Where Peace Begins for Iran and Israel By Khadija Umar
For decades, the story of Iran and Israel has been one of shadows, suspicion, and silent warfare. Though never engaged in a declared war, the two nations now remain locked in a tense dance of hostility that continues to shape the fate of the Middle East.
Beneath every drone strike, proxy clash, and cyber sabotage lies a deeper fear—that coexistence may never be possible. At the heart of this enmity is more than just political rivalry. It is an ideological chasm that stretches back generations.
Iran’s leadership does not recognize the legitimacy of the Israeli state, viewing it as a foreign occupation on Muslim land and a lingering imprint of Western imposition. In line with this belief, Iran has long backed groups like Hezbollah and Hamas—militant forces that oppose Israel’s very existence.
From Israel’s perspective, Iran poses a threat that cannot be ignored. With a nuclear program clouded in controversy and a network of regional proxies, Tehran is viewed as both an immediate Iran and a long-term adversary.
This has prompted Israeli leaders to adopt a posture of constant readiness, including airstrikes on Iranian interests in Syria and complex cyber operations that seek to weaken Iran’s infrastructure and nuclear ambitions.
Yet while both countries continue to circle each other in this indirect battlefield, the human cost keeps growing. Civilians in Gaza, Lebanon, Syria—and indeed within Iran and Israel—suffer the consequences of a war they did not start and cannot stop.
Proxy conflicts and retaliatory operations have only deepened the pain, feeding cycles of trauma that seem endless. Still, beneath this hardened crust of animosity, a fragile possibility remains.
If history has taught us anything, it is that even the deepest rivalries can give way to moments of truth. Moments when nations choose to speak instead of strike. And for Iran and Israel, the moment to begin that shift may be approaching.
The first step must be dialogue. Not grand declarations or forced handshakes for television cameras, but sincere conversations through trusted intermediaries or confidential backchannels.
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In the silence that follows violence, words must find space again. Trust will not come quickly—but it cannot come at all if there is no effort to build it. Each side has responsibilities if any progress is to be made.
Iran must reevaluate its continued support for groups that target innocent civilians in Israel. No just cause can be advanced on the back of bloodshed. Israel, in turn, must reconsider its preemptive strikes that often claim civilian lives under the banner of national defence.
Both must be willing to move away from permanent retaliation and towards mutual restraint. The nuclear question remains perhaps the most stubborn block to peace. Israel, though it maintains strategic ambiguity about its own capabilities, sees a nuclear-armed Iran as unacceptable.
Iran claims its program is peaceful, yet mistrust clouds every step. A solution could lie in stronger international oversight, with Iran recommitting to the nuclear deal under tighter terms and global players providing assurances against aggression.
In this way, the pursuit of peace could be anchored in verifiable trust. Recognition, not necessarily of friendship, but of existence and rights, is another step. Iran does not have to embrace Israel, but it must accept that Israel has a right to exist securely.
And Israel must come to terms with Iran’s regional presence and its aspirations. Neither must love the other, but both must learn to live without constantly preparing for war.
The alternative is clear—and it is bleak. Continued hostility will only deepen instability, enrich extremist narratives, and bleed nations of lives and resources that should be used to build, not destroy.
A region free from perpetual proxy wars could finally focus on education, innovation, trade, and development. Peace is not the absence of difference. It is the choice to rise above those differences.
For Iran and Israel, that choice will never be easy—but it will always be worth it. And it begins with the courage to take a single step toward each other, not as friends, but as neighbors tired of war.
Khadija umar is a mass communication student at maryam abacha American University of Nigeria, kano
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