Israel has the right to exist. This principle should not depend on the political orientation of the governments that happen to rule in Jerusalem, nor on one's approval or rejection of Zionism. Like every internationally recognized state, Israel's legitimacy rests on the principle of national self-determination and on the historical and legal reality that emerged after 1948. At the same time, the Palestinian people also have the right to live in security, dignity, and with their own political institutions. The failure to reconcile these two legitimate aspirations lies at the heart of one of the most enduring conflicts of the modern era.
Zionism has never been a monolithic movement. Its origins date back to nineteenth-century Europe, when nationalism was widely regarded as a force for the political emancipation of many peoples. Liberal Zionism coexisted with socialist, religious, and Revisionist currents. During the first decades of the State of Israel, the Labor movement dominated public life, promoting the kibbutzim and a socioeconomic model inspired by democratic socialism.
It is often forgotten that, in 1947 and 1948, the Soviet Union also supported the establishment of Israel at the United Nations, believing that the new state could weaken British influence in the Middle East. For several years, many on the European left viewed Israel sympathetically, largely because of the collective experience of the kibbutzim and the country's strong socialist tradition.
Over the following decades, however, the political landscape changed profoundly. The Arab-Israeli wars, terrorism, the occupation of territories captured in 1967, and broader social transformations contributed to the rise of nationalist conservatism. With Menachem Begin, Yitzhak Shamir, and later Benjamin Netanyahu, Israel entered a political phase markedly different from that of its founding generation. The growing influence of religious nationalist and ultra-Orthodox parties reshaped domestic politics, reinforcing a concept of national security centered primarily on military strength and deterrence.
In his book The End of Israel, Furio Colombo describes this transformation as a gradual departure from the democratic and pluralistic ideals that characterized Israel's early years. Whether one agrees with his conclusions or not, his analysis raises important questions about the relationship between security, democracy, and national identity.
The militarization of Israeli society did not emerge in a vacuum. It developed in response to repeated wars, terrorist attacks, intifadas, and persistent regional security threats. At the same time, Palestinians have lived for decades under conditions of occupation, territorial fragmentation, political instability, and recurring violence. The result has been a vicious cycle in which each side tends to view its own use of force as a response to that of the other.
Against this backdrop, the internationally endorsed "two peoples, two states" solution appears increasingly difficult to implement. The territorial continuity required for a viable Palestinian state has been severely undermined by the expansion of Israeli settlements in the West Bank. Jerusalem remains an unresolved issue, as do the future of Palestinian refugees and Israel's legitimate security concerns.
Is there an alternative?
Some scholars have proposed a single federal or confederal state in which Israelis and Palestinians would share common institutions while preserving broad territorial autonomy. Comparisons have been drawn—despite their obvious differences—with countries such as Switzerland, Belgium, Bosnia and Herzegovina, or Lebanon. None of these political systems is free from tensions, yet they demonstrate that communities with profoundly different identities can coexist within the same constitutional framework.
The greatest obstacle, however, is neither constitutional nor institutional. It is the legacy of more than a century of wars, terrorism, occupation, displacement, fear, and mutual distrust. No constitutional model can succeed without at least a minimum degree of reciprocal confidence, and today that confidence appears painfully absent.
There is also a broader geopolitical question. Israel's security has long relied on its strategic partnership with the United States and the wider Western world. If, in the distant future, the international balance of power were to change significantly and that support were to diminish, Israel would face the challenge of ensuring its long-term security through more stable relations with its regional neighbors. Comparisons with the medieval Crusader states occasionally appear in political commentary, but they should be understood as geopolitical metaphors rather than historical predictions.
How, then, can Israel secure its future?
Military superiority may guarantee survival in the short term, but it cannot by itself create lasting peace. Likewise, ignoring Israel's legitimate security needs would be no more realistic than denying the Palestinians their right to freedom, dignity, and political self-determination.
The fundamental challenge is to move beyond the illusion of total victory. As long as Israelis and Palestinians continue to view one another as enemies to be defeated or eliminated, no peace agreement will prove durable. A stable future will not emerge from the disappearance of either people, but from the recognition that both are now an irreversible part of the history of the same land.
Perhaps this is the hardest lesson of all. Yet it may also be the only one capable of preserving hope for the future.
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