I think I'm in love with Mahmoud Abbas, the former Palestinian prime minister and frontrunner in the Jan. 9 election to replace the late Yasser Arafat as president of the Palestinian Authority.

In an interview with Ash-Sharq Al-Awsat, a pan-Arab daily newspaper published in London, Abbas said that "the use of weapons was a mistake and should stop."

Uprising, yes. Armed uprising, no. It's a crucial distinction.

I spent two weeks in Palestine last August promoting nonviolent resistance as an alternative to armed resistance. Our group of peacemakers, led by Arun Gandhi, grandson of Mahatma Gandhi, met with Arafat and Prime Minister Ahmed Qureia, with mayors, farmers, teachers, housewives, imams, doctors, lawyers, students and anyone willing to chat.

Mostly, I listened.

There is a fringe group of Palestinians — less than 20 percent of the population — who believe all Israelis are complicit in the occupation of their country and are a fair target. The grandmother on a bus in Tel Aviv who pays the taxes that buy the bulldozers that uproot olive trees. The teenager in Be'er Sheva sharing a pizza with friends who will enlist in the army. The teacher, the factory worker, the shopkeeper — all part of the majority who voted in the Israeli government.

Every Palestinian I met is sickened by this reasoning and its bloody aftermath. To attack civilians, they believe, is repugnant, contrary to civilized behavior and international law.

Palestinian public opinion has been more ambivalent when it comes to attacking soldiers and settlers. "We have the right to defend ourselves," some say. "Are we supposed to sit back and do nothing while they kill our children and steal our land?"

A year ago, according to the Jerusalem Media and Communications Centre, 65 percent of Palestinians took this position.

For the first time since the beginning of the second intifada in September 2000, Palestinian public opinion has turned against all forms of violence: violence against civilians, against settlers, against soldiers. In a survey conducted last week, the percentage of Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza Strip supporting violence was down to 41 percent.

Most Palestinians see a third way: nonviolent resistance.

This extraordinary turnabout gives Abbas the backing he needs to speak out for nonviolence, and Abbas' strong candidacy, in turn, renews the Palestinian people's optimism that a just peace is possible.

Abbas, 69, has consistently spoken against violence, established dialogue with the Israeli left, objected to a militarized intifada and pledges to collect weapons from militant Palestinian groups. He was one of the first Palestinians to recognize Israel's right to exist.

This is only the Palestinians' second national election. The first, in 1996, pitted Arafat against Samiha Khalil, a social worker who got 13 percent of the vote. The 73-year-old grandmother didn't have a prayer of winning, and everyone knew it.

January's election will be run by the book. The candidates are playing for keeps. The Palestinian Central Elections Commission has invited international organizations to monitor the election process, and the European Union will be sending 230 observers.

Elections for the legislature, which should have been held four years ago, are scheduled for May. Fatah, the ruling party, has decided to hold internal elections in August, their first in 16 years.

Even Hamas, which has refused to participate in the government, is figuring out that this election will be viewed as a popular mandate and to buck the results will be viewed as turning its back on the people.

At the death of Arafat, the prophets of doom predicted bullets. Instead, they got ballots. Who can believe it?

Susan Ives can be reached at suives@texas.net.