People’s Peace Summit: hope, resistance and an Israel that doesn’t want to know

On May 9, over 5,000 Israelis and Palestinians came together in Jerusalem for the People’s Peace Summit, organised by the ‘It’s Time Coalition’—an alliance of more than 60 peace, reconciliation, and shared society organisations.

From the main stage, moments of raw emotion and powerful calls for change echoed across the crowd. Dr. Iman Said, a Palestinian physician from the now-destroyed Rimal neighborhood of Gaza, issued a heartfelt plea to end the war through a two-state solution.

French President Emmanuel Macron sent a video message supporting the efforts of civil society groups working for coexistence.

Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas—dismissed by Prime Minister Netanyahu as an unworthy partner for peace—stated, “We reject violence and terrorism. We reject the killing of civilians. And we are for the release of all the hostages as soon as possible.”

The summit, supported in part by the New Israel Fund, was the second major gathering of the coalition following an event in Tel Aviv last July.

It featured moving speeches by bereaved family members and peace advocates: Moaz Inon and Aziz Abu Sarah, who each lost loved ones in the conflict; Liat Atzili, a former Hamas hostage whose husband Aviv was killed defending Kibbutz Nir Oz; Sigalit Hilel, mother of Ori Tchernichovsky, murdered at the Nova music festival; and Elana Kaminka, whose son Yannai was killed on October 7.

Jewish and Arab political figures took to the stage as well—former Prime Minister Ehud Olmert, MK Yair Golan, Ayman Odeh, Ahmad Tibi, Naama Lazimi, Gilad Kariv, and Alon Schuster, the sole representative of the National Unity party. MK Schuster was the only speaker booed by the crowd, after mentioning his party leader, Benny Gantz—who now calls for a hostage deal but previously supported the war and even joined Netanyahu’s coalition.

One might expect that such a significant gathering would dominate the headlines. Yet when I scanned the media two days after the summit for coverage, I found many articles about it in English (even in far away Australia), a few in Arabic—and only one in Hebrew. No coverage appeared in Yisrael Hayom, Kan, Channels 11, 12, 13 or 14, Maariv or Yediot Ahronot. The only Hebrew report was in Haaretz, and even then, not on the front page. This, despite the fact that the vast majority of attendees were Hebrew-speaking Jewish Israelis.

Why was this extraordinary event ignored?

One reason could be its relatively uneventful nature. Unlike the Joint Israeli-Palestinian Memorial Day ceremony, which gained widespread media attention after a violent protest at a screening in Ra’anana, this summit went undisturbed, despite taking place in the heart of Jerusalem. No right-wing protests. No drama. No News.

Another reason may lie in the range of messages delivered. While some speeches stayed within the bounds of Israeli consensus—calls to return the hostages and pursue regional peace accords—others challenged the status quo. Standing Together co-director Alon-Lee Green condemned the Israeli government for policies starving children in Gaza, and called on Israelis to refuse military service. While these bold messages received huge applause from conference participants, they are well beyond the Israeli consensus, even on the Zionist left. 

Thirdly, expressing empathy toward Palestinian suffering is still profoundly difficult for many Jewish Israelis. With 59 hostages still in captivity, soldiers dying weekly in Gaza, missiles from the Houthis, and a nation grappling with economic hardship and collective PTSD, many Israelis are understandably still entrenched in their own pain.

I have no doubt the summit provided much nourishment for those who want to see a reality where violence is no longer the main toolkit in the armoury of Israelis and Palestinians who seek to live in security in this land, empowering those who seek to build a grassroots movement for a different reality. 

For those who attended, the summit was more than symbolic. It was an act of moral resistance, a collective expression of empathy and courage in a time of fear and division. A shared belief that peace is not only possible, but necessary. Attendees envisioned a future where both Israelis and Palestinians can mourn their dead, condemn violence from within their own societies, and build a shared reality based on dignity and safety for all.

Such visions are not naïve. They are rooted in global examples—Northern Ireland, Rwanda, South Africa —and post-conflict societies, showing us that healing is possible when enough people demand it. Maya Savir, whose book On Reconciliation was available at the summit, draws on these examples to show what peacebuilding can look like. But for many in Israel today, it remains a distant dream.

Too many Israelis see Hamas as uniquely evil, beyond the reach of diplomacy. Too many Palestinians view Netanyahu’s continued war effort—concentrating Gaza’s population into shrinking “safe zones” while expanding military control—as proof that there is no partner for peace in Jerusalem.

Being at this summit felt like standing among 5,000 people trying to extinguish a raging wildfire with nothing but buckets of water. What are our poems, songs, and dreams when faced with the military might of those determined to prolong this war?

And yet, in the face of indifference, those who gathered in Jerusalem are not giving up. They left empowered, not discouraged. The seeds of peace have been planted—not in the headlines, but in the hearts of those who dared to imagine a better future.

The silence of the Hebrew press brought to mind a quote often attributed to American labour activist Nicholas Klein: “First they ignore you, then they laugh at you, then they fight you, then you win.”

Eighteen months into this war, the Israeli peace camp remains firmly in the “first they ignore you” phase. But how long until we reach the next?

One day, perhaps, this story will not be confined to English-language outlets and the margins of social media. One day, it might appear on the front pages of every Hebrew newspaper.

May that day come soon.