Israeli journalist and former reporter for Yediot Aharonot and Haaretz, Meron Rapoport co-founded the initiative A Land for All with Palestinian Honi Al-Mashni, which proposes a unique solution to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict: two fully sovereign states, but linked by a confederation, with Jerusalem as a shared capital, an open border, and a negotiated right of return for both sides. In this interview, Rapoport looks back on his personal journey, his break with the paradigm of separation, and the need to think beyond the logic of exclusion and toward a future based on sharing, reciprocity, and democracy.
K.: Before going into detail about the A Land for All initiative, which you co-founded about ten years ago with your Palestinian colleague Honi Al-Mashni, let’s briefly look back. How would you introduce yourself?
MR: I was born in Israel, but my father was originally from Ukraine. When he was one year old, his family moved to Vilnius, Lithuania, where he lived until he was thirteen. They arrived here in Palestine in 1934, if I’m not mistaken. My mother was born in the United States. She also came in 1933 or 1934, before World War II. Both were deeply Zionist—my mother as much as my father. My father served in the Jewish Brigade during World War II, in the British Army. He was wounded on the Italian front. He was very committed to the Zionist project. I grew up in that environment and for a long time defined myself as a left-wing Zionist. But around the age of 25, I began to distance myself from that identity. That’s when I started voting for the Communist Party, one of the only parties at the time that clearly supported the two-state solution. I was very attached to it, but in its classic form: two separate states, one Jewish—Israel—and the other Palestinian, each sovereign over its own territory, with a clear border between them.
K. Can you tell us about your personal and professional background? How did you come to conceive of this other path, based not on separation but on sharing between Israelis and Palestinians?
I was born in Tel Aviv, where I have spent most of my life.
I have been a journalist for about thirty-five years. I worked for nearly ten years for Yediot Aharonot, then the country’s largest daily newspaper. I then joined Haaretz for a few years, before working in television, where I was editor-in-chief of a debate program.
It was during this period, in the summer of 2011, that large social protests took place in Israel. They were huge and focused mainly on economic and social issues such as the cost of living and social justice. I am convinced that they were partly inspired by the uprisings in Tahrir Square in Egypt. Many Israelis saw Mubarak’s fall as proof that a people could really take back control. That moment was decisive for me. I began to perceive, in these mobilizations, the emergence of a desire for profound change in Israel.
This reflection was also fueled by a personal experience: during that same year, 2011, I spent a lot of time in the occupied territories. For the first time, I had direct exchanges with Palestinians. We talked about the right of return—a subject whose full significance I did not yet grasp. I also met settlers, which was another completely new experience for me. It was a time when I also spent a lot of time in Jerusalem, and I understood how difficult, if not impossible, it would be to divide that city. That was when I began to think that the solution to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict could not come solely from a separation between Israelis and Palestinians, between Jews and Arabs. Another path had to be considered. So I wrote this text, “Real Utopia,” initially for myself, then shared it with friends, reworked it, and enriched it. It laid the foundations for what would become the A Land for All initiative.
I then set out to find Palestinian political figures who might be interested in this vision. That’s how, in 2012, I met Honi Al-Mashni. From the moment we spoke, we clicked. We understood each other. We then decided to organize a meeting between ten Israelis and ten Palestinians in Beit Jala in the summer of 2012. That meeting marked the real starting point of the movement.
K.: What were the principles?
From the outset, five fundamental principles were established as the foundation of our approach:
- Recognition of two states, Israeli and Palestinian.
- An open border between them, allowing free movement.
- Institutions shared by both states to manage shared issues together.
- Jerusalem as an open city, the shared capital of both peoples.
- The need to repair the injustices of the past—without creating new ones.
These principles still form the basis of our project today. And since then, we have continued to work faithfully to achieve them, year after year.
K.: For a long time, the debate seemed to be structured around a double imperative: on the one hand, the rejection of the right of return for Palestinian refugees; on the other, the evacuation of settlements to allow for a clear separation between the two states. Have you yourself evolved on these issues? How do you perceive these two points today, which remain among the most sensitive in the conflict?
For a long time, I did indeed think that the Palestinians should give up the right of return, because I believed that this right threatened the very existence of the Jewish state. And in the same way, I thought that the settlers should be evacuated, as part of a clean separation between the two peoples. It was a vision that I still considered possible at the time, especially as a journalist traveling in the West Bank and Gaza. The solution seemed realistic to me. But over time, I changed my mind—especially on the issue of the right of return. I came to understand that this right is a fundamental issue that cannot simply be ignored. Above all, I realized that it does not necessarily pose a threat to Israel’s existence. It is possible to find solutions that recognize this right without jeopardizing the existence of the State of Israel.
The settlers’ interpretation is problematic—sometimes even dangerous—but it is rooted in a symbolic dimension that cannot be ignored.
I also began to look at the settlers from a different angle. Of course, their presence poses obvious political problems. But I understood that they also embody something deeper in Jewish and Hebrew identity: an attachment to the land of Israel. They offer a very distorted, very twisted version of it, but this link between the Jewish people and this land remains a central element. Their interpretation of it is problematic—sometimes even dangerous—but it is rooted in a symbolic dimension that cannot be ignored.
K.: This point is truly new and a little-known or misunderstood aspect of A Land for All. Your initiative does not advocate the departure of Jewish residents currently living in the settlements. The idea is no longer that there should be no settlements as such, but rather that these places should become simple villages—and that the Jews living there should be able to remain, within the framework of an agreement. They would no longer be settlers in the political sense of the term, but residents outside the State of Israel.
MR: First and foremost, these residents must agree to be subject to the authority of the Palestinian state and to respect Palestinian law. This is essential. The fact that they are settled there does not give them any rights to land that belongs to Palestinians, including their private property, which was often confiscated to establish the settlements. It cannot work that way. When a peace agreement is reached, these rights will also have to be recognized. That said, they will be able to remain there, under a status similar to that which exists in the European Union’s Schengen area: Israeli citizens residing in Palestine, while retaining their Israeli citizenship.
K. : And would they be able to vote in local elections, for example, after a certain number of years of residence, as in Europe?
MR: Local elections, yes. Jews could vote in municipal elections in Nablus.
K.: In the same way, Palestinians could live in the State of Israel, under Israeli jurisdiction, while retaining Palestinian nationality and residence in Israel.
MR: Exactly. This principle must also apply to Palestinian refugees. We know that about half of the Palestinian people now live outside Palestine—in Jordan, Lebanon, Syria, the Gulf countries, and Europe. These people could receive Palestinian citizenship, issued by the Palestinian state. As Palestinian citizens, they could reside in Israel while retaining their nationality and enjoying resident status on Israeli territory. As you said, this would of course require respect for Israeli law and the sovereignty of the State of Israel.
This process can only be gradual, spread out over time. The ultimate goal would be to achieve a situation similar to that which exists in Europe today: open borders and free movement. This does not prevent, of course, that in the event of a serious crime—particularly terrorist acts—a person may be tried and barred from entering the other country. But in principle, the borders would remain open.
K.: And with regard to Israeli Arabs, it’s a mixed system, isn’t it?
MR: For Arab citizens in Israel, it’s important to make it clear that no one will lose their Israeli citizenship. They will remain full citizens of the State of Israel—that will not change. They will not be mere residents, but full citizens.
That said, within the framework of a confederation with open borders between Israel and Palestine, I think the question of the identity of Palestinian Arab minorities in Israel can be addressed with greater flexibility. These citizens will be able to live here and there. Their memory, their attachment to their identity, their family history will be linked to Palestine—which will no longer be perceived as an enemy country, but as a partner country.
They would retain their Israeli citizenship, while having Palestine as their national identity reference. In such a context, where Palestine would no longer be in a position of confrontation with Israel, the tensions associated with dual identity would ease. Today, these citizens are often forced to choose between two identities perceived as opposed. But in a confederal configuration, this duality will become natural—and much easier to live with.
K.: You mentioned earlier the case of a person who has committed a crime: what does this hypothesis mean in concrete terms in your model? You propose moving from a paradigm of separation to one of sharing—but do you think such a reversal is really possible? Concretely, how do you imagine an open border between Israel and Palestine? Are you talking about a simple right of passage with controls, or an unmonitored border?
MR: No, obviously it’s not about a total absence of control. It all depends on the circumstances. I remember, for example, that after the terrorist attack in France, border controls were reintroduced—and that was perfectly legitimate. Every sovereign state must be able to exercise control over its borders. That goes without saying. But this control must be proportionate to the situation. If a person is not under suspicion and has not committed any crime, they must be able to cross the border freely. This does not prevent a state from temporarily closing its borders or tightening controls for a few days in the event of a threat or crisis. These are temporary, exceptional measures, but they are compatible with the general idea of an open border.
K.: Does the solution involve disarming individuals and militias and concentrating the monopoly of force solely in the hands of states?
MR: Of course. It is impossible to envisage lasting peace with independent militias. This applies to both sides. Today, there are Palestinian armed groups—such as Hamas, Islamic Jihad, and others—that are not under the authority of the Palestinian Authority. There is not yet a sovereign Palestinian state, of course, but this situation cannot continue. Within a state framework, there cannot be militias operating outside the control of the legitimate authority. This also applies to Israel and the settlements. Some settlements in the West Bank currently operate in a quasi-autonomous manner, sometimes with a logic comparable to that of militias. Here too, this situation cannot continue. In a confederal framework, the use of force must be strictly subject to the authority of the states.
Supporting the existence of a state that guarantees the Jewish people the right to self-determination does not mean being against the rights of the Palestinians.
K.: Should disarmament be carried out by force, or should we wait for the paradigm to shift so that these organizations agree to accept this proposal and voluntarily lay down their arms?
MR: Disarmament must be achieved through the law. It is a complex issue, of course, but there are precedents. One example that comes to mind is Northern Ireland, with the Good Friday Agreement in 1998, if I am not mistaken. The IRA disarmament process took time: about seven years. But at the end of that process, violence decreased considerably. It didn’t disappear completely, but it was reduced very significantly.
I was there, and in the space of twenty years, there were perhaps five or six deaths linked to nationalist violence. This shows that it is possible. In our context, this means that the future Palestinian government will have to take responsibility for disarming armed groups. This will be an integral part of the agreement. Without this, no viable political agreement can be reached.
K.: You say that it is possible to be a Zionist and support the solution you propose. How do you reconcile these two positions, which can be seen as contradictory?
MR: I’m not sure I can give a simple definition of the word “Zionist”; I believe there are different forms of Zionism. If we retain the idea of an Israel with a clear Jewish majority—even in a framework where some Palestinians, including former refugees, would choose to live in Israel without being citizens and without voting in the Knesset—then the Jewish majority would remain strong, at around 80%. Israel could thus preserve its identity as a Jewish state: through its language, customs, culture, days of rest such as Shabbat, and the composition of its institutions.
That said, especially after the war in Gaza, I believe that Zionism today faces a fundamental challenge: to prove that it is possible to have a Jewish state without domination, without Jewish supremacy, without prejudice against Palestinians. A state where there would be no privileges reserved for Jews, no hierarchy between peoples.
This is a real turning point for Zionism. But I believe it can rise to the challenge. Supporting the existence of a state that guarantees the Jewish people the right to self-determination does not mean being against the rights of Palestinians. It is possible, yes, to have an Israel that embodies this Jewish right—without appropriation, without supremacy, without domination.
K.: A Palestinian state should guarantee the rights of its Jewish citizens, just as a Jewish state should guarantee those of its Palestinian residents. In short, in your view, the true test of democracy is not just the majority—it is how the minority is treated. Is that right?
MR: Absolutely. And I think it’s important to add one essential point: in our vision, there is recognition that Jews can live anywhere in the entire territory—whether within the 1948-49 borders, in the West Bank, or even in Gaza. There is a deep, historical, spiritual connection between the Jewish people and certain places like Hebron, Bethlehem, and others. These cities are an integral part of our collective memory, our heritage. In our approach, this recognition is not just a matter of sentiment or emotion. It also requires Palestinian recognition of the shared character—Jewish as well as Palestinian—of this land. A land that is sacred to both peoples. And I think that for anyone who defines themselves as a Zionist, this mutual recognition is fundamental.
It will be a houdna bein el kharbein, a truce between two wars—if we refuse to seriously address the issue of the right of return (…) A solution must therefore be found that recognizes this right—without jeopardizing Israel’s existence.
K.: We would like you to clarify a central point of your proposal: the right of return. How do you envisage this in concrete terms for Palestinian refugees? And does this right, in your model, go hand in hand with maintaining the Law of Return for Jews from all over the world?
MR: First of all, I would like to make a personal point. Perhaps because it was around the year 2000, during the second Intifada, and I was in the West Bank very often as a journalist. That was when I first met Palestinians directly, without mediation. And it was a real revelation. I understood that the right of return is, of course, a political issue—I’m not naive—but that it is above all an intimate, family matter, deeply rooted in personal experience. We cannot ignore the fact that nearly half of the Palestinian people live outside Palestine. That is an undeniable fact. My partner, Honi Al-Mashni, often says: it will be a houdna bein el kharbein, a truce between two wars—if we refuse to seriously address the issue of the right of return. In Gaza, 70 to 80 percent of the population is of refugee origin. The sense of national belonging is particularly strong there because it is based on direct family memory: these are the children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren of refugees. This reality cannot be ignored. A solution must therefore be found that recognizes this right—without jeopardizing Israel’s existence. I believe that the proposals we have developed are a step in this direction. The right of return can be exercised through the granting of Palestinian citizenship. And these refugees could live, as Palestinian citizens, where their grandparents lived, while having resident status, for example in Israel. This is fundamental, but it would not undermine Israel’s demographic balance, particularly within the Knesset.
This, in my view, is where the main point of tension lies. As for the Law of Return for Jews from all over the world, it exists today, and there is no indication that it will be called into question in the short term. But if one day, in forty years’ time perhaps, Israel decides to amend it, that will be a sovereign parliamentary decision.
I remember that in the early 1990s, a proposal was put forward to allow any Jew to become an Israeli citizen, but on condition that they had lived in the country for five years and passed a Hebrew test—a bit like certain European models. This would then be a process, not an automatic right. For now, the law remains unchanged. But like any law, it can evolve. The essential thing is that these two realities—the Palestinian memory of uprooting and the right of Jews to live in Israel—can coexist without denying each other.
K.: You say that the Palestinian right of return must not threaten Israeli democracy. But do you also take into account the risk that the Jewish right of return, if it remains as it is, and in the case of two states in confederation, could ultimately jeopardize Palestinian sovereignty or demographic majority? Or do you consider that there is, in fact, a structural asymmetry between these two projects?
MR: A Jew who comes from the diaspora becomes an Israeli citizen. If he chooses to live in the West Bank, or even in Jordan, he can do so—but he remains a citizen of Israel. He does not vote for the Palestinian Parliament. Perhaps he could participate in local elections, but not national ones. And in any case, all this will have to be done gradually. You can’t impose such a change overnight. There is too much mistrust, too many wounds, too much hatred accumulated, especially after all these years of conflict and the recent war. It is clear that the transition will have to be gradual, accompanied by support, and based on rebuilding mutual trust.
The European model, or that of Northern Ireland, is based on sharing and equality: sovereign states, but integrated into a broader mechanism of cooperation. I believe that a similar model could inspire the Israeli-Palestinian paradigm.
I don’t like to draw too many parallels, but let’s look at the case of the European Union. This project was born after a war far more terrible than any we have known here. And yet, 80 years later, the borders are open. A French person can live in Berlin, a German in Paris—and that’s no problem. It has become natural. What seemed impossible after 1945 has become obvious. I think that should inspire us.
K.: But it wasn’t just the end of a war: the European Union was built on the complete surrender of Germany, which was divided. Is the parallel you draw relevant?
MR: Germany surrendered twice. The consequences of the Treaty of Versailles, which imposed total surrender on Germany, led, twenty years later, to the Second World War. After that second war, figures such as Robert Schuman understood that this mistake must not be repeated. They chose to build a Europe based on equality, cooperation, and sharing, rather than on humiliation and submission. It was this political orientation, not a desire for revenge, that prevented another disaster. We have seen examples of this elsewhere. In Northern Ireland, neither Catholics nor Protestants capitulated completely. Each side had to make concessions, of course, but each also gained something. It was this compromise that made the agreement possible.
I am not saying that these models should be replicated identically. But these experiences show that there is another way forward than strict separation or the victory of one side over the other. I have lived in Italy and follow Italian politics closely. A few months ago, there was renewed interest in the Ventotene Manifesto, a remarkable text written in 1940 by opponents of Mussolini who were exiled to a small island in the Tyrrhenian Sea. This manifesto called for the creation of a free, united, and federal Europe—and it inspired part of the European project.
We must remember that while these ideas were taking shape, the Nazi army was advancing on Stalingrad and Leningrad, and the Shoah was underway. And yet some people were able to think ahead, to imagine a Europe of cooperation, even in the midst of chaos. Ten years later, such a Europe was beginning to take shape, imperfect of course, but real. I believe that a similar model could inspire the Israeli-Palestinian paradigm. The European model, or that of Northern Ireland, is based on sharing and equality: sovereign states, but integrated into a broader mechanism of cooperation, which guarantees a form of stability.
Conversely, rigid partition models often create prolonged conflicts. The example of the Indian subcontinent speaks for itself: the partition between India and Pakistan has led to almost constant war for more than 75 years. In Europe, partition did not happen. And even if tensions remain between certain member states of the European Union—such as Hungary and Italy—they do not degenerate into armed conflict. War between members of the European Union no longer seems a realistic option today.
We are too intertwined, too connected—geographically and humanly—to imagine a total separation.
K.: You know, in French, we often talk about a “parting line,” but in reality, it’s not a real division at all. It’s more of a dividing border, a simple line that cuts through.
MR: No, no. We have to distinguish between things. It is essential to proceed with a clear political separation and to create a fully sovereign Palestinian state—independent over all the territories of the West Bank and Gaza. A fully-fledged state with its own institutions, borders, and sovereignty. A true political partition, therefore, but based on the coexistence of two independent states. But this separation does not mean isolation. As you know, in the 1947 partition plan, the official name was: Partition Plan with Economic Union. It was already a confederal project, providing for an economic union between the Hebrew state and the Arab state — with a common currency, fiscal coordination, rights of passage for Arab citizens within the Jewish state, etc. This is not a detail. This proposal was already a response to a profound reality: that of a territory where the two peoples are intertwined. We are too mixed, too connected—geographically, humanly—to imagine a total separation. It was from this reality that the idea of a confederation was born.
K.: One last question. You hope for the creation of two democratic states. But today, even in Europe and the United States, democracies are fragile, sometimes in danger. Do you think this system can work without democracies?
MR: No, I don’t think this system can work without a minimum of democracy. It would be extremely difficult. But we must also understand that this solution is not the end of the story. History continues, and the struggle for democracy will never end. This struggle already exists, in Israel as in Palestine. Personally, I prefer to face the democratic challenges facing the United States and Europe today rather than continue to live in a system based on violence and Jewish supremacy. Because this violence always catches up with us, all of us. I cannot compare what Palestinians are experiencing in Gaza or elsewhere to my own situation—we do not face the same dangers. But October 7 showed that violence can also strike here in Israel, strike Jews. We vitally need a political solution that ends this spiral. I believe that after that, it will be possible to reach an honest, just agreement between us. Issues of democracy, civil rights, and social rights will not disappear, of course. But they will have to be addressed in a peaceful context, no longer hampered by the state of war. For me, this struggle for democracy will not end with my generation. It must continue—for those who come after us.
