“The war is over. The victor was declared long ago … It’s time to raise the white flag, to admit publicly that the two-state solution has been foiled,” writes Gideon Levy. Yossi Beilin (one of the architects of the Oslo Accords) has called for the dismantling of the Palestinian Authority. Yossi Alpher, of the Americans for Peace Now organization, believes that the current Netanyahu government is “advancing a not-so-hidden agenda of rampant settlement expansion, including in and around East Jerusalem, that is clearly geared to preventing the emergence of a Palestinian state within viable boundaries.” So, if the hurdles of the one-state solution are to be overcome, what steps need to be taken?

The one-state solution posits that the ongoing attempts to forge a two-state solution, one Israel and one Palestine, are a failure and untenable going forward. Following up on my initial piece on this subject, I now turn to the hurdles that would need to be overcome in order to accomplish a single state where both Israelis and Palestinians live in peace.

The cycle of violence between Israelis and Palestinians hardly makes the news anymore. This past week, Israeli jets launched a pre-emptive strike against two members of the Popular Resistance Committee (PRC) in Gaza, who were said to be involved in planning an attack on Israel. To say nothing of the extrajudicial death sentence which Israel handed down without trial on the two militants, the air strike also killed civilians. The response from Gaza was, as expected, a volley of rockets from Palestinian militants fired into Israeli territory. This response provoked another full set of Israeli air strikes against Gaza, which, in the end, killed 25 Palestinians and wounded nearly a hundred others. Israeli media glibly pointed out that the operation was executed without any Israeli casualties.

This past week I had the good fortune to attend a lecture at Brandeis University where Ali Abunimah was speaking on the one-state solution to the Israeli-Palestinian issue. During the Q&A section of the evening, Ali said something that got me thinking (well, most of what he said had my mind swirling, but more on that later). Someone had asked about the constant accusation that President Obama is a Muslim. “It’s socially acceptable to accuse him of being a Muslim,” Ali answered, “because it’s not socially acceptable to hate him because he’s black.” Hatred of Muslims, he explained, is the new anti-Semitism. “Politicians and the media in America today speak of Muslims in much the same way they spoke of Jews in Europe in the 30s and 40s,” he continued, “and I wish we heard people denouncing this as loudly as they have denounced anti-Semitic speech.”

“We appeal to anyone with conscience to intervene to stop the massacres of Bashar al-Assad and his cohorts.” This was the voice of Dr. Mohammad al-Mohammad, a surgeon at a makeshift hospital in Baba Amro, a district in the Syrian city of Homs, made while he tended to a young man who had been shot by a government sniper. His plea sums up the demands of the Syrian people and puts the challenge to help them squarely in the international community’s lap.

The conversation started like any other you might have with a stranger. A passing glance, a cleared throat, etc. I noticed that she kept glancing over at me, but I paid it no mind. It was when she leaned across the aisle on the train that I realized it was actually me she was looking at and not at the scenery outside the window next to me. “Excuse me,” she said, “but I was wondering, does that scarf keep you warm?” This was not the question I was expecting. Reeling, I momentarily forgot what I was wearing and had to glance down. “Yes, it does,” I replied. There we're some curious glances from our fellow passengers. She continued, without missing a beat, “Well, that's probably due to the blood of innocent children you have wrapped around your neck.” Wearing a keffiyeh is an interesting experience. I am used to getting strange looks, a few of them disgusted, some of them more concerned. There’s also the occasional smile. I have been challenged about it before as well, but not quite like this. Some within an earshot gasped. Those previously pretending to read their books or sleep slowly turned towards our conversation.

It was just over a year ago that Asmaa Mahfouz issued her challenge to Egyptians to meet her in Tahrir Square on January 25th and “demand freedom, justice, honor and human dignity.” That day now stands in Egyptian history as the beginning of a revolution that would sweep away autocratic rule and launch an adventure in the further development of one of the world’s oldest nations. I remember watching these events unfold. Through Twitter, al-Jazeera and email from friends and old classmates in Cairo, it was amazing to see the movement crescendo. The coming days would be fraught with excitement, horror, mourning and renewed optimism. I longed to climb on a plane and fly back to my second home, but had to satisfy myself in helping spread the word of the revolution, its goals, the pains and the losses suffered. I didn’t think my affection for Egypt or its people could grow, but was proven wrong on a daily basis during those weeks.

It is hard to look at the political trends growing in the Middle East today and think that fair notice had not been given to anyone looking for it. As Islamist parties begin to succeed at the polls in Morocco, Tunisia and Egypt, and show signs of doing the same in Libya, the after effects of the Jasmine Revolution and the Arab Spring are not what many may have expected. They are, however, exactly what one small group of elected officials saw in the winds years ago. Those prescient politicians are more commonly referred to as Hamas.