Building Justice While Violence Persists: Transformative Justice in Israel & Palestine

We watch Israel and Palestine through tiny screens while violence hangs its hat on the men in power—cloaked in suits of comfort and indifference—who care little for the lives lost, whether it’s their own people or the "others". As bombs fall and sides harden, a quiet defiance unfolds.

On April 29th, a ceremony at an undisclosed location near Tel Aviv, Israelis and Palestinians  gathered to mourn—together. A group most people would never dare to imagine standing side by side–Palestinian mothers and Israeli fathers, former members of Hamas and the IDF, loved ones of the missing and held hostage, a woman from Gaza who lost her mother to an Israeli drone strike. Amid their unimaginable pain, they did something radical—something the world rarely sees. They collectively mourned and raised their voices to say: We will not accept this violence as our future, and we will not give up on our vision of what is possible for this land.

They were not just grieving. They rejected the narrative of division that has plagued their lives for generations. As they gathered, they embodied the very essence of what peacebuilding looks like—brave acts of nonviolent defiance in the face of overwhelming odds.

Peacebuilders are often misunderstood. From the outside, their efforts can appear naïve—or worse, complicit. Critics argue that working across divides risks legitimizing injustice, that calling for nonviolence in a deeply unequal reality is tantamount to silence or even to normalizing realities like occupation. But those critiques often miss the profound courage it takes to sit across from someone whose army bulldozed your home, whose cousin killed your son, and to still insist on seeing their humanity.

For many outside peacebuilding movements, it can be difficult to see the resilience, danger, courage, and persistence that occur day in and day out by those on the front lines of nonviolent resistance. Without these brave acts of resistance, many violent conflicts would remain unresolved, and lasting peace would be a distant dream.

What this Palestinian-Israeli collective has done—grieving together, remembering beyond the divisions that have defined them—is more than a moral act. It’s a form of justice. In the field of Peace and Conflict, theories that address how post-conflict societies begin to rebuild themselves once the violence ends paved the way for recognition of “transitional justice”. It is defined by the International Center for Transitional Justice as “a response to systematic or widespread violations of human rights [that] seeks recognition for victims and promotion of possibilities for peace, reconciliation and democracy…  [it is a] form of justice…adapted to societies transforming themselves after a period of pervasive human rights abuse.”  It often includes truth-telling, reparations, and public memorials—ways of honoring victims and acknowledging pain–so societies can move toward reconciliation and lasting peace.

Traditionally, transitional justice is something that happens in a post-conflict society. But in Palestine and Israel, the violence hasn’t stopped. The occupation hasn’t ended. And yet, civil society refuses to wait. They are building the foundations of healing in real time—through remembrance, through relationships, through radical acts of compassion. They are modeling the future.

Combatants for Peace (CfP), a joint Israeli and Palestinian movement, is a key player in this work. Founded nearly 20 years ago by former fighters from opposing sides who chose to lay down their weapons and work together, CfP envisions a world where all people, from the river to the sea, live in peace, justice, dignity, and liberty. The group has twice been nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize and is often criticized for its bold approach to peacebuilding—choosing to reach across divides and work with those once deemed “the enemy”. CfP recognizes the asymmetry of power in the occupation, and much of its work is guided by Palestinian members who lead the charge in co-resistance and solidarity actions aimed at ending the occupation and securing human rights for all.

One of the most important initiatives of CfP, in partnership with the Parents Circle Families Forum (PCFF), is the Joint Memorial Day Ceremony, held annually on Israeli Memorial Day. This ceremony is the only joint memorial as it mourns the losses of both Israelis and Palestinians. It is a space to remember those lost and to call for an end to the bloodshed. Through storytelling, music, and other forms of artistic expression, the ceremony creates space for collective grief—each person’s pain is acknowledged and honored. However, the purpose is not to equate narratives but to build bridges where walls of division have stood for decades. Additionally, CfP independently hosts an annual Joint Nakba Remembrance Ceremony on May 15th, dedicated to commemorating the pain of the 1948 Nakba and how it continues to this day, and providing a pathway to healing and reconciliation by acknowledging the truth of history.

These joint ceremonies are remarkable not only because of who shows up—but because of what they represent. They are a grassroots form of transitional justice, happening before the conflict has ended. In these ceremonies, remembrance is resistance. Memorializing each other’s loved ones, holding space for each other’s pain, becomes an act of justice. It shows that transitional justice doesn’t begin with signing a peace agreement. It begins with people choosing to acknowledge one another’s humanity in the face of everything trying to strip it away.

This conflict—and the occupation that defines it—cannot transition toward a just peace without a reckoning with the legacy of violence, of human rights abuses, of lives lost and futures stolen. The men in power have made it clear they will not lead the way. Civil society must. These ceremonies, and the growing movement behind them, are laying the groundwork for what a future rooted in truth, justice, and shared dignity might look like.

Because peace is not passive. It is not the absence of war. It is the presence of justice. And it begins with acts like this: with people who refuse to wait for permission to mourn together, to remember together, to dream and embody—together—another way.

Written by Nicole Munson - American Friends of Combatants for Peace’s Operations and Programs Manager. Nicole holds a M.A. in Conflict Resolution and has experience running inter-faith, peacebuilding, and grassroots activist programming.