When the first Abraham Accords were signed, I allowed myself a rare moment of cautious optimism.
I have spent a considerable part of my life in the Middle East, and it remains a region I genuinely love despite all its contradictions. Few places possess such beauty, such history, and such astonishing complexity. Yet for as long as I can remember, peace always seemed to hover just beyond reach, like a mirage that dissolved the moment anyone drew close enough to touch it.
I never truly expected to witness meaningful regional reconciliation during my lifetime.
Then the agreements began to appear.
One after another.
For the first time in many years, I found myself hoping.
Perhaps this was the beginning of something much larger.
Perhaps genuine regional peace was finally possible.
Perhaps.
Then the momentum stopped.
Today we find ourselves facing one of the most dangerous periods the region has experienced in decades. Open warfare. Multiple fronts. Escalation where optimism once briefly lived.
Looking back, I suspect the Abraham Accords were, in one important respect, deceptive.
Not because they were unimportant.
Far from it.
They represented real diplomatic achievements.
But they were also the low-hanging fruit.
The countries that signed had, for years, quietly moved towards closer relations with Israel. Strategic interests increasingly aligned. Shared concerns had already created foundations upon which formal agreements could eventually be built. Once political conditions allowed, the signatures came relatively quickly.
Those were the easier victories.
The real challenge has always been elsewhere.
The region’s hardest diplomatic targets remain precisely that because they involve societies where public opinion towards Israel remains deeply hostile, where historical grievances remain powerful, and where leaders often face enormous domestic risks if they move too far ahead of their own populations.
Signing a document is one thing.
Changing generations of political culture is something else entirely.
History offers sobering reminders.
Consider Anwar Sadat.
His decision to pursue peace with Israel transformed the strategic landscape of the Middle East, yet it also made him a target. He ultimately paid for that decision with his life. The treaty endured, but the relationship that followed was often described less as a warm peace than as a cold one—stable, valuable, but never fully embraced by large parts of the public.
That distinction matters.
Governments can negotiate.
Peoples take far longer.
Diplomatic agreements can be signed in a matter of weeks.
Trust often requires generations.
Donald Trump has repeatedly demonstrated a preference for pursuing negotiations that can produce visible results within politically meaningful timeframes. There is nothing inherently wrong with that. Success encourages further success.
But the remaining obstacles in the Middle East are not quick wins.
They are the difficult ones.
The ones where history weighs heavily.
The ones where domestic politics can prove more dangerous than foreign policy.
The ones where signatures alone are not enough.
Those are the agreements that will determine whether the region merely experiences temporary pauses between conflicts—or eventually discovers something approaching lasting peace.