Inside Israel's Oasis of Peace, Palestinian and Jewish families are showing the world how the two sides can co-exist

Children run back to class at the Oasis of Peace school after the lunch time bell rings. (ABC News: Tom Joyner)

Tucked just behind the tree line in verdant countryside, obscured from the view of passing cars, lies an oddity of Israel.

At first glance, the rows of quaint bungalows and winding streets could be a village anywhere – there is a post office, a swimming pool and a small hotel.

But to its roughly 300 residents it represents a utopian project, painstakingly built over half a century, holding the key to peace in a country seemingly perpetually at war.

Known in Arabic as Wahat al-Salaam and in Hebrew as Neve Shalom – translated in English as Oasis of Peace – it is Israel’s only community shared intentionally between Jews and Palestinians.

Its annual budget, council membership and even school curriculum are governed equally between the two groups in the hope it will show other Israelis – and the wider world – that a shared society is possible.

A shared society

Across Israel, Palestinian citizens – who make up one-fifth of the more than 9 million population – face daily institutionalised racism and live largely in communities separate from their Jewish counterparts.

But leaders of the Oasis of Peace say the community is an outlier against a national backdrop of violence and hostility toward Palestinians.

“It’s working,” said Samah Salaimeh, a Palestinian citizen of Israel, who runs the village’s education system with a Jewish colleague.

“Nobody can ignore that.”

On the grounds of its primary school, there are no Israeli flags on display, and its carefully balanced mix of students learn side-by-side in classrooms where lessons are taught alternately in Hebrew and Arabic.

In history class they are taught Palestinian perspectives, including the Nakba – the forced displacement of Palestinians by Jews during the creation of Israel in 1948 – as well as decades of suffering under Israel’s occupation.

“It’s not easy all the time,” said Yael Zaltzman, an Israeli Jew who teaches Hebrew.

“But this is a dream. I feel like I can change something a little bit in this country.”

Seated near the back of a noisy classroom one morning, two girls watched distractedly as Ms Zaltzman pointed to lines of Hebrew text projected onto the whiteboard.

“Abigail, you gave us a wrong answer,” Ms Zaltzman gently scolded the Jewish girl of the pair.

“You now have to listen to what she’s going to say,” she added, gesturing to her neighbour, prompting the Palestinian girl to burst into a fit of giggles.

‘The only place I would want to live’

The Oasis sits roughly on the Green Line, the invisible boundary delineating Israel from the Palestinian land it occupies in the West Bank.

To reach it, you must take an exit off Highway 1, a major artery linking Jerusalem with Tel Aviv, and follow a winding road that leads to a turn-off signposted in three languages.

“This is the only place I would want to live in in Israel these days,” said Eldad Joffe, a Jew who chairs the local council.

Since the Hamas-led attacks on October 7, the Oasis has found itself caught in its own battle for ideas as fighting continues only two hours away in Gaza.

The months of Israel’s military campaign since have caused unease among residents, though in ways different to elsewhere in the country.

Few take notice any more of the frequent rumbling overhead of Israeli warplanes they say are heading to Gaza to bomb Palestinians.

“I feel terrible,” Mr Joffe added, referring to Israel’s killing of civilians.

“Just the case of revenge or holding onto territory, as far as I’m concerned, is not a justification.”

Freedom to speak out 

One-sided news coverage in Israel has helped galvanise strong support among Jews for the war and turned public opinion against any expressions of support for Gazans, no matter how benign.

A crackdown by authorities on social media posts by Palestinian citizens seen as critical of Israel’s military campaign has cultivated an atmosphere of fear and distrust.

In the Oasis, shielded somewhat from the outside world, children have been encouraged by adults to work openly through what they’re feeling.

“I can speak in Arabic and even shout in Arabic, and I know that no one will say anything negative,” said Aya Daadle, an 11-year-old Palestinian student.

“Whenever I go to places where there are many Jews [outside the Oasis], it is more difficult to speak Arabic because they would hit me.”

Aya and her best friend, Ahava Raviv, a 12-year-old Jew, both oppose Israel’s measures in Gaza – Ahava even plans to resist conscription into the army when she turns 18.

“She is close to me. I sincerely believe we will stay like that forever,” Aya added.

For Samah Salaimeh, and her co-director of education Nir Sharon, decades of first-hand experiences of Israel’s occupation have imparted lessons on how to provide the best guidance to the children of the Oasis.

“We have a history. We know how to deal with difficult times with the kids,” said Ms Salaimeh, who is the descendent of Palestinian refugees forced by Zionists from their village in 1948.

In settings with children, teaching staff have made sure to emphasise there should be no apology for opposing violence, and that peace is a viable goal to work towards.

“In many ways, I think the children protect us as adults because they maintain normal relationships,” she said.

A blueprint for the nation

This year marks 54 years since the Oasis was founded by a Dominican priest on agricultural land leased from a nearby monastery.

Today, there are some 80 families who live there – half Palestinian and half Jewish – and although there are the usual disagreements between neighbours, residents are proud to point out none have ever packed up and left.

In fact, a waitlist of newcomers to move there has grown so large that organisers have had to turn some applicants away.

Visiting scholars, foreign dignitaries and tourists come to the village to marvel at its success, and remark that such an idea could become a blueprint for the rest of the country to follow.

Elsewhere in Israel, there’s not the same reverence – two arson attacks on the village in 2020 badly damaged a school building, while assailants slashed tyres and sprayed graffiti in a 2012 series of hate crimes.

With money from liberal-minded foreign donors, who finance the village through fundraising organisations abroad, the school has since been rebuilt.

“It’s no secret that we are not that popular,” said Ms Salaimeh.

“We are living evidence that peace is possible between Palestinians and Israelis. This government wants everybody to believe in war and killing.”

That government, which under Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu is the most right-wing in Israel’s history, takes a dim view of the Oasis, according to its leaders, who say it provides no financial support.

On the day the ABC visited, two inspectors from the education ministry – both from illegal settlements in the occupied West Bank – caused staff to bristle, though they left without an incident.

“We play tango with the system,” Ms Salaimeh said.

“Sometimes we have to have a low profile and we want to keep going and do what we are good at.”

One winter’s morning, the school’s children gathered in the hall to watch a performance of an Arabic play, Princess Zomorod, by a visiting troupe from the north of Israel.

Palestinian and Jewish students as well as staff watched attentively, enthralled by the story of a Palestinian woman seeking a suitor, breaking at times into roars of laughter.

“What I saw here, Arabs and Jews in the same hall — watching an Arabic play together — is something wonderful,” said Rayan Rayan, an actor who played the eponymous princess.

“This is a good thing because they are raising them with these beliefs. When they grow up, they will keep them and practise them for life.”

Watch 7.30, Mondays to Thursdays 7:30pm on ABC iview and ABC TV