I set out to write on one subject, but was overwhelmed by the dizzying pace of events. Two days ago, the world was treated to another grim spectacle: Donald Trump and Benjamin Netanyahu convening to determine the future of Palestinians, the cruel paradox of our age — that the authors of ruin are summoned to lead on the terms of salvation.
Netanyahu, a genocidal war criminal wanted by the ICC, a man whose last UN address emptied the hall as delegates walked out in disgust, was again granted the world stage as a legitimate arbiter of his victims’ fate.
At his side, the United States, complicit in every step of the carnage, with Arab states in uneasy tow.
Which precise terms have already been floated or endorsed by regional players remains murky, but all signs point to a grim prediction: in Gaza, ravaged by two years of unrelenting devastation, Hamas is now likely to feel compelled to accept whatever terms are placed before them, however cruel, simply to secure the one victory that still feels within reach — that Palestinians remain in Gaza at all.
And yet, I do not want to lose my thread. Recognition of Palestine may feel like last week's news against such upheaval, but I want to return to it because the logic still holds.
Across decades of struggle, Palestinians have lived with the sting of being perpetual petitioners. The quest for state recognition has often been one such petition — a colossal effort for what can feel like no more than a symbolic nod from the world’s capitals.
It is no surprise, then, that among Palestine’s champions a deep scepticism endures: recognition is dismissed as tokenistic, vacuous, performative — a gesture that allows states to tick a box without shifting realities on the ground. I share that instinctive unease. Yet I believe it is dangerous to surrender so completely to the complacency it breeds, or to the culture of political thought it entrenches among Palestine’s advocates.
We can all agree that the critique is not without merit. State recognition alone does not dismantle occupation, dislodge settlements, or repair shattered infrastructure and lives.
Most urgently, it does not end Israel’s relentless onslaught on Gaza. But to treat it as inherently worthless, a dead-end, is to misread its nature.
Recognition is not manna from heaven; it is a tool, a lever in the machinery of international law, diplomacy, and political leverage. Its power lies not in the ink of a declaration but in the opportunities it creates — opportunities that exist only if we are prepared to seize and shape them.
Those who wait for recognition to deliver salvation commit a fairly common error: they confuse instruments with miracles, believing these instruments carry their own engines of change.
It is choosing the role of a spectator, leaning back as if history were a stage play, appraising each event for the satisfaction it delivers, rather than moving deliberately through the emerging gaps to exercise agency.
Disempowered communities often inherit this habit of passive judgment, a kind of political atrophy in which the muscles of strategic action grow weak from disuse and exclusion from the political process.
There is no point lamenting that recognition does not give you all you want, or even that it may tempt states to tick a box and avoid the harder, necessary steps that ought to follow.
Recognition should be viewed as an implement to be seized, mastered, and driven into the machinery of power — never as a substitute for urgent demands, but as a means to press them harder.
The recent Labour Party conference in Liverpool made that plain: recognition did not silence debate, Starmer’s gesture only fuelled a sharper reckoning inside his party, with delegates demanding an arms embargo, sanctions, and the naming of genocide.
To see state recognition as a self-contained solution is to misunderstand how the world is structured. We live within a regulated framework that shapes our political space, however unevenly applied or brazenly violated by powerful actors. Fragile though it is, this system is what exists, and it is the terrain on which struggles must be fought.
In this context, recognition confers the authority to claim rights rather than simply appeal for them in the court of public opinion. It confers legal standing, diplomatic weight, and the ability to demand accountability.
Take the International Criminal Court: without the 2012 recognition of Palestine as a “non-member observer state” at the UN General Assembly — supported by 138 countries — Palestine would not have been able to accede to bodies such as UNESCO or the ICC. Without it, even South Africa’s genocide case against Israel at the ICJ would have been legally unimaginable.
Recognition allows Palestine to activate international mechanisms of justice. Strip recognition away, and these avenues collapse. Today we may not yet see the paths this new development will open, but we can be sure they will appear.
Recognition grants Palestine access to institutions, full embassies, international treaties, conventions, and forums that can fundamentally shift the incentives of states and other actors. Each recognised embassy, each treaty signed, each convention ratified is a tangible tool to challenge impunity, enforce accountability, and assert agency.
Envision a Palestinian diplomatic corps capable of forging alliances and agreements that tangibly alter economic and security dynamics. Picture civil society campaigns, like BDS, operating with legal grounding and legitimacy, transforming ethical pressure into enforceable action. Recognition, once in place, becomes a prism through which every political and legal strategy can be refracted, amplified, and sustained.
Recognition operates at the level of political psychology too. It normalises the Palestinian state and Palestinian claims as legitimate in the eyes of the world, shifting the burden of argument.
To support Palestine is no longer a radical stance but an alignment with international consensus. This changes the moral arithmetic: instead of Palestinians having to prove their rightfulness, it is those resisting recognition who are pushed onto the defensive.
States are inherently conformist; when major powers act, they reshape what is seen as permissible, ethical, and achievable. Recognition is a seed that grows in public perception, creating a feedback loop: legitimacy begets legitimacy.
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Recognition also normalises Western friction with Israel. Politicians, diplomats, and publics grow accustomed to contradicting Israeli objections in material ways, voting in treaties, opening embassies, funding projects, until what once seemed a provocation becomes routine.
It isolates the United States as well. Washington can absorb that tension for a time, but not indefinitely; the more the world treats Palestinian sovereignty as a given, the more costly America’s exceptionalism becomes. Each consulate opened, each bilateral agreement signed, is not only a symbol of Palestine’s permanence but a rehearsal of the post-American order.
No wonder, then, that within Israel’s political establishment, this string of recent recognitions is seen as a catastrophic diplomatic failure — one that could strip Netanyahu of his long-cultivated reputation as the politician most capable of reliably delivering Western support, and, as many Israeli politicians now predict, cost him the next election.
Rather than lamenting what recognition hasn’t delivered, we should focus on designing a strategy to put it to work. We need careful political craftsmanship, translating recognition into enforceable mechanisms that make violations of law costly, and turning diplomatic gestures into tangible accountability.
This includes pressing supportive states to act, through Security Council resolutions, arms restrictions, trade conditions, and consistent UN voting, to curb settlement expansion and collective punishment, achieve a ceasefire in Gaza, fund reconstruction and monitoring, and guarantee Palestinian security and sovereignty. Recognition should spark concrete, coordinated follow-through: a timetable for ending occupation, robust support for ICC investigations, and targeted measures when international law is flouted, ensuring that this moment translates into real, lasting change.
These tasks are neither glamorous nor headline-grabbing. They are detail-heavy, technical, and essential. But they are the levers that convert symbolic gestures into durable change.
In short, recognition is a tool that demands active engagement. To treat it as anything else is to hand over agency to magical thinking. The Palestinian cause has never lacked symbolic gestures or performative declarations. What it has often lacked is deliberate initiative and sustained discipline.
One final thought: it is often said that people may start a war, but war quickly learns to walk on its own. Recognition is no different. States may grant it within the limits of their own calculations — but we, too, can act. We can set it in motion, guide it down the corridors we choose, and steer its course independently of its makers.
Leila Sansour is a Palestinian-British filmmaker and TV producer. She is the founder and Chief Executive of Open Bethlehem, an initiative dedicated to promoting and preserving the life and heritage of Bethlehem
Follow Leila on X: @Leilasansour
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Opinions expressed in this article remain those of the author and do not necessarily represent those of The New Arab, its editorial board or staff.