Occupation - Thoughts from the Inside

I had just visited the town hall in Jayyous. I passed several concrete-built sheds that serve as shops. The houses varied from sophisticated affairs with oriental-styled mullions and elegant window-grilles to unfinished concrete block structures sprouting steel reinforcement rods. The dusty streets were strewn with plastic rubbish and kids played safely within the puddles and debris. I listened to the kids’ calls in English: “Welcome,” “What’s your name?” “What is today?” Some kids dragged me by the hand to their house. The father offered me tea. The long silences between smiles and sips were not embarrassing, just bridges of friendship across cultures. We discussed the Occupation.

In an environment that is so cross-culturally welcoming, how is it that there could exist so much angst and attrition between Arab and Jew? History, suffering, and experience have remoulded the behaviours of each side. As an Englishman I was unable to understand the depth of provocation that occupation imposed. Resistance, as in the Second World War, is regarded by many people as noble. The West Bank and Gaza Strip have been occupied since 1967. In each case, resistance has had its own special circumstances, but in each case the same instincts of defence and survival are provoked.

What does the Occupation mean for people in Jayyous? On my first night here at dusk an Israeli armoured vehicle dominated the main street with its testosterone and bulk, its three lights dazzled and blinded a group of workmen who stopped, watching at a safe distance as its occupants dismounted and extracted a 14-year-old boy from his home. He was bundled into the vehicle and driven off in a cloud of exhaust fumes and dust. The workmen and family rotated, watching helplessly as it drove past. Other kids by this time had lost their nerve and failed to eject the usual hail of stones that follow Israel Defence Forces patrols through the town.

This is just one incident of many I have witnessed. Sometimes it is difficult to discern fact from fiction, events from myth. I am constantly asking myself, “Is that really possible?... Is that really how it is?” Palestinians’ stories of brothers, uncles, or fathers in prison for months or years without charge or trial, accounts of shepherds enduring violence at gun-point, or summary injustice by military committees ordering house demolitions are brought into question in my mind. Are there circumstances I am unaware of? Did he attack the soldier? Could he have obtained permission before building the house, which was demolished?

There are many facts, which are undisputable - examples of complete injustice. Consider the wall built around Qalqiliya. The town has been encased in a bubble of eight-metre high concrete. There is only one road in and out and this has a permanent roadblock. The security the “Separation Barrier” is said to provide could be served by one that bypasses the town following the internationally-agreed Green Line. The Wall, however, has been convoluted and distorted to claim acres of Palestinian farmland, legitimizing the neighbouring Israeli settlements and land-grab.

What other restrictions are placed on this nation as a result of the Occupation? All Palestinians are obliged to apply to the Israeli authorities for permits to build; permits to travel to work in Israel or to travel to Jerusalem; permits to travel to their own farmland or to engage labour to work their own land; permits to traverse checkpoints when travelling from one village to the next; to visit family or even a spouse born in a different village and now separated by the “Separation Barrier.” These restrictions affect most Palestinians every day and they are imposed on the occupied people by an occupying power.

Visiting this home in Jayyous provided some sobering comments from my host, Abdul, whose three daughters are the constant focus of his attention. He tells me, “We have no future… We cannot plan for anything for our children… We have been occupied for nearly 40 years, how much longer?” Abdul tells me that two years ago, curfew and travel restrictions imposed by the military meant that they were allowed out of the house for just an hour or two a week. This situation seems improved now in a simplistic sense. Movement is freer in so far as curfews are no longer imposed here, because the population is regarded as less volatile. However, other restrictions and injustices are just as great and they are currently accepted mostly with resignation.

Land-grab and building Jewish settlements that surround Palestinian villages and towns remind the Palestinians that their future is bleak. Under current circumstances, the best they can hope for is to be a sub-class of labourers working in the dominant Israeli society. The parallels with some aspects of South African apartheid can be remarkable, the Israeli-only roads providing good examples. Palestinian roads are winding, often road-blocked and pot-holed; their Israeli counterparts are smooth and direct.

Yet, in Israeli newspapers I read some Israeli commentators who encourage justice and partnership. Israeli courts sometimes rule against government injustices and order changes such as the changes to the barrier’s course. These voices of moderation give me hope, but they are far out of step with Israeli government policy.