Narratives and Perspectives

Understanding Narratives in a Deeply Contested Conflict

At the heart of the Israel Palestine conflict lies not only a struggle over land, security, and rights, but also a struggle over meaning. Different communities tell different stories about the same events, places, and concepts. These stories, or narratives, shape how people see the past, interpret the present, and imagine the future.

A narrative is more than a list of facts. It is a structured way of connecting facts, memories, symbols, and values into a coherent story that explains “what happened,” “what it means,” and “what should happen next.” Narratives select some details, downplay others, and place everything within a moral framework that distinguishes victims and perpetrators, heroes and villains, justice and injustice.

In the context of this conflict, narratives are powerful because they inform identity. Many Israelis and Palestinians see their collective story as deeply tied to survival, justice, and dignity. As a result, narratives are not easily changed by new information alone. The same piece of evidence can be absorbed into very different stories, depending on who is looking at it and what they already believe.

This chapter explores how narratives work in this conflict, how they differ from one another, and why they persist. Later chapters will examine specific narratives in more detail, but here the focus is on the broader landscape of perspectives, and how they shape understanding and misunderstanding.

Narrative, Memory, and Identity

Collective memory is central to narratives. It refers to the shared understanding that a group has of its past, passed down through families, education, media, and rituals. Collective memory does not simply mirror what happened. It highlights certain episodes, interprets them in a particular way, and uses them to explain the group’s current situation.

For many Jewish Israelis, memories of persecution in Europe, culminating in the Holocaust, play a major role in shaping a sense of vulnerability and the need for self defense. For many Palestinians, memories of displacement and dispossession, especially during the mid twentieth century, define a sense of collective loss, injustice, and ongoing struggle. In each case, the past is not only about history. It is part of how people answer questions such as “Who are we” and “Why are we here.”

Narratives of identity often rest on key moments. For one group, a particular year can represent rescue and independence. For another, the same year can symbolize catastrophe and expulsion. These contrasting meanings help explain why commemorations and anniversaries are so emotionally charged. For example, one side’s day of celebration can be the other’s day of mourning.

Because identity narratives tell people what their group has suffered and achieved, they also influence ideas about what is possible or acceptable. A community that remembers itself as repeatedly betrayed might expect future betrayal. A community that remembers itself as repeatedly resisting might value steadfastness more than compromise. Understanding these internal logics is crucial to understanding why people make the political choices they do.

Competing Stories About the Same Events

One of the striking features of the Israel Palestine conflict is how differently the same incidents can be described. A violent episode can be portrayed as an “act of resistance” in one narrative and as a “terror attack” in another. A military operation can be framed as a “necessary defense measure” or as “aggression and collective punishment.” The same physical wall or barrier can be presented as a “security fence” or as an “apartheid wall,” each term carrying its own moral and emotional weight.

These linguistic choices are not neutral. They encode a particular view of causality and responsibility. For example, calling something “retaliation” suggests that someone else “started it,” and that the responder is reacting, not initiating. Calling something “unprovoked” removes the context of any previous actions. Each side typically tends to emphasize its own actions as reluctantly necessary and the other side’s actions as deliberate aggression.

Even the basic timeline of events can be narrated differently. Some narratives begin their story in ancient times, others with the late nineteenth century, others with a specific declaration, war, or agreement. Where a story begins affects how everything that follows is interpreted. If the story starts with mass atrocities against Jews in Europe, the creation of a Jewish state may appear primarily as a moral necessity and act of self rescue. If the story starts with local communities who had lived on the land for centuries, the arrival and success of a new national movement may appear primarily as intrusion and dispossession.

Maps can also reflect narrative choices. Cartoons, posters, and political maps may show the whole land as belonging to only one people, or they may show shifting borders across time. A map that erases the presence of the other side on the land, past or present, supports a narrative that the other side is an outsider, an invention, or a temporary problem rather than a permanent neighbor.

The Role of Language and Framing

Language does not just describe reality; it frames it. In the Israel Palestine conflict, many terms carry built in assumptions and are disputed. For example, whether a certain area is called “Judea and Samaria,” “the West Bank,” or “occupied Palestinian territory” already suggests a particular legal, historical, or political view. Describing some groups as “settlers,” “residents,” or “pioneers” influences how their presence is morally evaluated.

Framing is the process of presenting an issue in a way that highlights certain aspects and downplays others. For instance, violence can be framed primarily as religious, ethnic, colonial, anti colonial, or security related. Each frame implies a different kind of solution. A security frame emphasizes fences, checkpoints, and military force. A human rights frame emphasizes legal accountability, equality, and protections under international law. A religious frame emphasizes sacred texts, divine promises, and theological arguments.

Media outlets, politicians, and activists often use frames strategically. By choosing specific terms, images, and comparisons, they invite audiences to see the conflict through a particular lens. For example, comparing one side to apartheid South Africa or to Nazi Germany is not just descriptive. It is designed to evoke a strong emotional reaction and to bring with it a set of moral lessons about boycotts, resistance, or international intervention.

Because different audiences respond to different frames, actors sometimes adapt their language depending on whether they are addressing their own community, foreign governments, or the wider global public. A speech in one language to a domestic audience may emphasize historical rights and religious claims. The same speaker, in another context, may emphasize international law and human rights to appeal to a different audience. This can lead to mutual suspicion, as each side may point to the other’s most extreme or contradictory statements as proof of bad faith.

Internal Diversity Within Each Side

It is tempting to speak about an “Israeli narrative” and a “Palestinian narrative,” but in reality, both societies contain many narratives, often in tension with one another. Political ideology, religious belief, generation, class, and personal experience all influence how people tell their collective story.

Within Israeli society, there are differences among secular, religious, and ultra religious communities, among those who identify more strongly with European heritage and those with Middle Eastern or North African heritage, and between Jewish and non Jewish citizens. Experiences of war, displacement, or discrimination vary significantly between these groups. This produces a spectrum of narratives ranging from those that emphasize territorial compromise and coexistence to those that emphasize exclusive historical rights and ongoing struggle.

Within Palestinian society, there are distinctions between those living in different geographic locations, such as in the West Bank, Gaza, inside Israel’s internationally recognized borders, and in refugee communities abroad. Each context shapes what people see as central to their story. For some, daily restrictions and the presence of military control are at the forefront. For others, the key memory is a family’s loss of home and land decades ago. Political and religious differences also matter, leading to distinct ways of understanding resistance, negotiation, and the desired form of future statehood or governance.

These internal differences mean that there is no single official narrative on either side, even if certain versions are more dominant at particular times. In some periods, more conciliatory narratives gain visibility, emphasizing shared interests and the possibility of compromise. In other periods, more hardline narratives dominate, emphasizing past betrayals, threats, and the need for firmness. Elections, wars, agreements, and uprisings can all shift which internal voices are amplified and which are marginalized.

Recognizing internal diversity is important because it opens space for understanding that debate and dissent exist within each society. It also suggests that change in narratives is possible, but often contested and uneven.

Diaspora, Global Audiences, and Imported Frames

Narratives are not confined to the people living directly in the land under dispute. Diaspora communities and international actors play a significant role in shaping how the conflict is understood. Jewish communities around the world, Palestinian communities in exile, and various solidarity networks often maintain strong emotional and political ties to the region. Their own histories in other countries, including experiences of racism, colonialism, or migration, influence the way they interpret the conflict.

For instance, some communities draw analogies between the Israel Palestine conflict and struggles that are familiar to them, such as anti colonial movements in Africa or Asia, civil rights fights in the United States, or indigenous land struggles in other settler societies. These analogies can provide powerful tools for making sense of distant events, but they can also oversimplify local complexities. When global audiences import familiar categories, such as “white vs non white” or “colonizer vs colonized,” they may highlight certain truths while obscuring others, and they can provoke strong reactions from those who feel misrepresented.

Diaspora narratives also respond to politics in their host countries. For example, in places where antisemitism or Islamophobia are major concerns, debates about the conflict are frequently entangled with fears of discrimination at home. Advocacy over the conflict can become part of broader struggles against racism or extremism, which may strengthen alliances but can also turn foreign policy questions into identity battles within other societies.

Social media amplifies these dynamics. Viral images, short videos, and hashtags often present highly simplified narratives targeted at a global audience. Complex histories are condensed into a few phrases or symbols that invite people to “pick a side.” This environment rewards emotionally powerful content rather than nuance, and it can deepen polarisation not only in the region, but also in faraway countries where people consume and share these narratives.

Education, Media, and the Reproduction of Narratives

Narratives are passed on through formal institutions such as schools, as well as through informal channels such as family stories, television, films, music, and social media. Textbooks, for instance, rarely present the other side’s viewpoint as legitimate. They usually focus on the suffering, achievements, and moral claims of their own community, and either minimize or frame negatively the experiences and claims of the other side. Maps in schoolbooks may omit the other side’s presence or names. Historical events that are central to the other community’s identity may be missing, downplayed, or interpreted only through a hostile lens.

News media also shape how people understand current events. In times of violence, coverage often focuses on dramatic images, casualty numbers, and official statements. Audiences may mostly see their own casualties and their own leaders’ explanations. The other side’s suffering may be mentioned briefly or framed as unavoidable collateral damage. Over time, this creates an information environment where each community feels that its pain is invisible to the world, while the other side’s narrative seems unfairly dominant.

Popular culture, including films, novels, and television series, offers more diverse representations, sometimes reinforcing official narratives and sometimes challenging them. Works that humanize the other side or depict cross community friendships can be controversial but also influential. They can introduce audiences to perspectives and experiences that official accounts do not emphasize, and in some cases they create small openings for empathy.

At the same time, cultural products can also harden stereotypes, portraying the other as inherently violent, fanatical, or untrustworthy. Stereotypes are especially powerful when people have little direct contact with the other side, and when physical separation makes it easy to generalize based on limited or sensational information.

Narratives as Justification and as Obstacle

Narratives do not simply describe past and present. They also justify policies and strategies. If a community’s story portrays the other side as inherently hostile and unchangeable, then compromise appears naive and risky. If the story emphasizes a long history of survival against overwhelming odds, then strong security measures or uncompromising positions can be framed as existential necessities. Conversely, if a narrative emphasizes moral purity, victimhood, and innocence, any hint of wrongdoing by one’s own side can feel threatening, because it challenges the group’s self image.

Narratives can become obstacles to de escalation when they create rigid moral binaries. If “we” are always victims and “they” are always perpetrators, then acknowledging any suffering on the other side or any wrongdoing by one’s own side can be seen as betrayal. Political leaders and movements may gain support by telling stories that flatter their followers and demonize opponents, but these stories make it harder to imagine inclusive solutions.

At the same time, narratives can also provide moral resources for peace. Many traditions within both societies include teachings about justice, compassion, and the value of human life. Activists who work for coexistence and nonviolence often draw on these elements, highlighting shared values and reinterpreting historical experiences in ways that support compromise rather than perpetual conflict. For example, memories of past coexistence, however limited or unequal, can be used to argue that living together is possible. Religious concepts of mercy or repentance can be invoked to support forgiveness and mutual recognition.

Shifts in narrative can occur through significant events, generational change, or intentional dialogue processes, but they are usually slow and uneven. People rarely abandon their entire story overnight. More often, they gradually adjust parts of it, allowing new facts or experiences to be incorporated. For example, someone might continue to believe strongly in their own side’s fundamental justice, but become more willing to acknowledge specific wrongs or to empathize with specific individuals on the other side.

Multiple Perspectives and Critical Engagement

For learners approaching this conflict, it is crucial to distinguish between understanding a narrative and endorsing it. To understand a narrative means to grasp how events look from within that story, why particular terms are used, and how certain memories are emotionally charged. This does not require accepting every claim in the narrative as factually accurate or morally valid. Rather, it requires recognizing that people act based on how they see the world, not on a neutral list of facts.

Practically, engaging critically with narratives involves asking questions such as: What is included in this story, and what is left out. Where does the narrative begin, and why. How are key terms defined. Which voices are loud, and which are missing. How does this story explain the other side’s actions. How does it explain its own side’s actions. What emotions does it evoke, and how might those emotions influence political choices.

Comparing multiple narratives side by side can be uncomfortable because it often reveals contradictions. Two stories may offer incompatible accounts of the same event. Rather than rushing to declare one entirely right and the other entirely wrong, a critical approach looks for underlying interests, fears, and power relations that shape each story. It also pays attention to empirical evidence, including historical research and legal documents, which can confirm or challenge specific claims.

Ultimately, understanding narratives and perspectives is not a substitute for evaluating policies, legal questions, or moral responsibilities. However, without this understanding, debates about the conflict easily become exchanges of slogans, with each side repeating its own story more loudly. By learning how narratives function and how they differ, students of the conflict can better navigate a very polarized field of information, recognize their own assumptions, and approach subsequent chapters with greater clarity and openness.