday night.
When a deal is finally signed, I long to see hundreds of thousands of Palestinians finally packing their lives in the sweltering tens of Al-Mawasi, ready to return to the ruins of their homes in the north of Gaza. I envision them walking the Al-Rashid Road home, their long march taking them along the shores of the Mediterranean Sea that binds us all.
For two years, the people of Gaza have endured relentless suffering, a constant cycle of mourning, loss and death. Life there has seemingly frozen, each day bringing new wounds and each night a heavier fear. The constant rhythm of bombardments and explosions from Rafah to Beit Hanoun has left the people of Gaza falling asleep to the sound of shells and waking to the desperate cries of those searching for the missing in the debris.
Everything I want to my people -- peace, freedom, security -- I also want for them.
Acknowledging this agony of war finally ending with the help of so many nations across the world who finally saw our pain enough to pressure the leaders of Israel and Palestine to end this madness, I'm left wondering: What will be the nature of the truth and reconciliation process that our people must begin now to ensure neither the horror of October 7 at the hands of Hamas nor the atrocities that have been inflicted on Gaza by Israel ever happen again?
At a time when denial is still so high in both societies about the extent of pain here across the wall, how do we begin to heal? Can one even ask forgiveness for acts that so many view as unforgivable? What happens to all those who will now live without limbs, without parents, without a roof over their heads, or without the will to live?
If we are two move forward, we must begin by looking honestly in the mirror, to acknowledge the full weight of what has been done, and what has been lost.
Building peace, then, means more than a ceasefire or a treaty. It means Israelis and Palestinians choosing new leaders who will reject the politics of fear and revenge.
Building peace means changing the way we teach our history in Israeli and Palestinian schools, so that the next generation is taught that there are two nations with deep ties to this land, neither of which is made up or invented, with each having deep cultural and religious connections to this land that is their only home.
Building peace means actively learning each other's language, Arabic for Israelis and Hebrew for Palestinians, which will make it harder to hold on to the false notion that the other has no place here.
Building peace means 50-50 representation for women and men in all leadership positions. Women's participation increases the probability of a peace agreement lasting at least two years by 20 percent, and by 35 percent the proabability of a peace agreement lasting 15 years.
Building peace means embracing an ew kind of journalism, one that not only reports on violence and tension but also seeks out stories of co-operation, empathy and practical solutions that help societies heal and move forward.
And finally, building peace is about reclaiming our holy traditions of Judaism, Islam and Christianity from all those here and abroad who have abused our religious traditions to become blueprints for war. We must reassert that the purpose of sacred texts is to realise the golden rule of all our traditions: love your neighbor as yourself, always remembering that what is hateful to you, must not do to others.
The choice, as ever, rests with us. When the guns finally fall silent, the real work of healing and reconciliation must commence, not through a distant, grand negotiation, but through the immediate, daily decision of Israelis and Palestinians.
History shows this path, though steeps, is not impossible, from the land-for-peace agreement with Egypt to the end of the Troubles in Northern Ireland. Hope is not a passive wish, it is an action. It is found in rerouting a single dollar from buying another weapon, to youth program that challenges dhumanisation, or in the simple, defiant act of correcting a single line in a history book. If all the immense effort that went into fighting this war is now directed toward creating a reality where it can never happen again anything is possible. For the sake of all our children, let this vital grassroots process flourish and plant the seeds of peace in all our hearts.
Ittay Flescher is a Jewish-Australian journalist and peace educator living in Jerusalem. His book, The Holy and the Broken: A Cry for Israeli-Palestinian Peace from a Land that Must Be Shared, was published by HarperCollins Australia and long listed for the 2025 Walkley Book Awards. He wrote this piece for New Israel Fund of Australia & Friends events held in Melbourne and Sydney last Sunday to mark October 7 and its aftermath.



