I woke up Tuesday in a Washington hotel, scrolled through Israeli Telegram alerts and then Israeli sites, and saw it: reports of an explosion in Doha. Within minutes, the IDF said it had targeted Hamas leaders in Qatar’s capital. US networks took much longer to say what Israelis were already arguing about in family chats and newsroom groups. That time lag was a small reminder of how differently our information ecosystems breathe.
A few hours later, I walked into the Middle East–America Dialogue (MEAD) summit, held this year in an opulent DC hotel where the coffee is perfect and the hallways hum with whispers. One Muslim diplomat I know canceled on the spot; most did not. The summit opened on a morning of regional tremors and ended Wednesday night as America processed the killing of Charlie Kirk during a campus speech. Two capitals, two shocks, one sleepless conference corridor.
Full disclosure: One of MEAD’s founders is Yaakov Katz, my predecessor at The Jerusalem Post and a friend. He also has a strange effect on my English, waking up a hidden Chicago accent I pretend I do not have. Beyond that, he and his partners have turned MEAD into a place where people who actually make decisions talk like human beings. They test ideas, throw out bad ones, and sometimes discover that the person they were trained to distrust sounds reasonable when meeting face to face.
MEAD’S GROUND rules are strict. Unless you have permission, you cannot name the participants and you cannot quote them, which is maddening for journalists. You sit across from a former Arab country leader, hear measured, pragmatic thinking, and have to keep your notebook and recording device shut. Yet there is a discipline in this. Real change usually begins quietly, in rooms where people are allowed to risk a thought without it becoming a viral clip.
The older I get, the more I value conversations that are not designed for the feed. This week, the 300-plus people in those rooms were reminded to be modest, to be patient, and to trade certainty for the messy work of listening.
The access feels unreal, then oddly normal. You can have a drink with a senior American official, then share a kosher lunch with an Arab journalist who wants to understand Israeli voters and Israeli humor. There are also those billionaires who actually care about Israel and the Jewish people, who are accessible and open-minded. For two days, that mix feels natural. It shouldn’t, and yet it does. That is the MEAD magic.
Doha was the shadow. As I write, the consequences are still unclear; the shock was not. Delegates from the Gulf told me they have no sympathy for Hamas. They also cannot accept an Israeli strike in a neighboring state. Many said they want deeper ties with Israel and understand that governments change in a democracy. Still, far-right ministers Bezalel Smotrich and Itamar Ben-Gvir are a red flag for them. They are seen as hostile to Arabs and to Islam. The preference, often stated plainly, is for a more moderate coalition in Jerusalem and, above all, an end to the war that would make open contact with Israel easier back home.
FROM ISRAELIS, I heard a different kind of plain talk, the same line I hear in taxis and at Shabbat tables: that the Hamas leadership in Doha has to be eliminated. The gap between Israeli public instinct and diplomatic realities is wide, and it is widening as the war grinds on.
Another divide sat quietly in the corners of the lobby. Several Americans, including American Jews, admitted that public support for Israel has become harder to voice. Some sounded apologetic, as if saying it too loudly might betray something essential. Others insisted Israel must decide for itself that Diaspora advice should not become Diaspora pressure. On stage and off, every current US official I heard criticized the Doha strike. Inside Israel, backing for hard action remains high. The contrast is not theoretical: It shapes policy, tone, and the risk of talking past one another.
Gaps in policy on sovereignty
Policy gaps were everywhere. On Israeli sovereignty in Judea and Samaria – the West Bank – Arab participants were alarmed by annexation talk. Most American participants were, too. Their argument, repeated in different accents, was that security arrangements, regional normalization, and economic ties are the work at hand. Annexation, they said, puts the cart not only before the horse, but also before the road.
A confession from the home front. The Israeli Right, conservative, and religious camps, have a language problem that is not just grammar. Too many leaders struggle to explain themselves in English, fail to follow foreign media, or show indifference towards diplomacy. In 2025, everything is translated, clipped, and shipped. Words do not stay local. The settler movement in particular needs to learn the nuance of speaking to people who do not share its story, both in the US and in the region. Being a bull in a china shop breaks more than plates.
ALL OF this brought me back to something I have written about often: the case for the center. Not a mushy middle, but the hard work of moderation. In a polarized world, grown-ups are underrated. It is easy for Israelis to applaud Republicans for today’s vocal support. We cannot ignore Democrats who are quietly steadfast Zionists, even as their homes are vandalized and their families need extra security.
The reaction to Kirk’s killing, with Republicans and Democrats equally shaken, was a rare American moment where disagreement did not cancel grief. It made me think about how Israelis might sound if we allowed ourselves more compassion for each other. We live in a pressure cooker. Tragedy is not a headline; it is a schedule. Bluntness is not always cruelty. Sometimes it is fatigue.
MEAD itself kept growing up. Over two packed days, dozens of senior officials from the Middle East, Israel, and the US passed through. The backdrop could not have been more intense: the Doha strike, renewed talk of a hostage deal, and the Gaza operation. With permission, I can name a few who took part: Strategic Affairs Minister Ron Dermer, businessman Steve Witkoff, former Shin Bet (Israel Security Service) director Ronen Bar, and Congressman Mike Waltz. For the first time since October 7, 2023, Bar appeared in a public forum and offered his reading of the past two years. This was the third MEAD summit, and it is now a fixture, not an experiment.
I LEFT the hotel carrying too many business cards and a notebook full of arrows and question marks. I was excited by the possibilities, worried by the timelines, grateful for American support, and realistic about how thin bipartisan habits have become. The Middle East changed twice in 48 hours. America changed, too. Somewhere between the breakout rooms and the lobby couches, I remembered why these meetings matter. They are not about an instant breakthrough: They aim to make it a little safer for people who disagree to keep talking.
And so, a few closing notes from the floor. MEAD ended after two intense days with senior officials, policy hands, and business leaders from across the Middle East, Israel, and the US. It took place against the immediate backdrop of the Doha strike, live discussions over a hostage deal, and continuing operations in Gaza, and still managed to gather most of the key players. In a first since October 7, Bar spoke publicly and laid out his analysis of the last two years. Some said it was their highlight of the conference; I tend to agree.
I wish I could run the quotes that stayed with me. I cannot. The rules are the rules. What I can say is that for two days, people who rarely sit together did just that. They argued without shouting. They asked questions they were not supposed to ask. They tried to imagine a morning where the alerts on our phones are routine, not a jolt. If that sounds small, it is not. In our part of the world, that is how big things start.