Pro-Palestine or pro-Israel? People became divided by a complex conflict. After Oct. 7, 2023, a humanitarian crisis became polarized, where there seemed to be no “gray area.” Media narratives further perpetuated strong sentiments toward “one side,” causing innocent lives to be in the crossfire.
On Oct. 7, Hamas killed more than a thousand Israelis in surprise attacks. Festival-goers and those simply living in their communities were killed. That fateful day triggered Israel to respond, and social unrest was born. Political extremism trumped conversations about humanity.
Elected in 2006, Hamas is the governing authority in the Gaza Strip and is classified as a terrorist organization by numerous nations, such as the United States, with the goal of eliminating the country of Israel and all Jewish people. The current Israeli right-wing government also has an extreme agenda that opposes the existence of a Palestinian state. The two extremist governments are the perpetrators of innocent civilians losing their lives. However, it is an injustice to generalize the entire Israeli and Palestinian populations.
Every nation has the duty to protect its borders and its people. At the same time, even one innocent life lost is a tragedy. There must be a distinction between governing bodies and civilians!
Before I begin with a daily breakdown of my trip, I want to make clear that I accepted the opportunity to visit Israel to learn about the geopolitical situation with an open mind. I heard from a multitude of news sources about both Israelis and Palestinians killed in the Israel-Hamas war, and wanted to form my own opinion without the influence of what the media was feeding me or what my social circle would share with me.
On Jan. 1, 2026, I, alongside 18 UConn student leaders, flew more than nine hours and landed in Tel Aviv at around 1 p.m. on Jan. 2.
After a long drive up north, we settled in our Kibbutz-style hotel, which embraces community living. Two to three students each shared a miniature “house” with beds, televisions, and a restroom. There was one dining area where all guests gathered to share breakfast and dinner.
By the time we all settled in, we had our first evening processing session in a shared common room before welcoming Shabbat. The first processing session was an opportunity for us to get to know each other and to set expectations for how we will engage with speakers, behave during site visitations, and participate in processing sessions moving forward. At that meeting, the rules were clear: have an open mind and don’t be afraid to ask questions. That was the first time I was introduced to the significance of hutzpah, which means to be bold and courageous. I was ready to learn as much as I could and was excited for the days ahead.
Then came Shabbat, where we all gathered around as a prayer was said to bless the wine and bread. It was a beautiful moment of community.
On the second day, we met and learned about the Druze community, a minority group that lives in Israel. One family treated our group to a delicious feast with immense hospitality. Prior to coming on this trip, I never heard about the Druze. It was fascinating to learn about their beliefs and inspiring to hear stories showing their national pride.
Then we met with Guy Malal, a former commander in the Israel Defense Forces and an expert in Middle Eastern and Islamic studies. We stood on a large cliff overlooking the border dividing Israel and Lebanon. Malal showed us where the Iran-backed Shiite militia Hezbollah dug underground tunnels and attacked an Israeli village right near the border, painting a vivid image in my head of gruesome brutality.
On the third day, we toured the Golan Heights by Jeep with Ilan Shulman, a disabled IDF veteran, who guided us through former Syrian military bases. From the high elevation, we could clearly see into Syria, a striking reminder of how close and tense the region remains. We passed by numerous tanks, entered a bunker, and learned about the land mines that are still scattered throughout parts of the area. What unsettled me most was witnessing the lack of a clearly defined border between Syria and Israel in the Golan Heights, marked instead by a ceasefire line. That ambiguity gave me an eerie feeling and put into perspective the precarity of life during war, where soldiers must remain constantly vigilant. As an American, the experience made me deeply aware of the privilege that I have in not living with the daily fear that a neighboring country could attack at any moment.
Day four was by far the most emotional. We spoke with survivors from the massacres that happened at the Nova music festival site and the living community of Kfar Aza. Reading the memorials of those whose lives were abruptly cut short because they were, simply put, living life, was painful and devastating. Seeing firsthand the bullet holes, collapsed walls, and torn-down doors at Kfar Aza was heartbreaking and terrifying beyond words.
When you truly see the catastrophe of what happened on Oct. 7, learn about the individual victims, and place yourself in their shoes, you begin to see people behind every statistic.
On the fifth day, we met with Palestinian activist Mahmood El Motaseb, who lives in Hebron in the West Bank. He described how Palestinian movement, both within the West Bank and in attempts to enter Israel, is subjected to numerous, and often lengthy, security checks, making even short journeys tedious and frustrating. He is affiliated with the Fatah party, also known as the Palestinian National Liberation Movement, which historically supported armed struggle against Israel as a means of establishing a Palestinian state.
During the first and second intifadas, Israeli civilians were subjected to attacks carried out by various Palestinian groups affiliated with the PLO, as well as Hamas and Islamic Jihad. I found it intriguing to learn more about the complex relationship between Fatah and political violence. I also felt disappointed that El Motaseb did not provide clear answers on this issue, which ultimately highlighted the complexity of the conflict and reinforced the need to avoid broad generalizations, given the diversity of ideologies and perspectives within Palestinian society.
Speaking later with Palestinian journalist Rami Nazzal was eye-opening. He explained that the barrier separating parts of the West Bank from Israel is not universally supported by either Israelis or Palestinians, reinforcing the idea that broad generalizations cannot be made. That conversation further emphasized the complexity of the conflict and underscored how innocent civilians on both sides often bear the consequences of their governments’ policies and political ideologies.
The following day was profoundly somber. We visited Yad Vashem, the World Holocaust Remembrance Center, where we deepened our understanding of the horrors of the Holocaust and reflected on antisemitism in its most extreme and destructive form. About 6 million Jews were killed, and Yad Vashem was a space that transformed a massive statistic into true understanding that precious human lives were forever lost, another humanizing yet emotionally difficult experience.
The day after was dedicated to faith and spiritual connection. We visited Temple Mount, a holy site for all three Abrahamic religions. It was beautiful seeing people embracing their faith in a sacred place. We were able to see the Al-Aqsa Mosque, touch the Stone of Anointing where Jesus’s body was prepared for burial, pray at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, pray at the Western Wall, and touch the tomb of King David. It truly was a day of religious understanding and appreciation.
On the eighth day, the aspiring journalist in me was thrilled to listen to Lucy Aharish, an Israeli Arab news presenter. She shared one childhood experience that deeply stuck with me. She said that when she was visiting Gaza in 1987 with her family, a Molotov cocktail was shoved into her family’s car. Luckily, her father quickly threw it out of the car before it burst into flames. As she narrated her story, I placed myself in her shoes and shook. I imagined the immeasurable fear I would have felt if I were in her situation.
She later shared a detail that gave me hope and optimism. She is an Arab Muslim who is married to a Jewish man and raises a son who attends a Christian school. While this is just one example and may seem irrelevant or unimportant, it illustrates a unifying and symbolic relationship where different communities coexist in Israel.
The final speaker we met was an Arab Israeli peace activist named Ihab Balha. My eyes and ears were glued to him as his gentle voice told a story of love. He shared that he was born and raised in a Palestinian family and grew up hating Jews. When he worked at his father’s restaurant, a Jewish man who hated Muslims came in weekly to argue with him. Balha explained that after an interaction in which the two actually got to speak and learn about each other, what had once begun as hatred ended in friendship and a mission to start a peace project.
He later told us that he fell in love and married a Jewish woman, and after their first son was born, they decided to open a kindergarten where Arab and Jewish children are raised together. The peace project has now expanded to multiple kindergartens and community centers.
“Our mission is to educate and nurture children, Israeli and Palestinian, side by side, in the hope of achieving healing and reconciliation,” Ihab and his wife Ora Balha said on their nonprofit’s website.
Meeting Balha was the best way to end my experience in Israel. Through Balha’s story, I carried back with me hope, hope that love thrives when we look past differences and appreciate the humanity in others, hope that peace exists even in ongoing conflict, and hope that change is made when just one person embraces diversity as a unifier rather than a separator.
My biggest takeaways from this trip:
- There exist deep relationships between Israelis and Palestinians even amidst political tension.
- The Old City of Jerusalem is the prime example of where people from different backgrounds peacefully coexist. Jews, Christians, and Muslims are embracing their faith in a holy site that unites them.
- Peace projects exist but are unfortunately not known to those outside Israel. A prime example is Givat Haviva, a space that unites Jews and Arabs, cultivating mutual respect, trust, and efforts toward a shared goal.
- Seeing bomb shelters everywhere we went and learning that every home in Israel is required to have a bomb shelter made me feel intensified fear. It was hard to fathom how Israelis are unfortunately used to hearing alarms go off and having to quickly locate the nearest shelter between 15 seconds and two minutes. It shed light on a precarious way of life. That said, Palestinians also live with devastating uncertainty as they suffer from a lack of ample food, access to water, and the ability to freely move. To say you are pro one side is an injustice to countless innocent people.
- The complexity of the situation is far beyond one that I will ever understand. What’s the truth? Well, it’s not about one side or the other; that is the wrong way to handle this situation. The truth is that innocent people are suffering.
- To say education reform is needed is an understatement. Hearing all sides, even if we don’t agree, and then asking questions to learn, not to argue, is the only way we can ever come closer to peace, not just for this conflict, but for every global and domestic tension.