Almost any attempt to find a sliver of hope in these darkest of dark times is doomed to failure. Having said that, here is a faint ray of light on the eve of the Second Passover, breaking through the gloom: Israeli TV correspondent Suleiman Maswadeh.
Roni Kuban's fascinating interview with him last week on Israeli news outlet Kan 11 ("Pgisha," or "A Rendezvous with Roni Kuban") may spark hope for a different reality. The public broadcaster's diplomatic and Jerusalem-area reporter presents: This is what the state could be.
The vision described by Maswadeh is very complex and painful, on the face of it preposterous and full of contradictions: a single democratic state. The very idea provokes opposition, disbelief, disdain, and skepticism in both Israelis and Palestinians, and yet, it inspires hope.
To many Palestinians, Maswadeh is a collaborator. To many Israeli Jews, he is an Arab, that is, suspect by definition. And yet, it's impossible not to respect this impressive young man and appreciate just how far he has come in such a short time – and, above all, against all odds.
If Maswadeh was able to become a diplomatic affairs correspondent for Kan, one day he and people like him could be cabinet ministers. If Maswadeh can cover meetings of the cabinet, he can participate in them as a member.
Polished, stylish and more eloquent than many Israeli TV correspondents, Maswadeh has achieved the impossible: He was 20 before he knew a word of Hebrew, but at 28 he covers diplomatic affairs in the language, for the Israeli public broadcaster. At 14, he was humiliated and beaten at roadblocks on his way to school, and 14 years later he swallows his pride without surrendering his dignity.
Born to a family from Hebron, he was raised in the Muslim Quarter of the Old City of Jerusalem and accompanied his grandfather on the hajj to Mecca three times.
He is Palestinian, for God's sake, not an "Israeli Arab" and not that court jester Yoseph Haddad, and he has kept his dignity: a "fully full" Palestinian, who had planned to enroll at Birzeit University, near Ramallah, and discovered that Arab waiters at the David Citadel Hotel don't get tips, unlike those who speak Hebrew.
Maswadeh decided to learn Hebrew. A few years later, he is the one reporting on Itamar Ben-Gvir's positions and receiving invitations to Benjamin Netanyahu's briefings.
The Dome of the Rock is seen through houses in the Muslim Quarter of the Old City of Jerusalem.Credit: Emil Salman
Since September, he has not dared to visit his parents' home in the Old City, due to the death threats he has received. Maswadeh lives in Tel Aviv with his Jewish partner, who, judging by her previous place of employment, is probably not even a leftist. He reports how his country is tormenting his people without expressing his emotions, which undoubtedly are in turmoil.
Maswadeh has not sold his soul to the devil. He is trying to chart a different path, perhaps a hopeless one. He admits that it's doubtful he'll be able to remain here, just like his predecessor, author Sayed Kashua, who jumped ship.
One cannot dismiss the scathing criticism of his chosen path by many Palestinians, including Arab Knesset members, yet at the same time one cannot but feel great respect for him, despite everything. He has crossed the lines, he would be the first to admit, but he has not cast off one iota of his identity, or of his dignity.
"It appears that I am on a road of no return. 'The ax has fallen on the head,' as we say in Arabic," he told Kuban, proving his self-awareness, also a rare commodity among TV journalists.
It's very easy to dismiss him as a collaborator. His attempt to say in the interview that "the IDF does not intend to harm innocent people" did him no favors, nor did his evasive verbal contortions: "I wouldn't say this is a racist society, but I have experienced racism." It's also easy to say that he's the exception that proves the rule: There is no possibility of coexistence. Palestinians do not stand a chance here.
Despite it all, for a brief time this charming young man sketched such a hopeful scenario, one of equality. At least until the interview ended.