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Along
the route of the separation barrier in the West Bank, a new culture is
springing up: on one side, soldiers and bulldozers; on the other, Israelis
and Palestinians embracing the land and the trees, trying to save them both.
Last week, Ariel Sharon decided he was secure enough in the role of man of
peace to start pushing the wall towards the settlements of Ariel and Kedumim,
deep in the West Bank, about 20 kilometres from Israel. And since then the
Israelis and Palestinians have also been there.
The breathtaking scenery of the Ariel district has been sliced up by the new
roads that the rulers have built for their own exclusive use. Beneath them
lie the old roads of the vanquished. There, on the lower level, is where the
other Israel-Palestine treads. Israeli youths arrive in settlement buses and
then make their way on foot and in Palestinian taxis among the checkpoints.
They trek between the villages in groups or alone. Some sleep in the
villages. Others will travel the same route the next day to reach the
demonstration. Everywhere they go they are greeted with blessings and
beaming faces. "Tfaddalu," the children in the doorways say, as if they had
never heard of stone-throwing. Like the inhabitants of other Palestinian
villages along the route of the fence, those in the Ariel area have opened
their hearts and their homes to the Israelis who come to support their
non-violent resistance to the barrier that is robbing them of their land.
The Israelis who go into the villages are not afraid of Hamas. If they fear
anyone, it is the Israeli army, which can decide at any time, on a
commander’s whim, to douse the demonstrators with inordinate quantities of
tear-gas or to declare the area a closed military zone (i.e., closed to
Israelis) and arrest any Israeli who tries to remain in the area.
What brings young Israelis to stand with the Palestinians in front of the
army is the conviction that there is a basic line of justice that must not
be crossed. It was not security considerations that determined the present
route of the fence. If the goal were to prevent terrorist infiltration, the
fence could have been built differently. The route planned by Col. (res.)
Shaul Arieli, head of the Barak government’s "Peace Administration", also
deviated from the 1967 border and enclosed the large settlement blocs,
placing them on the Israeli side. But the 300 square kilometres of West Bank
territory which that route would have devoured is less than a third of what
the present route will grab. Arieli’s plan would have cut off 56,000
Palestinians from contiguous connection with the West Bank; the current
route will strand 400,000 (Eldar, Ha'aretz, 16.2.04).
Sharon and the army have designed the barrier with a view to taking over as
much West Bank land along the border with Israel as possible, and to
gradually empty it of its inhabitants. Qalqiliyah, which has been isolated
from its lands and the rest of the West Bank, is already a dead city. Many
of its inhabitants have fled to seek subsistence at the edges of other West
Bank towns; those who remain have succumbed to the despair and decline that
characterizes prisoners. This is what lies in store for Biddu, Beit Sureik
and the other villages between the settlement Giv’at Zeev and the Israeli
town Mevasseret Zion. Now it is the turn of Zawiya and Deir Balout, which
lie between the settlement Ariel and the Israeli Rosh Ha'ayin. In the army’s
language, Ariel and Kedumim are the “claws” of the fence, claws that are now
sunk into the West Bank, grabbing a giant chunk of Palestinian land that
will be transferred to Israel. As part of the process, it will be necessary
to “cleanse” the land of its inhabitants by slow strangulation, as in
Qalqiliyah.
The Israelis who face the army went to the West Bank because they know there
is a law that is higher than the army’s laws of closed military zones: there
is international law, which forbids ethnic cleansing, and there is the law
of conscience. But what brings them back, day after day, is the new covenant
that has been struck between the peoples of this land, a pact of fraternity
and friendship between Israelis and Palestinians who love life, the land,
the evening breeze. They know that it is possible to live differently on
this land.
Tanya Reinhart is
Professor of Linguistics at Tel Aviv University. She is author of
Israel/Palestine: How to End the War of 1948 (Seven Stories
Press, 2002), one of the most important books on the Israel-Palestinian
conflict to date. Visit her website:
http://www.tau.ac.il/~reinhart.
Translated from Hebrew by Mark Marshall and Edeet Ravel.
Other Articles by Tanya Reinhart
*
The Address
for Protest is Labor's Headquarters
* Biddu:
The Struggle Against the Wall
* What
Kind of State Deserves to Exist?
* As in
Tiananmen Square
* Sharon's
"Disengagement": A Pacifier for the Majority
*
The Complex Art of Simulation
*
The
Guaranteed Failure of the Road Map
*
Sophisticated Transfer
*
The Lilliputians Are No Longer Tiny People
*
The
Palestinians Don't Even Have Weather
*
Academic Boycott: In Support of Paris VI
*
The
Israeli Elections
*
A Vote for Mitzna is a Vote for Sharon
*
The Penal Colonies
*
The
Voiceless Majority
*
Why an
Academic Boycott
*
Jenin:
The Propaganda Battle
*
Evil Unleashed
*
Stop
Israel!
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