By Rima Najjar
I. Introduction: The Mirage of Statehood, the Echo of Oslo, and the Sovereign Framework of Palestinian Demands
In the wake of Macron’s renewed calls for a two-state solution — echoed by Saudi Arabia and a coalition of Western states — Palestinian liberation is once again being reduced to a diplomatic choreography of betrayal, deferral, and self-serving rhetoric. This framework is not neutral. It is a pacifying slogan, a liquidationist architecture that erases the totality of Palestinian demands. The thesis of this essay is clear: the two-state “solution” is not a solution. It is a mechanism of suppression — designed to fragment, defer, and ultimately dissolve the revolutionary imperative of Palestinian self-determination in their own homeland.
What is unfolding now is not a rupture with Zionist domination — it is a repetition: the same colonial logic, the same diplomatic choreography, the same refusal to honor Palestinian inalienable rights. The current discourse carries an eerie echo of Oslo — not in its promises, but in its betrayals. The “past” here is not simply the 1993 accords, but the broader architecture of managed containment: a history in which Palestinian demands are diluted and domesticated through international frameworks that privilege colonial permanence over indigenous restoration. These frameworks do not merely misunderstand Palestinian aspirations — they are designed to suppress them. They treat the settler as permanent, the refugee as negotiable, and the homeland as divisible.
Edward Said understood this clearly. In his 1993 essay The Morning After, he called Oslo a “Palestinian Versailles” — a catastrophic concession that legitimized occupation, erased the diaspora, and deferred the right of return. He warned that the agreement transformed resistance into “terror” and colonization into “coordination.” Said’s refusal was not just political — it was epistemic. He saw Oslo as a betrayal of narrative sovereignty, a surrender not only of land but of meaning. Yet even as he sounded the alarm, others celebrated the accords as a diplomatic breakthrough. History repeats itself: the machinery of deception is reactivated, and once again, some mistake containment for peace.
Macron’s motivations are layered. Geopolitically, he seeks a counterweight to U.S. support for Israel’s war in Gaza, positioning France as a moral broker in a fractured global order. Domestically, he responds to surging public anger across Europe, where support for Israel has plummeted to historic lows. The Paris Peace Forum’s “Call for the Two-State Solution” frames the proposal as a humanitarian gesture and a bid to restore the Palestinian Authority in Gaza. But this restoration is not sovereignty — it is containment.
Several EU countries have joined Macron’s initiative — France, the UK, Belgium, Portugal, Luxembourg, Malta — alongside Australia and Canada. But the fractures are visible: Germany, Italy, Greece, and the Netherlands have refused to sign on, citing concerns about premature recognition and geopolitical fallout. Beyond Europe, Iran has denounced the initiative as a distraction from the war and a ploy to rehabilitate the PA without dismantling Zionist occupation. Russia remains noncommittal, emphasizing the need for Palestinian unity before any framework can be endorsed. China, while formally endorsing the two-state idea, cautions against proposals that intensify fragmentation or ignore the humanitarian toll. The result is a fragmented chorus of recognition — more symbolic than structural, more performative than transformative, and deeply misaligned with the revolutionary demands of Palestinian liberation.
Against this backdrop, Palestinian demands remain clear, coherent, and inalienable:
- The right of return for all refugees, as enshrined in UN Resolution 194
- The right to full sovereignty over historic Palestine — not a fragmented pseudo-state
- The right to resist occupation and colonization, including the dismantling of settlements and the apartheid wall
- The right to representation — not through compromised bodies like the PA, but through unified, grassroots, and diasporic voices
- The right to memory and narrative sovereignty, refusing erasure and distortion
These are not negotiable. They are not contingent. They are not subject to diplomatic choreography. They are the infrastructure of justice — and any proposal that ignores them is not a peace plan, but a blueprint for continued dispossession.
II. The Deceptive Architecture of the Two-State Proposal
The two-state proposal, as currently propagated by Macron and echoed by select Western and Arab states, is not a blueprint for justice — it is a rhetorical device designed to pacify, defer, and obscure. Its architecture is deceptive not because it lacks detail, but because its vagueness is strategic. It offers the illusion of statehood while preserving the infrastructure of Zionist domination.
- Slogan vs. Substance: The phrase “حل الدولتين” circulates as a tranquilizing slogan, not a political solution. It promises peace while entrenching occupation. It functions as a diplomatic sedative, soothing international conscience without altering material conditions.
- Macron’s Framing: Macron’s proposal centers on disarmament, security coordination, and the restoration of the Palestinian Authority in Gaza. But these are not steps toward sovereignty; they are mechanisms of containment. The PA is not empowered; it is subcontracted. Its role is not to negotiate liberation but to manage suppression: policing its own people, coordinating with the occupier, and administering fragments of territory without borders, airspace, or movement. This is not representation — it is colonial choreography.
The absence of unified Palestinian voice is not incidental; it is engineered. Meanwhile, the resistance — elected into governance in 2006 — was not defeated but removed through external intervention. The U.S. and its allies refused to honor the democratic outcome, imposing sanctions and backing internal fragmentation. In doing so, they redefined legitimacy as compliance. The resistance, despite siege and isolation, remains the only actor grounded in popular mandate and committed to liberation. Its exclusion from diplomatic frameworks is not a failure of representation — it is a strategy of suppression. - Strategic Vagueness: The absence of defined borders is not an oversight — it is a feature. It enables Israel to expand settlements, annex land, and redraw maps while claiming to support “peace.” This ambiguity is not limited to the proposal — it is embedded in Israel’s own geography. The Israeli entity has never declared its borders, allowing it to operate as a fluid colonial project: expanding when convenient, retracting when strategic, and denying reciprocity. The two-state framework mirrors this logic, offering Palestinians a phantom state while preserving Israeli mobility, impunity, and cartographic control. Vagueness is not a flaw — it is the diplomatic architecture of apartheid.
- Colonial Continuity: The wall, the checkpoints, the settlements — none are addressed in the proposal. These are not temporary obstacles; they are permanent fixtures of Zionist control. The two-state framework treats them as negotiable, when they are in fact non-negotiable instruments of apartheid.
- International Diplomatic Theatre: The proposal is not designed to meet Palestinian demands — it is designed to restore Western credibility. Palestinian demands are clear, consistent, and rooted in both lived resistance and international law: the dismantling of settlements, the lifting of the siege on Gaza, the right of return for refugees, the end of military occupation, and the recognition of full sovereignty over historic Palestine. This last demand is juridically grounded — affirmed by UN Resolution 3236 and upheld by the International Court of Justice as an erga omnes obligation — that is, a duty owed by all states to the international community as a whole, enforceable even in the absence of direct injury.”
III. From Oslo to Macron — The Evolution of Diplomatic Containment
The two-state proposal is not a rupture — it is a refinement of the existing colonial architecture. It does not dismantle the machinery of occupation; it rebrands it. By partitioning Palestine into fragments and labeling the arrangement as peace, the proposal preserves settler sovereignty while offering diplomatic cover to its enablers.
From Oslo to Macron, the diplomatic apparatus has evolved not to resolve the conflict, but to manage its optics. Each iteration retools the language of peace to preserve the infrastructure of domination. The choreography shifts, but the logic remains: defer core demands, empower compromised actors, suppress resistance, and reframe colonization as coordination.
- Oslo’s Inception: The 1993 Oslo Accords introduced the architecture of deferral. It recognized the Palestinian Authority as a provisional administrator, not a sovereign entity. It postponed final status issues — borders, refugees, Jerusalem — while enabling Israel to expand settlements and entrench control. Oslo did not initiate peace; it institutionalized asymmetry.
- The Buffer Apparatus: Oslo subcontracted Palestinian governance to the PA, transforming it into a buffer between the occupier and the occupied. This apparatus was not designed to represent Palestinian will — it was designed to absorb resistance, manage dissent, and coordinate security with Israel. It was containment disguised as autonomy.
- Post-2006 Erasure: When the resistance was elected into governance, the diplomatic framework did not adapt — it retaliated. The U.S. and its allies imposed sanctions, backed internal fragmentation, and redefined legitimacy as compliance. The electoral mandate was erased, and the buffer apparatus was preserved.
- Division as Tactic: The two-state framework divides Palestinians geographically (Gaza vs. West Bank), politically (PA vs. Hamas), and existentially (citizen vs. refugee). These divisions are not incidental — they are strategic. They fragment the national body, isolate resistance, and prevent unified representation. Fragmentation is not a symptom — it is a tactic of control.
- Diaspora Erased: From Shatila to Santiago, the global Palestinian community is excluded from the “state” narrative. The two-state framework treats the diaspora as irrelevant, despite its central role in sustaining memory, mobilization, and mandate. Statelessness is not resolved — it is ignored. The proposal offers no return, no representation, no recognition.
- Macron’s Reanimation: Macron’s proposal does not depart from Oslo — it reanimates it. It centers on disarmament, security coordination, and the restoration of the PA in Gaza. It offers no borders, no control over airspace, no guarantees of return. It excludes the resistance, retools the buffer, and performs concern without confronting colonization.
- Legal Choreography: Even appeals to international law are choreographed. While Palestinian self-determination is affirmed in UN resolutions and ICJ opinions, international law itself is a Western production — drafted to manage decolonization without dismantling global hierarchies. Its selective application suppresses resistance while legitimizing occupation.
This evolution is not accidental — it is strategic. Each diplomatic gesture refines the machinery of deferral. The language of peace becomes a technology of control. The two-state proposal is not a solution — it is the latest iteration of containment.
IV. Israeli Opposition — A Strategic Performance
Israel’s rejection of Macron’s two-state proposal is not a contradiction — it is a continuation. It does not stem from fear of Palestinian empowerment, but from the strategic calculus of fragmentation. The proposal, as designed, poses no threat to Zionist control. Its rejection is not principled — it is performative.
- Why Oppose Macron’s Deal? Israel opposes the proposal not because it grants Palestinians sovereignty, but because it reactivates a diplomatic framework that implies negotiation. In rejecting it, Israel deepens the fragmentation of Palestinian representation, delegitimizes international mediation, and reasserts its unilateralism. The goal is not to prevent peace — it is to prevent parity.
- The Logic of Control: Once the PA abandoned the demand for full sovereignty, Israel saw no need to entertain negotiations. The subcontracted governance model serves Israeli interests: it outsources control, deflects accountability, and suppresses resistance. Negotiation becomes unnecessary when containment is already achieved.
- Rejection as Leverage: By opposing the proposal, Israel positions itself as the aggrieved party — claiming that even the most diluted frameworks are too generous. This rhetorical posture allows it to demand further concessions, redefine security, and expand settlements under the guise of self-defense. Rejection becomes a tool of escalation. But this opposition is not reactive — it is strategic. It aligns with Israel’s openly declared vision of a “Greater Israel,” which includes permanent control over the West Bank, annexation of settlement blocs, and the denial of Palestinian sovereignty. The rejection of Macron’s proposal is not a refusal of peace — it is a refusal of partition. It signals that the era of negotiation is over, and that the Zionist project now seeks territorial maximalism without diplomatic constraint. In this context, rejection is not a breakdown — it is a declaration: that the land is not to be shared, and that containment will proceed without consent.
- Normalization Without Negotiation: Israel no longer needs the two-state proposal to secure international legitimacy. Through normalization agreements, economic partnerships, and strategic alliances, it bypasses the Palestinian question entirely. Macron’s proposal reintroduces a framework Israel has already outgrown — one that implies accountability, borders, and recognition.
- The Spectacle of Refusal: Israeli opposition is not a refusal of colonial logic — it is a refusal to share the stage. The proposal, even in its vagueness, gestures toward diplomacy. Israel prefers domination without dialogue. Its rejection is not a retreat — it is a declaration: that Greater Israel is not negotiable, and containment will not be co-authored.
V. The Rhetoric of Peace as a Technology of Control
Peace, in the architecture of international diplomacy, is not a destination, it is a device. It functions not to resolve injustice but to regulate its visibility. The rhetoric of peace is deployed to manage perception, suppress resistance, and reframe colonization as coordination. It is not neutral. It is a technology of control.
Western actors invoke peace to perform moral authority while evading accountability. They speak of “calm,” “restraint,” and “de-escalation” only when Palestinians resist. The language is asymmetrical: occupation is never named, apartheid is never condemned, and Zionist violence is treated as security. Peace becomes a euphemism for pacification.
This rhetoric is not accidental — it is strategic. It allows diplomats to condemn violence without confronting its source. It enables the media to report “clashes” without naming the colonizer. It permits humanitarian organizations to deliver aid while avoiding the politics of siege. Peace, in this context, is not a moral imperative, it is a discursive shield.
The two-state proposal is saturated with this rhetoric. It promises “coexistence” without dismantling the wall, “security” without ending the blockade, and “statehood” without sovereignty. It offers Palestinians a future without return, borders, or representation. It retools the language of liberation into the grammar of containment.
Even the appeals to international law are choreographed. The right to self-determination is affirmed in resolutions and court opinions but never enforced. The law is cited to condemn resistance, not occupation. It is invoked to regulate Palestinian conduct, not Israeli expansion. This selective application reveals its function: to legitimize diplomacy while suppressing liberation.
Peace, as deployed by Macron and his allies, is not a horizon, it is a trap. It is designed to defer justice, obscure power, and restore Western credibility. It is not the opposite of war — it is the continuation of colonization by rhetorical means.
VI. The Archive of Refusal — Naming What the Proposal Erases
To understand the two-state proposal, one must read not only its text but its omissions. What it does not name, it does not intend to address. Its architecture is built on erasure: of history, of suffering, of resistance. It offers a future without memory, a state without return, a peace without justice.
It erases the Nakba — not as a historical rupture but as a living wound. It does not mention the dispossession of 1948, the destruction of villages, the exile of millions. It treats the refugee as a humanitarian subject, not a political agent. The right of return is not deferred; it is denied.
It erases Gaza — not as a territory but as a testimony. The siege is not named, the bombings are not condemned, the resistance is not acknowledged. Gaza becomes a site of humanitarian concern, not colonial violence. Its suffering is instrumentalized to justify intervention, not liberation.
It erases the resistance — not as a military force but as a political will. The elected mandate of Hamas in 2006 is ignored, the popular support is dismissed, the ideological clarity is vilified. Resistance is framed as extremism, while occupation is framed as security. The proposal does not negotiate — it selects its interlocutors based on compliance.
It erases the diaspora — not as a scattered population but as a global archive of memory and mobilization. The millions in exile are not consulted, not represented, not returned. Their testimony is excluded from the diplomatic record. Their longing is treated as nostalgia, not as a juridical claim.
The two-state proposal does not seek resolution — it seeks erasure. To accept its terms is to participate in the deletion of Palestinian history, agency, and futurity.
Section VII: Comparative Refusals and Revolutionary Precedents
The refusal of partition is not a rhetorical flourish — it is a historical imperative. Palestine’s rejection of the two-state illusion is not an anomaly, but a continuation of revolutionary clarity shared across liberation movements. To accept a framework that leaves half a people in exile and half a homeland under occupation is not compromise — it is consent to erasure.
Would Algeria have accepted a “two-state” compromise that preserved French settler rule over Algiers while relegating native sovereignty to the margins? Would China have negotiated its liberation by conceding its heartland to colonial administration and calling it peace? These are not speculative provocations. They are mirrors held up to the machinery of consent.
Palestine is not Gaza plus West Bank. It is not a cartographic remainder. It is a homeland — dispossessed, unpartitioned, and unyielding. To reduce it to fragments is to participate in the very fantasy the archive refuses.
As Ghassan Kanafani wrote, “The only land Palestinians can claim is the land of revolution.” This is not metaphor — it is method. It is the architecture of justice, not the opposite of peace. Revolution, in this context, is not so much a call to arms as it is a refusal to forget, a refusal to negotiate dignity, a refusal to render testimony into diplomacy.
VIII. Conclusion: Toward a Liberated Vocabulary and Palestine
To reject the two-state proposal is not to reject peace, it is to reject pacification. It is to refuse a framework built on erasure, asymmetry, and containment. This refusal is not nihilistic — it is ethical. It insists that any future worth building must begin with truth, justice, and return.
Refusal is not the absence of vision — it is its precondition. It clears the ground of deceptive scaffolding so that liberation can be imagined without compromise. It names what diplomacy obscures: that sovereignty cannot coexist with siege, that representation cannot be subcontracted, and that peace cannot be built atop apartheid.
A liberated vocabulary begins with refusal. It names occupation as apartheid, siege as warfare, and resistance as political will. It does not sanitize violence with euphemism. It does not defer justice with process. It does not confuse containment with sovereignty. It speaks from the archive of struggle, not the choreography of diplomacy.
The architecture of return begins with the restoration of memory. It affirms the Nakba not as a past event but as a present structure. It centers the refugee not as a humanitarian subject but as a political agent. It reclaims Gaza not as a crisis zone but as a site of resistance. It recognizes the diaspora not as dispersion but as mobilization.
This vocabulary is not invented, it is remembered. It lives in the chants of return, the testimonies of survivors, the maps drawn in exile. It is inscribed in the rubble of erased villages, the silence of censored histories, the persistence of mobilized diasporas. It is not a lexicon of policy — it is a language of liberation.
To move toward Palestine is to restore this language. To speak of sovereignty without subcontracting, of return without condition, of justice without deferral. It is to reject the deceptive architecture of the two-state proposal and to build, instead, a framework rooted in memory, mandate, and refusal.
Palestine does not need a proposal — it needs recognition. Not of its fragments, but of its wholeness. Not of its containment, but of its horizon. Not of its erasure, but of its voice.
Note: First published in Medium
Rima Najjar is a Palestinian whose father’s side of the family comes from the forcibly depopulated village of Lifta on the western outskirts of Jerusalem and whose mother’s side of the family is from Ijzim, south of Haifa. She is an activist, researcher, and retired professor of English literature, Al-Quds University, occupied West Bank.
24 September 2025
Source: countercurrents.org