Even Germany has announced its intention to recognize the State of Palestine.
For a country burdened by a profound historical and political complex, this is a deeply significant move. Consider that, by law, anyone applying for residency must recognize Israel’s right to exist (but not, for example, that of Ukraine), and that those who question the historical truth of the concentration camps face punishments far more severe than those handed to international drug traffickers.
This shift—calling for a process to be launched immediately—adds to the official announcements made in recent days by Australia, Canada, France, and the United Kingdom
This would bring to 150 the number of nations recognizing Palestinian sovereignty, while only 43, including Italy, continue to refuse it.
The refusal is generally justified by the claim that Hamas, labeled as a terrorist organization, would be part of the Palestinian government. But this argument is senseless: if recognition of a state depended on the nature of its political leadership, one wonders why countries like Qatar, Iran, Russia, North Korea—or even Israel itself—haven’t been derecognized.
But what do these recognitions really mean?
Over a year ago, I explained on the radio that Israeli actions should be viewed in the context of creating a major Israeli-Arab energy hub—especially for gas—which was fostering a new alliance.
This alliance would eventually compel Tel Aviv to accept a reduced, tightly controlled Palestinian enclave, monitored by both Israelis and Wahhabis.
Such an enclave would need to be isolated and designed not to interfere with the gradual construction of “Greater Israel.”
That appears to have already happened—or is currently underway.
Hence, this “rupture” may not be as dramatic as it seems.
I also anticipated another possible consequence: Israel’s growing gravitation toward the so-called “multipolar East,” as Russian-aligned thinkers might describe it, could lead to a loosening of its ties with the West—particularly with Europe, which it often accuses of antisemitism.
This outcome is not at all unlikely: one trajectory does not preclude the other.
What impact will the recognition of Palestine have?
Not a significant one—it is a matter of diplomatic symbolism. Israel has little to fear from international pressure.
Whether it’s 145 or 150 countries hosting a Palestinian embassy that nominally replaces a diplomatic mission, as is the case here, changes little to nothing.
Except on a symbolic and moral level.
Symbolically and morally positive—finally!
But far too late, because the Palestinian cause was killed long ago, hijacked by fundamentalist factions backed by all the regional players—Israel, Qatar, Saudi Arabia, Iran.
Their main sponsor, until just months ago, was Netanyahu—the same Netanyahu who defended Iran’s position at the UN, while Israel was massively funding and arming the Ayatollahs’ war against Iraq.
Those very Ayatollahs later replaced national causes with religious internationalism, systematically attacking sovereign states, and even went so far as to convene a revisionist historical conference designed to block the European Jewish left from opposing Holocaust denial laws—something it had actively done throughout much of the 1990s.
The dream that lived from the 1950s to the 1980s—of a nation rising within a pan-Arab cause that was both non-aligned and pro-European—no longer exists.
What remains are masses of starving, tormented people—victims of manipulation by all the aforementioned players, sent to slaughter for strategic interests.
Recognition of Palestine holds moral value, yes—but it arrives posthumously.
One more future consequence is worth considering.
The apparent alliance between Wahhabi petromonarchies and Western leftist forces raises the possibility that the government of a future, fragile Palestinian state might lean toward what Jean-Luc Mélenchon in France has described as “Islamo-leftism”—a hybrid of Islam and far-left politics.
Let’s stay in France.
The French have a tendency to reduce reality to neat categories. In doing so, they often miss nuance—and, consequently, fail to grasp the broader synthesis.
Yet their analyses are often revealing.
The intellectual Rodolphe Cart has divided French society into three blocs:
the urban and elitist bloc,
the popular and patriotic bloc,
the Muslim and suburban (banlieue) bloc.
If Islamo-leftism establishes itself—even as a utopian reference—it will result in a pincer alliance between the top and the bottom of society, undermining genuine political dialogue among the people, while reinforcing oligarchic power structures.
In return, there will be an expansion—often mafioso in nature—of associative networks. Even Macron has acknowledged this drift, as it is already unfolding.
The one who first foresaw—and initially tried to block—this outcome was Jean-Marie Le Pen, through his Franco-Arab alliances designed to counter pro-immigration organizations and the globalized expressions of Islam.
That strategy could have broken the cycle and opened other paths.
But his daughter—like nearly all populist and sovereigntist leaders—understood nothing.
In the hope of gaining support from what she sees as a powerful Jewish establishment, she, like the others, passively aligned herself with its weaker factions.
And so, she and the so-called “sovereignist” right continue to play the role of magnets for popular discontent, only to steer it straight into a dead end—entirely to the benefit of the oligarchies.
As “sovereigntists,” they served both the U.S. and Russia. As Zionist hawks, they will now fuel Islamo-leftism.
And in the meantime, Palestine—recognized only in death—will once again serve all those who have always feasted on its tragedy.
Honor, nonetheless, to its past—now long gone.
