Palestine and Israel: When the Fear of Peace Reveals a Crisis of Trust in Legitimacy

The most dangerous ideologies are not only those that glorify war, but those that are unable to imagine a world outside of it. When war transforms from an exceptional tool into a permanent lens for understanding reality, peace itself becomes suspect, and any attempt at a settlement turns into a threat to be resisted, not an opportunity to be seized.

This phenomenon is not merely a psychological or rhetorical matter, but a deep political problem that affects the fate of peoples and nations. Nations that succeed in transforming their power into peace build long-term stability, while nations that remain captive to the logic of perpetual conflict find themselves unable to reap the fruits of their power, no matter how great.

From this perspective, one of the most prominent contradictions in the contemporary Israeli scene can be understood. For many decades, Israel has presented itself as a strong, stable, and well-established state, possessing clear military, technological, and economic superiority, and enjoying widespread international recognition and growing relations with many countries. However, this image is accompanied at the same time by a continuous fear of any real historical settlement with the Palestinians, as if peace itself has become an existential threat.

Here arises a question that is difficult to ignore: If Israel is confident in its legitimacy and its ability to endure, why does peace seem so frightening?

A self-confident state does not fear political settlements; rather, it seeks them when it realizes that continued conflict consumes its resources and restricts its future. But when every peace initiative becomes a source of suspicion, every mention of Palestinian rights a cause for concern, and every potential settlement a step towards an "existential danger," the issue is no longer related to security alone, but extends to the nature of the relationship with the concept of legitimacy itself.

In this context, the spread of discourses that treat any initiative to stop the war or reduce tension as a prelude to a strategic catastrophe can be understood. In this type of thinking, peace is not seen as a means to achieve security, but as a danger that could destabilize an entire system built on the continuation of conflict.

The real problem is that this discourse does not treat peace as a political possibility that can succeed or fail, but as impossible in principle. Here, the discussion shifts from evaluating facts to defending a closed political doctrine. If a war breaks out, it is said to be proof of the impossibility of peace; if a truce succeeds, it is said to be merely a temporary trick; and if a settlement lasts for decades, it is said to be the result of a balance of power, not the agreement itself.

And when all facts become evidence for the same hypothesis, the hypothesis turns into a doctrine, not a political analysis.

This mentality is not new. It has appeared in many historical experiences of states and movements that have lived through long conflicts until they began to see the world from a purely security perspective. In the modern Israeli case, the ideas of the "Iron Wall" have left a deep impact on shaping part of the Israeli strategic mind, as they started from the assumption that the adversary would not voluntarily accept the existing reality, and that the only way to impose it is through overwhelming military superiority.

This perception has contributed to entrenching the idea that security is achieved primarily through force, and that political settlements come later. However, the problem arises when this idea transforms from a tool into a doctrine, from a means to an end, and from a circumstantial strategy to a comprehensive worldview.

Military force can deter adversaries, prevent defeat, and impose facts, but it cannot by itself produce legitimacy. It can control land, but it cannot by itself produce political acceptance or end the deep causes of conflict. This is why many great powers throughout history have failed to transform their military victories into lasting stability.

Here lies the fundamental paradox in the Israeli case. The more Israeli military superiority increased, it was theoretically supposed that the ability to move from managing the conflict to resolving it would also increase. But what often happened was the opposite; superiority itself became a justification for postponing political solutions instead of using it to establish sustainable peace.

The result is that peace has become, in the view of some currents, more disturbing than war itself. War allows for the postponement of difficult questions, while peace compels answering them. War allows for managing reality, while peace requires reshaping it. War keeps major issues pending, while peace necessitates dealing with borders, sovereignty, rights, and mutual recognition.

Therefore, the fear of peace does not only reveal a security crisis, but also a crisis of political trust. A state confident in its legitimacy does not fear mutual recognition, nor does it see the legitimate rights of another people as a threat to its existence. But when the mere recognition of Palestinian rights is viewed as a strategic danger, the question becomes: What is truly frightening? Peace, or what peace might reveal?

Self-confident states do not fear recognizing others, because they do not see their rights as a negation of their own. But when the recognition of another people's rights is presented as an existential threat, it suggests that the political identity still views its existence as a project that needs continuous conflict to justify itself. Here, peace becomes a test of self-confidence before it is a test of security.

True legitimacy is not measured by a state's ability to impose a fait accompli by force, but by its ability to transform this reality into a stable political order that enjoys a degree of acceptance and recognition. Therefore, what weakens the world's trust in the justice and sustainability of the legitimacy on which Israel is based is not the search for a just settlement with the Palestinians, but the insistence on managing the conflict indefinitely.

States confident in their existence seek to end wars, not to turn them into a permanent state. States confident in their legitimacy do not see peace as a threat, but as an opportunity to consolidate that legitimacy on more stable foundations.

Therefore, the question facing Israel today is not whether peace serves the Palestinians or not, but whether the continued fear of peace reveals, in its essence, a deep crisis of confidence in the ability of the Israeli project itself to live under a just and stable peace. History teaches us that force can impose facts, but it cannot by itself produce legitimacy. Sustainable legitimacy, however, is born when states have the courage to move from the logic of permanent war to the logic of peace that recognizes rights and establishes stability.

Here lies the great paradox: the more peace is presented as a threat, the more questions arise about the extent of trust in the foundations that peace itself is supposed to consecrate. A state that possesses a strong army, an advanced economy, and broad international alliances, and then sees peace as an existential danger, does not only reveal security fears, but a deeper anxiety related to its ability to transform power into stable legitimacy.

Force can impose reality, but it cannot by itself convince others of its justice. It can ensure survival for long periods, but it cannot by itself produce the political and moral acceptance that gives any historical project long-term stability. Therefore, peace, not war, remains the true test for any political project that claims confidence in itself and its future.

The question that will remain as long as the conflict persists is not whether the Palestinians need peace, but whether Israel is truly ready to test the confidence it claims to possess. Because a just peace not only tests the strength of states, but also tests the extent of their belief in the legitimacy of their foundations and their ability to coexist with the rights of others without fear or suspicion.

And whoever fears this test for too long may discover that the problem was never in peace itself, but in the questions that peace reveals when its time comes. A state that trusts in the justice of its cause does not fear settlement, and a state that trusts in the legitimacy of its existence does not see the recognition of others' rights as a threat to itself. But when peace becomes a constant source of fear, the question is no longer about the intentions of adversaries or the balance of power, but about the extent of trust in the foundation that this peace is intended to consecrate and grant stability and continuity.