Israelis and Palestinians are strikingly similar in some respects. This offers potential for dialogue.

The Israeli-Palestinian conflict is often understood in public debate solely as a territorial, military, and political conflict. Yet beneath this lies a deeper, hardly less important layer: the cultural alienation between two societies that have been so closely intertwined geographically and historically for decades that their mutual strangeness seems all the more astonishing today. It is a tension that feeds on contradictory worldviews, religious patterns of interpretation, social regulations, and historical narratives. And yet, despite all their differences, they are reflected in many fundamental structures in a striking way.

Israeli and Palestinian historical self-understandings are not only inherently different, they are diametrically opposed. The Israeli national myth is based on the return to an ancestral land after centuries of persecution. From this perspective, the founding of the State of Israel in 1948 is not only a historic event, but also the founding act of collective redemption. For Palestinians, however, the same moment is the Nakba – the catastrophe that culminated in expulsion, loss of homeland, and decades of statelessness.

These opposing perceptions are symbolically and emotionally charged, but above all, they structure the political culture of both sides on a daily basis. They find expression in school curricula, holidays, museum concepts, and in the way generations pass on their identities. In Israel, Jewish history is often conceived of linearly as a path to sovereignty, while Palestinians define their own history primarily through the negation of this sovereignty. The result is mutual invisibility: The other largely remains a projection surface for guilt, threat, and injustice.

Israel defines itself as a Jewish state, but Jewish identity is not necessarily religious; in its early days, Zionism sought to create a Jewish identity beyond religious law. Many Israelis, particularly in Tel Aviv or Haifa, live secular lives, while others, such as those in Bnei Brak or Jerusalem, are strictly Orthodox. This often hostile coexistence is expressed in a constant debate about the role of religion in politics, education, and the legal system. At the same time, many of the country's cultural codes—from holidays to dietary laws—are naturally rooted in religion, even among non-practicing Jews, similar to Christian countries.

On the Palestinian side, religion is even more strongly constitutive of identity, especially in the Gaza Strip, where Hamas draws its legitimacy from an Islamic—or rather, Islamist—renewal movement. But Islam also shapes everyday life in the West Bank, both in the legal system and in social institutions. Christian Palestinians, who once constituted an important part of the cultural elite, have long since lost influence due to emigration and marginalization.

Both sides, Israelis and Palestinians, use religion for self-assurance, but also to distance themselves. The Temple Mount is not only a sacred site for both religions, but also a cultural flashpoint where symbolic and political, sometimes even bloody, struggles for interpretive authority take place. Nevertheless, the everyday culture of both societies reveals a similar sacralization of space, ritual, and even language. One might almost say this is a shared heritage: religious in form, but culturally determining in content.

It is often said, somewhat clichédly, that Israelis are Western-oriented and individualistic, while Palestinians are collectivist and traditional. This picture only inadequately depicts the situation. While Israel, as a startup nation, has cultivated a post-industrial middle class that is largely oriented toward European and, above all, American lifestyles, the army and national crisis management organizations are strongly collectivist in their structures. The social role of military service, which for many Israelis is a formative phase of life, creates a special form of social cohesion as a collective and a community of shared destiny.

While clan-based structures do traditionally prevail among Palestinians, especially in rural areas, the extended family determines lifestyles, marriage decisions, and career opportunities. However, the younger generation, especially in Ramallah and Bethlehem, is highly digitalized, consumes Western media, and strives for academic education. In recent years, a shift has been taking place here that promotes social mobility beyond the traditional family structure.

It's no wonder that the Semitic sister languages Hebrew and Arabic share many grammatical and lexical structures. In the markets of Jerusalem or in mixed cities like Haifa or Jaffa, one encounters a natural bilingualism in everyday life that momentarily makes one forget political realities.

Nevertheless, language is also an instrument of power: For a long time, Arabic was considered a legally recognized national language by the authorities, a change that was made in 2018 by the so-called Nation-State Law. Since then, Arabic has only been assigned a special role. Palestinian Israelis speak Hebrew anyway, and Palestinians from the occupied territories learn Hebrew at their jobs in Israel, through media consumption, or through prison sentences.

Among Jewish Israelis, it is primarily older, Mizrahi Jews from the Arab world who speak Arabic. Among younger Israelis, Arabic is spoken almost exclusively by those involved in military or intelligence work in the broadest sense. The vast majority, however, do not. This is a clear sign of the hierarchical division of roles between Jews and Arabs.

In the arts, however, especially in music and theater, interesting hybridizations occur. Palestinian rappers from Israel mix Arabic song lyrics with Hebrew slang, and Israeli filmmakers frequently address the ambivalences of Arab-Jewish identities. Language becomes a site of cultural negotiation.

Emotions are a completely different story. They are culturally coded. In Israel, a culture of defensiveness dominates: never again a victim, never again passive. This attitude is historically explainable, but it produces a social nervousness, a permanent state of alert, which is also reflected in communication: directness, speed, immediacy. Criticism is expressed openly, and conflict is not avoided.

Among the Palestinians, on the other hand, the code of honor is deeply rooted. It regulates social behavior, especially in public spaces. Shame, public humiliation, or loss of control are culturally particularly sensitive moments. This emotional order stands in stark contrast to Israeli directness, often leading to mutual misunderstandings and aggression.

Trauma, too, is a constant companion on both sides. The Shoah is ever-present for many Israelis, as are their own wars and the Palestinian terrorist attacks. Conversely, for Palestinians, the Nakba, the refugee camps, checkpoints, and destruction are part of their collective present. Both sides are deeply traumatized, but their traumas are incompatible. Empathy for the other's pain would feel like relativizing one's own.

This cultural distance is perpetuated by separate education systems. Israelis learn little about Palestinian history or everyday life in the occupied territories. Conversely, Palestinian curricula often lack a nuanced presentation of Jewish history, especially the Holocaust. These educational gaps are further exacerbated by the media: Israelis primarily consume Hebrew news, while Palestinians consume Arab satellite channels or social networks. The realities of the other side remain outside their own horizon of experience.

Is there any cultural convergence at all? Or is this notion the wishful thinking of liberal intellectuals, shattered by harsh reality? Indeed, there are points of contact. In music, for example: the shared penchant for rhythm, for lamenting melodies, for dance. Or in food: falafel, hummus, tehina, eggplant – the culinary similarities are striking. Also in education: the high value of education, the importance of family, and respect for elders.

Yet an institutionalized space for exchange is lacking. The few initiatives that exist—such as bilingual schools, intercultural theater groups, or joint sports projects—are often marginalized, met with hostility, or lack adequate funding for political reasons.

The cultural divide between Israelis and Palestinians is not natural; it is politically instrumentalized and has evolved historically. Beyond the official narratives, however, beyond religion and politics, cultural overlaps exist that hold potential for dialogue.

Recognizing, fostering, and institutionalizing this potential would be a necessary step—not as a substitute for political solutions, but as their cultural prerequisite. Because only those who know the other's cultural language will be able to understand their history. And only those who know this history can speak on equal terms.