Why recognizing a Palestinian state after October 7 is morally indefensible

On October 7, 2023, Israel endured the single deadliest day for Jews since the Holocaust. In a coordinated and barbaric assault, Hamas terrorists infiltrated southern Israel, murdering over 1,200 people—babies, women, the elderly—many in their homes or at a music festival. 

Families were burned alive. Women were raped and mutilated. More than 250 people were taken hostage, including children and Holocaust survivors. Some have since been released in prisoner exchanges. Many remain in captivity, held in tunnels beneath Gaza, subjected to inhumane conditions and, reportedly, ongoing abuse.

This is not ancient history. It is unfolding before our eyes.

And yet, despite these atrocities—and with dozens of hostages still missing or confirmed dead—French President Emmanuel Macron has signaled support for the recognition of a Palestinian state. 

Let us be clear: under current conditions, this would not be a step toward peace. It would be a reward for terror. It would be a betrayal of justice, morality, and the very values France claims to uphold.

Palestinian statehood is not inherently unjust. In fact, many Israelis and Jews around the world have long supported a two-state solution. 

But statehood must be the outcome of negotiation, not violence. It must be based on mutual recognition, a commitment to coexist, and responsible governance. It cannot be granted unilaterally in the aftermath of a massacre—and certainly not while Hamas, a genocidal terror organization, holds power in Gaza and openly calls for Israel’s destruction.

President Macron cannot claim to fight antisemitism on one hand, and on the other, legitimize a regime that celebrates the murder of Jews. 

Hamas’s charter is explicit: its goal is not peace, but the total annihilation of the Jewish state. Recognizing a Palestinian state now, under these conditions, would not empower moderates—it would embolden extremists. It would send a message that terrorism works.

Worse still, it would abandon not only Israel, but also the Palestinian people.

Hamas does not represent all Palestinians. But it rules Gaza with an iron fist, crushing dissent, stealing humanitarian aid, and turning civilians into human shields.

 It has executed political opponents, diverted international assistance to build tunnels instead of schools and hospitals, and suppressed press freedom and civil rights. When Gazans protest for freedom, they are met with bullets—not ballots.

By recognizing a Palestinian state led or influenced by Hamas, the international community would effectively validate a regime that oppresses its own people. 

Where is the outcry for the Palestinian civilians used as shields during conflict? For the journalists arrested in Gaza for reporting truth? For the aid stolen by Hamas leaders while their people starve?

If Macron truly wants to stand for justice, he should first demand the release of all hostages. He should condemn the crimes committed not only against Israelis, but against Palestinians by their own rulers. 

He should insist that any steps toward statehood include democratic reforms, disarmament, and recognition of Israel’s right to exist.

Premature recognition would not bring peace. It would freeze the conflict in place, legitimize rejectionism, and undermine efforts by responsible Palestinian leaders to build a better future. It would send the wrong signal: that brutality leads to diplomacy, that violence is a shortcut to statehood.

This is a moral moment. France must ask itself: What kind of peace are we trying to build? One based on compromise and coexistence—or one built on the graves of murdered civilians and the silence of the kidnapped?

History remembers those who stood for truth, and it does not forget those who abandoned it. If President Macron goes forward with recognizing a Palestinian state in the wake of the October 7 massacre—while hostages remain in captivity, while Hamas continues to rule through fear and blood—he may find that this decision will follow him not as a mark of courage, but of shame. 

In the quiet moments of his final years, he may come to understand that moral clarity was called for, and he answered with political calculation. 

That his name will be remembered not as a peacemaker, but as a man who rewarded terror and turned his back on the victims of unimaginable violence. And that judgment—by history, by conscience, and by those who still grieve—will follow him far longer than any political gain.