In 2002, I spent about two weeks in Israel, primarily there to chaperone young Russians during an economics summer school at Hebrew University in Jerusalem. But, more so, I was there to work, scouring through institutional archives for a project related to the institution at which I worked in Moscow, founded by a giant of a man from Israel, the late Gur Ofer. That trip changed me in ways I still feel today. Particularly today.

When Gur picked me up from the hotel on Sunday morning to drive me to his office on campus, he was pensive. (He often was, but this was something far deeper and more tinged with worry than simple intellectualising.) He was listening to the radio, which I clearly did not understand given that it was in Hebrew. Waiting for him to share his thoughts, he finally said simply, ‘I’m worried. It’s been too quiet for too long, and *this* quiet feels ominous. That quiet might change during this trip. Please make sure that you have your phone on at all times and I can reach you. There is concern that the quiet is about to break.’

I can’t remember now exactly when things changed and, honestly, I quickly mentally blocked it, But, several days into our trip the first bombing occurred. There would be two more during our stay, two of which were chillingly close to where we had been in those moments. Just after my trip to Israel, the cafe I lunched at when working on campus was bombed. You knew before you saw the news what had happened because every single mobile phone in your vicinity rang / chimed with calls and messages asking if the owner was okay. It is a sound that haunts me still.

That’s the thing about terrorism. It is random and unexpected and leaves you terrified. That’s kind of the point. Indiscriminate killing is precisely the point.

In the face of yet more seemingly inexplicable violence, two things about that trip remained with me and come to mind whenever violence erupts in Israel / Palestine, even now, 21+ years later.

First, Israel is so incredibly small. I did not travel to the furthest southern point during that trip. But, I did travel to the north, along the borders with Lebanon, Syria and Jordan, and around Lake Galilee and then down to the Red Sea. Ramallah was visible from our hotel, which shocked me for some reason. This was before the walls around Palestinians were erected, but there were signs of what was to come. And, the spaces demarcated for ‘Arabs’ / Palestinians were shrinking already then. They have shrunk further now and continue to do so as each new settlement is sanctioned. But, it was the smallness of the space which shocked me, given what a large mental space that land continues to occupy in our policies and debates.

Second, with the exception of the ultra-conservative and hardline Zionists—some of which were gathering for their own conference (rally) near our hotel and which offered an utterly surreal perspective of how narratives of erasure can be remarkably and chillingly similar when uttered by one group or another—everyone wanted peace. They wanted a place and space, mental and physical, free of violence and in which their children could play and grow up and old. They wanted to laugh and smile and live their lives, untethered to their phones and sudden alerts or the f*cking news, knowing that the people they loved were not casualties in yet another senseless act of violence perpetrated by one madman or another. They simply wanted peace.

I do not know the answer to how to ‘fix’ Israel. Who does? But, I do know that whatever we’ve been trying to do for the last 100 years has not worked. And, honestly, right now it just feels incredibly sad. Not simply because of what has happened over the past several days, which is utterly heartbreaking and atrocious. But, what comes next terrifies me further. No one will ‘win’ this particular war. Not when two parties to it advocate openly for the complete annihilation and erasure of the other. I am horrified by the actions of the Hamas militants. I am also horrified by the words and actions of Bibi in the wake of Hamas’ actions. Why? Because I am still human and these actions are intentionally dehumanising.

Vengeance is not justice. And, there can be no peace without justice.

{NB: I wrote this after reading this piece, which appeared in The Guardian yesterday.}