‘What Hamas has done is push us all towards extremism. They are awakening the fanatic within each of us. Even your tone has shifted when discussing the conflict’. It was my brother who first found the words to describe what I felt after October 7th.

It must be said that very quickly, I absorbed all the videos and images of Hamas’ massacres. Shani Louk on a scooter, brought back to Gaza. Then Shani Louk dead, her disjointed body at the back of a pickup truck. Children laughing and jumping for joy around the victorious warriors. A terrorist calling his parents, shouting that he had killed ten Jews with his own hands. With his own hands, mom, dad, you would be proud. His parents said nothing, except that he can come home now. I absorbed these videos, these images, these soundtracks again and again. I had to see this hatred of Jews that my grandfather spoke to me about when I was a kid. Stories I had always dismissed with a wave of my hand. Your era, maybe, but I am not a victim. Those stories are over, grandpa!

My anxiety grew when I started thinking about the Israeli response to these massacres. I anticipated a terrible response. To my Arab friends who sent me messages of support and peace, reaffirming that Hamas was not all Palestinians, and who shared in my grief, I responded that I hoped I wouldn’t have to return the same message to them soon enough.

Beyond fear and pain, the feeling of helplessness predominated.

On a philanthropic level, my first reaction, like many others, was very conventional. Find appropriate NGOs, donate what you can. I joined calls to understand what was most pressing and needed in Israel. Magen David Adom, Leket Israel, IsraAID, Children’s Fund… My Israeli friends advised me on the most appropriate charities. I paid attention to ensuring my donations were as effective as possible. Some tech investors in my network, like Insight Partners, offered to double donation amounts to increase leverage.

But quickly anxiety returned. Dark days were coming; I couldn’t shake that feeling.

And then the Israeli bombings began. The IDF launched its military response in Gaza. Palestinian civilians started dying, by the hundreds, then by the thousands. TikTok gave us live access to the suffering of Gazans. Women and children under the rubble. The unbearable horror of war, live-streamed.

I was ashamed to admit it, but for a time I felt little empathy for those images of dead Gazans under the bombings. The anger from October 7th was still too strong. Why was I becoming numb? Why had the human suffering of some become indifferent to me?

‘Pushing us all towards extremism, brother.’ Something had to be done.

It was around this time that my friend Ramzi contacted me. Ramzi doesn’t like labels, but for context, he is Lebanese from a Christian background. Raised in Lebanon and then in Saudi Arabia. He was very sensitive to the injustice done to the Palestinians following the creation of the state of Israel. The massacres had shaken him. The Palestinian cause was just – but why was the Arab world silent about these massacres, these rapes, these kidnappings? He felt confused and couldn’t identify with the binary media narrative. Along with a close friend, Lola, they decided to meet to exchange their perspectives. To try to bring some sense to this chaos and madness. Lola is Belgian, educated in Jewish schools, and in a relationship with a Turkish man who comes from a Muslim family. Like Ramzi, she would hate to be categorized in this way. Ramzi suggested that I join them for a first meeting. The idea was simply to listen to the other’s perspective. To avoid falling into binary divisions and the hallucination machine of social networks. Share our feelings, rediscover a little of the lost empathy.

There were five of us at the first listening circle.

We are now more than 50, mostly Jews and Arabs, Europeans, sometimes Israelis and Palestinians. The Circle has grown organically.

The method is simple. We meet in a private room somewhere in central London, twice a month. Each person speaks as authentically as possible. We listen with intent. The idea is not to have long geopolitical debates but rather to express feelings, whatever comes to us in the moment. In a caring and safe environment. Sometimes political debates emerge anyway; we welcome them, and some feel able to respond. Others prefer to listen. Everything stays confidential.

As the sessions progressed, the evidence of a common feeling emerged. The differences are great, but so are the common points. Similarities we can build on.

I now understand the other’s perspective much better. My empathy has returned. I had some people in the Circle read The Wandering Jew Has Arrived by Albert Londres. I was suggested, and read, The Arab Malaise by Samir Kassir. Many discovered that hundreds of thousands of Jews were systematically expelled from Arab countries, and some opened to the Jewish people’s need for a safe home that underpins Zionism. Others shared personal stories – Arab families who fled after the 1948 war and have been waiting to return home ever since. Everyone realized through these stories that this is indeed a tragedy, not a simple narrative with a good guy and a bad guy, an oppressor and an oppressed. Often, they can both be the same. In a tragedy, both sides are equally right. It’s not just a misunderstanding that can be cleared up, to quote Amos Oz. Yet we must find a way to hear and accept the conflicting narratives and conclude the play.

We are now planning to host more listening circles in new cities. Building on this experience and our diverse community, additional initiatives are underway with the same peace-building mission. We are looking at mobilising strategic philanthropy and technology to accelerate the search for common grounds at a larger scale. And avoid the trap of division between us and them.

Adrien Cohen is a French tech entrepreneur and investor based in London. His philanthropic work through his foundation SCI Ventures focuses on innovative therapies for people living with paralysis.

This article was published as a part of a series of pieces exploring Jewish and Israeli philanthropy’s response to October 7. Read the series here.