History’s tragedies are not always found in what happened. Sometimes they lie in what could have been — visions abandoned, possibilities squandered, peace betrayed not by inevitability, but by choice.
Nowhere is that clearer than in Gaza.
In
2005 , Israel undertook an extraordinary political and moral gamble. Under the
Disengagement Plan , conceived by Prime Minister
Ariel Sharon , himself a former general and champion of settlements in the region, Israel unilaterally withdrew from the Gaza Strip. Every soldier, every settler, every last trace of Israeli presence was removed. Twenty-one Jewish communities were dismantled. Thousands of citizens were evacuated from their homes by their own army. Synagogues were shuttered, cemeteries were relocated, and
millions of dollars in greenhouses and agricultural infrastructure were left behind, intact, in a gesture of goodwill.
It was a rupture in Zionism’s own narrative. Israel voluntarily relinquished territory acquired in war, territory with strategic, ideological, and religious significance, without any reciprocal agreement. In doing so, it tested its own democratic resilience by pitting its army against its own civilians for the sake of peace.
And it was peace that was on offer. The message to the Palestinians, to the Arab world, to the international community, was unambiguous: We are leaving. Show us what you can build.
Had the Palestinian leadership taken up that challenge, had it chosen governance over grievance, nation-building over nihilism, the rule of law over the rule of Kalashnikovs, the consequences could have been historic. A stable, demilitarized, self-governed Gaza would have transformed the landscape of Israeli politics. It would have provided the proof of concept that the Israeli public, weary and cynical after the carnage of the
Second Intifada , desperately needed: that withdrawal works, that peace is possible, that Palestinian sovereignty need not come at the expense of Israeli lives.