Saturday, June 30, 2007

Defense? Occupation? Apartheid?

“As soon as [language] functions it offends or reconciles, attracts or repels, breaks, dissociates, unites or reunites; it cannot help but liberate and enslave.”

~Michel Foucault

The very notion of a solution suggests, necessitates the reality of some kind of disruption. A peace process entails a correspondent rupture of peace—war, violence, separation. Yet identifying the reality of some kind of violent disruption only acknowledges the negative lack of peace; it does not, by itself, get to the complexity of positively identifying exactly what kind of violent disruption is taking place. Acknowledging that Israelis and Palestinians are in “conflict” is necessary for understanding the need for peace; its usefulness ends there. Getting beyond the acknowledgment of violent disruption to the source of the conflict demands that one do the complex and controversial work of deconstructing the mythologies, stereotypes, and misinformation that so often characterize the many existing narratives concerning the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. This process of deconstruction is important because it is the only way to illuminate a potential for peace. Like a virus, violent conflict cannot be properly treated until it is accurately diagnosed.

There exists a body of terminology used in popular media and conversation to describe the historical and contemporary situation here in Israel and Palestine. Perhaps the most common term is “conflict”—the “Palestinian-Israeli conflict.” Other increasingly common and more useful terms include: “occupation,” “defense,” “apartheid,” “security,” “Al-Nakba” (the catastrophe), “ethnic cleansing” and “intifada” (uprising). What I mean when I say that these terms are more useful is that they, by nature of their particularity, break through the simplistic crust, the painfully obvious reality that there is a lack of peace—conflict—and begin the complex task of classifying the conflict. Seeking such linguistic particularities is important for its ability to focus and disrupt.

They focus because they differentiate between parties, suggesting a victim and a victimizer. An oppressor and an oppressed. They serve up blame in unequal portions, thus avoiding the farce of neutrality. In thinking about peace there is no room for neutrality…objectivity for sure but not neutrality. It is indeed a difficult and touchy matter to attempt to identify which side is more to blame when faced with the tragedy of death on both sides but it is nevertheless a process indispensable to thinking about how to rectify injustice and achieve sustainable peace. One must place conflicting sides on the scales of justice and weigh one against the other. To distort or ignore the prescriptions of justice is to be complicit in the injustice being weighed.

The point here is not to demonize one side or ignore either side’s violence but rather to strip away the distorting myth that the conflict is too complex to identify a victim and a victimizer. That is not to say that those roles do not flex and periodically swap but rather to focus the terminology enough to have some sense of the fleshy reality beneath the stagnant shell of neutrality.

Linguistic particularities like “defense” and “apartheid” disrupt insofar as they bring nuance and disorder into the vague, colorless sea of generalities and presumption. For instance, the moment one applies the term “apartheid” to the situation in the occupied Palestinian territories they disrupt and confuse vague stereotypes about the conflict like “all Arabs are Jew-hating terrorists” or “Israel is doing what she is doing in the West Bank and Gaza in order to protect her citizens.” Whether one agrees or disagrees objectively with the application of the term “apartheid” to the Israel’s actions in the West Bank and Gaza it, at least, interjects badly needed disorder into the stale order of simply calling the situation a “conflict,” forcing one to support the accusation or refute it. And thus nuance and complexity is created where there was once only presumption; that is assuming one thoroughly supports or refutes the accusation of apartheid.

In order to apply some of this jumbled abstraction I would like to open a discussion here. The questions: Exactly what kind of “conflict” are we dealing with here in Israel and Palestine? Is it useful or possible to identify a victim and a victimizer? What exactly is the extent and kind of power imbalance between the Palestinians and Israelis? What implications does this power imbalance posit into the possibility for peace? How can we be faithful to the reality and scope of suffering in both societies and yet maintain a rigid devotion to confronting the facts head on and considering their implications without fear of coming off as biased? To preface the discussion I would like to introduce the topic within the framework of three of the terms mentioned above: “defense,” “occupation” and “apartheid.” Specifically I am interested in exploring distinctions between the three terms as they apply to the Israeli military force that controls the West Bank and the Gaza Strip.

Before I came to Israel and Palestine this summer I referred to the Israeli military force in the West Bank the same way the media and Israel herself does: the “IDF”—Israeli Defense Force. Yet soon after arriving in the West Bank I began to hear the term “IOF” used often—“Israeli Occupation Force,” a snide suggestion that Israel’s military presence in the West Bank and her control over Gaza may in fact have nothing to do with “defense.” And as the trip has gone on I have increasingly began referring to the Israeli military as the “IAF”—Israeli Apartheid Force. My bias is readily apparent, I know.

The “IDF” (Israeli Defense Force) is the most commonly used term to refer to the Israeli forces in the occupied Palestinian territories. The underlying suggestion is that the Israeli people are victims of Palestinian terrorism. Thus the occupation of the West Bank and Gaza is an occupation of necessity. An occupation arising out of a situation of terror so extreme that it necessitates that Israel occupy its Palestinian neighbor in order to defend its citizens. Furthermore, it insinuates that there exists a Palestinian force powerful enough to threaten the existence of Israel.

The “IOF” (Israeli Occupation Force) is a taboo reference to the Israeli forces in the West Bank and formerly in Gaza simply as occupiers. It is important to understand that no one or no existing terminology denies the reality of occupation. Rather the term “IOF” accentuates occupation as the driving incentive. Its novelty is in its dismissal of defense as a legitimate basis for occupation.

The term “IAF” (Israeli Apartheid Force) goes beyond dismissing defense and acknowledging occupation suggesting an active Israeli campaign of separation of peoples within the West Bank in order to annex land and systematically control natural resources, effectively making life in the West Bank and Gaza, outside of isolated cantons, unlivable. In addition to suggesting a more active, malevolent Israeli role in the occupied territories, it vividly identifies with the historical apartheid in South Africa. Its connection to apartheid in South Africa is meant to create an automatic and strong aversion to Israeli control over the West Bank and Gaza.

What do you think? Which term seems most fitting? What are further questions you might have about the situation? Thus far we have been conveying our thoughts and experiences to you, yet now we would like to hear what you all think, to invite you to become involved in our learning process and to engage this important issue.

Wednesday, June 27, 2007

Bil'in Pictures
















Bil'in

As many of you already know we participated in a nonviolent demonstration against illegal land confiscation in a village called Bil’in, northwest of Ramallah. We didn’t know exactly what to expect. What we did know was that each time we heard Bil’in mentioned it went something like: “What? You want to go to Bil’in? …Bil’in’s crazy.” So we went.

The demonstrations at Bil’in have been taking place on a weekly basis for the last two years. The issue is the ongoing confiscation of local farmland that the Palestinians of Bil’in depend on. Many farmers have been unable to get to their farms for the last two years as a result. And remember this is well within the West Bank. Land confiscation is extremely common in the West Bank. It comes in many forms…sometimes to expand settlements, sometimes as a “security barrier” around settlements, sometimes to facilitate the building the apartheid wall well within the 1967 green line (i.e. well within the West Bank), and still sometimes generically for “security” without explanation. What makes Bil’in unique is the fact that the Israeli High Court has declared the land confiscation and ongoing blockade of the road that leads to the land illegal. Why this is not enforced remains unanswered.

As we (About 100 Palestinians, Israelis, and internationals) marched to the road where the IOF (Israeli Occupation Force) has been blocking farmers from getting to their land Palestinian children chanted “La la le-jeedar. No no not the wall”. The IOF had parked a number of military vehicles just up the road and placed barbed wire to block our advance. About a hundred meters behind the barbed wire there were maybe 30 IOF soldiers in a line across the road, guns drawn. We negotiated with them for a while and then after they refused to let us pass we began removing the barbed wire from the road. Around ten seconds into this they opened fire with tear gas and rubber bullets.

Needless to say, we scattered. I think more unsettling than my eyes and lungs burning was the whizzing sound the metal tear gas canisters and rubber bullets made as they passed by our heads. As we fled the smoke the sound of retching filled the space in between the pops of tear gas fire.

The shooting continued for a few hours as heavily armed IOF soldiers clashed with children who threw stones—as far as I’m concerned a form of nonviolent resistance when facing full armored soldiers and vehicles. A number of people were injured—one child passed out because of the tear gas, a man was hit in the stomach by a rubber bullet, another in the head. I learned that sniffing onion helps with tear gas. Something similar to this takes place every Friday. When we asked some of the Palestinians we met there why they risk their lives to demonstrate each week when the IOF has made it so clear that they have no intention of abiding by Israeli law they looked at us and responded as if it was obvious: “What else can we do? It is our land. We must resist. There is no other way.”

We stood there in the heat, watching, at times running through the olive groves to avoid the tear gas and the rubber bullets. Do we go forward and face the soldiers? Can we? It seems we can’t because the closer we get the more likely we’ll get hit with something violent. Would it be worth getting hit? Getting injured? Could this contribute to a positive change? Maybe…
[If you'd like to see a video clip of the demonstration we were at, go to http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1WmeOdfIyRw and if you'd like to see more video clips from past and more recent demonstrations, go to http://www.palsolidarity.org/main/category/bilin/]
(B'tselem Map)

Saturday, June 23, 2007

Jenin fields

Here you can see a hint of the wall dashing across the field
Just a nice colorful field
The previous field from above


Jenin

Women's Group
Checkpoint
Checkpoint
Walking to and from Checkpoint
Martyrs graves


Jenin

The landscape in Jenin is beautiful, vast tracts of farm land and hills with a tinge of a desert look. Grape vines, olive trees, corn, tomatoes, zucchini, and other greens abound in the fields. Like many other places in the West Bank, the scene is broken by the presence of a wall or electric fence.

From a distance one can follow the path of this wall, simply by following the cut line of earth on the mountain or valley. It’s easy to see.

The wall, as you know, separates Israel and Palestine. To some degree one could say that Israel has the right to protect itself, so building a wall is fine. But what about when Israel builds the wall several kilometers beyond the border, confiscating vast tracts of precious Palestinian farm land and aquifers? (That’s mostly the case; Israel builds the wall far beyond the Green Line taking land from Palestine.) And what about solving the conflict? It’s not possible to solve the conflict without dialogue, without contact. The wall cuts this direct contact, the possibility of contact.

All of the people we visited told us stories about how their village was reduced in size from 50,000 dunums (donum=1,000 sq. meters) to 5,000 dunums, from 36,000 dunums to 3,000 dunums. Then, when the wall was built, another 700 dunums were confiscated. Then, there’s not water in the village.

“Why?” we ask.

“Israel took control of the wells we had. Now we have to buy water from them. If we don’t buy water from the wells that were once ours, we have to buy water from water companies, which are Israeli anyway. Now our harvest is only 15% of what it used to be, and most of our land is on the other side of the wall.”

“But, why don’t you dig another well?”

“You need a permit from Israel to do that. And I don’t know of a single case where a well permit was approved.”

As you know, there are a lot of checkpoints in Palestine. In Jenin, all entrances and exits to Jenin city are controlled by Israel. Then there are a number of flying checkpoints. In all of Palestine there are roughly 200 flying checkpoints. These flying checkpoints consist of a few Hummers and several soldiers who decide when and where to set up a checkpoint.

Ali told us a story, a sad one. Five years ago his wife was pregnant and she needed to get to the hospital to get an operation (C-Section?). At this time it was forbidden to go to Jenin. “I tried to reach the hospital many times. But the Israelian soldiers forbid us. What I will do?”

“I failed.”

“When I felt that my wife would die, I went through the mountains…
…we reached the hospital and they checked my wife and said the baby was dead.”

“Return before two days and we will do the operation and save your wife.”

“After one day they made the operation… I took the baby back to the land to put it under the earth. My wife stayed at the hospital. Then she was not allowed to return. I was in my village, she was in Jenin, and we could not see each other.”

“I don’t hate the Israelian people; I don’t hate anyone in the world. I believe in peace.”

“I have a message. Don’t be closed-minded. Search the facts. Most of the people in the Middle East hate your people. Why is that? Because, what happened in Iraq, what happened in Palestine, here. I know you people didn’t do anything. But it’s bad for us. For that I don’t hate. Because I know the fact. I can’t be foolish… I can’t be foolish.”

Thursday, June 21, 2007

Jenin coming soon...


Qalandiya Checkpoint







Gaza

Bir Zeit is a quiet town nestled on two hills divided by a wide valley. In the evening, as the sun sets, warm red light bathes the competing hillsides in color. The falafel is good and the pita is cheap. Olive trees dot the surrounding landscape. Children play in the streets. Gaza is just a few dozen kilometers away, yet this place seems a world away. It feels free of violence. Perhaps even more comforting than its distance from the violence of Gaza is Bir Zeit’s refreshing absence of walls and checkpoints, soldiers and settlements.

That’s the thing about apartheid, the thing about cantons and separation-wealth and prosperity, violence and relative peace, oppression and freedom can exist side by side without much of an effect on one another. In the last few weeks we have received a number of emails and phone calls from family and friends expressing concern for our safety, of course in light of the recent turmoil in Gaza. What most people don’t understand is the level of separation between the West Bank and Gaza and even within the West Bank.

For all practical purposes the West Bank and Gaza might as well be on opposite sides of the world. It is nearly impossible for Palestinians and extremely difficult for internationals to visit Gaza at all. This stems from a common misconception about the situation in Gaza today: that it is in any sense an autonomous territory, the misconception that with the 2004 disengagement the occupation of Gaza ended. It is interesting to note that while the Western media hailed Prime Minister Ariel Sharon as a hero for peace with the unilateral disengagement from Gaza even the term "disengagement" partially exposes the reality of situation. The disengagement was not a withdrawal or a transfer of administrative power with the establishment and enforcement of self-determination in Gaza. It was a sly political move on Israel’s part to divert attention from its rapid colonial expansion in the West Bank as well as a response to the relative difficulty of internally occupying such a territory.

Gaza is grossly overcrowded and primarily desert-not exactly land worth annexing. The number of settlers in Gaza (around 10,000), pre-disengagement, paled in comparison to the over 400,000 settlers in the West Bank and East Jerusalem and the incentive of diverting international attention away from the West Bank far outweighed the difficulties of disengaging. What’s important to understand is that the disengagement was just that-a disengagement from internal occupation of Gaza to a cheaper external occupation. Today, Gaza is commonly accurately referred to as an "open-air prison."

Before the disengagement Gaza was under internal military occupation by the IOF (Israeli Occupation Forces). This, in addition to walls and checkpoints surrounding the territory and the fact the Israel controlled all travel into and out of Gaza as well as the sea on the western shore, and all trade into and out of Gaza. With the disengagement the situation in Gaza shifted from a direct military occupation alongside the illegal annexation of land through settlements to a more indirect canton style occupation. Israel still controls 100% of travel into and out of Gaza as well as trade and regulation of water use. Walls still surround Gaza and anyone, Palestinian or otherwise, still must apply for a permit, issued by the Israeli government, in order to enter Gaza. These are some of the daily controls exerted on the Palestinians of Gaza-many haven’t seen family that live just a short drive away in the West Bank for years. Some traveled to Gaza, leaving their families and ended up stranded, not allowed to exit Gaza. And still others were "deported" to Gaza for offenses as minor as being involved in a banned "political organization" or stone throwing. The dehumanization and repression of the Gazan Palestinians is one of the most explicit and barbaric human rights abuses taking place in the world today.

And then perhaps even more traumatic than the apartheid controls on Gaza are the frequent military incursions. This comes in various forms-direct military invasion, shelling, bombing, targeted assassinations, kidnappings, and regular sonic booms over crowded Gazan cities. The consequent physical and psychological trauma is massive. Children and innocent civilians are the primary victims of Israeli violence in Gaza.

At this point Gaza is under the control of Hamas-the Islamic movement that was democratically elected in January 2006. Almost immediately after the elections Israel and the West began a process of demonizing, sanctioning, imprisoning and assassinating the elected members of Hamas in addition to heavily supporting the Fatah movement (which was founded on a similar ethos as Hamas). The sanctions that followed the 2006 elections crippled the Palestinian economy and drove Hamas and other Islamic organizations to unprecedented levels of extremism. The most recent development was the dissolution of the recently formed unity (Hamas-Fatah) government alongside the formation of a disparate, Fatah controlled government in the West Bank. It does not look like things will get better in Gaza any time soon. Whatever one’s view on the policies of Hamas the events since January 2006 mark the beginning and the end of the first ever democratically elected Islamic movement. In any case the West along with Israel has proven that it has no interest in working to moderate Islamic political parties, democratically elected or not. It seems pro-Western/Israeli policy trumps democracy when it comes down to it.

Keep Gaza in your thoughts and prayers. There is a lot going on in Gaza today. There is a lot of violence, a lot of suffering and oppression, a lot of death. Hope for the violence to cease, the walls of oppression to fall, and life to be renewed.

Wednesday, June 20, 2007

Intermission

We are doing well. Thanks for your support, concern, and prayers. We have posts coming, but technology is giving us some trouble. I promise a real long post is coming soon! Thanks for checking in on us on the blog!

Wednesday, June 13, 2007

Hassan

Hassan’s ivy green eye’s flashed in the sunlight as he peered around the door to his house into the street and said “hello!” In Deheishe refugee camp streets are more like alleyways and running water is a luxury left to the whim of the gods. I responded in Arabic, “marhaba.” Hello. His curious face brightened and he smiled as he reached for my hand. Doors in Deheishe are beautiful. Each seems to have its own unique flare. Deep emerald greens. The swooping flow of green Arabic graffiti on vibrant orange. Speckled red rust like stars in a sky of navy blue. The camp—which is more like a massive dilapidated neighborhood than a camp in any sense—is a paradox of beauty and depravity. Like a white orchid in the desert, a rose in a rock bed, glints of beauty haunt Deheishe. The people and their uninhibited hospitality. The colorful doors. The occasional mural. The rich, grainy smell of frying falafel. Fresh pita.

Perhaps it should have surprised me when Hassan, not more than ten years old, took my hand and said “welcome.” But it didn’t. And perhaps it should have surprised me that within minutes Meg and I were seated in Hassan’s family’s courtyard outside his house sipping steamy “chai”. Tea. But it didn’t.

Hassan’s English was broken. Each time he couldn’t recall a word or a phrase he would put his head down and apologize. Hassan and his younger siblings and friends, marveled at us. They asked us questions. Why were we here in “Filistine”? To find hope and beauty in the midst of ethnic cleansing. Did we like it here? Yes we do, very much. They giggled when we cursed Bush. Do we think Palestinians are terrorists? I don’t watch Fox News. Welcome. Welcome. Sipping tea with fourth generation Palestinian refugees. I couldn’t help but look into Hassan’s eyes and see a boy whose daily reality makes all the compounded suffering in my life seem insignificant and I feel a tinge of guilt. Guilt for my wealth. Guilt for my nation’s role in sustaining Hassan’s suffering. The tea was sweet, fresh mint leaves gave it spice. As Hassan’s younger brother smiled at me the last cup of tea slipped off the tray he carried. It shattered on the concrete floor.

Refugees in their own land. Children forced to act like adults in order to cope with the strains of life under occupation. Under apartheid. So much of me wants to know their pain, romanticize their plight. But I know I shouldn’t. As we finished our tea and said our goodbyes to our new friends I saw it in their eyes as clear as crystal… Understand my suffering. Enjoy my hospitality. Recognize my powerlessness. Tell my story. Enjoy my homeland for its broken beauty, its wild potential. Drink chai with me and don’t forget what you have seen and heard but whatever you do don’t fall in love with my suffering. There is nothing lovely about it.

Monday, June 11, 2007

Hebron

Hope?
Hope?Hope?
Hope?

Hebron

Old City Checkpoint
Old City Checkpoint
Yes, Old City Checkpoint
Old City Architecture
Israeli Military Base in Old City