Arava Institute: building peace through science

In the heart of the Negev Desert, where the sun scorches the earth and the wind lifts golden dust, stands a symbol of resilience and rebirth: a date palm grown from a 2,000-year-old seed. Its name is Methuselah, and its story carries the flavour of a botanical miracle. 

That seed, discovered among the ruins of the Masada fortress — the site of the final, tragic act of the First Jewish War — lay silent, forgotten beneath centuries of debris.

Today, transformed into a tree over three meters tall at Kibbutz Ketura, Methuselah is not only a symbol of nature’s resilience, it also embodies the determination of those striving to bring new life to an inhospitable land. 

But Methuselah is not the only “miracle” in Ketura. As the region experiences an unprecedented level of violence, and the divide between peoples seems deeper than ever, some are choosing to work to build bridges and foster peace.

Here lies the Arava Institute, an academic institution that goes far beyond environmental research: it is a laboratory for peace, a bold experiment in a land scarred by conflict. Within its walls, Israeli, Palestinian, and other Middle Eastern students meet, united by the ambition to turn environmental cooperation into a bridge between divided peoples. 

Every week, young people participate in dialogue forums where difficult issues are confronted: the Israeli-Palestinian conflict; the memories of the Nakba for some, Independence Day for others; military service; life in refugee camps. Sometimes discussions become heated, other times there are tears. But in the silence of the desert, where there is nowhere else to retreat, speaking becomes an act of necessity. 

The war that broke out on October 7 put this fragile balance to the test. Israeli students were called up for military service, while their Palestinian peers watched from afar, caught between concern and helplessness. And yet, the bonds built over time endured: in Ketura, meals are still shared, dormitory doors remain open, and solidarity has not broken. 

Leading the Arava Institute is Dr Tareq Abu Hamed, a Palestinian from Sur Baher, a village east of Jerusalem. He first came into close contact with Israelis during the First Intifada, when he worked as volunteer at the nearby Kibbutz Ramat Rahel.

“It was my first interaction with my Jewish neighbours,” Abu Hamed recalled. “It shaped me. It shaped my personality.” 

With a past as Chief Scientist at the Israeli Ministry of Energy in 2013 — the highest position ever held at the time by an Arab in an Israeli institution — Abu Hamed has always believed in science as a tool for dialogue.

Even in the most difficult moments, he has kept a network of collaboration between Palestinian and Israeli experts alive, convinced that environmental issues recognise neither borders nor checkpoints. 

It is precisely this vision that gave birth to one of the institute’s most ambitious projects: Jumpstarting Hope in Gaza.

The project aims to build shelters for over 20,000 displaced people, making them self-sufficient through solar energy, water desalination, and waste recycling. Four prototypes have already been built in Al-Mawasi, Hamad, and Deir al-Balah, housing about 5,000 people. Now, the institute is awaiting approval from the Israeli government to expand the initiative, turning these shelters into a model of sustainability for the entire region. 

The environment knows no borders: Gaza’s pollution affects the shared groundwater with Israel, wastewater flows into the eastern Mediterranean, and climate change impacts both peoples alike. “We cannot solve these challenges alone,” Abu Hamed explained. “We must collaborate with our neighbours.” 

Even in the face of war, the institute’s work has not stopped. Before October 7, the team managed to send seven atmospheric water generators to Gaza, providing clean drinking water to thousands of people. The plan is to continue along this path, proving that co-operation is not a utopia, but a necessity. 

Some consider Abu Hamed’s dream — peace through science — naïve. But he does not call himself an optimist. “I have no choice,” he said. “I’ve seen with my own eyes what happens when Israelis and Palestinians come together with a common goal. This isn’t rhetoric, it’s reality.” 

The students at Kibbutz Ketura know this well. Among them are young people who, just a few years ago, would have thought it impossible to even sit at the same table. Today, they share classroom, a laboratory, a dining hall.

Some will become scientists, others politicians, and activists. But all of them will carry an experience that challenges the narratives of the conflict: the story of a place where, despite everything, words have not yet been replaced by weapons. 

In the Arava Desert, where an ancient seed has sprouted once more, an idea is also growing: the future does not have to be a mere repetition of the past.

And perhaps, like Methuselah, this idea will take root deeper than anyone expects.