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A Jewish museum exhibit features the Palestinian flag. Some visitors wonder if it belongs.
(J. The Jewish News of Northern California via JTA) — Tucked in the far corner of a large, brightly-lit exhibition hall on the ground floor of the Contemporary Jewish Museum in San Francisco, there is a delicate-looking piece of art with a strong political message.
At first glance, it appears to be three circular vases with flowers in them. The ceramic vases sit on shelves attached to the wall, and colorful collages hang above them. On closer inspection, visitors will notice that the flowers are made out of paper and that affixed to each vase is an image of the Palestinian flag printed on foam board.
A nearby label written by the curators of the exhibit, titled “Tikkun: For the Cosmos, the Community, and Ourselves,” explains that the piece was inspired by a conversation the artist, Tosha Stimage of Berkeley, had with a Palestinian man. He told Stimage about the plants that are native to Palestine — “a place which he can no longer access due to the ongoing conflict in the region,” the curators write.
The label also includes a note about the flag: “Some may find its presence at The CJM troubling or confusing, while others may find it appropriate and forthright. Stimage recognizes the potential for these divergent responses and hopes to use them as a means of generating dialogue.”
On a Sunday afternoon in October, Maury Ostroff read the label and walked away without inspecting the artwork.
Visitors to the “Tikkun” exhibit are encouraged to share their responses to the artwork via comment cards. (Andrew Esensten)
Asked how the presence of the flag made him feel, Ostroff, who is Jewish and lives in Muir Beach, in Marin County, replied, “Unhappy.”
Why?
“It’s not offensive to me in the same way that a swastika is. My skin is a little bit thicker than that. But I wish it weren’t here.”
He added, “What’s so Jewish about this? What’s so ‘tikkun olam’ about all of this?”
For the “Tikkun” exhibit, which opened Feb. 17 and runs through Jan. 8, the CJM invited both Jewish and non-Jewish Bay Area artists to contribute new works on the theme of repair, however they chose to interpret it. “No one is listening to us,” the piece by Stimage, who is not Jewish, is the first work of art featuring the Palestinian flag to be shown at CJM in recent memory; the museum could not say when or if the flag has been displayed on its walls before.
The piece prompted several internal conversations among CJM staff when it was first submitted and, since it has been on display, has generated a variety of responses from museumgoers who have left comments in a box at the entrance to the exhibit. Intentionally or not, Stimage has raised numerous questions with the artwork, including: Does a work of art that is sympathetic to the Palestinian struggle for statehood belong in a Jewish museum? And what is the role of a contemporary Jewish museum, anyway?
“To truly be a contemporary art museum, meaning embedded in the contemporary issues of our day, our job is to provide a platform for dialogue and to share a diversity of perspectives on our walls,” said Chad Coerver, CJM’s executive director since September 2021. “If any institution [like ours] took the path of withholding artwork that troubled our staff, our board or our community, it would be very difficult to mount exhibitions.”
CJM is a member of the Council of American Jewish Museums, a network of 76 museums across the country. CAJM does not have guidelines about the kind of art its member museums can and cannot display, according to Executive Director Melissa Yaverbaum.
J. reached out to several CAJM member museums in New York, Los Angeles and other places by email to ask if they had ever shown artwork with Palestinian iconography or works by Palestinian artists. The museums declined to answer or did not respond.
In recent years, two Jewish museums have been embroiled in controversy over issues relating to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. The Spertus Institute for Jewish Learning and Leadership in Chicago staged an exhibit in 2008 on Israeli and Palestinian concepts of homeland that included maps and portraits of Palestinians. Following outcry from members of the local Jewish community who felt the exhibit presented Israel in a negative light, the museum decided to close the exhibit after only a few weeks. And in 2019, the director of the Jewish Museum Berlin resigned after the museum tweeted a link to a pro-BDS article in a German newspaper. (The museum previously came under fire for welcoming anti-Zionist scholar Judith Butler and representatives of Iran.)
In a joint interview with J., two CJM staffers who worked on “Tikkun” — co-curator Qianjin Montoya, who is not Jewish, and a Jewish senior curator who served in an advisory role, Heidi Rabben — shared the story of how Stimage’s piece came to be in the exhibit. (Montoya’s co-curator for the exhibit, Arianne Gelardin, no longer works at the museum.)
Since 2009, CJM has invited local artists from different backgrounds to create new work as part of the museum’s annual Dorothy Saxe Invitational. The idea for “Tikkun” was hatched before the pandemic put the planning process on hold. Once the CJM and Saxe — a local philanthropist and art collector — agreed on the theme, the co-curators invited artists “already engaged in healing through their relationship to community or in their practice of daily life,” Gelardin told J. last February.
The 30 artists who accepted the museum’s invitation were given only four months to conceive of and submit new works. That was likely the shortest timeline in the history of the invitational, which has been held 11 previous times, according to the museum. Each artist received a packet of materials compiled by CJM staff, with input from the Shalom Hartman Institute, a non-degree granting Jewish education center, to guide their thinking on “tikkun.”
Stimage was invited to participate because she is “very active” in the Bay Area and because “her work reflects ideas of community and connection,” Montoya said.
The curators said Stimage’s inclusion of the Palestinian flag in her submitted piece came as a surprise and prompted challenging conversations. However, they noted that they found the content of some of the other artists’ work surprising, too, and that it’s not unusual for contemporary artists to push the envelope in their work.
“I wouldn’t say we expected to receive a piece about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, but we weren’t steering anyone away from that, either,” Rabben told J., adding that the submission guidelines did not place any topic off limits. “That’s a commitment from the museum to authentically represent the creative spirit of the artists that we’re working with,” she said.
Still, the curators said they engaged in a dialogue with Stimage in order to better understand each aspect of her piece and her overall intentions. Through those conversations, the curators learned that Stimage wanted to explore a moment of “rupture,” and that through her piece she hoped to communicate “that before healing or repair might happen, you have to first acknowledge that rupture,” Rabben said.
The Contemporary Jewish Museum in San Francisco is showing “Tikkun,” an exhibit of works by Jewish and non-Jewish artists on the theme of repair. (Andrew Esensten)
Coerver, who was involved in some of the conversations, stressed that “careful consideration” was given to including the piece in the exhibit. “We felt an artwork addressing the plight of the Palestinians was appropriate in an exhibition on healing and repair,” he said. (No work submitted as part of the Dorothy Saxe Invitational has ever been outright rejected, the museum said.)
Stimage did not respond to interview requests from J. According to a CV on her website, she was born in Jackson, Mississippi, and earned an MFA from California College of the Arts in 2016. She is a past fellow at the Yerba Buena Center for the Arts in San Francisco and was an artist-in-residence at Facebook in 2018. She also owns a floral gift shop in Oakland called Saint Flora.
Her work often touches on Black identity; she created a piece honoring Sandra Bland, an African-American woman whose 2015 arrest and death in a Texas jail cell sparked protests, and contributed to a 2019 San Francisco Art Institute exhibit on the Black Panther Party.
“I have a responsibility to create things that will, to the best of my present knowledge, do more good than harm, heal, inspire and uplift other humans,” she told the San Francisco Bay View National Black Newspaper in 2015.
Stimage’s precise views on Israel are unknown. CJM referred J. to her artist statement for “No one is listening to us,” which reads: “Olive, sage, and sumac are flowering plants native to the Mediterranean (including regions of Gaza and the West Bank) that have a direct relationship to contested ancestral land and affect the livelihood of so many Palestinian farmers and families caught in the conflict. They are positioned in the space of The Contemporary Jewish Museum as a metaphor for the ongoing conflict over land rights and the desperate need for restoration and healing of an age-old wound.”
The curators told J. that during their conversations with Stimage about her piece, they asked her why including images of the Palestinian flag was important to her but did not request that she remove them.
“We determined that none of [the piece’s] components in and of themselves signified something problematic or concerning,” Rabben said. “Of course, we had the awareness that the symbol [of the flag] will be read in a variety of ways by a variety of people.”
(Rabben pointed out that the exhibit includes other works with national symbols rendered in provocative ways, such as a black-and-white photograph of an American flag that was torn apart and partially reassembled by Mexican-American artist Jose Arias.)
The Palestinian flag — which contains the Pan-Arab colors of black, white, green and red — was adopted by the Palestine Liberation Organization in 1964. Since then, it has been the primary symbol of Palestinian nationalism.
For decades, the PLO was considered an enemy organization by Israel, and anything associated with it “had no place in Israeli public life,” said Eran Kaplan, an Israeli-born professor of Israel studies at San Francisco State University. Israel never went so far as to ban the flag. However, during the First Intifada, which lasted from 1987 to 1993, Israeli soldiers sometimes followed orders to confiscate the flag from protesters in the West Bank and Gaza.
With the signing of the Oslo Accord in 1993, Israel and the PLO recognized each other as negotiating partners. Yet the Palestinian flag remains a contentious symbol in Israel today. Kaplan noted that it recently served as a flashpoint during the funeral procession of Shireen Abu Akleh, the Palestinian American broadcaster who was killed in the West Bank in May. (The IDF conducted a review and admitted that the Israeli soldier who shot her had most likely misidentified her as an armed militant.) After warning Abu Akleh’s family not to display the flag, Israeli police attacked mourners in East Jerusalem, ripping flags out of their hands and off of the vehicle carrying her casket.
Today, the flag holds different meanings for Israelis and American Jews from different generations and political persuasions.
“There are large segments in Israeli society who view any form of Palestinian national identity as a threat to the existence of Israel,” Kaplan said. “There are others who view the PLO as legitimate partners in any form of negotiations [over the creation of a Palestinian state], but there’s an absolute split over those questions.”
Given the sensitive nature of Stimage’s work and others in the exhibit, the curators decided to solicit feedback from visitors via comment cards available at the entrance to the hall. Rabben said the museum has received a number of comments specifically about “No one is listening to us,” most of which were positive. “The majority of those comments were ‘Thank you for offering space for this topic at the museum,’” she said.
Last month, a security guard sitting in the “Tikkun” exhibition hall told a reporter that he had not witnessed any expressions of outrage or protest through the first nine months of the exhibit. “When we opened we were afraid of negative reactions, but they’re not stressed about it,” he said of visitors. “We have shown worse things here.” The guard, who has worked at the museum since it opened in 2008, mentioned a 2010 exhibit, “Our Struggle: Responding to Mein Kampf,” which included a copy of Hitler’s autobiography. “Some people were cussing us out” for displaying the book, he recalled.
Meanwhile, on the same floor as “Tikkun,” there is another, smaller exhibit containing potentially offensive art. A sign outside of the room warns visitors that inside is a Hitler marionette created by the parents of puppeteer Frank Oz. “Our intention in displaying this object is to keep the memory of the Holocaust alive through the objects and firsthand stories of those who experienced its persecution, and to encourage conversation and education about the ongoing horrors of antisemitism and authoritarianism today,” the sign says.
Coerver, CJM’s executive director, said he was proud that the museum’s three current exhibits — “Tikkun,” “Oz is for Oznowicz: A Puppet Family’s History” and “Gillian Laub: Family Matters,” which includes photographs that Laub took of her Trump-supporting relatives — are raising “challenging questions” and providing opportunities for both visitors and museum staff to “expand our horizons.”
“We’ve been wading into some issues that I think are a little thicker than maybe we’ve been confronting in the past,” he said, “and I hope that continues.”
A version of this piece originally ran in J. The Jewish News of Northern California, and is reprinted with permission.
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Donald Trump’s Promises to Qatar Could Get Him — and the US — Into Trouble
Qatar’s Prime Minister and Minister for Foreign Affairs Sheikh Mohammed bin Abdulrahman bin Jassim Al-Thani attends an emergency meeting of the United Nations Security Council, following an Israeli attack on Hamas leaders in Doha, Qatar, at UN headquarters in New York City, US, Sept. 11, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Eduardo Munoz
President Trump made sure to thank Qatar for helping get his Gaza ceasefire. Yet amid the negotiations leading up to this deal, and even if it completely ends the war, his decision to give Doha a formal security guarantee will undermine his broader efforts to assert diplomatic leadership and ultimately secure his Nobel Peace Prize.
Trump’s promise — the first-ever official public US commitment to defend a Middle East country militarily — the security guarantee for Qatar departs entirely from the mutual defense treaties that underpin American deterrence and the global stability it brings. As “mutual” suggests, our pacts with 53 countries across five continents embody the principle that allies must contribute their fair share to defending each other.
This includes NATO’s “Article 5” commitments to treat an attack on one member of an alliance as an attack on all. For example, NATO invoked Article 5 after September 11, 2001. It also includes “Article 3” clauses that all parties maintain capable armed forces. Recent NATO additions Sweden and Finland — with their well-trained and motivated militaries — are shining examples of what we look for in allies. With a small handful of exceptions like Turkey, all our treaty partners also share democratic values.
Qatar stands apart. It is an absolute monarchy that has poisoned generations of Middle Eastern minds with state-sponsored anti-American misinformation on par with that of Russia. It has supported Muslim Brotherhood-style extremism across the region, including well before hosting Hamas leaders. Perversely, Qatar leverages these destabilizing policies to portray itself as an indispensable intermediator for American efforts, and thus ostensibly deserving of protection, to help undo them.
In these contexts, extending a security umbrella over Doha is a giveaway. The deal asks nothing new of Qatar. Instead of helping Qatar ensure it can help protect itself and support America’s freedom of action, the deal requires advance US contingency planning to do all the heavy lifting, and ties our hands operationally. Our alliance with South Korea, by comparison, joins our two countries’ forces under combined command in wartime.
Nor will Qatar reciprocate by allowing US forces to use al-Udeid Airbase for operations against Iran’s threat network. Notably, in World War II, we gave security guarantees to Australia and Brazil in exchange for, among other things, using their bases to project power against the Axis.
The Qatar freebie promises the opposite, both regionally and globally. Because of this deal, our partners in Jerusalem, Riyadh, Abu Dhabi, Amman, and elsewhere — all of whom shoulder burdens for US-led collective defense — will look askance at American leadership and question the value of deeper partnership, precisely when we need them to take on more of those burdens.
And how can Washington credibly demand its NATO allies do likewise in Europe, if problematic and freeloading Qatar is gifted such an unmerited handout? Similar questions naturally arise for Taiwan, Singapore, and certain Southwest Pacific nations that do what America asks of its partners, despite having no Article 5-type backstop.
Iran certainly welcomes these sharpening divides that undermine the incredible regional security integration being driven through US Central Command.
There was a telling absence of urgency to seal this deal earlier this summer, after Iran attacked al-Udeid. Whatever the wisdom of Israel’s decision to target Hamas leadership in Doha, the Israel Defense Forces do not remotely threaten Qatar’s strategic viability or existence, nor its Arab Gulf neighbors. But Iran’s missiles, drones, naval forces, and nuclear ambitions certainly do, hence the longstanding American tripwire at al-Udeid.
It’s all the more concerning, then, that the US-Qatar pact effectively is aimed at a fellow American partner rather than the shared threat from Iran.
America’s first collective defense treaty, the 1947 Rio Pact, cemented the Monroe Doctrine in a hemispheric alliance. President Trump’s similar vision for the Middle East, an alliance that combats extremism and sidelines Iran, China, and Russia, requires doubling down on his successes with the Abraham Accords, Israel’s assignment to CENTCOM, Operation Midnight Hammer against Iran’s nuclear program, and other initiatives that bring our regional partners closer together and enable them to do more.
Rather than a blank check for Qatar, President Trump should pursue mutual defense treaties with our allies, and perhaps even countries such as Saudi Arabia. True partnerships like these can supercharge his diplomatic achievements and promote his overarching vision of a more stable and prosperous Middle East.
Jonathan Ruhe is Fellow for American Strategy at the Jewish Institute for National Security of America.
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The Moulton Moment and the Mamdani Effect: How the Democratic Party Is Abandoning Its Jewish Center
US Rep. Seth Moulton (D-MA) speaking at a press conference at the US Capitol. Photo: Michael Brochstein/Sipa USA via Reuters Connect
When Representative Seth Moulton (D) of Massachusetts recently announced that he was returning donations from AIPAC and refusing future support, the story barely made national headlines. Yet this small act — a single line on an FEC filing — reveals something much larger. It marks the moment when an ambitious, mainstream Democrat concluded that distancing himself from the organized Jewish community is a political asset, not a liability, and when moral cowardice began to masquerade as conscience.
Moulton is no progressive firebrand. A Harvard-educated Marine veteran, he built his brand on national security and bipartisanship. His decision is not about ideology; it is about survival. Over the past two years, the Democratic Party has entered a new phase of moral performance politics, one in which proximity to Jewish or pro-Israel institutions carries reputational risk among the activists who increasingly shape primaries and online discourse.
Not long ago, Moulton faced an online firestorm for something utterly ordinary: defending his young daughters. During a 2024 interview, he said he did not want them “getting run over on a playing field by a male or formerly male athlete.” The remark — hardly radical — provoked furious denunciations from progressive activists, staff resignations, and a public shaming campaign that painted him as transphobic. He had stumbled across a sacred boundary of the new moral order and learned its central rule: dissent is dangerous.
That experience left its mark. Now, as the next purity test forms around Israel, Moulton has taken no chances. By refunding AIPAC donations, he signals compliance with a rising moral code that defines virtue not by conviction, but by disavowal. In today’s Democratic ecosystem, the act of rejecting traditional Jewish institutions has become a badge of progressive credibility.
This transformation can be understood through what might be called the Mamdani Effect: the process by which Democratic Socialists of America (DSA) ideology, once confined to New York City, has begun reshaping the Democratic Party’s moral and political vocabulary. Named for New York State Assembly member Zohran Mamdani, one of the most visible DSA figures in state politics, this effect blends anti-capitalism, anti-Zionism, and performative solidarity into a single moralized aesthetic. It is a politics of accusation and purity: one advances not by building coalitions but by identifying oppressors and cutting ties.
New York City has served as the laboratory. Once the bastion of pragmatic liberalism — of Ed Koch’s centrist governance and the Jewish-Catholic labor coalition — the city’s politics now turn on moral spectacle. Candidates compete to condemn Israel, police “colonial complicity,” and signal distance from Jewish civic life. The new left does not want to coexist with traditional Democratic institutions; it wants to replace them with a moral movement that prizes purity over pluralism.
The pattern is spreading. Across the country, the activist wing of the Democratic Party has increasingly absorbed the language of the DSA: colonizer, decolonization, abolition. The Democratic Socialists of America formally calls for “the full decolonization of all the occupied lands of the United States” and has established working groups for “police and prison abolition,” and “BDS (Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions).” This rhetoric has migrated from campus protests into the language of progressive representatives — Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (D-NY) spoke at the 2020 DNC of repairing “the wounds of racial injustice, colonization, misogyny, and homophobia.” What began as fringe rhetoric now increasingly defines the emotional grammar of the party’s activist base.
Polling confirms the shift. Gallup found that in 2016, 53 percent of Democrats sympathized more with Israel than with the Palestinians; by 2025, that number had collapsed to just 21 percent, while sympathy for Palestinians soared to 59 percent — a nearly three-to-one reversal.
The shift represents a complete reversal from a 30-point advantage for Israel to a 38-point advantage for Palestinians among Democrats over nine years. Among younger Americans (Millennials), sympathies are now essentially tied, with 42 percent sympathizing with Palestinians and 40 percent with Israelis. What was once a bipartisan consensus on the legitimacy of the Jewish State has become a generational and partisan fault line.
For centrist politicians like Moulton, the implications are clear. The activists who dominate social media and small-donor networks increasingly treat Israel as shorthand for Western capitalism and “settler power.” In that moral framework, defending the Jewish State, or even maintaining ties to mainstream Jewish institutions, is suspect. So politicians adapt. Moulton’s decision to reject AIPAC funding is not an act of conviction but of fear: fear of the social media mob, fear of being labeled an oppressor’s ally, fear of losing favor with a base that now equates moral virtue with repudiation. What looks like moral clarity is in fact moral conformity.
That fear is corrosive. It does not only alienate Jews; it hollows out the liberal tradition itself. The Democratic Party that once celebrated pluralism now traffics in exclusion. The heirs of Bella Abzug and Daniel Patrick Moynihan are being replaced by the apostles of Zohran Mamdani: a politics that thrives not on solidarity but on sanctimony.
For American Jews, the cost of this transformation is profound. For nearly a century, Jews were among the architects of the Democratic coalition; builders of unions, schools, and civic institutions. They embodied the idea that liberal democracy worked: that minorities could flourish through education, engagement, and shared civic purpose. The synagogues that hosted voter drives, the Jewish Community Centers that welcomed refugees, the federations that funded civil-rights lawyers. These were not instruments of power but of civic faith. Yet as the party moralizes, belonging itself has become conditional. The new progressive creed demands repentance for association with power, success, or Israel.
Jewish institutions — synagogues, federations, philanthropic networks — are recast not as engines of community but as symbols of privilege.
The Moulton moment and the Mamdani Effect together capture the collapse of liberal pluralism into moral puritanism. What began as a movement for equality has hardened into a system of ideological compliance. Its adherents are sincere, but their sincerity is illiberal. They mistake outrage for justice and purification for progress. When mainstream Democrats start treating Jewish civic life as a reputational hazard, they do not merely abandon a community. They abandon the civic model that sustained American liberalism itself. The party that once trusted persuasion now rewards excommunication.
Yet there is still time to recover a better tradition. Courage is contagious. Moulton could have chosen differently; others still can. It is possible to defend women’s sports without fear. It is possible to support Israel’s right to exist without apology. It is possible, even now, to build a Democratic politics rooted not in shame but in shared responsibility.
This is the new political fault line: not left versus right, but Marxism versus capitalism, moral theater versus civic realism, conformity versus courage.
Moulton may think he is protecting his political future, but what he is really revealing is the fragility of a party that now punishes independence and rewards retreat. If Democrats wish to remain a serious moral force, they must rediscover what liberalism once knew: that pluralism is not complicity, and that solidarity requires standing with allies even when it is unfashionable.
As Alexis de Tocqueville warned nearly two centuries ago, “Liberty cannot be established without morality, nor morality without faith.” The Democratic Party’s crisis is not tactical but moral. Liberty cannot endure without the faith that binds citizens together and that faith begins with courage.
Samuel J. Abrams is a professor of politics at Sarah Lawrence College and a senior fellow at the American Enterprise Institute.
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7 Key Takeaways From the Hostage Deal
Released Israeli hostage, Omri Miran, held in Gaza since the deadly Oct. 7, 2023, attack by Hamas, embraces his father, Dani Miran, after his release as part of a ceasefire deal between Israel and Hamas, in Reim, Israel, Oct. 13, 2025. Photo: Israel Defense Forces/Handout via REUTERS
1. President Trump deserves tremendous credit. But he did not do it alone.
Love him or hate him, President Trump had the determination and the moxie to make the deal happen. Many, including me, doubted that Hamas would return the 20 living hostages, as it was their main bargaining chip. Trump’s decision to attack Iran’s nuclear program showed the world he would use force, despite people saying it could cause a World War. It didn’t.
Numerous reports say Trump was able to get Qatar and possibly Turkey to pressure Hamas. Perhaps his famous speech saying America would own Gaza and turn it into a riviera, was a bluff so that a more reasonable approach would be accepted.
2. The Israeli attack on Qatar shook its leaders, who feared the IDF’s capabilities.
Qatar has been playing a double game, trying to appear to be friendly with all groups, while allowing Hamas’ billionaire leaders to stay in the country’s posh hotels as a safe haven.
Israel’s attack, though unsuccessful in killing Hamas’ leaders, was successful in demonstrating that Qatar and perhaps other countries harboring terrorists would not be off-limits.
Trump forced Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu to apologize to the Qatari Prime Minister. But Israel, stunned by the huge failure of October 7, was able to restore deterrence through the pager operation against Hezbollah, as well as the assassination of its leader Hassan Nasrallah and other Hamas leaders, which Netanyahu gave the green light for. Nobody should think Qatar can be trusted, and we must keep an eye on the leaders of the country.
3. Israel paid a heavy price, and there was no moral equivalency.
CNN’s Christiane Amanpour absurdly stated that the Israeli hostages were probably treated “better than the average Gazan.” Shame on her. This is categorically false. What a disgusting thing to say, which reminds us of when Rabbi Leo Dee’s wife and daughters were shot and murdered by terrorists, and she said they were killed in the crossfire. Did she not see the starving picture of Evyatar David (while in captivity) photographed with a shovel, looking near death? Thankfully he is okay. Amanpour can’t even hide her bias.
Other reports equated the release of the hostages with the release of Palestinian prisoners. Some said they were serving “life sentences,” but downplayed or did not include that they had blood on their hands and that these were murderers that were being released.
It is not forgotten that the mastermind of the October 7 attacks, Yahya Sinwar, was one of more than 1,000 prisoners released in the Gilad Shalit deal.
4. It is unclear how Hamas can be de-militarized, and this is a major concern.
Trump is not all powerful. Hamas officials said they wanted to commit many more October 7 attacks, and are now killing their opponents in Gaza. They aren’t giving up their weapons.
What forces would oversee a de-militarization of Hamas? Would Turkey, the United Arab Emirates, Egypt, or other countries send troops to do so and could they be trusted? What would happen if they had skirmishes with Israeli soldiers?
The agreement is vague and gives no specifics of how this can happen, and Hamas’ recent executions are not a good sign.
5. Can there be momentum for Saudi Arabia to join the Abraham Accords?
Understandably, Saudi Arabia was in no position to make any deals with Israel during the war in Gaza. Would its leader, Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman, be willing to make an agreement with Israel, say in a year from now? What would he demand from Israel? And what might any remnants of Hamas try to do to prevent it?
6. Who will govern Gaza and what happens to Netanyahu?
No one should have illusions that there will be a lasting peace. Many Israelis pushing for a Palestinian state have stopped after October 7. The Palestinian public, which has endured horrors and death in this war with a large amount of buildings being reduced to rubble, will be angry. There is understandable rage.
Who will govern Gaza? The Palestinian Authority? Some other force? Even if Hamas is somehow disbanded, if their ideology simply transfers to a new group, what would prevent more attacks in the future? Is there anything to be done to incentivize peace? In addition, Netanyahu still faces criminal charges and it is unclear what will become of that. Would he resign, perhaps thinking he finally defeated Iran? Could he possibly win another election? It’s not as cut and dry as one might think.
7. Was Trump serious when he said there can be a deal with Iran or was he trolling?
In his speech to the Israeli Knesset, one of the only things that did not result in applause was Trump’s suggestion that a peace deal could be made with Iran. Trump, famously, pulled out of the nuclear deal brokered by President Barack Obama. Iranian leaders have vowed to wipe Israel off the map and it is unlikely that this goal would be pushed aside, simply because its proxies have been weakened or nearly defeated.
The author is a writer based in New York.