After 21 months of open conflict, many Palestinians are rethinking two key elements of their struggle against Israel: their leader and the use of violence against Israeli civilians.

Decades of backing Yasser Arafat and years of fighting Israel with suicide bombers have not produced any positive gains, a growing number of Palestinians now say.

"There have been suicide bombings for years," says Fatheeyeh Budair, whose son Issa killed himself and 15 Israelis in a bombing near Tel Aviv in May. "And there have been no results so far."

It remains unclear whether this emerging sense of intifada fatigue will result in any substantive changes. Some analysts caution that Palestinian militants are working on ever more deadly means to fight Israel, perhaps by reviving attacks against Israeli and other targets overseas. And Arafat has weathered many periods of diminished popularity in his long career.

Even so, Palestinians seem more and more frustrated with their situation. Public opinion surveys indicate that support for both Arafat and the bombers is slipping.

Although they decry Israeli Prime Minister Ariel Sharon's use of massive military force against them, many Palestinians admit that he has succeeded in making the cost of their fight unbearably high. Likewise, most Palestinians say President Bush's call for a new Palestinian leadership amounts to high-handed US meddling in their affairs. But some also acknowledge that Bush has opened the way for intensified internal criticism of Arafat's leadership.

In their silent cities – with the exception of Jericho, all Palestinian urban areas in the West Bank are under Israeli-imposed curfew – Palestinians are criticizing Arafat and the bombers in ways they would not have done just three months ago.

"I feel a bitter sadness to be separated from [Issa], my youngest brother, who was the hope of this house" says Khalid Budair, sitting on a tattered couch on the porch of the family's home in Bethlehem. "We all thought Issa would be the one to pursue higher education. And instead he straps bombs around himself."

In another Bethlehem home, Amer Daraghmeh, whose brother Mohammed carried out a suicide bombing outside a Jerusalem synagogue in March that killed 11 Israelis, scorns the militants who trained Mohammed. "May God forgive them," he says.

The relatives of bombers typically say they are proud of their loved ones' sacrifice, blaming the barbarity of suicide attacks on the suffering caused by Israeli occupation and oppression. But Amer, a paramedic with a square face and a dimpled chin, seems unwilling to excuse or explain his brother's action, which killed six children under the age of 16. "Your humanity, inside, does not accept this," he says.

"International opinion is against us because of suicide bombings," he continues. "We have to stop them and tell Israel, 'Come and let's talk about peace.' Let's stop them and see what happens."

Such insights are most easily gathered privately, since support for Arafat and the bombers remains an article of faith among many Palestinians. The other day in Nablus, a long-unemployed carpenter named Muaz Joulani was asked to reflect on nearly two years of conflict with the Israelis. "It's a disaster," he says. "Everything is broken."

"I blame Arafat," he adds. "He was offered something good before Sharon was elected" – a reference to Palestinian- Israeli peace talks in January 2001 – "and he refused it."

Despite the curfew, the presence of a reporter draws attention, and some other men join the conversation. Suddenly, Mr. Joulani begins faulting Arafat's aides and ministers, who many Palestinians assert are corrupt. "It's not him to be blamed," Joulani says now of Arafat, "it's those around him."

Fifteen minutes later, in a different part of Nablus, the dynamic repeats itself.

Marouf Takruri, the owner of a shoe factory, says the intifada "has hurt us dearly" and that Arafat is "hopeless." But just as talk turns to the prospect of a presidential election that Arafat has promised to hold in January, some other men gather around. Before Mr. Takruri can answer a question about whom he will support, a man loudly interjects: "Yasser Arafat." Takruri, elegant in a long white tunic, pauses. Then he says: "I will vote for the one who will bring us good."

Takruri walks on, past the shuttered stores of the old city of Nablus, but agrees to answer another question about Arafat. "He's the one who has destroyed us.... Wherever he goes, he brings destruction."

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