Palestinian and Israeli writers reflect on bridging divides in 'The Future is Peace'

Geoff Bennett:

The October 7 terrorist attack in Israel and the war in Gaza that followed have left countless families grappling with profound loss.

For many others, the grief stretches back even further, tied to years of violence that predate this latest chapter. For two men, one Israeli, the other Palestinian, the killing of loved ones by those seen as enemies could have deepened the divide. Instead, it set them on an unexpected path toward understanding and reconciliation.

They tell that story in their new book, "The Future Is Peace."

Our Ali Rogin recently spoke with them.

Ali Rogin:

Aziz Abu Sarah, Maoz Inon, thank you so much for being here with me.

This book documents your literal and figurative journey together. How did you start down this path?

Maoz Inon, Co-Author:

The joint journey started only a few days after October 7.

On October 7, I lost both my parents. They lived a quarter-mile from the border in Gaza. And they were among the first victims of the Hamas attack. And, on that day, I lost many of my childhood friends, people I knew my entire life.

And three days after, Aziz reached out to, offering his condolences. And it was literally like a hand reaching out saving me from drowning into the ocean of sorrow and pain. And in the last 2.5 years, we have been working together, co-authoring "The Future Is Peace."

And now I can say it very proudly and I'm privileged that I'm able to say it few times a day that, yes, I lost my parents and I lost so many, but I won Aziz. I won Aziz as a brother.

Ali Rogin:

Aziz, you also, like Maoz, lost loved ones at the hands of those who you had been conditioned throughout your life to fear, to hate.

Aziz Abu Sarah, Co-Author:

Yes.

Ali Rogin:

How do you constantly not let the anger win? Because you both made a conscious decision at one point or another not to pursue revenge.

Aziz Abu Sarah:

It's very hard when you lose a family member. My brother Tayseer arrested by Israeli soldiers from home, an allegation of throwing rocks. He was 18 at the time. I was 9 years old. He refused to confess to the charges, so he was tortured in prison, which resulted in untreated internal injuries.

And by the time he was released, he was pretty much on the deathbed. And soon after he died, when he was 19 years old and I was 10 years old. People want to hurt those who hurt them, and especially when you're 10. And that's what I did for the next eight years. That's what filled me the desire and the feeling of making those who killed my brother pay.

It stopped only when I went to study Hebrew in an ulpan and met Israelis for the first time who treated me like a human being, like an equal. That's why I reached out to Maoz, because I understand -- my life changed because of somebody who reached out to me.

And I felt it's important for me to also reach out to those who have a terrible reality after Maoz's parents were killed. We are together. We are not against each other. It's not Israelis versus Palestinians. It's those of us who believe in justice and equality and peace versus those who don't yet.

Ali Rogin:

Why was it so important for you to take this journey of healing together?

Aziz Abu Sarah:

Yes. So the way we wrote "The Future Is Peace" is as a journey, because both of us come from tourism backgrounds.

And the book follows that journey. Israeli, Palestinian meet together and guide the readers and youth through this journey of eight days. And this journey, we visit Maoz's hometown where he grew up, meet with people inside Gaza and tell us their stories.

We go through Jerusalem and Jaffa and Nazareth and Galilee, the West Bank. We interview people who lost family members in the kibbutzim and in Gaza, for example. And then we talk about the future. And I think that's what make "The Future is Peace" very unique, because it's important to talk about the current reality and analyze and political things, very important, but that's not enough.

If you don't have a vision to where we're going, we will fail, and we will never get out of the hell we live in today.

Maoz Inon:

There is anger within us, but we have decided, and it's a choice, we are offering it to everyone, to channel the bitterness, the sorrow, the pain, the trauma to create a different future, not to let those feelings destroy us.

Only two days after losing our parents, we were sitting together, three sisters, my young brother, and myself, every morning, and my young brother asked us to take a family decision, advising us to reject revenge, and telling us that we should not avenge the death of our parents, because avenging their death will only escalate the cycle of bloodshed, terror and trauma that we both, Palestinian and Israelis, have been trapped within for a century.

But I was still -- there was still a lot of bitterness within me, and a lot of anger, and I wanted to punish the Israeli government, because I hold the Israeli government accountable for the safety and security of my parents and so many of my childhood friends, because, again and again, the Israeli government promised us that wars will bring security and bombs will bring quiet.

But it totally failed on October 7. And we are modeling and manifesting the future by the brotherhood that we have forged together, even though we was destined to be on opposite sides, but we choose to be on the same side, the same side of humanity, the same side of equality, of dignity, justice, and peace.

Ali Rogin:

In the book, you ask many difficult questions. You have difficult conversations, and you talk about the importance of that.

Why is it so important to have difficult conversations, and what types of breakthroughs have you experienced in asking those tough questions?

Aziz Abu Sarah:

And one of the stories we share is my dad coming to a peace meeting and asking if the Holocaust really happened. And he keeps going on, did it happen? Is it just because Israel want to use it to justify their occupation?

And he keeps digging more and more. And, eventually, when he finishes, there was silence, because people are not used -- I have to say, even within the peace movement, aren't used to those kind of questions. We sometimes do walk over eggshells.

And Rami Elhanan, whose daughter was killed by a Palestinian suicide bomber, stood up. And he said: "You know what? I don't expect you to believe in something you never learned about. So why don't you let my dad" -- his father was in Auschwitz before -- "take you to the Holocaust Museum and tell you his story?"

And 70 other Palestinians, all of them had lost family members in the conflict, stood up and said: "Actually, we also had the same question, but we didn't want to ask it."

And they went. And it was very hard. People cried. People were upset at times. People -- there were comparisons made that made people upset. There's a photo in the Holocaust Museum of people standing at checkpoint, and the Palestinians passing by saying, this is like us in the morning going through the checkpoints.

And, for the Israelis, for the people who were -- experienced all this, they're like, no, no, it's not the same. By the end, though, everyone was hugging. Everyone was in tears. Everyone understood so much.

And then the Israelis came and said, we want to learn about the Palestinian history after. Can you take us to a Palestinian village that was destroyed in 1948?

Again, there were many questions, hard questions. The Israelis asked things like, why did you run away? You could have stayed. And the Palestinians were going like, no, we didn't choose. We were bombed. What do you want us to do?

And they're going back and forth. And asking those questions was important to build relationships. Without it, I think the relationships be fake relationships.

Ali Rogin:

The spark that lit this fire that has become this book and this journey for you was really your shared grief over the loss of your loved ones. They're not with us anymore on this Earth, but I wonder, how do you think they would feel about the work that you're doing now?

Maoz Inon:

In moments like this one that we are sharing now, I feel them. I feel Tayseer is here. I feel my parents are here. And they are very proud of us.

Aziz Abu Sarah:

I wish they were here so we could ask them. But if they were here, this is what I hope they would say.

And it's a poem by Samih al-Qasim, a Palestinian Druze poet, who says: "The day I'm killed, my killer rifling through my pockets will find travel tickets, one to peace, one to the fields and the rain, and one to the conscience of humankind. So I beg you, my dear killer, do not ignore them. Do not waste such a thing. I beg you to use these tickets and go traveling."

And that's what we believe our family members are saying. And what we hope everyone who's listening, watching, reading "The Future Is Peace" is going to do, is to travel with us on this journey. We will fail on our own. The only way we can succeed is if people join us.

Ali Rogin:

The book is "The Future Is Peace."

Aziz Abu Sarah, Maoz Inon, thank you so much.