Can Israel continue to exist in its current form? This question defies any simple “yes” or “no.” In posing it, we’re really asking about the viability of a particular worldview manifesting as a nation-state in violation of it’s core precepts.
I find myself approaching this topic cautiously, aware that my own cultural mindset colours the analysis. I was raised within an Occidental worldview - “male, pale and stale” - imbibing narratives of Israel as a heroic refuge for a long-persecuted people. Through that lens Israel’s existence was not only justified but sacrosanct – an end of history for the Jewish saga, a justifable and moral reckoning after the horrors of the Holocaust. But experience and inquiry have compelled me to re-examine this narrative through other lenses. The reality on the ground is far more entangled than the myths would have us believe. Any honest inquiry must weave together strands of anthropology and history, psychology and trauma, law and ethics, religion and philosophy. Only then can we appreciate how complex and uncertain Israel’s future really is, and what might be required for it to endure.
At least until recently, Israel appeared to be firmly established. Outwardly it displays the resilience of a society forged in trauma. From one perspective, it’s a marvel: a vibrant economy, a formidable military, a people who turned deserts green and built a high-tech powerhouse while under constant threat. Its hard-earned strength suggests a capacity to weather crises. History has hammered into Israelis a psychology of vigilance – never again shall we be powerless. That resolve, coupled with decades of strategic acumen, has allowed Israel to defend itself in what Israelis view as a hostile region. It would be easy to conclude that Israel can indeed persist as it is, through sheer resilience and prowess. After all, nations with far less going for them have survived. Why not Israel?
And yet, when I probe more deeply, cracks in that confident narrative appear. No society exists in a vacuum, particuarly in today’s evolving complexity. Israel’s current form – as a self-defined Jewish homeland with a large disenfranchised Palestinian populace in its orbit – is a relatively novel experiment in human history, barely 75 years old. In the long timeline of civilisations, states that rigidly hold one form tend to either adapt or break. The land now called Israel-Palestine has seen shifting world-systems across millennia: Pharaohs and Canaanite tribes, Israelite kingdoms, Roman occupiers, Islamic caliphates, Ottoman provinces, British colonial rule – a pageant of powers rising and falling. Each believed in the permanence of its own order; each ultimately transformed or vanished. Philosophy reminds us that nothing is static. All forms are transient. In that sweep of time, the current form of Israel is but a blink. This doesn’t doom it to disappear, but it does suggest that change is inevitable. The real question may be how Israel will change – gradually or abruptly, peacefully or through upheaval – rather than whether it will exist at all.
When I examine the present dynamics, I see a collision of worldviews at the heart of Israel’s struggle to persist unchanged. The state of Israel was born from a Eurocentric mindset of nation-state building, grafted onto a multiethnic Middle Eastern land. It manifested one grand civilisational belief – Zionism, the idea of a Jewish nation reassembling on ancestral soil – and turned that into a corporeal reality. But the resulting world-system is interpreted very differently by those who live within its shadow. For many Jewish Israelis, the state’s creation is an indisputable godsend, the realisation of a teleological destiny, a safe haven that justifies extraordinary means for the sake of survival. For Palestinians, that same event is Al-Nakba, the catastrophe of dispossession, and Israel’s “current form” represents an injustice sustained by force and foreign patronage.
These two mindsets live in parallel realities. Each community’s collective psychology is scarred – Israelis by the long history of anti-Semitism culminating in genocide, Palestinians by the loss of their land and decades of occupation. Each side’s trauma feeds an epic narrative about why it cannot afford to yield or trust the other. This trauma creates a kind of mass “fight-or-flight” response that has persisted for generations. Fear and grief have become inherited maladies. In effect, the conflict is a contagion of trauma, transmitting bitterness and mistrust like a virus from parent to child.
This intractable hostility can be seen as a chronic infection in the Holy Land’s body politic. Periodically it flares into feverish violence – intifadas, rocket barrages, settler incursions, brutal crackdowns – then subsides into uneasy remission under ceasefires and peace processes; never quite healing the wound, but always scratching tnhe scab. Each outbreak leaves both populations weaker in spirit, more mistrustful, yet the underlying causes remain untreated. If one only applies forceful “symptom relief” (military power, security walls, retaliations) without addressing root causes, the contagion of hatred simply festers. We have seen how each cycle of bloodshed creates new carriers of resentment: a Palestinian child who witnesses his home demolished may become a militant, an Israeli child who sees her parents killed may grow up vowing never to be vulnerable. Like pathogens adapting to each new drug, the tactics of violence evolve – from stones to suicide bombs to rockets and drones – keeping the conflict alive. This raises a sobering question: How long can a society endure with such an untreated illness in its system? Israel has managed so far, but no nation can remain indefinitely healthy while caught in perpetual trauma. Eventually, something in the system breaks down – economically, morally, or socially – unless a cure can be found.
One major complication is that Israel’s current form, its operating system if you will, violates certain global ethical norms, and the world is increasingly aware of it. Under international law, Israel’s ongoing occupation of the West Bank and East Jerusalem, and the expansion of Jewish settlements there, are deemed illegal. The International Court of Justice affirmed years ago that these practices contradict the Geneva Conventions. United Nations resolutions repeatedly condemn the settlement enterprise and the annexation of land by force. Israel, however, largely dismisses these criticisms, asserting its own security needs and historical claims. This puts Israel at odds with what passes for the “rules-based international order” that much of humanity professes to uphold.
For decades, Israel has been shielded from consequences by geopolitical realities – most notably, staunch diplomatic and financial support from the United States and a few other influential allies. Even so, the court of world opinion can be fickle. We have seen nations once considered beyond reproach turn into pariahs as circumstances shift - and vice versa. Israel is not isolated to the extent of being a pariah state – not yet at least. But the tide of opinion is slowly turning in many quarters. Countries in the Global South that were sympathetic are losing patience as the occupation drags on. In the West, younger generations especially are more critical of Israel’s treatment of Palestinians, viewing it through the lens of apartheid or colonialism rather than biblical destiny. If Israel continues on its present course, could it face increasing isolation? It’s a distinct possibility. International isolation might not topple a country overnight, but over years it can erode its economic and moral foundations. No modern nation can truly thrive cut off from global cooperation; even a militarily secure Israel would find itself starved of the innovation, cultural exchange, and progress that come from open relations with the international community of nations.
Inside Israel too, divisions run deep, threatening its cohesion from within. There is no monolithic Israeli society; rather, Israel contains multitudes, with starkly different identities and mindsets jostling under one flag. Ethnically and religiously, it’s far from homogeneous: a Jewish majority with roots from Europe, the Middle East, Africa; a sizable Arab Palestinian minority holding Israeli citizenship; and numerous other sub-groups. Ideologically, the spectrum ranges from secular liberals who want a pluralist democracy to religious zealots who believe the state should follow divine law and never cede any “God-given” territory. Tensions simmer between ultra-Orthodox Jews and secular Jews over the role of religion in public life; between militant settlers and peace activists over the fate of the occupied territories; between those who prioritise security at all costs and those who worry Israel is sacrificing its democracy and ethics.
This year these internal strains have become painfully evident – mass protests filled the streets of Tel Aviv and Jerusalem, with Israelis opposing each other over basic issues like judicial independence and the character of their democracy. It’s no longer a given that Israelis share a single vision of their future. Psychologically, the nation is split: some citizens primarily fear external enemies, while others are alarmed by what they perceive as an internal erosion of values. In a worst-case scenario, such internal discord could escalate into unrest or even violence among Israelis themselves. It is unsettling to contemplate, but when segments of a society cease to regard the state’s course as legitimate and existentially safe, the prospect of civil conflict invariably emerges. Can Israel survive if it comes to be at war with itself? The very thought was once far-fetched; now insiders warn of that danger if current polarising trends continue. This is a reminder that a state’s integrity relies not only on repelling external threats but also on maintaining internal social contracts. If those fray beyond a point, the state’s current form could unravel from inside.
The unresolved Israeli–Palestinian conflict itself remains the greatest challenge to Israel’s future. From an ethical standpoint, Israel’s identity as both a Jewish homeland and a democracy is profoundly tested by the subjugation of Palestinians who have no state of their own. For over half a century, millions of Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza have lived under Israeli occupation or blockade, lacking the very self-determination that Israel justly sought for Jews. This is a moral contradiction at the heart of Israel’s current form: can the people who endured stateless persecution in the past justify imposing a form of statelessness on another people today? This raises the classic question of universalism versus exceptionalism – are the rights we claim for ourselves universal, or do we allow an exception because of our unique history? If Israel continues to deny Palestinians full rights – whether in an independent state or within a single state – it faces an ethical paradox that’s bound to corrode its legitimacy.
A growing number of thinkers worldwide (and indeed within Israel) worry that the situation resembles a new apartheid, a permanent domination of one group by another. If that analogy holds, then the situation is ominous: systems of institutionalised inequality do not last in the modern age. They either evolve or collapse under their own injustice. South Africa’s apartheid regime, for instance, maintained itself for decades with great strength and international alliances, only to suddenly fall when its moral bankruptcy became overwhelming. This is not to say Israel’s story is identical – the contexts differ – but it’s a cautionary precedent. Can Israel find a way to exist that does not require keeping another people subjugated? If not, pressure will mount, internally and externally, until change becomes unavoidable. Change could be peaceful and negotiated – or chaotic and violent – but change there will be.
I don’t mean to paint an overly grim picture. It is important to acknowledge that Israel today is not a failed state; on the contrary, it is immensely robust in many ways. Its economy is innovative and globally integrated. Its military deterrence, including a presumed nuclear arsenal, means no neighbour can easily overwhelm it without severe consequences. Alliances have also been a lifeline: the United States, in particular, has bankrolled Israel’s defence and diplomatically shielded it through countless UN debates, largely because of the pressures exerted by the Israeli lobby. Bt as a futurist, I must ask: How long can external support compensate for internal and regional tensions? The US backing, while still solid, is not immune to change – American society itself is re-evaluating its role in the Middle East, and partisan views on Israel are shifting. One day, perhaps sooner than Israeli leaders ight expect, the geopolitical calculus could change - a different US administration, a more multipolar world where China or others influence the region, greater grassroots protests, could change everything overnight.
Israel might find that it must stand more on its own or make concessions to retain friends. Meanwhile, Israel has lately made new friends in the region under the Abraham Accords – forging diplomatic ties with states like the UAE, Bahrain, and even tentative overtures to Saudi Arabia. This suggests a possible trajectory where Israel integrates economically with its Arab neighbours, thus reducing enmity. These agreements deliberately sidestep the Palestinian question; they simply represent a cold strategic alignment against common threats, rather than a genuine reconciliation between peoples. For this reason alone, these new alliances might turn out to be fair weather friends. At best they’re fragile shoots that could wither if a major war erupts or if global powers realign. So even Israel’s strengths and successes contain the seeds of uncertainty. The nation’s technological and economic prowess might ensure a kind of survival, but endurance is hardly the same as peaceful flourishing. A fortress can stand for a long time, but life inside a fortress – surrounded by perceived enemies, forever on guard – can become its own kind of decline.
When I apply the forward-looking lens favoured by futurists, I see multiple potential possibilities for Israel, none of them static. In one dark scenario, Israel remains on its present course without heeding the warning signs. Settlements continue to spread, the occupation entrenches further, and Palestinian despair deepens. Perhaps triggered by some incident, violence escalates beyond anything seen in recent memory – a new intifada that dwarfs the old, or a war with regional militias that ignites fires on multiple fronts. Israel, unwilling to compromise, responds with overwhelming force. The world’s outrage reaches fever pitch; even allies impose sanctions or cut ties. Internally, Israelis split bitterly over the extreme measures taken in the name of security. Civil unrest could erupt as moderates accuse the government of betraying democratic ideals, while hardliners call dissenters traitors. In this scenario, Israel’s democracy, and indeed its social fabric, might unravel under the combined weight of external conflict and internal strife. The state might impose draconian controls to maintain order, altering its character fundamentally. Israel would still exist, but it would not be the open society its founders envisioned – it would be something more akin to a garrison state in perpetual emergency, or it could even fracture along internal lines. I shudder at this possibility: it’s a vision of existential crisis, a warning of what could come to pass if current trends continue unchecked.
There are other scenarios. In one, rather than dramatic collapse, one can imagine a slow transformation born of necessity. Climate change and regional crises might force cooperation in unexpected ways. As water grows scarcer in the Jordan Valley and heat waves worsen, perhaps Israelis and Palestinians (and neighbouring countries) would be compelled to work together on survival issues like water management, simply because nature leaves them no other choice. Shared hardship can sometimes breed solidarity; it’s a faint hope, but not an impossible one. Alternatively, if demographic and political trends continue, Israel might eventually face a choice it has long postponed: formally annexing the West Bank and thus incorporating millions of Palestinians. This would spell the end of Israel’s current form as either a Jewish-majority or a straightforwardly democratic state – it’s a paradox with no easy resolution. If Palestinians stuck in limbo are one day given full citizenship, Israel becomes a bi-national state with a very different character; if they are permanently denied rights, Israel ceases to be a democracy and becomes something else entirely. Either outcome is a fundamental change of Israel’s identity. Indeed, some argue Israel is already at this crossroads. One might wonder if Israel’s real purpose was never to remain a narrow ethnonational state, but to eventually evolve into a more inclusive polity. That is speculative, but teleology aside, simple political logic suggests that the status quo is not indefinitely sustainable – pressures will force a shift one way or another.
Of course, there is the more optimistic scenario – the one where wisdom and courage prevail over fear. In this future, leaders (perhaps driven by public exhaustion with conflict or a genuine impulse for reconciliation) finally broker a serious peace agreement. It could be the classic two-state solution: an independent Palestine is established on most of the occupied lands, with creative compromises over Jerusalem, and Israel finally lives alongside a sovereign Palestinian neighbour with internationally recognised borders. In theory, this would preserve Israel’s identity as a predominantly Jewish democratic state while granting Palestinians the dignity of their own state. But after so many failed attempts, this vision has the aura of a dream deferred. Is it still possible? If one is pragmatic, it grows harder by the year – geography on the ground has been transformed by settlements, and mutual distrust is deeply ingrained. Any such negotiation would require unprecedented good faith and compromise.
Alternatively, some imagine a one-state solution of a different kind: a single federated nation where Jews and Arabs share equal citizenship, perhaps with autonomous provinces. This would answer the questionof justice but would thoroughly transform Israel’s current form – essentially ending the idea of a Jewish nation-state in favour of a pluralistic republic akin to what a true democracy of all its people would look like. Many fear that scenario too, seeing it as the end of Israel as originally conceived. It would indeed be a civilisational shift, a redefinition so profound that some say “better the devil we know” and thus cling to the present system despite its flaws. Yet, we should ask: might such a transformation eventually be the only humane way out of the impasse? Hard-line nationalism on both sides would resist it to the bitter end. But as a thought experiment, if somehow a single state could guarantee security and equality for all, would it not be preferable to endless conflict? The fact that even raising this possibility is controversial shows how culturally entrenched our mindsets have become. We are limited by what we think is possible.
I am mindful that in futures thinking we often warn against straight-line extrapolations. History seldom moves in a straight line; paradigm shifts and surprises can rewrite what once seemed so certain. Is Israel headed for calamity? Not necessarily – there are countless variables. A sudden geopolitical realignment, a grassroots peace movement catching fire, a visionary and more youthful leadership arising on either side, or conversely a regional war reshaping all borders – any of these could dramatically alter outcomes.
Teleology demands to know if there’s a larger purpose to these struggles. Some religious Zionists claim history’s purpose was to simply re-establish Israel. Some Islamists see fate driving towards reclaiming the land for Muslim rule. The incumbent Israeli power structure speaks of a Greater Israel, while many secular people dismiss purpose altogether and see only human actions. Yet I find myself wondering if, beyond the competing teleologies that justify each side’s story, there might be a shared destiny hidden from view – one where the lesson is about transcending the very dualism that now defines the conflict. Perhaps Israel and Palestine are fated to become a lesson for humanity in the cost of unresolved grievances and the healing power of reconciliation. That is not a prophecy but a proposition: what if this protracted agony could eventually give way to a genuine shift of consciousness for all involved?
Such musings lead me to the broader context of our human civilisation. My work often explores how worldviews shape world-systems, and how even our most critical life-systems can become untenable when the worldview shifts or proves flawed. Israel as it exists today is a product of a 20th-century industrial worldview – one born from colonial partition, tribal nationalism, and the trauma of world war. It embodies many of the triumphs and contradictions of that era. The very notion of a nation-state privileged for one ethnicity or religion, established in the modern international system, was always going to be fraught in such an ethnically diverse region. The conflict and instability we see are not anomalies; in some ways they are the system working as one would predict, given that worldview. If we continue to interpret reality through the same mindset that created the problem, we remain stuck in zero-sum games. It may be that Israel’s current form, and the conflict surrounding it, cannot be truly resolved from within the paradigm that produced it. A deeper shift is required, a metanoia – meaning a fundamental change of mind and heart. Without that, any solution might be a mirage.
What could such a shift look like? Here we can learn from various other worldviews beyond the familiar Western model. For example, the Ubuntu philosophy from sub-Saharan Africa emphasises that I am because we are. It’s a reminder of profound interdependence. Through an Ubuntu lens, the fates of Israelis and Palestinians are inseparable: neither can truly flourish while the other suffers. If this ethos guided policy, Israel would pour as much energy into ensuring Palestinian well-being as it does into its own security, recognising the two are inextricably linked. Imagine the radical implications: military raids and punitive blockades would make no sense in a world where your neighbour’s dignity is part of your own. Far-fetched? Perhaps, but that’s the sort of mindset shift needed to break the cycle of fear. Likewise, many Indigenous cultures worldwide view land not as a possession but as sacred Mother Earth to be shared and respected. If Israeli and Palestinian leaders could, even for a moment, adopt an indigenous mindset, they might step back from the obsession of “whose land this is” and focus instead on how to live together on the land. The earth beneath their feet has seen empires come and go; from her perspective, human borders are transient scratches. It is humbling – and could be healing – to realise that ownership is illusionary and stewardship is the real duty of those who dwell on the land.
Other civilisational viewpoints offer alternative insights. The Sinic worldview (broadly, East Asian cultural philosophy influenced by Confucian and Taoist thought) values harmony and balance in the collective. A Sinic approach might prioritise social cohesion over absolute individual claims. One could imagine, through that lens, a solution where Israel and Palestine form some kind of confederation – a framework that tries to balance the needs of both peoples under a larger, harmonious order. Admittedly, current passions make such an enlightened design seem academic. But it’s notable that in Chinese history, diverse peoples were often integrated under imperial systems that emphasised order and tribute rather than total annihilation of one side by the other.
The modern world has largely followed a Westphalian mindset of separate sovereign states, but the future might see more fluid or overlapping sovereignties if we seek harmony. Meanwhile, an Indic perspective, drawing on South Asian experience, might recall that the partition of India and Pakistan came at horrific human cost and spawned generations of enmity – much like the partition of Mandate Palestine did. Some in India look back wistfully, wondering if a unified pluralistic India could have avoided the bloodshed of partition. In the Middle East too, one might ask: if Jews and Arabs had attempted to build a shared federation instead of separating, could they have achieved a more stable coexistence? We cannot rewrite the past, but we can question the assumptions that led to partition as the only solution. Perhaps in the long run, new thinking will emerge that revisits the idea of unity in diversity, even if through a framework yet unimagined. These worldview explorations are not meant to offer a ready-made answer – they simply show that our current way of thinking about the problem is not the only way. Challenging our assumptions opens up space for creative solutions.
Finally, let’s dive into the (studiously avoided) mystical dimension for a moment, because it might hold a key to transcending entrenched positions. Mystical traditions in the region – Jewish, Christian, Islamic, and others – share a surprisingly common insight: the oneness of being. Kabbalistic Jewish mysticism teaches that all souls are united and that by healing the fractures in our world (Tikkun Olam) we essentially repair the fabric of the divine. Sufi mystics in Islam likewise speak of unity, the idea that we are all rays of one sun. If such teachings were not relegated to the esoteric fringes but brought into the heart of how people viewed each other, Israelis and Palestinians might begin to see that their destinies emanate from a common source.
Mysticism invites us to see the divine in the face of the Other, to recognise that every boundary and identity in the material world is transient and ultimately illusory. This doesn’t negate the very real differences and grievances, but it reframes them. A mystical outlook might say: this land is holy to you both because something greater than you dwells here uniting you, so why fight? Of course, to the hard-nosed realist, this sounds like fantasy. Yet, great social transformations often have a spiritual undercurrent. The end of apartheid in South Africa, for example, was facilitated by a spirit of forgiveness (inspired by leaders like Mandela and Tutu, who drew on both Christian and humanist principles) that astonished the world. It allowed the country to step back from what seemed a certain descent into vengeance. In the Middle East, could a Martin Luther King Jr. or a Mahatma Gandhi arise, preaching nonviolence and love for one’s enemy, and actually be heard? Such figures have tried in small ways and often been sidelined or silenced – but one day, perhaps when all other strategies fail, the ancient message of compassion may find new ears. We should not discount heart-based change, for ultimately even the most rational peace agreements must be carried in human hearts to last.
In the end, I return to the question: Is it possible for Israel to exist in its current form? There are essentially two factors to consider: is it possible and (more provocatively) does it deserve to? Israel’s current form can endure only if it continuously adapts. On a long enough timeline, no society remains exactly as it is – survival is a function of evolution in response to changing conditions. If Israel stubbornly clings to a path that isolates it from its neighbours and from global moral consensus, then its existence will be perpetually under siege, literally and figuratively. That is a tenuous existence, prone to crisis. However, if Israel can transform – if it can find a way to truly reconcile with the Palestinian people and integrate into a peaceful regional framework – then Israel will not only exist, it will merit its existance, ost likely flourishing in a new form that upholds both its security and its values.
Perhaps the real issue, then, is not whether Israel can exist as it is, but whether it should continue as it is. A nation is a human construct, and humans can and do re-imagine their constructs. Right now Israel is at a critical stage where it must choose between being a fortress that defies the currents of change, or a dynamic society that helps chart a new course for coexistence. The former choice leads to endless conflict and moral quandary; the latter, though difficult, could make Israel a beacon of innovation in peacemaking, not just in technology.
I will not pretend to know which path will be taken. That is contingent on countless decisions made by those in charge and ordinary people alike. In true futurist fashion, I view this as a test case for humanity at large: Can we transcend the old paradigms that pit us against each other, or will we let them drag us down? Israel’s struggle to find a lasting peace and a just identity mirrors the struggle of our global civilisation, and the Western empire explicitly, to move beyond zero-sum thinking. It is, in microcosm, a challenge of whether empathy, wisdom, and a sense of common destiny can override fear, anger, and historical habit. So, is it possible for Israel to exist in its current form? Yes, it is possible, for a time, but at great cost – and likely not much longer. A more pertinent question might be: in what form can Israel (and Palestine alongside it) exist such that both peoples thrive? That question demands imagination beyond the current form. It summons us to envision what a truly healed “Holy Land” might look like decades from now, or whether even such a label is inflamatory, and consequently part of the problem.
I do believe that, sooner or later, reality will compel a transformation in one or more elements. It may come from enlightened choice or from painful necessity. The hope of the futurist in me is that Israelis and Palestinians – and indeed all of us watching – will learn to challenge our deepest assumptions about identity, security, and neighbourliness before cataclysm and continued slaughter forces the issue. If Israel’s current form is incompatible with lasting peace, then let it be Israel itself that has the courage to change – to become a different kind of inspiration to the world, one that demonstrates how an ancient people can live ethically and harmoniously in the modern age. And if that sounds idealistic, I would ask: what is the alternative? How long can we prolong a status quo that leaves an entire people in anguish and another in fear? Every civilisation reaches moments where it must evolve or decline. Israel is at such a moment.
In conclusion, there shold be no doubt that Israel can contine to exist moving forward, but likely not in an unaltered state of perpetual conflict and disparity. Either the conditions around it will change, or it will change itself from within – most probably, both. The evolution might be subtle and gradual or sudden and jarring. My sincere hope is that it leans toward the path of wisdom: acknowledging past wrongs, embracing a broader identity that includes rather than excludes, and thereby securing its future in a way that also secures the future of its Palestinian brothers and sisters. In that scenario, Israel would still exist, but in a form transformed – one better than the current form.
Is such a future possible? Yes, I believe it is possible, in theory. But will it happen? That’s a choice that remains to be made. It rests in the hands of those living this reality now, and it challenges all of us, wherever we are, to support the kind of thinking and action that can make what seems impossible today the reality of tomorrow. In the zero-point field of an expanded “now” the past is leaning far too heavily on current events and subsequent decisions. If all parties can move beyond that gravitational drag - by returning to first principles, relinquishing the sword, transcending the burden of victimhood and the delusion of being the “chosen” people, inviting secularism into framing negotiations, and replacing enmity with unity - then anything becomes possible. That’s a big if of course.
But a final cautionary note, for even with such comprehensively engineered conditions, a secure and prosperous future for Israel cannot be guaranteed while today’s political incumbents and their sponsors remain in charge. They have caused too much destruction and distress in the hearts and minds of ordinary men, women and children across the region, as well as within the Jewish diaspora globally. A majority of Israeli citizens now undeniably accept the narrative propagated by their leaders over decades. Deliberately or otherwise, Netanyahu and many others before him, have set Israel on a course to “pariah state” status within the international community. Most distressingly, their desire is not for peace. It’s to preserve their wealth, their mythology, their access to resources, their sense of exceptionalism, and the power that flows from all of these. A painless transition to normalcy from here is unlikely.