Impact on Civilians

Civilian Experience During Intifadas

The two Intifadas, along with the smaller cycles of violence around them, were not only clashes between armed actors. They reshaped the everyday lives of civilians, both Palestinian and Israeli, on almost every level. Understanding this impact does not mean equating the scale or type of suffering on each side, but it does require taking seriously the ways violence and fear reached into homes, schools, workplaces, and intimate relationships.

This chapter focuses on how civilians experienced these periods in concrete, lived terms. It does not re‑tell the military or political story of the uprisings, which appears elsewhere, but instead explores the human costs that often remain in the background of strategic or diplomatic analyses.

Daily Life Under Closure, Curfew, and Fear

For many Palestinians during the First and especially the Second Intifada, daily life was marked by frequent curfews, road closures, and checkpoints. These tools of control and security operations affected basic routines. A curfew could keep families locked inside their homes for days or weeks, with windows shut to avoid tear gas or stray bullets. Parents navigated how to obtain food, water, and medicine in periods when leaving the house was forbidden or dangerous.

Checkpoints and roadblocks created long, unpredictable delays. A trip that once took 20 minutes could become a multi‑hour journey or be impossible. This affected workers trying to reach jobs, students trying to attend universities, and patients needing hospitals. Ambulances were sometimes held up, and in some cases pregnant women gave birth at checkpoints because they could not pass in time. Over time, these disruptions reshaped where people could realistically live, work, or study.

Israeli civilians also experienced shifts in daily life, especially during the Second Intifada. Suicide bombings and shooting attacks made buses, cafés, markets, and nightclubs feel unsafe. Many Israelis adjusted routines, avoided crowded places, or changed commuting patterns. Parents worried about children taking public transportation. Security guards, bag checks, and metal detectors became part of everyday errands, a constant reminder of potential danger.

In both societies, the ordinary rhythm of life was repeatedly interrupted by sudden closures, alarms, or explosions. Even when no immediate violence was present, the expectation of possible disruption created a continuous background tension.

Economic Strain and Livelihoods

The Intifadas and the cycles of violence around them had deep economic consequences for civilians. Most Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza rely on local economies that are highly sensitive to movement restrictions. During uprisings and escalations, many agricultural products could not reach markets in time, or farmers could not reach their land. Factories and workshops were often disrupted by curfews, raids, or damaged infrastructure, and many small businesses closed permanently.

A number of Palestinians had previously worked inside Israel. During and after periods of heightened violence, permits were reduced or revoked, leaving many families suddenly without income. The combination of job losses, higher transportation costs, and uncertainty about the future made long‑term planning very difficult. Savings were often depleted, and extended family networks were strained as more people depended on fewer earners.

Israeli civilians also experienced economic costs. Sectors like tourism, hospitality, and retail suffered during waves of attacks, especially when foreign visitors stayed away and locals feared crowded public places. Businesses in city centers that depended on foot traffic saw declines, and some closed. The government increased security spending, which indirectly affected social services and public investment in other areas.

For both populations, economic hardship was not only about numbers. It influenced dignity, independence, and the capacity to imagine a better future. Prolonged financial strain also left many more vulnerable to emotional stress, political radicalization, or the sense that compromise had already cost too much.

Children and Youth Growing Up in Conflict

Children and teenagers experienced the Intifadas not as historical events but as the environment in which they grew up. For many Palestinian children, military incursions, shooting in the street, or tear gas near homes became part of childhood memory. Some learned early how to distinguish types of gunfire or when to lie on the floor away from windows. Night raids, house searches, or arrests of family members created insecurity inside the home, a space that is usually associated with safety.

Education was repeatedly interrupted. Schools might close during clashes or curfews, or serve as temporary shelters. In some areas, students and teachers had to cross checkpoints or areas of tension daily, which increased absenteeism. The image of students confronting soldiers or tanks, whether by throwing stones or simply standing in the street, became powerful in media coverage, but for the children themselves it involved exposure to danger, fear, and sometimes injury or arrest.

Israeli children also internalized the conflict differently during and after the Intifadas. Many experienced air‑raid sirens, bomb shelters, or the shock of learning that a bus bombing had killed classmates or relatives. Schools discussed emergency procedures. Memorial ceremonies for victims entered the school calendar. Parents sometimes restricted children’s movement, which shaped social life and independence.

A generation on each side grew up with the sense that the other community was connected to danger or loss. This shaped identity, expectations, and views of possible coexistence. Even when young people later sought different perspectives, the memories formed during those years continued to influence their emotional responses and political attitudes.

Injury, Disability, and Long-Term Health Impacts

Violence during the Intifadas produced many more injuries than deaths. Civilians suffered from gunshot wounds, beatings, shrapnel injuries, and exposure to explosives. Some were blinded, lost limbs, or developed chronic pain. Others sustained internal injuries that affected health for the rest of their lives.

In Palestinian communities, overwhelmed medical systems faced shortages of supplies and staff, particularly during intense clashes or military operations. Rehabilitation services were limited, especially in Gaza and remote areas. Families often had to assume long‑term care roles for injured relatives, adapt homes for wheelchairs or other needs, and cover medical costs with limited incomes.

In Israel, survivors of bombings and shootings faced their own complex medical trajectories. Emergency response systems were relatively well resourced, but the combination of trauma surgery, extended rehabilitation, and psychological care still placed heavy burdens on public health services and families. Some survivors could not return to their previous jobs or studies and had to reorganize their lives around new physical limits.

Beyond visible injuries, civilians on both sides developed health problems linked to stress and disruption. Chronic anxiety, sleep disturbances, and stress‑related conditions such as hypertension or gastrointestinal issues became more common in affected areas. The long‑term nature of these health effects often receives less attention than immediate casualties, yet for many individuals it defines the personal legacy of the Intifadas.

Psychological Trauma and Collective Fear

The psychological impact of the Intifadas on civilians was profound. People lived with recurring images of violence, whether witnessed directly or seen through media. For some, every loud noise could trigger memories of explosions. The sound of helicopters or military vehicles at night might bring back earlier experiences of raids or bombardments.

Symptoms of post‑traumatic stress disorder, or PTSD, were recorded on both sides. These included flashbacks, avoidance of certain locations, irritability, emotional numbness, and difficulty concentrating. In many Palestinian communities, high exposure to repeated violence, combined with limited access to mental health services, meant that trauma often went untreated. Instead, people relied on family, religious frameworks, or community solidarity, which could provide support but did not always address deeper psychological wounds.

In Israel, there was more formal psychological infrastructure, yet stigma and the sheer number of people exposed limited the reach of treatment. Emergency responders, medical staff, and journalists who dealt with attacks also absorbed secondary trauma. Children who had been near attacks sometimes developed separation anxiety or school refusal. Parents and teachers had to learn how to talk about fear while trying to maintain a sense of normality.

On both sides, collective narratives of fear and victimhood emerged. Many Israelis internalized the idea that daily life could be shattered at any moment by an unseen attacker. Many Palestinians internalized the idea that at any moment soldiers could enter their neighborhood or home. These widespread emotional patterns shaped how each group interpreted events, political proposals, and the intentions of the other.

Displacement, Demolitions, and Loss of Home

Although the Intifadas did not produce mass displacement on the scale of 1948, they did involve smaller but significant patterns of people losing homes or being forced to move. In Palestinian areas, house demolitions were carried out for several reasons, including alleged punishment for attacks, lack of building permits, or military operations that damaged or destroyed structures in dense neighborhoods. Families suddenly found themselves without shelter, dependent on relatives or temporary arrangements.

The loss of a home carries more than material consequences. It disrupts social networks, severs ties to place, and erases memories embodied in familiar rooms, courtyards, or streets. Children who watched their homes being destroyed sometimes carried that image as a central memory of the conflict. Extended families that once lived close to one another were split, which affected care for elderly or vulnerable members.

On the Israeli side, civilians also faced displacement, although of a different character. Residents near certain borders or conflict zones periodically left homes during intense escalations. After severe attacks in specific locations, some families moved to other cities or changed buses and daily routes to feel safer. While these moves were usually voluntary and reversible, they still reflected how violence could push people to alter where and how they lived.

The symbolic meaning of home, as a place of safety and continuity, was weakened in both societies by repeated cycles of violence. This made it harder for many civilians to feel settled or secure even during quieter periods.

Changes in Social Fabric and Community Relations

Conflict did not only affect individuals; it also reshaped communities. In Palestinian towns and camps, the Intifadas fostered both solidarity and internal tension. On one hand, communities organized mutual aid, shared food and medicine, and supported families of prisoners or those killed. On the other hand, the strain of prolonged confrontation, economic hardship, and political rivalries sometimes produced internal conflicts, accusations of collaboration, or fear of expressing dissenting views.

Israeli communities also experienced social changes. Bereaved families formed organizations to support one another and sometimes to influence policy. Certain neighborhoods became identified with higher security risks or with particular political responses to the conflict. The high stress of repeated attacks contributed in some cases to political polarization, as people blamed different leaders or parties for failing to provide security.

In both societies, trust between different internal groups was tested. For Palestinian citizens of Israel, the Intifadas created especially complex pressures. They lived inside Israel but identified in various ways with the broader Palestinian people. Periods of violence intensified suspicion from some Jewish Israelis and created difficult questions about loyalty, identity, and safety for this minority group.

Social rituals changed as well. Weddings, funerals, religious holidays, and public celebrations were often held under the shadow of recent deaths or with the fear that gatherings could become targets. Mourning became a more frequent and public feature of community life, reinforcing the sense that almost everyone knew someone directly affected.

Media, Images, and How Civilians Saw Themselves

Media coverage of the Intifadas played a central role in shaping how civilians understood their own experiences and those of the other side. Televised images of Palestinian youths facing soldiers, or of Israeli buses torn apart by explosions, became defining symbols. For many viewers within each community, these images seemed to confirm existing beliefs about vulnerability and blame.

News outlets, local and international, tended to focus on dramatic events, such as bombings, military incursions, or funerals. Everyday forms of suffering like quiet economic decline, low‑level harassment, or slowly accumulating trauma were less visible. As a result, civilians whose main experience of the conflict was through such gradual pressures sometimes felt that their story was not represented.

Among Palestinians, photographs of funerals, injured children, or destroyed homes circulated widely, both in traditional media and later on social networks. These images reinforced narratives of resistance, sacrifice, and injustice, but they also normalized exposure to graphic scenes for children and adults alike. In Israel, repeated images of emergency responders at attack sites, blood‑stained sidewalks, and grieving families reinforced the sense that ordinary life was under siege.

The way media framed casualties also affected civilian perceptions. References to "collateral damage," "terrorists," or "rioters" shaped which deaths were seen as innocent, tragic, or somehow expected. Civilians who felt their suffering was misrepresented or ignored sometimes turned away from external information sources and relied only on local media or personal networks, which in turn deepened echo chambers.

Impact on Political Attitudes and Hope

Living through the Intifadas changed how many civilians thought about the possibility of peace or compromise. Some Palestinians emerged more convinced that only armed struggle or firm resistance could yield results, especially if previous negotiations seemed to have failed. Others, exhausted by suffering and loss, drew the opposite conclusion and favored non‑violent strategies or renewed talks, though they might have struggled to find political frameworks that matched this desire.

Among Israeli civilians, repeated attacks, particularly during the Second Intifada, led many to doubt that concessions would bring security. Some shifted toward more hawkish positions, prioritizing strong military responses and tighter control over Palestinian areas. Others concluded that continued occupation or lack of a political solution was itself a source of insecurity and advocated withdrawal or more serious negotiations.

These shifts were not uniform but they created powerful trends. Politicians on each side responded to and reinforced public moods, which were shaped by personal experiences of fear, funerals, and disrupted lives. Surveys often found that support for compromise declined immediately after high‑casualty incidents and then partially recovered during quieter periods, illustrating how directly the rhythms of violence affected public opinion.

For many civilians, perhaps the most enduring impact was on hope. Repeated cycles in which calm was followed by escalation, diplomacy by breakdown, and periods of relative normalcy by sudden catastrophe, made it hard to believe in lasting change. Some people disengaged from politics entirely. Others devoted themselves to local or everyday concerns, seeing the larger conflict as beyond their influence.

At the same time, there were individuals and small groups on both sides who, precisely because they had suffered, sought contact with the other community, joined joint initiatives, or worked in counseling and trauma recovery. Their stories form a countercurrent that shows how civilians can respond not only with despair or hostility, but also by trying to prevent future suffering for others.

Intergenerational Effects and Memory

The impact of the Intifadas on civilians did not end when major violence subsided. Children who grew up in those years became adults who carry their memories into the present. Stories of how parents or grandparents lived through curfews, bombings, or arrests are told at family gatherings and in community spaces. These narratives shape younger generations who did not personally experience the uprisings but inherit their emotional and symbolic weight.

Memorial days, monuments, and school curricula reinforce particular interpretations of civilian suffering. In both Israeli and Palestinian societies, the focus is naturally on their own community’s losses. This deepens empathy inward, among members of the same group, but often leaves less space for recognizing the pain of the other side.

Intergenerational transmission of trauma can occur through patterns of fear, silence, or emotional distance. Adults who endured intense violence may find it difficult to discuss certain topics or to regulate their own responses to stress, which affects children in subtle ways. At the same time, some families consciously work to break cycles of hatred by telling stories that separate political actors from ordinary people on the other side, or by emphasizing shared humanity and the possibility of different futures.

In this way, the impact of the Intifadas on civilians continues long after guns fall silent. It is embedded in bodies, minds, economies, and cultural memory. Any serious effort to address the conflict needs to grapple not only with borders, security, or sovereignty, but also with these deeply personal and collective scars that shape how people imagine risk, justice, and the lives they believe are possible.