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Getting settled, illegally
In the Occupied Territories Israel imposes ‘apartheid’ between Arabs and settlers. Frank Shouldice Trader Jack stands in the doorway of his souvenir shop in Manger Square in Bethlehem. Fifty yards from the Church of the Nativity it’s a prime location for selling knick-knacks and miniature religious crafts. Jack is not Bethlehem’s most famous son but he’s lived in historic times. A teenager when the Israeli State was created, he grew up watching Palestinians scatter worldwide as refugees, felt his country shrink to 12% of its original size, and now witnesses the bloody tumult of the second intifada pushing what’s left of Gaza and the West Bank over an economic and political precipice. “We need Israel and Israel needs us”. He wonders aloud: “it’s a two-State system but now they are taking the best land in our territory – do they not have enough?” A working pensioner in his mid-70s, he finds ordinary life is getting a lot harder. The water supply often cuts off without warning. He can’t take his car outside the Occupied Territories and needs a special permit to travel to Jerusalem, five miles away. All around him are Jewish settlements, the fruits of a key Israeli strategy since 1967. About half a million Israelis now call the Occupied Territories home. Most of them live on land confiscated from Palestinians. Both the UN Security Council (1979) and the International Court of Justice (2004) declared the settlements illegal. Israel’s Minister for Foreign Affairs, Avigdor Lieberman, does not concur. The Minister lives in Nokdim, a West Bank settlement not far from Jack’s souvenir shop. In marked contrast to shanty-like Arab hillside dwellings, the hilltop houses are modern and attractive. Settlers get financial incentives from the State to buy them. As if joining up the dots, these hilltops are connected by a highway system that is off-limits to Palestinians. The effect is to create a hermetically-sealed Statelet which, in turn, paralyses movement for non-Israelis. Gilo is a typical model, built on a hilltop heavily fortified by the Israel Defensive Forces (IDF). “They build them up there so they can dominate us”, shrugs a Palestinian mother. “Many settlements – Ariel, for example – let sewage run down the hill and destroy farmland belonging to Palestinians. That’s what they think of us”. Palestinian commerce has virtually collapsed. Tourists have been scared away. While Jack stands outside his empty shop, groups of unemployed young men sit around the vacant square, passing time. Waiters in an adjoining café idle in the doorway, fanning the breeze with unperused menus. Tonight, the 72-room Bethlehem Star Hotel is home to four guests. For Zoughbi Zoughbi, founder of the Wi’am Palestinian Conflict Resolution Centre, these are troubling times. A campaigner committed to non-violence, he believes the settlement programme is the greatest single obstacle to peace. But directly in front of his office looms another hurdle: the security wall. Also built on land appropriated from Palestinians, it stands eight metres high and runs for over 500 miles through the West Bank, protecting Jewish settlements, separating communities and in places ensuring cash crops like olives rot on the ground while the farmers who own the lands go bankrupt. “It is an apartheid wall”, says Zoughbi, glancing at the concrete horizon that greets him each morning. “It’s about annexation. It is used to confiscate more land and the best places for aquifers. It is also used to further divide and isolate Palestinian areas from each other”. Comparisons with the Berlin Wall are all too obvious but it is ironic that Israel should imitate so enthusiastically a policy dreamt up by a former German régime. The rationale is to reduce attacks by Palestinian militants; however another logic suggests that creating so much bitterness will provoke a violent backlash to reinforce the mindset that built the wall in the first place. In the name of national security, each consciously bewildering maze outside the Occupied Territories tapers into a crossing point. Arab residents, including women and children, clutch possessions through the babble of disorderly queues, routinely herded through a permit control-system, while armed guards bark orders from behind mirrored sunglasses. The scene conjures its own echoes of a Jewish past. “It is not easy”, concedes Boughbi, soft-selling a gospel of non-violence to growing legions of disenchanted Palestinians. “I am one of those who would like to deprive the Israelis of an enemy. Through its daily provocations Israel tries to push us to use greater violence, precisely because the Israeli government is well-equipped to deal with violence. It seems that [the] Israeli Government is threatened more by thoughts of peace and non-violence than by war”. And then there is Hebron. Nowhere else in the West Bank have Jewish settlers been placed among the Arab community. With a total population of about 160,000, Hebron is one of the West Bank’s primary cities. A busy marketplace fills the newer parts but what makes Hebron unique is the Old City, languishing in desolation. In a policy of aggressive displacement, over 200 Palestinian shops and houses have been shut down by military order, over a hundred more evacuated after its main drag Al-Shuhada was declared “a settler-only street”. The settler controversy here traces back to a 1929 pogrom when 67 Jews were murdered and Hebron’s minority Jewish community was driven out. The city passed through British, Egyptian and Jordanian hands until Israel assumed full control at the end of the Six Day War in 1967. Afterwards, former Israeli Prime Minister David Ben-Gurion told a BBC interviewer that “in the cause of peace Israel should take nothing in the conquered territories with the exception of Hebron – which is more Jewish even than Jerusalem”. Hebron’s religious significance relates to the Cave of Machpelah, burial site for Abraham, patriarch of Jews, Christian and Muslims. The Ibrahimi Mosque beside it now serves as the disputed focus for rival traditions. Jewish settlers ignored a prohibition on civilian settlements and set up the Kiryat Arba camp on the outskirts. In 1979, a small number