I was on my way to pick up my daughters from school when it happened.

In the middle of the main street, in broad daylight, a young man on a motorcycle pulled out a gun and fired into the air. I froze. Around me were parents just like me, walking to collect their children. People were shocked and frightened — but not surprised.

This is Nazareth, the northern Israel city where I live. Guns are everywhere. Crime and violence are all-pervasive. I am not being dramatic: People from Palestinian communities inside Israel go to the hospital for gunshot wounds at a rate that is six times higher than their Jewish neighbors. In just the first six weeks of 2026, 42 people have been murdered; that’s nearly one a day.

This is not because Arab communities are more “violent” by nature or because we are poor. It is a symptom of a political reality in which Palestinian citizens of Israel — more than 20% of the country’s population — have been abandoned by their government, left to the mercy of illegal weapons, extortion, drugs and organized crime. Personal security ought not be a radical demand. It is the most basic condition of citizenship.

The crisis stems from long years of Arab citizens being denied opportunities offered to their Israeli fellow-citizens. Arab men face far higher unemployment so that our youth — especially young men — are often left without prospects. There is no social safety net to catch them. And so their hopelessness — at ever making money, getting married, building a life for themselves — leaves them vulnerable to criminal recruitment.

For our community, there is, at long last, some momentum around breaking our own internal silences, strengthening our sense of agency, and building our own power and be resilient in the face of our sense of abandonment and despair.

For Americans, Israel is usually discussed........

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