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Palestinian and Israeli whose family members were killed sit face-to-face to talk peace

One man lost his parents. The other lost his brother. Their dialogue is moving people to tears.

Photos by cottonbro studio/Pexels (left), and by Ahmed Abu Hameeda on Unsplash (right)

Hope for peace between Israelis and Palestinians

Conflict between Israel and Palestine has been ongoing for many decades, with scholars around the world spending years analyzing and explaining why and how. But regardless of how we got here, the violence we saw perpetrated on Israelis on October 7th and the violence we've seen perpetrated on Palestinians in the months since has been a drastic escalation with unspeakably tragic results.

People of goodwill everywhere search for hope in times such as these, for evidence that humanity hasn't been completely destroyed by vengeance and violence, that real peace is in fact possible. And there is no better pair to offer glimmers of such hope than Palestinian peacemaker Aziz Abu Sarah and Israeli peacemaker Maoz Inon, who sat down face-to-face on a TED stage in April of 2024 to share their personal stories and talk about what peace requires.

Unlike those of us watching war unfold from half a world away through the lens of media spin and social media algorithms, these men have lived this conflict up close. Sarah's brother was killed by the Israeli Defense Forces when he was just 19 years old. Inon's parents were killed by Hamas on the October 7th, 2023 attack. They both have every reason to be angry—and they are—but the way they purposefully process their anger into peacebuilding is an example to us all.


Inon begins their conversation by sharing how his parents and childhood friends were killed on October 7th, then shares how grateful he was that Sarah was one of the first people to reach out to him even though they'd only met once before. Sarah shares how his brother was killed by the IDF and how all of his friends have lost family members to Israel's bombardment of Gaza, yet praises how he Inon has processed his loss.

"When I sent you that message to offer my condolences after your parents were killed, I was surprised by your answer," Sarah told Inon. "Not just to me, but your public answer. Because you said you're not only crying for your parents, you're also crying for the people in Gaza who are losing their lives, and that you do not want what happened to you to be justifying anyone taking revenge. You do not want to justify war."

"And it's so hard to do that," he added. "So much easier to want revenge, to be angry. But you are a brave man."

Sarah said it took him "much more time" to reach such a place after his brother was killed. "I was angry, I was bitter, and I wanted vengeance. I was 10 years old and I thought there is no other choice. And only eight years later, when I went to study Hebrew with Jewish immigrants to Israel, that's only when I realized that we can be allies."

Both men have been peace activists for years. What's particularly beautiful about their conversation is that they are talking directly to each other, not to the audience, offering an example of what sitting down with the "other side" can look like when you share the goal of peace. They tell their personal stories and explain what has driven them to seek reconciliation over revenge. They listen to and learn from one another. They acknowledge the difficulty but are unwavering in their dedication to build peace.

The division stemming from the historical reality and current politics of Israel and Palestine may feel intractable, but if these men who have lost so much can find common ground and a shared vision, then hope remains. Their dialogue is moving people to tears and is well worth a watch:

Photo by Jordan Whitt on Unsplash

The mothers of the world stand in solidarity with those who are trying to protect their children from war.

Dear mother huddled with her children in the basement in a war zone,

As I sit in my living room reading reports from Ukraine, my thoughts scatter to many places at once. The analytical part of me wants to understand the historical and geopolitical forces that led up to this moment. The middle-aged side of me remembers with visceral tension the nuclear threats of the Cold War era. The American in me ponders what my country's leadership should, can and will do under the circumstances.

But the mother in me—the raw, human heart of me—goes straight to you and your children.


As you sit huddled together in a basement or a subway or perhaps a leftover bomb shelter from another generation's war, my 13-year-old son cuddles close to me on the couch. He looks at me with wide, worried eyes and asks what we would do if we were in your shoes. He's barely old enough to know the truth, but I tell him anyway: I don't know. I honestly don't know.

I know that our children look to us for safety, security and reassurance, so I try to imagine what you must be telling your young children as they hear air raid sirens, explosions, gunfire from above.

"You're OK. We're safe here," you tell them, not knowing if it's true. "It's going to be OK."

You lie to your children because you don't know what else to do. You're scared, but you don't want them to see it. If you can't protect them from the violence on their doorstep, you will shield them as much as you can from fear and despair. You—your body, your presence—are their primary shelter and safe place, so you wrap your arms around your babies, knowing full well that your flesh is powerless against weapons of war. You know you would die for them. You worry that won't be enough.

I am keenly aware that only the happenstance of my birthplace allows me to sit safely in my living room while you hide from violence. Whether you and your children are huddled in Ukraine or Yemen or Ethiopia or another war-torn region, geography is the only real difference between us. I didn't choose any of this and neither did you.

None of us wants this for our children. None of us ever has.

War is hell, and women and children bear the brunt of it. President Dwight D. Eisenhower once said, "I hate war as only a soldier who has lived it can, only as one who has seen its brutality, its futility, its stupidity." I've always appreciated his blunt honesty, but I think mothers might hate war more than soldiers. Soldiers are at least trained for the brutality, if not the futility or stupidity. There is no training that can prepare a mother to nurture her children in the violence and chaos of a war zone.

I think back over human history. How many mothers have witnessed the maiming of their children, physically or psychologically, by war? I look into my sweet son's eyes and my heart breaks, knowing not just that he could be hurt or killed, but also knowing that corrupt men with power would eagerly turn him into a killer to satisfy their need for conquest.

Too many mothers have sent their children off to fight in fruitless wars. Too many of those children haven't come back or have come back broken beyond repair. Too many mothers are hiding in basements with their babies in too many places, trying to keep their children's world from falling apart. Too many, too many, too many.

No one truly wins in war, no matter the political outcome, and it's beyond frustrating that humanity has not yet learned that armed conflict causes more problems than it solves. I've often wondered why don't we force the leaders who want to wage war into a boxing ring to duke it out among themselves. It makes no less sense than sending thousands of their people to fight to the death and destroy valuable infrastructure and architecture while they're at it.

I'm so tired of madmen playing violent games with people's lives because they can't figure out how to fill their soul holes. I'm so tired of their attempts to make us enemies, when all that separates us are invisible lines imagined into existence by insecure men. I'm so tired of fallen soldiers being hailed as heroes by those who sent them into battle to be sacrificed as pawns.

Imagine if moms were at the helm instead. Moms who understand that brute force is both immature and unnecessary. Moms who see all the world's children as our own. Imagine that world, just for a moment. What a vast difference that would make.

But here we are in this moment, and all I can do is offer you my solidarity. I hate that you and your children have to go through this stupid and wasteful and tragic and maddening mess that you didn't choose to partake in. I wish I could wave a wand and whisk us into a future where war is obsolete and unthinkable, where we truly accept that we are one human family and where we've chosen as a collective to create real and lasting peace. I have to believe that we'll get there eventually.

In the meantime, you are not forgotten, wherever you are. I am not in your shoes, but please know that I and millions of mothers around the world are wrapping our arms around you and your children, praying desperately for an end to the violence and trauma.

Your children—all of our children—deserve so much better than this.

John Lennon and Gloria Emerson.

John Lennon of the Beatles was a uniquely gifted musician, writer, actor, visual artist and performer whose talents made him one of the most beloved people on the planet. However, his unique approach to activism in the ’60s and ’70s was mocked in its time but today seems just as visionary as his other talents.

Lennon’s first big political statement was the 1968 hit “Revolution,” which challenged those who want to “change the world” through institutions to “free your mind instead.” In 1969, he created one of the most enduring anti-war anthems, with “Give Peace a Chance.”

The easy-to-sing chorus was designed to be chanted by large groups of people and was a major refrain in the massive Vietnam Moratorium march in Washington in the fall of 1969.

As a member of the most popular pop group of all time, Lennon knew the power of the media and how to craft messages that caught the world’s attention.



After Lennon wed artist Yoko Ono on March 20, 1969, the couple knew it would be a major media event. So they decided to take the attention and use it as an advertisement for peace by staging a two-week-long bed-in at the Hilton Hotel in Amsterdam and the Queen Elizabeth Hotel in Montreal.

The couple invited the international press into their hotel beds, and many thought there would be something salacious happening, only to find Lennon and Ono making the case for peace.

Seven months later, the couple was challenged for their anti-war activities by celebrated war correspondent Gloria Emerson, who had just returned from the frontlines in Vietnam. Emerson, a serious journalist who saw the bloodshed firsthand, thought that Yoko and Lennon’s activism was silly self-promotion.

The exchange between the three is engaging because they all want peace but have zero agreement on how it can be accomplished.

John Lennon interviewed by Gloria Emerson

"You've made yourself ridiculous!" Emerson insists.

"I don't care," Lennon replied, "if it saves lives."

"My dear boy," she said, "you're living in a nether-nether land. . . . You don't think you've saved a single life!" Emerson says.

"You tell me what they were singing at the Moratorium," Lennon shot back.

"Which one?" Emerson asks.

"The recent big one," Lennon explained. "They were singing ‘Give Peace a Chance’ … and it was written specifically for them."

"So they sang one of your songs," she said with some irritation. "Is that all you can say?"

"They were singing a happy-go-lucky song, which happens to be one I wrote. I'm glad they sang it. And when I get there, I'll sing it with them," Lennon responds.

Throughout the back and forth Lennon calls Emerson a "snob" and she responds by calling him a "fake." Lennon tries to explain that he's doing an "advertisement campaign for peace." To which she cleverly responds, "Are you advertising John Lennon or peace?"

The argument is a wonderful example of a bygone era when celebrities were challenged by reporters. In 1969, Lennon was one of the most well-known and beloved people on planet Earth and Emerson has no problem challenging him. Can you imagine a reporter confronting someone of that status on the topic of activism in 2021?

The exchange is also refreshing because Lennon has no qualms about protecting his public image. He doesn’t care if he’s seen as a clown as long as he makes his point to as many people as possible. It's a lot different than the type of celebrity "slacktivism" we see today where all they do is send out a tweet or reply to a hashtag.

There’s no real way to quantify whether Lennon’s songs and activism helped change the tide of the war, but there’s no argument over whether he was successful at presenting his message of peace to the world.

In the interview, Emerson accuses Lennon of being a half-hearted activist who lacks commitment but, in the coming years, the former Beatle and Ono would continue to engage in anti-war activism.

The couple’s political activism would cool off by the mid-’70s after being threatened by the Nixon administration with deportation.

John Lennon was murdered in New York City on December 8, 1980, 41 years ago to the day this article was written.

As flags fly on Veterans Day, let's rethink how we observe this holiday.

If you attend any Veterans Day ceremony in the United States, you'll likely see many of the same things. Military personnel in uniform. The Pledge of Allegiance recited and/or the National Anthem played—perhaps even by a military band. Speeches celebrating American freedoms and expressing gratitude for the people who defend them. Salutes and patriotism and pomp. Flags, flags and more flags.

What do we rarely see or hear anything about on Veterans Day? Building peace. And frankly, that's weird.

It's particularly weird considering where this holiday came from. Originally commemorated as Armistice Day marking the end of World War I, November 11 was a day dedicated to the cause of world peace in addition to honoring veterans who served in the war. Congress's 1926 resolution establishing the legal holiday read in part [emphasis mine], "…it is fitting that the recurring anniversary of this date should be commemorated with thanksgiving and prayer and exercises designed to perpetuate peace through good will and mutual understanding between nations."

Over the decades, it seems the focus of the holiday has shifted away from "exercises designed to perpetuate peace," toward exercises designed to glorify our armed forces. We don't talk about building peace on Veterans Day. We use militaristic language to talk about "defending our freedoms," painting the whole picture with a patriotic brush that tugs our red-white-and-blue heartstrings.


It's additionally weird to see such a focus when I think about some of the combat veterans I've known. The family member who refused to talk about his time in Korea. The friend who flinched at fireworks and still couldn't stand the sound of helicopters decades after serving in Vietnam. The friend, a few years younger than me, who shut himself in a closet and shot himself in the head after multiple tours of duty in Iraq.

Their sacrifices were real and should be acknowledged. But so should the reality of why they were called to make those sacrifices. Were those wars actually fought to defend American freedoms? Are the sacrifices of our veterans—with their mental health, with their families, with their lives in some cases—always worth it?

We don't dare say no. To some, it might seem disrespectful—downright blasphemous, perhaps—to even ask the questions. But we owe it to the veterans we honor to consciously weigh the cost of war—and conversely, promote the cause of peace—in our observances of this holiday.

That's the message Veterans for Peace has for all of us. Founded in 1985, Veterans for Peace is a global organization of military veterans and allies with dozens of chapters and five stated goals: To increase public awareness of the causes and costs of war, to restrain governments from intervening in the internal affairs of other nations, to end the arms race and eliminate nuclear weapons, to seek justice for veterans and victims of war, and to abolish war as an instrument of national policy.

These veterans also want to reclaim Armistice Day.

"Veterans For Peace has taken the lead in lifting up the original intention of November 11th—as a day for peace," states the organization's website. "As veterans we know that a day that celebrates peace, not war, is the best way to honor the sacrifices of veterans. We want generations after us to never know the destruction war has wrought on people and the earth."

The call of Veterans for Peace is reminiscent of five-star general President Dwight D. Eisenhower's statements about war: "I hate war as only a soldier who has lived it can, only as one who has seen its brutality, its futility, its stupidity," he said in 1946. And in 1960, he said in the opening session of the White House Conference on Children and Youth, "In this hope, among the things we teach to the young are such truths as the transcendent value of the individual and the dignity of all people, the futility and stupidity of war, its destructiveness of life and its degradation of human values."

Our veterans deserve to be honored. They also deserve to have their experiences recognized as the genuine tragedies that they are, not glossed over or dressed up for the sake of national pride and patriotism.

Let's ask ourselves: Are our young people getting the message that war is stupid and futile at the same time they are taught to place their hands on their hearts and pay respect to our veterans? Are we explaining to young people how high the suicide rate is among military personnel—and why—when we take them to military parades? Do we share with them, as they witness the pageantry surrounding this holiday, that Veterans Day isn't meant to be a badge of glory pinned to our nation's chest, but rather an acknowledgment of a tragic truth—that humanity has not yet learned that war isn't worth its cost?

As we observe Veterans Day with all the usual ceremonial trappings, let's focus on finding ways to build peace between all peoples and nations as well. The best way to truly honor our veterans is not merely to thank them for their service and then keep sending them into combat zones, but to actively strive toward a future that doesn't need them anymore.