Teaching Resolution in the Laboratory of Conflicts

A decade ago, I received a Rotary Global Grant for Peace and chose to pursue an international master’s degree in Conflict Resolution and Mediation at Tel Aviv University in Israel. I knew the Palestinian side of the story, yet I wasn’t exposed to the Israeli perspective. I was full of anxiety when I moved to Tel Aviv since I didn’t know what was ahead of me. Yet, I went there with an open mind, genuine curiosity, and a sincere heart to understand both sides of the conflict. When I look back, my courage seems surreal, but it was one of the best decisions I’ve made in my life. It wasn’t easy, for sure, but understanding intractable conflicts from multidimensional theoretical perspectives and gaining practical knowledge through field experience is crucial for working towards sustainable peacebuilding.

Courtesy of Tel Aviv University

In this interview, I reached out to Canadian-Israeli Corey Gil-Shuster, who is the Director of the Conflict Resolution and Mediation master’s degree program at Tel Aviv University. Through his The Ask Project Corey has been conducting brief yet eye-opening interviews with both Israelis and Palestinians about the conflict on YouTube. His interviews have been circulating through social media platforms and have made him one of the well-known experts in peace and conflict studies. When I went to Israel on 8 October 2015, Corey became one of my biggest supporters, who made my challenging studies more manageable and provided logical perspectives when I found myself frustrated with the harsh realities and complexities of the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict. I was already asking him many questions during my studies, and yet this time, I asked Corey for our readers.

Corey Gil-Shuster: The Ask Project

What inspired you to take on this non-traditional way of building your career in conflict resolution and peacebuilding?

I visited Israel for a vacation in 1992, but I ended up meeting the man who would later become my husband. He is Israeli, so I stayed. During the Second Intifada, in the late 1990s and early 2000s, there were frequent terror attacks—suicide bombings on buses, in cafés—and I couldn’t understand it. Coming from Canada, the logic didn’t make sense to me. If both sides were trying to make peace under the Oslo Accords, why would some groups actively try to sabotage it?

While I was learning Hebrew and integrating into Israeli society, I began to grasp the Israeli psyche. But I realized that I didn’t understand the Palestinian perspective at all. Around 2003, we moved back to Canada, and I began searching for academic programs that explored the psychology of conflict—I didn’t even know the term “conflict resolution” at the time. Eventually, I studied Conflict Studies at the University of Ottawa. I wanted to better understand the psychological, social, and political motivations behind why people—Israelis, Palestinians, or anyone in a conflict—act the way they do. That program gave me a framework to make sense of the many layers of those who want peace, those who don’t, and everyone in between.

Israeli society has a reputation for being straightforward and loud, which differs from the politeness and gentle communication manners of Canadian society. When you made Aliyah, what surprised you most about Israelis?

Growing up in Canada, we were taught to be observers. Canadians tend to be quiet and reflective. I’m not always quiet myself, but I do enjoy observing people and their dynamics. What fascinates me is how, even within a single family, you can find multiple cultural influences. People may have been together for decades, yet they come from very different cultural backgrounds and ways of thinking. I love the “live and let live” mentality of Israeli society. I don’t think people outside Israel always realize this. Even if someone is very religious or politically extreme, there is a general attitude of: ‘You do your thing, I’ll do mine.’

A young ultra-orthodox Jewish man inserting Tefillin on the arm of a young gay Jewish man in Tel Aviv – (Courtesy of a friend of Corey Gil-Shuster)

Let me give an example: 30 years ago, being gay was still seen as unusual, especially in traditional families like my husband’s, who grew up with little formal education and strong cultural traditions. But the importance of family often outweighed those norms. It was like, OK, it’s different, but it’s still family. And that kind of acceptance—sometimes reluctant yet still genuine—is very common here. If you present people with a reasonable argument for tolerance, most would likely say: Fair enough.

You gained fame with your “Ask an Israeli/Ask a Palestinian Project” on YouTube, which has been circulating on social media platforms. Today, it is called “The Ask Project.”

Upon returning to Israel, I received a job offer as the Program Director in the Conflict Resolution and Mediation master’s program at Tel Aviv University. Around the same time, I was also thinking about how I could contribute to the conversation around the Israeli-Palestinian conflict in a meaningful way. I was both inspired and frustrated by the number of people online, discussing the conflict without much knowledge about it, especially in the comments sections of blogs around 2011–2012. Most of them weren’t Israeli or Palestinian; they just had strong opinions. Someone in a comment said, “How do you know what they think? Are you going to go and ask people what they think?”

That moment sparked the idea! I was already having so many conversations—why not record them? To keep things focused, I decided to ask each person one question. That way, people wouldn’t go off on tangents, and I could get a range of responses to the same prompt. The first video I made was powerful. It helped show what everyday Israelis, not politicians or pundits, think. But then I realized: I had no idea what Palestinians thought. So I went out and started asking the same questions on the streets of the West Bank. That’s how the project was born.

How do you approach people in the streets?  Do you reveal your questions beforehand?

Interestingly, many people don’t understand what I’m about to ask when I approach them. They assume it’s going to be about pop culture—something light like, “What kind of music do you listen to?” When they hear a political question, they’re usually surprised. I try not to hint at the topic beforehand because I like to capture that genuine moment of surprise on their faces. Palestinian Muslims, in general, come from a culture that emphasizes hospitality—especially toward foreigners—so they’re often more open and welcoming. Israelis, on the other hand, tend to be more direct. They say things like, “What the hell are you talking about?” It’s just a different communication style.

Corey Gil-Shuster in Ramallah

What are your biggest challenges in “The Ask Project?” 

I’ve received threats—though not frequently—from both sides. More often, the threats come from religious Israelis who, for some reason, think I’m part of ‘Jews for Jesus.’ There’s a rumor out there, possibly because I’ve done a few videos about Jesus and some people fixate on that. Some Israeli Jews also assume I’m a far-left, anti-Israel figure, and they take offense at that. I usually just let them think what they want. As long as they don’t harm me, I don’t really care.

Palestinians present a different kind of challenge. They’re often very concerned about what will be published online. They worry that if they say the wrong thing, it could have serious consequences, whether from Israeli authorities, the Palestinian Authority, or even their own families. I’ve heard stories where someone feared their father might punish them, or that they might get arrested. Thankfully, over the past 13 years, no one has ever been arrested or physically harmed.

You create a space where people feel safe to open up. How did you develop that? Of course, part of it is your personality, but how did you train yourself to sincerely listen to both sides without reacting emotionally?

Conflicts are all rooted in emotions. Like everyone else, I have emotions. Of course, emotional Corey gets offended sometimes—that’s normal. But I try to stay grounded in the idea that people are entitled to their views. If someone believes all of this land is Palestine or all of it is Israel, it’s okay. I have my own opinions; they can have theirs. That’s part of the space I try to create. Part of analyzing conflicts is stepping back from those emotions. You don’t ignore them, you recognize them, but you try to gain enough distance to observe and understand the situation objectively. That’s where objective insight begins.

Something interesting happens when you’re behind a camera. When you’re focused on framing the person, checking sound quality, and making sure everything is being captured, your brain shifts. You’re concentrating on the technical side, not just the content of what they’re saying.  That distance, viewing someone through a screen, actually helps with emotional separation. You’re thinking more logically, less reactively. I might still feel emotional inside, but I remind myself: They have a right to believe what they believe. As long as they’re not advocating violence or promoting hate speech, I’m okay with it.

After the October 7th Attack, many people from both sides say that they no longer believe in peace. How has your life changed?

What happened to me personally is that October 7th completely traumatized me. That morning, I heard some vague reports on the news, but it wasn’t clear. Strangely, I first gained an understanding of the scope of what was happening through Palestinian media. Videos were circulating—graphic, horrifying clips of massacres, beheadings. Things were so brutal I couldn’t believe they were real. At first, I thought they were from Syria or somewhere else. Then, I realized that many were from Israel. What struck me most was that these were civilians. None of what I saw showed soldiers. Some victims weren’t even Israeli. One video showed a Thai worker being beheaded. I still have some of those videos. Not all are verified, but many have been proven real—and they shook me deeply.

For months, I stopped filming. I didn’t ask Israelis or Palestinians any questions. It was too raw, too emotional, and I didn’t trust that I could get a fair or meaningful response. My videos take time to produce and are meant to hold relevance even five years later, so I didn’t want to rush anything to capture the moment. I kept thinking: How can I go back to interviewing Palestinians after this? Many of the videos I saw were being shared with hearts, likes, and celebratory comments. Many people were writing “Allahu Akbar” over scenes of brutality. Not all of them were Palestinian, but many were. And I thought: How can I look some of these people in the eye now? If Jewish people were celebrating the murder of Palestinian civilians, I’d feel the same way. It’s not about sides. It’s about inhumanity.

Eventually, you regained your strength and returned to filming. What do you observe in your interviews since then?

The emotional wound is still there, but I also believe it’s important to know what people think, even if it’s painful. Especially now, hearing what both Palestinians and Israelis say about each other. I hear many Israelis say, “There can never be peace after October 7th.” That sentiment is now much more common on the Israeli side. Among Palestinians, I don’t hear it as often—maybe because many didn’t believe in peace even before October 7th. But they, too, are traumatized. They see the devastation in Gaza—tens of thousands dead, including children—and they see it all as civilians being killed.

October 7th also shocked Jewish communities around the world. People who had never really cared much about Israel—some who had never even visited—suddenly felt exposed. Not because of what Israel was doing weeks later, but on October 8th, when they began receiving waves of antisemitism. The backlash was so immediate and intense that it turned many Jews who had been indifferent, or even critical, into staunch supporters of Israel. I’ve met Jews who’ve made aliyah since then from Australia, Switzerland, and France. I’m not someone who pushes for Aliyah. I moved here because I love the place, but it’s not easy to live in Israel. Salaries are low, and costs are high. It’s not always culturally comfortable, especially if you’re coming from the United States or the United Kingdom. But now, more Jews are moving here because they don’t feel safe anymore.

What are the current feelings of Israelis regarding living in Israel amidst being forced to hear the phone alarms, scary sirens, and run into shelters, frequently? Are there people considering leaving?

I recently released a video about it. On my YouTube channel, you can hear it from some Israelis.

Tel Aviv University, campus main entrance – (Courtesy of Tel Aviv University)

Due to the ongoing wars, academic boycotts against Israeli universities have significantly interrupted research projects and student enrollments. What is the situation in the Conflict Resolution and Mediation MA program at Tel Aviv University?

Our program has been significantly impacted because many people are hesitant to study in Israel. In 2023, we were supposed to start the program on October 8th with 31 students. Some panicked and left the program, but almost all returned. This year, we have far fewer students. Interest in the program has declined, but the silver lining is that we now have more scholarship funds available for applicants. I encourage anyone interested to take advantage of these scholarship opportunities in the Conflict Resolution and Mediation MA Program.

Academically, some professors have reported being uninvited to conferences, though this isn’t widespread. Our faculty has agreements with European universities. While some student bodies have tried to pressure their universities to cancel these agreements, the contracts remain intact for now. It seems the push for academic boycotts is more from student activists than from academics themselves. Ironically, the founder of the BDS movement was a Tel Aviv University student who earned both his master’s and PhD there. To me, academic boycotts don’t make sense. Boycotting academic dialogue is counterproductive. Dialogue is essential, and cutting it off is harmful.

Courtesy of Tel Aviv University

For students who are fearful of studying in Israel, I can confidently say that Israeli universities, student organizations, course instructors, and counseling services are very supportive. I recall visiting your campus office when I was stressed about the pressure of assignment deadlines and the ongoing conflict.

I’m not a trained social worker, but students are always welcome to come. Tel Aviv University has a dedicated support staff for emotional and psychological needs, whether related to the war or simply adjusting to life in a new country. They’re especially attentive to international students, who receive priority access to university therapists, typically within a few days, unlike Israeli students, who already have established support networks. Each cohort, around 25–35 students, naturally forms a strong peer support group. Regardless of age or background, students consistently look out for one another. If someone is struggling, I often get a message, and we follow up right away, connecting them with the right resources.

Spring blossoms at Tel Aviv University campus – (Courtesy of Tel Aviv University)

During my time in Israel, I tried to read some Rabbinic teachings to gain a deeper understanding of the Jewish people. Each time I read the profound teachings of Maimonides, I slow down and reflect on the ways humanity interacts with one another. He once said, “I will destroy my enemies by converting them to friends.” Is there any Jewish wisdom that you like?

I’m not religious, but I have a deep understanding of Judaism because I attended Jewish schools as a child. I’m drawn to the uniqueness of Jewish history and everything we’ve been through as a people. For me, beyond a specific teaching, it is more about understanding how history has shaped who we’ve become. Jewish People are incredibly diverse. Some are deeply observant, some are secular, and most fall somewhere in between. I am fascinated by that socio-cultural complexity.

Tel Aviv University campus & Museum of the Jewish People – (Courtesy of Tel Aviv University)

Since my studies, I have been interested in Hebrew words. I love the word Shalom / שָׁלוֹם, which means peace, and is used in various contexts. The phrase ‘Shalom Aleichem’ is interconnected with ‘Selam Aleikum.’ They both mean: Peace be upon you. Do you have a Hebrew word that you love?

(He responded with laughter)

It has nothing to do with peacebuilding, but I find the word falula, hilarious. It is mutually used in both Arabic and Hebrew, referring to a skin growth, lump, or bump on the face or skin. The word itself cracks me up. Falula!

After all these years of dedication, how would Corey define peace?

Peace is achieved when everyone gets along and embraces a “Live and Let Live” attitude, where they all meet with a sense of shared humanity, equity, dignity, and reciprocity for all.

In the context of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, for me, peace means something more modest: Let us not try to kill each other. We don’t have to agree with each other. I don’t have to see things your way, nor you mine—but let’s not resort to violence.