I grew up in the “Jewish Quarter” of Alexandria. In light of this, I generally dislike using the word “Jew” to completely define someone: in my eyes, it is a form of sectarian reductionism which flattens the inherent complexity of an individual.
I only employ the term here so the reader understands the context.
My first face-to-face encounter with a Jewish person was about ten years ago in New York. In a hotel lobby, I sat near a group of Israeli tourists: a father chatting with his son, a woman reading, and a religious man in traditional attire. We didn’t interact, but I felt something shift inside me – it was this quiet encounter which confirmed to me that the world is far more complex than we can imagine.
Years later, in New Jersey, my neighbor was a Jewish lawyer. We exchanged brief small talk in the elevator once or twice. There was no tension or hidden meaning; just one human being speaking to another.
My oddest encounter was on a flight to Frankfurt. About eighteen Haredi Jews, identifiable by their black clothing and distinct sidelocks, decided to pray together as a group on the plane. They moved about, using the rear wall near the galley to perform their rituals. The scene was disruptive and drew resentment from many passengers—not because of the prayer itself, but because their choice of setting was entirely inappropriate.
My most significant experience, on the other hand, took place in Washington, DC, when Arizona State University organized a seminar for me inside the US Congress. During that visit, I encountered perspectives on the Arab-Israeli conflict so progressive they often surpassed those I hear from some Arabs.
In Germany I am currently involved in research collaborations with universities and centers in Berlin, and I was recently invited to Boston to present a paper at the world’s largest gathering for the American Political Science Association.
In these academic spheres, engagement with “the other” becomes a matter of course; you inevitably interact with others! This brings us to a fundamental question: how do their institutions measure up against ours? Where are our answers to the essential questions of culture, creativity, scientific research, and academic freedom?
At its core, the conflict is one of content and narrative—a battle won by whoever succeeds in telling their own story on their own terms.
Unfortunately, this is not an area where we currently excel.
Recently, I joined an international fellowship dedicated to heritage preservation. Among its sponsors is the American Jewish Committee, an organization that promotes cross-cultural cooperation and the closing of societal divides. In essence, this represents the “soft,” polite iteration of “normalization”—a concept that begins not with politics, but with language.
And this leads us to the most crucial point: the issue does not lie in interaction or communication, but rather in the framework within which they occur. The Israeli government’s current actions leave no moral vacuum for talk of an easy or superficial rapprochement; this is an undeniable reality.
Conversely, some fall into two equally dangerous traps.
The first is rushing toward normalization as if it were an inevitable fate, using a servile rhetoric that suggests “the battle is over” and that Israel has secured ultimate superiority. This is a gross exaggeration.
In fact, a few months ago, while attending a cultural exchange program as a guest of the German government, I was struck by how some Arabs had adopted this self-defeating mindset.
The second trap is total isolation—taking a stance of absolute hatred and rejecting all forms of interaction ,even academic or humanitarian. This detrimental oversimplification neither informs policy nor builds our future.
The geopolitical reality is clear: there is an existing state on our borders. It cannot be denied, nor can it be engaged with through the delusion that it will be someday be erased.
At the same time, we cannot accept any form of “gratuitous coexistence” that ignores justice or exempts the other side from re-evaluating its policies.
In my estimation, a rational equation must be built upon three pillars: absolute parity, a clear-eyed awareness of reality, and conditioning any rapprochement on a genuine change in behavior.
For instance, I was previously invited to engage with certain thinkers from the other side in an informal, off-the-record session, and I refused. This was not due to an inherent aversion to dialogue itself, but because such engagement—if it is to occur—must be transparent, public, and governed by a framework that ensures both strategic parity and clarity.
It should not take place in “gray zones” that only invite ambiguity.
Personal experience tells a simple truth: policy is not built on individual impressions, just as collective hatred fosters no understanding. In the gap between these two extremes, those nations that lack the courage to think for themselves will wither away.
More importantly, the territory between personal experience and reality must be navigated with a cool head – rather than fevered emotion.
Author’s biography
Ramy Galal is an Egyptian writer and academic specializing in public governance and cultural policy. His research focuses on cultural diplomacy, the creative economy, and institutional reform within Egypt’s cultural sector.
He was appointed as an adviser and spokesperson for Egypt’s Ministry of Planning. He also served as a senator and spokesperson for the Egyptian Opposition Coalition.
He is the author of two books, “I Saw the World from Both Sides” and “The Future of Egypt’s Culture,” exploring governance, identity, and the role of culture in shaping public life.
Galal holds a PhD from Alexandria University, a master’s degree from the University of East London, and a Diploma from the University of Chile.
He completed advanced governance programs at the Hertie School in Berlin, King’s College London, and Arizona State University.
