SUMMIT, NJ -- Despite genuine efforts, differing geopolitical strategies and countless stories of heartbreak, there remains a constant in the Middle East: the Israel-Palestine conflict.

With political leaders further distancing themselves every day, formal peace between Jews and Arabs is fleeting. Efrat Daskal, postdoctoral fellow in Israeli culture at Northwestern University, said that during Israeli elections last month, leaders could not mention peace for fear of political failure. Similarly, the head of the Palestinian Mission to the United Kingdom Ambassador Husam Zomlot said the peace process is “on life support.”

However, a day when Jews and Arabs can walk among the same streets, work in the same buildings and even worship in the same cities is not a pipedream. It is a reality. Many in the Holy Land acknowledge the humanity of their neighbors, and their proximity means they share many aspects of daily life.

“Go to Tel Aviv, walk down the promenade on a Thursday late-afternoon early-evening, and you will see Arab families and Jewish families next to each other,” United States Ambassador Dennis Ross said. “You wouldn't see a picture like this any other place in the Middle East, with such a picture of coexistence. So, there's a reality. There's a day-to-day reality.”

This is not to say that there is not hardship, especially among local citizens. The enduring struggle has dealt a terrible toll of frustration, anguish and pain. These differing narratives offer an understanding that life in the region is more peaceful than a violent conflict may suggest, and more tense than coexistence may seem.

Ironically, COVID-19 has given both sides a shared purpose and an opportunity to cooperate with one another as they battle the virus together to keep their populations safe. But that common ground might be short-lived. When the pandemic runs its course, that cooperation may well dissipate quickly, given how far apart the two sides remain.

To engage with the geopolitical struggle is to understand the weaponization of history. Each side artfully deploys history’s complicated tale as evidence their claim to the land is legitimate. Historical claims inform current actions, and consequences for these actions provide justification for response, creating a snowball of escalation. The result: political leaders and neighbors painfully tearing the region apart.

Two tour guides, one a Palestinian Christian and another a Jewish Israeli, ardently believe in their nation’s rights and grapple with their individual plight. Here are their stories:

Hazem Bannoura

In a world without COVID-19, Hazem Bannoura would spend his days traveling the Holy Land, offering tours to some of the millions of visitors who make the journey to the region every year. He said he views his role as an “ambassador for the country,” that “the strongest weapon the Palestinians have is the tour guides.”

Bannoura is a Palestinian Christian. He lives in Beit Sahour on the outskirts of Bethlehem with his wife and kids but leads tourists all throughout both the Israeli State and Palestinian Territories, or what he calls: historic Palestine.

“For me, as a Palestinian, when I look at my history of my land. It's very simple history. I don't start with 1948, which is when Israel was started. I started always from 1850,” Bannoura said. He is referring to the rule of the Ottoman Empire, a time where the entire region was controlled by the Turks and populated mostly by Palestinians.

During and in the aftermath of World War I, as European superpowers began to colonize the Middle East, the British government approved the Balfour Declaration, stating their support for the establishment of a "national home for the Jewish people" in Palestine, then an Ottoman region with a small minority Jewish population. It took years, but in 1947, the United Nations General Assembly voted to partition British Mandate Palestine into two states, one Arab and one Jewish. Late came the Israeli War of Independence, but the Jewish people prevailed and eventually created their own nation, declaring the State of Israel in 1948.

As the Jewish state continued to strengthen, for Palestinians, economic hardship and relinquished land led to violent demonstration and war. “From 1967 until today, the Palestinians used all types of resistance, from peace to violence, whatever you want to call it, to end the occupation of Palestine,” Bannoura said.

Now, for Palestinians living in the territories, there is little hope for a financial future. Bannoura described how his way of life is dependent on Israeli permission. Bannoura said that when driving his car from Bethlehem to Jerusalem he will be stopped by the Israeli military at a checkpoint while his German wife can drive through; he only recently got 3G internet on his phone while in Palestine, before he was not allowed connection; and in order to leave the country he must travel by land to Jordan and fly out of Amman, not Tel Aviv.

To Bannoura, the restrictions on his life amounts to a new class of citizenship in the region, where he is less than his Israeli neighbors. The Israeli excuse for these restrictions, he said, is for vague “security reasons.”

As he looks to the future, Bannoura does not have much hope for a change in the status quo. “To exist is to resist,” Bannoura said.

Eliana Passentin

Eliana Passentin moved from San Francisco, California to Israel when she was 11 years old. After marrying her high-school sweetheart, she moved to the region around historic Shiloh, a town in the West Bank, and lives in the tiny Jewish settlement of Eli. Before constructing her home, she lived on this land in a caravan for 10 years.

Passentin is an Orthodox Jew. She moved to the settlement to grow closer with her faith and further the cause of the Jewish people. “We [Passentin and her husband] really respected our parents for leaving their families and making a difference as Jews moving back to our homeland,” Passentin said. “We said we also want to do something that we feel is for the benefit of the country.

“It was important to us to build a permanent home and that it would have a connection to the history in the region.”

For Passentin, the history of a Jewish state dates back to the Bible and continues through today. When Passentin was interviewed, she was preparing activities for her children for the Holocaust Remembrance Day. For many in Israel, the importance of their state is not only Biblical, it is necessary for the security of the Jewish people in the aftermath of a genocide.

Passentin said she also has a geopolitical right to her land, referring to the Six-Day War. “We did not want to take part in this war. We definitely didn't want to start this war. We weren’t looking to conquer land. We were so happy that for 19 years we finally have our Jewish State. Just leave us alone. Don't try and kill us. And let's stay alive,” Passentin said.

For Passentin, Israel’s victory meant that Israelis now controlled the land from the Mediterranean Sea to the Jordan river. “There are consequences when you lose a war that you began,” Passentin said.

International leaders, however, challenge Passentin’s geopolitical claim. In a statement, United Nations Special Coordinator for the Middle East Peace Process Nickolay Mladenov said “Israeli settlement activities are a flagrant violation under international law and a major obstacle to the achievement of the two-State solution and a just, lasting and comprehensive peace.”

In modern-day Shiloh, the threat of violent terror attacks is real. Passentin said one year ago, her neighbor was killed in an attack. Continued violence against the Jewish people has led to stricter security measures to ensure safety.

However, Passentin’s life on the settlement today is not overwhelmed with the conflict. She said she is part of a WhatsApp group connecting Israelis and Palestinians and sees them throughout the town they share. Standing on-line at the grocery store, she may interact with Palestinians. “We're all there because there's a great price on the pita bread right now,” Passentin said.

​Tomorrow

Conflict is exhausting, and its prolonged symptoms produce desperation. This desperation has manifested itself in violence, the economic stifling of communities and human suffering. At a point in the conflict where paths toward peace are seldom found, the COVID-19 pandemic is what Ambassador Zomlot calls a black swan.

“I think this is an opportunity really to stop thinking about the human being, as in his religion or her creed or color or height, or with all the nonsense that has gone on for a long time,” Zomlot said.

On the settlement, the coronavirus has again provided context to form common ground. “We're all stuck at home. Our kids are driving us all crazy. Most of us have lost their jobs,” Passentin said.

Through the immense suffering felt in the devastating wake of COVID-19, communities have found strength in each other.

On March 26, Vatican News reported that Jews, Christians and Muslims prayed together in Jerusalem for the end of the pandemic. The coronavirus cannot erase complicated histories, growing frustrations or threats of terrorism, however, it may provide common ground for future conversations.

This article was updated on June 17, 2020.