July 4, 2012 · 11:10 am

Children’s Rights under Occupation

This is a guest post by Jane Harries, a friend and a colleague living in Yanoun where I spent the last few months. An unedited version of this article can be found here.

How do children fare under occupation?  From the children in Yanoun and the surrounding villages we can see there are restrictions here which children in the UK don’t face – lack of facilities such as play areas and swimming pools which we take for granted. Children’s drawings portray guns and tanks, showing the underlying fear and trauma which comes from witnessing armed settlers and army incursions.  One of the testimonies to the success of EAPPI’s protective presence in the village is the fact that the children feel safe to play in front of the International House.

What about the treatment of minors by the occupying power?  We had a glimpse of what this can mean when we visited Bassam Nadar and his son Muhammed in the village of Madama, west of Yanoun, and listened to their story.  Recently, as the villagers’ wheat was getting ready for harvest, settlers came down from the mountain and set fire to the fields.  The villagers went to try to extinguish the flames, including Bassam’s two sons, Mohammed (17 years) and Ahmed (15 years).  They had succeeded in doing so when an army jeep turned up and arrested the two boys, accusing them of starting the fire.  They were taken to Huwara military camp, then to the settlement of Ariel’s police station, then back to Huwara and eventually to Majidu prison in Israel.

Bassam heard of the boys’ arrest through a journalist from Nablus, who had been with them, had photographs to prove their innocence, and intervened on their behalf.  After numerous phone calls, Bassam found out where his sons were and eventually – on the third day – they were released – but on the condition that he went to Ariel police station and paid 2,500 Shekels for each son.  He was advised by a lawyer not to pay, so Bassam went to Ariel police station and told the Israeli police he was unable to do so.  His phone number was taken but – up until the present time, nothing further has happened.

In quiet measured tones Bassam’s eldest son, Mohammed, told us his story in his own words.  He and his brother had been blindfolded and handcuffed whilst being transported between the different sites for interrogation, and nobody informed them – or their family – where they were.  The soldiers had put their feet on his head and joked as he lay on the floor of the jeep.  In Ariel police station his picture and finger prints were taken.  Only on the third day was he able to speak to his father.  When the two brothers were eventually released, this was at the border miles away from their village.  It was with the help of a taxi driver that they were eventually able to make their way home.

This story illustrates a disregard by the Israeli army and police for human rights, even in the case of minors.  Palestinian minors are dealt with under military rather than civilian law. This two-track system of justice which supports discrimination and undermines any rule of law illustrates to the Palestinians that they are second-class citizens and that there is no system of redress.

We can only imagine how children are affected by the fear and violence they experience, either directly or indirectly.  Bassam told us that his younger son is still suffering psychological problems from his experience of being arrested by the Israeli army.  As an occupying power Israel has an obligation to treat civilians humanely and never to discriminate against them. (Article 27, Fourth Geneva Convention). Israel is also a signatory of the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child (UNCRC).  For Palestinian children on the ground these obligations may seem far from the reality.

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July 3, 2012 · 4:32 pm

A British identity crisis in Palestine

Sat side by side, 7 internationals looked on into a dimly lit room. Four swedes, one Norwegian and two Brits huddled together on a worn out sofa that was creaking under the collective weight. Our host, Ahmed Jaber welcomed us into his house which was due for demolition any time in the coming days. He was anxious and he eyes darted between us. As is customary he started by asking his guests to introduce themselves:

Swede 1: “My name is Alex, I am from Sweden”
Ahmed: “You are welcome and thank you for everything you and your country is doing”
Swede 2: “My name is” etc etc
Ahmed: (laughing) “Your country does so much, they send many people”

The perceived comedy in this situation is amplified as a third and then fourth person introduce themselves as Swedish. Eventually though the introductions moved on:

Norwegian: “My name is Helene and I am from Norway”
Ahmed: “You are welcome and thank you for all that your country has done – apart from Oslo of course” (Cue a little bit more laughter)
Me: “My name is Steve and I am from Britain”
Ahmed: “Oh” (awkward silence) “You know this is all your fault, do you know about Balfour”

I smiled, nodded and let the proceeding silence, accompanied as it was with a wee bit of awkwardness fill the room.

This awkward “you know it is all the British fault” moment wasn’t a new experience for me. Believe or not, a couple of centuries of imperialistic foreign policy have left some less than positive impressions around the world. Almost a century later most Palestinians have not forgiven our then Foreign Secretary, Lord Balfour, for offering Zionists a homeland in what was then British Mandate Palestine.

What makes the Israel/Palestine conflict different though is that both sides seem to hate the British – our history does not lend itself to friendship with either side.

Things could be worse though, I could be German. A German colleague I worked closely with regularly had the uncomfortable situation of being told by Palestinians, “I love Germany, Hitler was great but he should have finished the job”. How do you respond to that? On occasion I responded saying, “please don’t joke about such things” knowing all too well that many were not joking.

These experiences left me with a minor identity crisis. Was I English, British, White, Christian, European or what? I tried a couple of times, “my name is Steve and I am from the people’s free republic of Gloucestershire” but this was invariably met with a look of confusion.

The problem is that I don’t feel very “British” – I have little or no connection with 50% of Britain (Wales and Northern Ireland). My father’s Scottish and I have a ginger beard as a result, but I don’t feel very Scottish. Yet, in many ways I have more in common with my Scottish family than I do with most people living in England. This is without starting on the sociological question of what makes someone “English/Scottish/British”.

I don’t have anything in common with Balfour other than the fact that we were born on the same Island. This connection, nearly a century later, is enough to define my relationship with a Palestinian man whose house was about to be knocked down by the “Israeli Defence Force”. Somewhere in this anecdote there is all the material you need for illustrating just how mad the concept of nationalism is.

Throughout the meeting with Ahmed I sensed hostility towards me. I might have been being over sensitive but I know from experience that the hatred of the role Britain played in Palestine’s history is part of the modern national psyche. Ahmed’s darting eyes spent the rest of the meeting occasionally fixing themselves on others in the room, but interestingly never me.

My name is Steve, I was born in Gloucester hospital, I like cups of tea and walks in the countryside. If this makes me English/British then so be it but I don’t feel it.

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June 26, 2012 · 9:12 am

Fighting on two fronts: A farmer’s fight with the Palestinian Authority and the Israeli Occupation

“We are always looking at the Israeli guns pointing at us and we don’t notice the Palestinian knives in our back”. Bazem, the mayor of Tawayel has been waiting now for “over two years” for funding promised to him from the Nablus governorate. Today he faces unimaginable hardship but he insists the problem that annoys him the most is “being completely ignored” by the PA (Palestinian Authority). From talking to a number of local officials now I know that this sentiment is shared by many but often people also use the PA as a scapegoat to vent their frustrations.

I had gone back to visit Bazem as his community had received another two demolition orders since I last visited a few weeks ago. Tents that offer accommodation were due to be ripped down as they were built in the Israeli controlled Area C of the West Bank. This subject however takes up just a fraction of our meeting as he keeps turning the conversation back to the “real problem” – the PA. “We are on the front line against the soldiers, we are the ones defending Palestinian land by staying here, so why do those people sat on chairs under air conditioners cause us so much problem”.

I ask him if he is just referring to the money he has been promised and he looks at me scornfully, “not only do they not give, but they take. The price of barley for our sheep has gone up fifty percent because of PA tax. And where does the money go”? He leaves the hypothetical question to linger in the air and it remains hovering over us for the rest of the meeting.

I have heard from other sources that this common story around PA tax is a popular myth. Another local contact when asked about this subject commented, “the increase in the price is not caused by the PA and there is no increase in tax, it is caused by the increase in global prices of these items”. I did not know enough either way to challenge him.

I had been told previously that the road going into their community was so bad because they live in Area C and as such the Israelis would not give them permission to put tarmac down and so I asked if there had been any progress. Again, the Mayor was not interested in Israel but turned the question back to the PA, “They [The PA] agreed months ago to lay loose stones down on our road to make sure it is passable, still I hear nothing from them”. Although Bazem remains good humoured throughout our meeting I can feel his frustration building.

I ask Bazem what he will do if in a month he still has not received any of the money or help he has been promised, “first I will meet them, if I still get nothing I cannot promise what I will do. I have many ways to choose, hunger strikes, talking to the media or international friends. We cannot continue to suffer like this”. He pauses before sighing the word, “khallas” (finished).

Being the mayor of such a troubled community is clearly taking its toll on Bazem both personally but also emotionally. I ask him about his personal expenditure, how he affords to travel to Nablus and the phone calls to try and sort out these problems. He answers matter-of-factly “I spend maybe 1,200 NIS every month [about £240]” before immediately twisting the answer towards the problems his neighbours face. “A few days ago with the UN I visited some families that I had not spoken to for a while, I could not believe what I saw. One family needed 25,000 NIS [£5,000] just for their sheep food. What do the PA offer…nothing”. I didn’t ask why he thought the PA should pay for a families sheep food.

I took the decision to enter a subject area I had in the past chosen to avoid, Palestinian politics. I was keen to know whether this resentment towards the PA was synonymous with a resentment towards Fatah so I asked if he thought life would be different if Hamas was in power. Bazem pauses and leans towards me despite speaking through a translator and says, “When you build a house, the foundations have to be right or the whole house will be bad. Hamas lays bad foundations. Fatah just don’t know how to keep their house tidy”. I sought clarity and asked if he was happy then Fatah are still in control and he answered shaking his head, “All the party are no good. They are fighting each other, not looking to help the people. They think about their salaries not the people”.

A number of different village and town officials have expressed similar sentiments to me in the past but all have asked not to be named. All have hinted at corruption at a systemic level. I ask Bazem if it is OK to tell this story and he says, “I don’t want to get into trouble but I speak the truth. People must hear the truth so yes, tell your people how we Palestinians treat each other”. I knew as he said these words this story would be met with quiet support from many Palestinians but also vocal criticism. A united Palestinian voice is often stated as their most “important weapon”. Bazem later commented, “if we fraction then we lose our fight”.

I ask Bazem if the land that he is fighting for is important to him because it is his or because he sees it as his national duty to defend Palestine’s land. “This land is not mine, it is Palestine’s. I am lucky to be Palestinian and so I can look after the land. This is why I must support my Palestinian neighbours”.

I ask about its many ‘Jewish neighbours’ (in the illegal settlements) and he pauses for a considerable amount of time. It was clear he was not going to rush into this answer. Finally he responds, “Settlers are a cancer”. Again he paused and I looked at him, he clearly was not happy with his first answer. “If I have good neighbours then maybe, but at the moment it is like having your enemy as a neighbour. I cannot live beside someone who wants to swallow me whole”.

I asked him if he had ever had a good Israeli neighbour and he smiled and responded as if this was a stupid questions, “of course. In Gittit [a close by settlement] I have many friends and we visit each other and help each other”. Again he pauses and I wonder how those in the PA would respond to a man who so openly criticised them whilst talking about having settler friends. Bazem brings me back from my own thoughts though with the clarification, “They understand my problems but they cannot do anything to help because of the religious settlers. They control everything”.

I leave Bazem convinced that his community faces a plethora of problems, but non-the-wiser about the source of these problems. Is it the Israeli state, the settlers, the extreme settlers, the PA or who? I suspect it is a cocktail of the above. Regardless of whether or not the accusations against the PA hold up to scrutiny the stories are widely accepted in many villages I have visited. Is it a PR problem or fundamental lack of support from the PA? The straight answer is I do not know.

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June 20, 2012 · 10:07 am

The Women in Black and freedom of speech in Israel

Crinkles collected in the corner of her eyes as she smiled and said “I have been coming here for the last twenty four years. I sometimes wonder why, but I come. We have to show our belief as Israelis, as humans, in peace”. I was standing with a handful of women who were dressed in black, collected in the middle of a busy road junction in West Jerusalem. They come at same time, to the same place, every Friday. They stand with large cut out plastic hands with the message “Stop the Occupation” written on them in three languages. Collectively they are referred to as the “Women in Black”.

As the protesters began to assemble I was standing with three women, all in their seventies, all smiling and all opposed to the occupation. It was hard not to be won over by them.

The Women in Black movement started in 1988, a month or so after the first intifada broke out. The first protests began in Jerusalem but the idea spread internationally taking on local relevance. In Germany for example, Women in Black protests became active in countering the neo-Nazi movements. Everywhere they appeared they were organised by women and condemn violence in whatever its form.

Defying any stereotype around age or gender or nationality, the Women in Black are a powerful striking image on the road side making those passing by stop and take notice. Even through the smiles you could sense a steely determination which brings these women out onto the streets every Friday. This determination resonates to those around.

Before the demonstration I had been told about a ‘counter demonstration’ that occurs on the opposite side of the street to the Women in Black protest. At first this ‘counter demonstration’ played out like I would have expected. A small group of predominantly men gathered waving Israeli flags. One held a placard with the slogan, “Get an occupation and support Israel” (You have to give credit where it is due, it is a witty slogan). These two demonstrations happened alongside each other with little interaction.

Cars passed by honking their horns in support, and both protests took the noise and commotion to be in support of their cause. It was unclear to me who was honking to who but I got the feeling that most people were supporting the ‘counter demonstration’.

A taxi driver with a small Israeli flag flying from his window puts two fingers up at the women and drives off.

One passer by stopped and asked one of the Women in Black why they thought there was a counter protest. The answer showed, at the very least, an ability to understand what drives those who attend the ‘counter demonstration’. Glancing out from her black sun hat she answered, “For them, we are calling for half of Israel to be given away. Not only that, but we are asking for it to be given to a group of people who they think want Israel, and by extension their families, driven into the sea”. When the Women in Black call for an end of an occupation of a foreign land, many Israelis see it as ‘giving away’ part of greater Israel.

This back-story is important to understand as it provides a partial explanation (different to a justification) to why then the protest took a nasty and unpleasant turn.

A small group from the ‘counter demonstration’ crossed over the street and started accusing the Women in Black of being everything from ‘Nazis’ to ‘supporters of Ahmadinejad’ (Iranian leader). No slur appeared to be too extreme. To the credit of the Women in Black protesters, and perhaps because of previous experience, they showed almost no reaction to the provocation. Silently they continued to hold their signs calling for an end to the occupation.

This was until one ‘counter protestor’ approached me and accused me of being a “German, Nazi, Christian” (wrong on all three fronts). At this point one of the Women in Black came over encouraging me to ‘not talk to this man’. You can hear me at a number of points say “it’s ok” to her, trying to calm the situation as the ‘counter protester’ continued his hate speech. I only managed to record a small part of what he said and missed some of his worse comments. Still, both the recordings are truly shocking in places (see video below).

The Women in Black are on the street every Friday, keeping the Israeli opposition to the occupation in the public’s mind. Many involved in the protest want the counter demonstration banned, feeling that it is ‘threatening’. I agree it is certainly unpleasant.

For me however, Israel as a modern democratic state has to support the plurality of views and enable this ‘counter demonstration’ to take place for as long as remains peaceful and non-threatening. I did not witness any behaviour which was ‘threatening’. Of course the same has to be true for Palestinians who routinely have their right to protest violated.

As Voltaire didn’t actually ever say, “I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it”.

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June 11, 2012 · 6:53 pm

The reality of living in the occupied Palestinian Territory

When I worked in Stroud Brewery, I am sure my friends and family had an image of me sat in a deckchair supping a pint, only occasionally giving something a quick stir before returning my attention to the pint in hand. Of course, the reality of brewing is very different to that. It is repetitive and physically hard work – you don’t start brewing for the fame or for the money.

Equally then, I wonder what friends, family and readers of this blog imagine when they picture me in Israel/Palestine with EAPPI. I am sure some picture me running around the countryside in a cape and leggings trying to right (write?) the wrongs of the world – “look, its human rights boy”.

Sadly I don’t own any leggings.

I thought now, with just a few weeks left before I (momentarily?) return to old blighty, it would be as good a time as ever to set the record straight. The reality of what I am doing here mainly involves me sweating on plastic chairs with very little else happening around me.

When this happens though, it is a good day. Today is a good day. A day when nothing really happens. My phone hasn’t beeped telling me there has been a demolition. One of our local contacts hasn’t called to say the army has raided his village. We haven’t received messages about violence, burning and looting. Today has been a day which has mainly involved sorting photo albums on my computer whilst I sit sweating on my plastic chairs.

This sort of activity, the paper work, the filing and the organising of stuff takes up most of my time but has so far not, until now, made it into an article. Why?

There are very good reasons why I don’t normally write about me sweating on plastic chairs while nothing happens around me. These include:

  • It’s a disgusting image that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy
  • The UN doesn’t consider it a human rights violation (yet)
  • It happens a lot, which means by definition, it is not newsworthy

I thought it important however, to try and reflect the reality of day to day life here.

I pass the time on my plastic chair doing ‘stuff’ on my computer. Equally, most of the time, most people, are just trying to get on with their lives, with their own ‘stuff’.  In the fields below me farmers are bringing in their wheat harvest. Two women a couple of houses down are wrapping cheese. On the hillside opposite a Sheppard is sat on a rock looking over his sheep. In Ramallah and other big cities people will be making their ways back to their families after a day at work, probably stuck in traffic with their fist pressed permanently to the horn.

All the time though the military occupation here casts its shadows onto the corners of these activities. Just as the illegal settlements sit in the corner of my eye on the hilltops opposite, so the occupation lurks close to people’s day to day life. For example, most people here are mourning the loss of friends, family or loved ones. Almost everybody is mourning the loss of freedoms, of income, or of opportunities in one way or another.

When land gets burnt, or a man gets shot it is easy to report. I can tell you what I saw happen. How do I tell you about the thoughts and feelings that I speculate may be going through other’s minds though? My evidence is simply the distant stares and glazed looks, of half smiles and looks of loss.

This isn’t news to anyone but it is what defines life here. It is what I find myself thinking about as I stick to my plastic chair as nothing really happens.

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June 6, 2012 · 11:42 am

Walking in the (Occupied) Golan Heights

“This really is paradise” said Ziv, a twenty four year old Israeli ranger working in the Yehudiya National Park. He flicks back his dreadlocks and smiles at us looking for confirmation. My colleague, good friend and fellow hiker, Helene responds, “It really is”. We were stood overlooking the impressive Zavitan waterfall which cuts into the incredible landscape that’s rich in fauna and wildlife. In the immediate vicinity of the waterfalls it is hard to disagree with either of their assessments.

Helene and I walked for hours through deep gorges, stopping only occasionally to swim in the natural pools. Sporadically however we would hear in the background the unmistakable sound of explosions. A reminder that the Yehudiya National Park is surrounded by Israeli military areas. At one point as we were sat by a pool side a flock of birds flew from the tree in which they were perched at the sound of an especially loud explosion.

With every explosion, I was reminded that we were enjoying ourselves in an Occupied Territory. This mixture of unworldly beauty combined with occupation followed by an illegal annexation is what I spent three days thinking about as I walked in the Occupied Golan Heights.

The Golan Heights were occupied by Israel during the 1967 war and as such they were internationally considered to be “Occupied Territories”. In 1981 Israel formally annexed the territory and argued this changed the territory’s legal status. Despite this annexation and subsequent claim, the law of belligerent occupation continues to apply until the international community acknowledges a political-legal settlement between the parties. This did not happen in 1981 and has not occurred since.

The UN Security Council Resolution 497 of December 17, 1981 summarises the international community’s response to the annexation stating, “(The UN) Strongly condemns Israeli annexationist policies and practices in the occupied Syrian Golan Heights, the establishment of settlements, the confiscation of lands, the diversion of water resources, the intensification of repressive measures against the Syrian citizens therein and the forcible imposition of the Israeli citizenship on Syrian nationals, and declares all these measures as null and void as they constitute violations of the Geneva Convention relative to the Protection of Civilian Persons in Time of War”

As such, as an Occupying Power, Israel is obligated to adhere to the principles of international humanitarian law, notably the Fourth Geneva Convention Relative to the Protection of Civilian Persons in Time of War, and must also adhere to the principles of the international human rights law. This position has been repeatedly upheld by the UN and international human rights organisations.

Despite this clear status the occupied Golan Heights is often ignored by the media covering the “Israel/Palestine conflict”. Journalist and author Mya Guarnieri commented on this saying, “Perhaps it’s easier for journalists to talk about ‘Israel and the Occupied Palestinian Territories’ or the ‘Israeli-Palestinian conflict.’ But to do so is an oversimplification that ignores the broader regional context that includes the Golan Heights”. Living in the West Bank, reporting on what I see, this is a criticism that I am acutely aware of. To understand the current struggle for the realisation of human rights in the oPT you must also have an understanding of the Golan Heights.

After the occupation of 1967 130,000 Syrians were forcibly displaced from the territory leaving only 6,000 behind. A report by The Arab Centre for Human Rights in the Occupied Syrian Golan, highlights human rights abuses from expropriation of land and water resources through to settlement expansion. A report well worth reading.

What troubled me during my time in the Golan however was that all of this that I had read about human rights before visiting the Golan seemed a million miles from what I actually saw. Visiting the Golan Heights felt, as a tourist, to be no different from visiting any other part of Israel.

Hitch hiking to start a walk one day an Israeli picked us up, drove us no more than 5 minutes and insisted we take her number in case we were in the area and wanted to spend Shabbat with her family. I was met with a well maintained tourist industry and extreme kindness and hospitality – this was comparable to my experience in the rest of Israel.

My time in the Golan left me confused, it didn’t feel as oppressive as the oPT but I knew, in many ways, that it was comparable. My resolve from the trip is to return, to speak to more Israelis living in the Golan and to search out the small number of Syrians still living there, still resisting the occupation. What I witnessed, mainly from an Israeli perspective, was a complete normalisation of life, including the military presence. I left wondering what I would have experienced if I had spent time with the remaining Syrian communities in the area.

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May 29, 2012 · 4:14 pm

Scorched earth and shootings, as the Israeli military stand by

This article was originally published on Liberal Conspiracy.

Scorched earth stretched out before me. To my right the fire was still burning across the hillside spreading through olive trees. To my left all that remained was charred black earth.

All around me, men were moving, unable to rest but also unable to access their land to tackle the fire. All they could do was to stand watching as their livelihoods and land burnt.

An hour earlier, 22 year old Najeh al-Safadi had tried to put out the fire on his land and had been shot in the stomach by the private security staff from the overlooking settlement. At the time of writing it is unknown if he will walk again after the bullet damaged his spine.

I was stood with some residents from Urif, a small village in the West Bank close to Nablus. Urif stands on the opposite side of the valley to the illegal settlement of Yitzhar which is described in the New York Times as, “an extremist bastion on the hilltops”.

Violent action from the settlers directed at both the Israeli Defence Force (IDF) and local Palestinians is not uncommon in the area. The International Solidarity Movement reported back in April 2012 that, “that hundreds of villagers [from Urif] have been injured since 2000 [by settlers from Yitzhar], with as many as 40 serious injuries (many of which were gunshot wounds) and one murder”.

Stood on the hillside opposite me, above the one hundred and fifty dunums of burning land but below the settlement of Yitzhar, were a collection of about forty to fifty settlers. A small group of them were still lighting fresh fires, hours after the original fires had been started.

Parked up and stood alongside these settlers were the IDF. The Israeli Army stood by and watched as these crimes unfolded.

A few hours later however, the IDF did intervene. Just as a small number of settlers were on the outskirts of Urif the IDF stepped in. Their contribution? To fire fifty to sixty tear gas canisters at the villagers and international observers who were monitoring the events.

The IDF has said that they, “regard this incident [the shooting] as severe and will thoroughly investigate it”. Between September 2000 to November 2011, B’Tselem sent fifty-five complaints to the Military Advocate General’s Corps regarding cases that raised the suspicion that security forces did not intervene to stop settler violence.

In only five cases was an investigation opened; two of the five were closed without any measures being taken against the soldiers involved. In eighteen cases, no investigation was opened at all. In eleven cases, B’Tselem did not receive any response.

In a flash the ambulances were gone and the only traces that were left of the violence that had just occurred were the smouldering fields and the talk of whether Najeh would make a full recovery.

I left the mayor promising him that I would do what I could to tell the world what I had seen in his village that day.

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May 28, 2012 · 3:10 pm

Waterfalls and walkers in Ein Gedi

On the other side of the stream I watch on as five elderly ladies help each other climb up a small rocky slope. One at a time each of them grasps onto whatever they can reach with a steely determination. The path they are following weaves its way up through shallow rock pools and passes protruding rocks. Passing me are a unit of off duty soldiers relaxing, chatting and joking. Each pushing their way down the gravel track by which I am stood. They have the look of a group returning from the beach, slightly sun burnt, windswept but happy. Below me I can see other tourists making their way up the side of the small stream. Varying degrees of fitness and determination will decide how far up the valley they go before they place themselves next to a plunge pool for the day.

Ein Gedi is an oasis in the middle of a desert. Waterfalls cut through a barren landscape diving deep into the rock to leave two adjacent blossoming valleys. Each valley has deep plunge pools that attract tourists from across Israel. The whole nature reserve stretches up away from the dead sea leaving you with views across the lowest point on earth and out onto the shores of Jordan. An incomparable location.

What sets Ein Gedi apart however is not the idyllic waterfalls and plunge pools or even the soaring mountain landscape that surrounds it. It is not even the fact that it extends up from the lowest place on earth. What makes Ein Gedi special for me is the people it attracts. Melting together in the scorching dead sea sun are Orthodox Jews, lefty kibbutz dwellers and Israeli Arabs all swimming together. Intermixing amongst all of this are a blend of bemused and astonished internationals, unsure whether to gawp at the beautiful King David Waterfall or the sight of Orthodox Jews splashing in the pools below it. Throughout the nature reserve and beach front, families, friends and foe all come together, transfixed by the natural beauty of their location.

Ein Gedi’s beauty attracts swathes of humans but it also offers a chance to escape the hustle and bustle of the religiosity and intensity which defines so much of Israel’s tourism. If you take one of the paths out of the valley bottom up into the surrounding mountains you can experience a sense of real isolation. Stood at the peak of Mount Yishai overlooking cliffs dropping sharply down to the crafted shoreline of the dead sea it is hard not to feel a sense of wonder at such a landscape. On a still day you might be able to hear the occasional cry of children playing in the valleys below but here on the mountain tops you know you are far from where others will make the effort to walk.

As you make your way back down off the mountain side you walk past people and nature stood side by side, together.

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May 24, 2012 · 3:06 pm

The silence in Kafr Qaddum

The silence was the most telling part of the whole meeting. The silence was intermittently punctured by the muttering of an occasional word. These words though, when they came, held the weight of a thousand. In this silence I could feel the presence of Waseam Barahem next to me throughout the meeting. Even when others were speaking I was conscious of his silence next to me.

Just over three weeks ago, seventeen year old Waseam was struck in the head by a tear gas canister, nearly died and momentarily lost his ability to speak. Today he is only able to say a few words. His father, Abu Walid remembers the day painfully, “I saw it all, I saw the soldier aim directly at my child”. Accounts vary, but most report the soldiers being fifty to one hundred meters away. All accounts that I have heard agree that the soldiers were firing directly into the crowd. This is something I have seen too many times before and is something that the IDF’s own regulations prohibit.

Waseam was struck directly on his head and suffered large amounts of internal bleeding. He was taken first to Nablus but then to a hospital in Jordan for a life saving operation.

His father described to me the moments after the shooting, “At first I didn’t think it was serious, just some blood on his head. Then the man who works with the ambulance told me it was bad. I wanted to go through the olive trees [to avoid the Israeli flying checkpoint] because I was worried they would try to arrest Waseam [on the way to the hospital]. The man who works with the ambulance though told me we had to go straight through the checkpoint because we didn’t have time to go through the trees. The soldiers also knew it was serious because when we come they open the checkpoint for us. They telephoned ahead to the hospital because they knew every minute counted”.

By any account Waseam is lucky to be alive.

Less than six months ago Mustafa Tamimi died after being struck by a tear gas canister. It is a very real danger that both internationals and Palestinians face when they attend protests.

Regardless of the dangers, the villagers of Kafr Qaddum continue to protest every Friday. I asked Waseam if he was worried about this coming Friday’s demonstration and the possibility of soldiers coming into the village. His answer was short but clear, “next Friday, I will go to the demonstration”. I looked at Waseam trying to read him, to distinguish the macho pride of a seventeen year old boy from what he was really feeling. Did he really not feel any fear after having such a close brush with death?

I turned to his father and asked if he was happy with his son being on the streets during the demonstration. His answer was framed in the context of the impossibility of criticising anyone who is ‘opposing the occupation’. He half shrugged and said “I always knew he would protest”.

I tried once more to frame a question in a way that would allow them to perhaps partly express their feelings. I asked Waseam if he was worried about his friends who go to the front of the demonstration. His silence stretched out for what felt like minutes before he finally replied, “I do worry about my friends”. His gaze fell to the floor and once again we were absorbed into his silence.

The sound of scraping chairs marked the end of our meeting. I left wishing Waseam a full recovery and I asked him to promise to “stay safe”. It felt ridiculous saying these words considering the context. Living in Kafr Qaddum, even if you avoid the weekly demonstration, is anything but “staying safe”.

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May 17, 2012 · 2:18 pm

24 hours in Hebron

18:00 I arrived in Hebron repeating the simple instruction over in my head “get out of the bus at Happy Bunny Restaurant”. However many times I said it in my head I just couldn’t quite bring myself to mutter these words out loud. Inevitably the time came when the driver turns and questions, “where”? I respond, “Err…Happy…Bunny…restaurant”. He beams a smile, “of course”. I am whisked to my destination and my nights’ accommodation (a house close to the restaurant, not the restaurant itself).

22:00 Stood in the centre of the closed part of the old city in Hebron I look at some 3,000 year old remains of ‘ancient Hebron’. It looks like rocks to me, but I will concede that they look like slightly more useful rocks than the really old ones by my house in the UK (Stonehenge).

We are stood a few meters from one of the settlements in the middle of Hebron and just down the road from a Israeli family who are due to be evicted in the coming weeks (tensions are high). A soldier approaches us and asks where we are going and before I can answer looks over his shoulder and says, “oh the cave”? (or it could have been “grave”, I wasn’t sure). I, possibly foolishly, replied “yeah the crave” (hedging my bets between a cave and a grave). He then radio’s in to see if it is ok for us to go and look at the cave/grave.

After a few minutes of the soldiers having a ‘boy competition’ (defined universally as making a competition out of something that really shouldn’t be a competition, eg – hitting a balloon to each other becomes “can we hit it to each other 100 times with just our left hand” or in this case “who can shine their lazer on their rifles the furthest”) they decide that it is OK to go look at the cave/grave. We smile and walk to the dead end.

25 meters up the road and we see 6 soldiers waiting outside a military base next to the before mentioned settlement. I tried to casually scan where I was as if I of course know exactly where the cave/grave is. One soldier nods his head towards the far corner. Two options present themselves, the first is the military base and the second is a Palestinian families house. My colleague takes control and walks confidently into the Palestinian house where she knows the family. We stop and say our hellos to the family and ask about this cave/grave…apparently it is where someone from the old testament is buried and it is inside the military base. I leave the house still not sure if it is a cave or a grave but figured I had bigger fish to fry. I didn’t have the nerve or inclination to walk back out onto the street so we slump off down the path at the back of the house.

If nothing else it is nice to see the IDF trust us enough to enter into a military base unaccompanied at ten o’clock at night.

On the way home we see three Palestinians being held up at the checkpoint at the top of Shuhada Street. We stop and monitor the situation. If they are held for over 20 minutes we call the Temporary International Presence in Hebron (TIPH) for support before calling the ICRC. Inevitably the soldiers releases the men after 18 minutes. As we pass the soldiers there is an awkward acknowledgement that these were the same soldiers who had just given us permission to enter their base to see the cave/grave. I try to keep it nice and ask “is it ok to go into the ‘crave’ anytime”?. The soldier looks at me alarmed, “you want to go into the grave”?

23:00 – I fall asleep under a purple Disney duvet.

08:00 – We are up at the crack of sparrows to meet a German delegation who want to be shown around Hebron. I stay mainly quiet as my colleague waxes lyrical about Hebron in what I felt to be an impressively neutral manner. We show them around the mainly closed and divided parts of Hebron. There is one street divided by concrete bollards less than a meter high where Palestinians walk one side and Israelis the other. I wondered what on earth this form of division had to do with security.

12:30 –  After everything that could be said about Hebron has been said we left the German’s to make their way pass a checkpoint into the old souq. I see at least three of them tut at the soldier on the way past. I make a conscious note that I need to work on my middle class indignation.

13:00 –  I see a character walking towards me down Shuhada Street. He looks Israeli, but doesn’t look like one of the settlers living in Hebron (he’s smiling to start with). My inner suspicions are aroused though when he asks where we have just been. I pull out the leaflet I picked up by Abrahams grave (although interestingly he was also meant to have been buried in a ‘cave’ – all very confusing) and thrust it into his hands. Triumphant in the fact that I had not only been to a tourist hot spot but I had proof that I had been into the “Jewish half” of the mosque/synagogue/holy site (don’t ask…Jews and Muslims go in separate doors and can see the same grave/cave but from different sides and are separated by bullet proof glass). He looks at it and mutters he hasn’t been there yet. I am a little disappointed but crack on with conversation.

He turns out to be called Michael and lives just to the South of Tel Aviv. Apart from being a bloody nice guy he also enjoyed liberally sprinkling in words like ‘Plato’ and ‘Power Dynamics’ into conversation. In other words, he was my sort of chap.  He described himself as “on the left” of Israeli politics before he rubbished the very concept of ‘left and right politics’ in Israel. He was passionately ‘Jewish’ (and trust me when I say we didn’t use this term lightly, about half of our conversation was on how to define ‘being Jewish’) and to say he was well read was an understatement. About three hours of conversation in the heat of the day later we decide to go and grab some food…he chooses the Gutnick Centre (a Jewish cafe and community centre in the centre of Hebron that is known to the International community as being ‘pro-settlers’).

On the way to lunch Michael wants to walk on the ‘Palestinian side’ of the divided street. I am interested to see what happens so don’t stop him. When we get to the soldier at the top, the soldier tells him he is “lucky to escape with his life”. Michael smiles and we go and drink coffee with some ‘dangerous’ Palestinian shop keepers. We take off our EAPPI jackets in the shop and leave them there before going into the Gutnick centre. This was to avoid provocation but we are also not allowed in wearing the vests. Dangerous pacifist peace workers? We sit down on a table opposite some soldiers and have a nice lunch.

Sometimes the word ‘surreal’ just doesn’t quite cover it.

16:30 We walk together after lunch and are about to say our goodbyes to Michael when in the distance we spot two soldiers who were completely covered in white paint. They stride past a ‘normal’ soldier who tries to stop them. The ‘white soldier’ tells him to “check with command, this operation is cleared”. I had no idea what was going on. A soldier stood with the ‘white soldiers’ turns to me and says, “it’s art…it is up to you how you interpret it”. I liked the idea and so walked with a growing crowd of both Palestinians and Israelis. The soldier now turns to me and asks if I have ever been to Jayyus, I say “yes”. He gets his phone out and shows me a picture of myself from one of the day time raids of the village I used to be based in. He smiles and clearly thinks this situation is hilarious. He asks as if reuniting with an old school mate, “how you been keeping dude”? I smile, “yeah good cheers”.

By this point we have walked to the outskirts of one of the settlements. I ask the soldier if it is ok for us to be there and the soldier and Michael respond in unison “of course”. The ‘white soldiers’ are now pretending to search a playground and I watch on in fascination. This was not something I had expected from Hebron but I was enjoying myself.

In a split second however this whole jubilant atmosphere was shattered by the one and only Anat Cohen – a notoriously aggressive settler. She came out of a house and started screaming at me (ignoring the Israelis I was with) and stamping on my ankles. As she screamed at me I felt flecks of her saliva land on my face. I consciously decide not to wipe it off because I don’t want to be accused of ‘raising my hand’. I looked over her tiny angry shoulders to the soldier looking on. He gives me a comic shrug and looks helpless. I say it is OK, and we will go. The four of us (three internationals and Michael) walk off. She (Anat Cohen) follows me pushing me in my back and shouting. The soldier walks on behind and signals to his colleague in the distance to come. The new soldier asks, “did you do anything”? I smiled and said “of course not”. The soldier tuts a knowing tut and we walk for another 200 meters with Anat Cohen following me stamping on my ankles and screaming at me. While the soldier does nothing. When we stop to enter into a ‘Palestinian only’ part of town we finally say goodbye to Michael and Anat Cohen stares at us both and takes our photos.

I feel really sad that someone could feel that much anger and hatred to a stranger that she has never met or spoken to. I feel worse though for anyone that has to put up with her day in day out.

Michael, the soldier, Anat Cohen, the history, the conflict, the division…all just 24 hours in Hebron.

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May 11, 2012 · 8:40 pm

Protest at Kafr Qaddum 11.05.12

The organiser of the weekly protest at Kafr Qaddum took a few seconds to explain to me his version of events from today’s protest.

These are some images I took from today’s protest:

Two boys using slingshots to throw stones at the soldiers.

The Israeli Army entering the village.

A member of the press (who made it past the flying checkpoints put down by the Israeli Army to stop press entering the village) is carried out of the protest by a first aider.

A small boy collects the empty tear gas canisters

If you would like to read what the protest at Kafr Qaddum is like – click here

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May 8, 2012 · 3:19 pm

Yanoun – the first village in Palestine to be forcibly displaced since 1967

I am sat in the hamlet of Yanoun, 15 kilometres to the south-east of Nablus reading the words of Rashed Murrar – the mayor of Yanoun – describing how the village almost ceased to exist, “They came with dogs and guns, every Saturday night. They beat men in front of their children. One Saturday they said they didn’t want to see anyone here next Saturday and that we should move to Aqraba. The whole village left that week”.

On a good day it is hard to imagine that Yanoun was nearly wiped off the map or even that it is facing any problems. I am currently on the hillside overlooking a stunning landscape with interweaving rolling green hills. It is the most beautiful place I have visited in Palestine. It feels so incredibly peaceful and remote. Just as I am writing this article however a military jeep comes up the valley and drives up to every house in the hamlet. Looking across the valley there are further clues that everything is not quite right here. On the horizon there sits a handful of buildings that make up one of many illegal settler outposts in the area.

The Israeli peace group Ta’ayush describe the events leading up to the 2002 dispersion as, “years of unrelenting harassment, destruction of infrastructure, armed patrols and threats of shooting” (from the EAPPI publication ‘Living with Settlers’). An entire Palestinian village, the first since 1967, was up-rooted and displaced.

As a result, at the invitation of the mayor, there has been an international presence in the hamlet since 2003. Sadly however, attacks and harassment are still part of life here.

In addition to the attacks, Yanoun has lost hundreds of acres of land. This is either because the settlers have claimed it for their own or because it is deemed a ‘closed military zone’ by the Israeli military. The term ‘closed military zone’ is used with derision throughout Yanoun. Most people here understands the IDF to be on “the side of the  settlers” as one resident commented to me. One former EA in Yanoun commented that they saw “soldiers sitting down and having a picnic with settlers on Palestinian land”.

The settlements remain illegal under international humanitarian law; Article 49, of the 1949 Geneva Convention IV states: “The Occupying Power shall not deport or transfer parts of its own civilian population into the territory it occupies”. For this reason, the settlements are condemned by every major nation in the world (except Israel). The Israeli NGO Peace Now describes these illegal settlements as, “the biggest obstacle to a two state solution”.

The three main settlements that surround Yanoun are Itamar, Yizhar and Bracha. Yizhar was the home of the infamous Rabbi Yitzhak Shapira, the author of “The Kings Torah”. The Kings Torah offers a theological basis for the killing of non-Jews.  According to the Rabbi, non-Jews are “uncompassionate by nature” and attacks on them “curb their evil inclination,” while babies and children of Israel’s enemies may be killed since “it is clear that they will grow to harm us”. The Israeli tabloid Ma’ariv described it as the stuff of “Jewish terror”.

Although not all as extreme as Rabbi Yitzhak Shapira, many of the residents are extremely hostile to both Palestinians and internationals. They see the fields and valleys as “their land” – some believing it is literally their God given right to be there.

Attacks from people living in these settlements are common place in Yanoun and  the surrounding villages.  As a result of the settlement, there are a series of de facto invisible boundaries surrounding Yanoun that cannot safely be crossed by either Palestinians or internationals. All the hilltops and fields out of the valley bottom are no go areas for fear of violence or provoking ‘revenge attacks’ on Palestinian villages.

It is equally inspiring and terrifying to be here, to see how a community live their lives perched perilously close to having their homes and livelihoods eradicated. Already though I felt a resilience here – a living embodiment of the phrase “to exist is to resist”.

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April 28, 2012 · 7:13 pm

Cana – “Jesus was here”

A man wearing a “Jesus was Here” t-shirt strolls past me with his less than enthusiastic family in tow. In the opposite direction I see a small mob of elderly Italian tourists silhouetted in the evening sun, hobbling their collective way up through the cobbled streets of the old city. The melody of church bells play over the continuous drone of horns from the impatient tour bus operators waiting nearby. The streets are filled with an electricity that can only be found amongst those who are resolute in their faith.

I turn to a young American stood near to me and make an acknowledging smile. I wanted to share with this stranger that I wasn’t drawn into this touristic interpretation of history and religion. If Jesus did change water into wine here in Cana, then I am sure he would not have appreciated the inflatable replicas of him doing so. I was about to say something dry and snide along these lines when the young American smiles back and says, “You know, when I step on this soil, I feel like I am closer to God than in any church I have ever been into”. Such a genuine sentiment is hard to ignore.

The conflict between the crass and cultural that I experienced in Cana is not unique.  I had a comparable experience when visiting Carcassone in the south of France and it can be found in cultural, historical and religious sites around the world.

Cana is where people come to celebrate Jesus’ first miracle, the turning of water into wine at the wedding feast. For the materialists who dominate the town’s tourist trade however this results in novelty t-shirts and bottles of wine with Jesus’ face painted on them.

Cana is also recorded as the site where Jesus healed a royal official’s son. I try asking a few locals if they can show me where Jesus was supposed to have performed this second miracle. I am met with baffled looks and offers of “good price” on wedding wine.

In desperation I turn back to my American friend looking for inspiration. I ask him how long he is staying in Cana for and he tells me that he is just here for one night stopping off on the Jesus Trail. I am interested to find out what brings a 20 something from the deep south of the US to the Galilee region of Israel. “I became desperate to find what sits at the heart of a billion people’s faith. I wanted to feel it with my own hands”. I paused, desperately hoping that he would kneel down and pick up some dirt and let in run through his fingers. Instead he meets my eye, smiles and looks up at the spectacular Franciscan Wedding Church.

Cana didn’t ignite my imagination like I had hoped but I wonder how it looks through the eyes of those who have faith like my new American friend.

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April 26, 2012 · 4:35 pm

My mates band, my love life and the security of Israel’s borders

A little more than a few hundred meters of fences and checkpoints mark out the border between Jordan and Israel where the two countries meet at their southern most point. It took me about 10 to 15 minutes to cross this border when entering Jordan last week. On the way back into Israel however it took about two hours. Why? I was told it was because they had ‘serious security concerns’. Never before has the word ‘serious’ been subjected to such a loose definition.

The conversation started off a little tedious. “How long have you been in Jordan for? Who did you visit? Are you carrying any weapons”? These are the sort of questions that always strike me as slightly pointless but are a regular feature of border crossings. In a slightly overly accommodating way I responded to a complete stranger with complete itinerary of my holiday and that no, I was not carrying any weapons.

Very quickly however the conversation started to veer from the ordinary ‘airport style questioning’ to the downright bizarre.  “What’s on your t-shirt?“. I was wearing my Jim Lockey and the Solemn Sun t-shirt (a friend’s band). I explained this to her and she answered, “Are they successful…your mates band?”. She almost spat the word mate. I paused wondering whether she really wanted to hear how successful or not my friend’s band were. As she didn’t break the silence I responded, “Well yes, just recently it has been great, they’ve been signed to a record label I really like and they have just put out an album which has been met with critical acclaim”.

Now taking swabs from every item of clothing in my bag checking for the explosives and drugs I had assured her I didn’t have she says, “give me an example”. I clarify, “you mean, you want an example of the ‘critical acclaim’ my friend’s ban has had?”. She nods. Again, an awkward couple of seconds silence before I say, “Well, Kerrang magazine gave it KKKK (out of 5) while the site Punktastic has described it ‘ a definite contender for album of the year’”. She stares at me blankly. “What’s that a picture of?” she says pointing at the album art from their first record ‘atlases’ that is printed on my t-shirt. “Why would did he chose that picture?”. I answered as honestly as I could, “I don’t really know, I would just be guessing if I answered”. Deadpan again she says, “well guess”. Feeling slightly foolish I again sought clarity, “you want me to guess why a mate of mine that I went to school with chose this picture for his first album?”. Nod. “Really?”. Two nods.  I start to speculate and she continued to stare blankly at me.

This level of conversation lasts for one and half hours. It stretched from the finest detail that I can recall about the Live Music Act (part of my former work), my love life as a 16 year old through to petty details like why my bag had ‘mountain equipment’ written on it when it didn’t look very suitable for mountains. I answered question after question trying to not laugh at the stupidity of it all.

After an hour and half of solid questioning she tells me to stop slouching. I had maybe stared to drift off. She handed back my passport and tells me that I can go now. I smile and walk past a picture of Bill Clinton on the wall – I was sure by this point his eyes followed me across the room.

Walking away past a customs official who didn’t bother to look up from his newspaper I thought to myself that there are two undeniable facts about Israel. One is that it faces an extreme external security threat that means it needs to have secure borders. Secondly is that it’s response to this security threat is often disproportionate. What I experienced coming through the border is a slightly more comic illustration of this disproportionately.

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April 14, 2012 · 7:19 pm

Spending the pink pound in Israel

This is a feature piece written for OUT magazine.

Sat in the evening sun Shaun shifts closer to Paul as the temperature drops in the fading light. I meet the couple sat on a beach in Tel Aviv, Israel. The two men in their mid thirties are on a couple of weeks vacation from their home in south London. I ask them if it is OK to talk to them about the gay scene in Israel and they happily suggest going for beer in the bar a hundred meters away on the beach front.

Sweet smelling smoke fills the air inside the bar as hookah pipes are shared between friends. We are sat with panoramic views of the now silhouetted beach front.  Passing the hookah pipe across the table to where the two men are sat side by side I start the interview by asking them why they chose Tel Aviv for their holiday. Paul exhales a plume of smoke, takes a sip from his beer and jokes, “cheap easy jet flights”. Shaun laughs and adds, “I just love the rub down at the [Ben Gurion] airport” (referring to the notoriously inhospitable welcoming foreigners receive at the airport).

With a smile I try a less subtle approach and asked if it had anything to do with the internationally renowned LGBT scene in Tel Aviv. Paul does not hesitate this time and comments, “We want to holiday somewhere that we feel relaxed and welcome. A friend of mine told me about Tel Aviv and so we thought we would check it out”. As an afterthought, as if recalling a distant memory, he adds, “everything is set up for us here”.

Tel Aviv is a well known destination for ‘gay tourism’. Last year Tel Aviv launched a $90 million campaign to present itself as, “an international gay vacation destination.” Leon Avigad, owner of the gay-friendly Brown hotel, explains the city’s popularity, “We are cosmopolitan, we’re very Western, European and American but on the other hand we’re very much into the Middle Eastern warmth and welcoming, and this combination attracts”.

Our visit to Tel Aviv coincide with the holiday of Pesach (Passover), the celebration of the story in Exodus where the ancient Israelites were freed from slavery in Egypt. As such it is very difficult to buy certain things such as beers and certain breads. I ask Shaun if this has been a problem and he responds with more depth than I was perhaps expecting. “I think it is beautiful that this society can hold onto its traditions and religious celebrations and still be so open minded”. I wondered how much Shaun had ventured much beyond the city since being here.

On cue, they ask me what I am doing in Tel Aviv and I tell them all about EAPPI and they seem genuinely interested. I ask them if they have ever been to the occupied Palestinian territories. Paul responds with a degree of defensiveness in his voice that he assumed he wasn’t allowed, “I thought there was a war there”. I explain to them, the best I can, the problems caused by the occupation and what I have experienced since living there. I elaborate my point about why I think it is bad for both Israelis and Palestinians. There is a more than awkward silence and I begin to worry that I might have pushed the conversation both metaphorically and literally too far from Tel Aviv.

As if reading my mind Paul comments, “all of that seems a long way from here”. I take this opportunity to try and relate what is happening in the conflict to their experiences here in Tel Aviv and ask if either of them have ever heard of the phrase, “pinkwash”. They respond in unison, “no”. I try my best to offer a definition of Pinkwash – the idea that Israel has created a deliberate strategy to conceal their continuing violations of Palestinians’ human rights behind an image of modernity, illustrated through the booming  gay scene. Both men looked troubled at the idea, clearly concerned that “their community” and “their choices” could somehow be linked to the troubles I had just described about the military occupation.

I try to reassure my two new friends and joke with them that they are not responsible for Israel’s occupation. For Paul however this was not enough. Playing with the beer mat in front of him he almost apologetically comments, “I guess we have only seen a part of life here”. I smile and again try to reassure them both that they are meant to be on holiday relaxing, not peacekeeping. They sheepishly smile back.

For many in the LGBT community it is an ethical dilemma whether or not to boycott Israel as a holiday destination. On one hand it is a beacon of LGBT rights in an otherwise very hostile environment. Some Palestinian activists have tried to persuade me that there is a growing gay rights movement in Palestine. If there is I have yet to stumble across it. Netanyahu told Congress last May that the Middle East was “a region where women are stoned, gays are hanged, and Christians are persecuted.” Sadly, this rhetoric may be alarmist but has also an element of truth in it.

On the other hand however Israel is accused by Amnesty International of “ill-treatment and torture of detainees, excessive use of force, the detention of conscientious objectors, and forced evictions and home demolitions” as well as having a “disregard for international law”. For anyone within the LGBT community who is concerned about equal rights and equality there are some clear moral concerns here.

As an LGBT activist who fundamentally believes in an equality of rights, I cannot settle on Israel having a progressive attitude towards LGBT rights whilst routinely violating other rights through the conflict and occupation.  As Haneen Maikay, the director of Al Qaws (a Palestinian gay rights group) recently said in the New York Times, “When you go through a checkpoint it does not matter what the sexuality of the soldier is”. The LGBT community are not separate from the rest of society who suffer from the occupation.

We are now three beers into the conversation and Shaun’s tongue as well as his sense of moral outrage has been loosened, “So what can we do to highlight all this. It’s f***ed up that people can come here and are not told about any of this s***”. Partly through tiredness I decide to avoid the minefield of BDS (boycott disinvestment and sanctions) and instead simply comment that I think it is important to make sure that everyone who comes to Tel Aviv is aware of what is happening just 20 kilometres to the east.

Paul however looks concerned. I have been talking for the last ten minutes and Paul has not spoken. “I don’t know” he says between regular slugs of beer. “there are so many f***ed up countries in the world where you can get hung for just glancing at another guy. It doesn’t feel right to be criticising a country who are opening their arms and welcoming us”. This concern reflects a very real issue within the LGBT community. To criticise Israel is to break an unspoken pact where those working on LGBT issues stand united in their struggle.

The answer to this dilemma presented itself to me in Yad Veshem, the Israeli holocaust museum. Here they have on the wall in large letters the poignant words of Martin Niemöller “First they came for the communists, and I didn’t speak out because I wasn’t a communist. Then they came for the trade unionists, and I didn’t speak out because I wasn’t a trade unionist.  Then they came for the Jews, and I didn’t speak out because I wasn’t a Jew. Then they came for me and there was no one left to speak out for me”.

If the 20th century taught us anything it is that silence can allow terrible things to happen. The LGBT community cannot stay silent while Israel uses its progressive attitude towards LGBT tourism to deflect attention from the continual violations of basic human rights standards in the occupied territories. Equally however, I believe we have to welcome Israel’s pioneering approach towards LGBT tourism, and encourage these attitudes to spread to less hospitable parts of Israeli society.

Stood outside the bar, the air is now cold and so our good-byes are short. As the two men turn to leave Paul says to me that “next time we come, I think we should spend a few nights somewhere in the West Bank”. I smile and say that they definitely should. Parts of Israeli society may be a beacon for LGBT rights in the middle east, but it is also an occupier of another land. To understand Israel, I think you have to visit that other land.

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April 7, 2012 · 7:38 am

From the West Country to the West Bank – an interview with Steve Hynd, in Jayyus, Occupied Palestinian Territory

I was interviewed by Eugene Grant (of Dead Letter Drop fame). Have a read!

“Have I seen awful things? Completely.” Only a few weeks ago, Steve Hynd was observing a protest near Jayyus – a small village in the West Bank, Israel – when the army fired tear gas canisters directly at the crowd as they were running away. One of the three inch-long steel canisters struck a protestor – standing a few feet away from him – in the neck.

For Hynd, the words ‘police tactics’ are a complete misnomer. “Why would you have soldiers stewarding a protest?.” He says such tactics constitute not so much a policing strategy as “an aggressive attack on protest”. Since then, he’s stopped using the term Israeli Defence Force (IDF) – the military wing of the country’s security forces. The phrase, he says, suggests the force is there for defensive purposes, “but I’ve seen it overwhelmingly used for acts of aggression… when you say ‘army’ people understand that armies can be aggressive.”

You can read the full interview here.

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April 6, 2012 · 5:33 pm

Another crackdown on the protest in Kafr Qaddum

My head started swimming and I couldn’t open my eyes. I could feel broken stones crunch beneath my feet and I knew I was moving away from the protest. For a terrifying 30 seconds I lost track of what was happening. An autopilot sense of self preservation kicked in that my conscious self had little control over. Just as my senses started to return I felt a colleagues hand rest on my lower back and lead me to the side of the street. Here I crouched in the small amount of shade offered by the shop-front from the midday sun. My stomach had tied itself into a knot and my head felt like it had split in two. Only then did I realise that I must have walked away from my colleague who was now stood in front of me with her camera in hand. I glanced up an offered what I hoped was a reassuring smile.

A few minutes earlier I had been stood at the back of a demonstration in Kafr Qaddum, a small village in the West Bank. I was there to monitor the proceedings and reporting on any human rights violations I witnessed. In the minuets preceding I had filmed a number of ‘warning shots’ being fired over the crowd and whiffed the faintest smell of tear gas. I believed I was far enough back though to avoid the worse of what was to inevitably come. I was stood on the side of the street next to a large wall that could also offer me protection, should it have been needed, from any direct fire. My colleague was nearby and I felt in control of situation.

Seconds later the Israeli army fired a volley of tear gas canisters (some directly into the crowd) that filled the streets with a penetrating thick gas. At first I stayed in position as it appeared the soldiers were aiming just for the front of the protest. As the crowd turned to run however, the tear gas landed closer and closer to me. At this point one canister landed a few yards away and filled my lungs with the gas. What happened next is a blur. I remember a man kicking the canister away down the hill but little else.

On the approach to the village earlier that day there were some clear signs that the protest was not going to pass peacefully. The Israeli Army had set up a series of checkpoints cutting off the only main entrance to village. I approached as part of a mini convoy of human rights monitors. I was travelling with others from EAPPI and the Israeli human rights organisation B’Tselem. As we approached the checkpoint it became abundantly clear that international human rights monitors were not being allowed into the village. Later I would find out that the same restrictions were being applied to media outlets.

I already had reasonable suspicion to believe that this week’s protest at Kafr Qaddum was going to witness an escalation of violence on previous weeks. The day before the village had seen 19 of its residents arrested in an IDF raid. “It was a clear illustration of strength aimed to intimidate us and to stop us making protest” one villager suggested. There were reports that a large amounts jewellery had also been stolen during the raid. This combined with the checkpoints only heightened our unease about the protest.

After meeting a series of other journalists, news agencies and human rights monitors who had also been turned away we decided to collectively head across the fields and enter the village “through the back door”. As the representative from B’Tselem put it, “if we do not reach the village today I am sure some very bad things will happen and they will go unreported”.

Sadly, his prediction of violence proved to be true. Both the Israeli Army and boys and young men from the village once again illustrated their willingness to take part in acts of violence against one another. Before being ‘tear gassed’ myself I saw stones the size of my fist being flung through sling shots at the soldiers who then responded with the brutality that I am coming all to use to seeing.

It is important, however distressing these scenes of violence are, that the world hears about them. Today I saw a large number of boys throwing stones before the Israeli Army fired tear gas directly at the crowd as a whole.  The obvious difference in these actions is that one was undertaken by a professional army and the other by young boys in an occupied village.

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April 3, 2012 · 4:01 pm

Crossing the separation barrier daily – one day honey, one day onions

Stood squinting into the early morning sun a young Israeli soldier leans against the heavy metal gate that is separating the two of us and sighs. The gate is padlocked closed for what he had described to me earlier as ‘security concerns’. The soldier looks tired, worn down and wanting nothing more than a sit down. Instead he is stood talking to me. I ask him (again) why it is taking so long for the workers to pass through the agricultural gate this morning. He answers me in elaborate, almost performed Arabic, “yaum ‘asal, yaum basal” – “One day honey, one day onions”. He stares at me and meets my eye for as long as the strengthening sun will allow before retreating back to the solitude of the shade.

For the two hours preceding this conversation I had been stood watching frustrated agricultural workers waiting to cross the separation barrier to access their own farmland. The separation barrier is built predominantly through the middle of Palestinian farm land and as such was ruled to be illegal by The International Court of Justice at The Hague (in 2004).

The men are grouped in small circles, one circle lit a small fire out of rubbish and wood they have collected. Others are pacing the width of the road promenading up and down discussing the matters of the world. Others however wait with less patience.

All of the men hand in their permits to one Palestinian who has the unofficial job of keeping the peace and trying to organise what order people will pass in. The men pass in groups of 5 past the first turnstile before entering into a cabin where there papers are checked for what seems like an impossibly long time. One man who was waiting (patiently) nodded to the Palestinian holding the pile of permits and said, ‘He plays cards with those permits. You never know if you will wait 10 minutes or 2 hours”. I asked if there was any favouritism and the man responds, “it is good if we are friends”.

The first few groups of Palestinians emerge from the far side of the checkpoint and go their separate ways to their small plots of land. I look up sporadically to see what the soldiers are doing. There are normally four on duty that I can see (one to check vehicles, 2 to ‘control the crowd’ and one to stand their pointing his gun at people – or this is what I have deduced from previous times). Soldier one (who in previous groups has made an effort to look menacing) is stood in a concrete pillar box resting his chin on his semi-automatic weapon making little effort to keep his eyes open. The second (there to check vehicles) is  sitting with feet up on what I have seen in the past used as a second inspection point (which doubles the speed of transit for the workers trying to cross). The final two spend most of their time talking but occasionally tell the men waiting to take a step or two back.

The four soldiers barely look up as a small fist fight breaks out over what I presumed to be a disagreement about who got to pass through the checkpoint next. The soldiers take a couple of steps closer but allow the men waiting to sort themselves out. One of the Palestinians around the fire looks up and sucks air in through his teeth. For the majority of men waiting, they stand patiently looking out at their land to the west. Staring back at them are the soldiers who wait patiently as the minuets left on their shift slip away.

What was notable about this gate monitoring was the lack of anything specific happening. The Palestinians were not tear gassed nor were the soldiers pelted with stones. There was however a low level lack of respect that materialised itself in different forms depending on what side of the locked gate you were stood. There was a understood sub-text that they were not going to make life easy for each other. This is where the power dynamics shine through.

I noticed the Palestinian men would often pretend not to hear the soldiers when they were giving orders or would take a long time to move when they were asked. The response from the soldiers is no less petty but has far more serious repercussions. As I mentioned the power dynamics between the occupied and the occupiers is not equal.

To illustrate, as the workers leave the cabin where there permits are checked the soldiers normally wave on the next group of five men through the turnstile. Today, for no explicable reasons, they waited until the workers were well clear of the gate before allowing others to come forward. This wasted crucial minuets and added to the feeling of frustration.

These small actions (or sometimes lack of actions) meant that at the end of the two hours (the gates opening times) there were over 50 men (and 40 sheep) still waiting to pass when I left the gate at 9:00am. This has serious repercussions on those who do not make it through (loss of income in a desperately poor society). I have monitored this gate many times before and have seen that proactive friendly soldiers can ensure that all men (and animals) pass through without problem and with minimal delay. Today the soldiers did their jobs, but with the minimal possible effort you can imagine.

The tired soldier at the end said that one day is like honey, while another is like onions. He made this  comment with a certain fatalistic edge to his voice. What today has taught me is that if some days are like honey while others are like onions as the soldier suggests, then it is because of his choosing. Soldiers (often young conscripts) have an extraordinary amount of power and control over ordinary people’s lives. For the men who have to wake in the early hours of the morning clutching their permits to pass to their own land, days are rarely like honey.

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April 3, 2012 · 1:14 pm

Is “Death to Arabs” just another football chant?

This article was written for the Football Rascal blog.

“Mavet la ‘aravim” is Hebrew for “Death to Arabs” and is regularly chanted at football grounds throughout Israel. It was recently recorded being sung by some fans after a Beitar Jerusalem victory before the same fans turned on a couple of Palestinian men and attacked them.

A few days later an off duty Israeli soldier in Jerusalem approached me in the street and struck up a conversation about Israeli and European football. He was keen to talk to me about how Israeli football was developing on an international stage. The conversation soured slightly when I asked him what he thought about these ‘Death to Arabs’ chants. His first response hinted at a wider problem, “come on man, those fans are crazy”. He swiftly turned the conversation to why Benayoun was not starting for Arsenal and extolling the virtues of keeping him as captain of their national team.  I tried my luck and once more asked him why this one specific chant is so prolific. He responded bluntly, “Look, it is not nice but it is no worse than what is sung in football stadiums throughout Europe”. Sadly, I know this to be true.

The incident to which I refer was caught on video and shows a few hundred Beitar Jerusalem supporters singing loudly in a shopping mall before the incident escalates. It was reported inHaaretz that some of the fans started to spit at 3 Arab women who were with their children close by. Some men stepped in to help and chased the football fans away but were then turned on themselves and were severally beaten.

One shop owner described the assault saying, “They caught some of them and beat the hell out of them…They hurled people into shops, and smashed them against shop windows”.

The soldier, who asked not to be named, went on to argue that this sort of hatred was a reflection of ‘mindless soccer culture’ and does not represent the views of the majority of Israelis. Although I am sure that this statement holds an element of truth, it misses an undeniable fact that the discrimination that Palestinian Arabs face within Israel is systemic in its nature.

The Mossawa Centre summarizes the situation of Palestinian Arabs (who make up about 20% of the Israeli population) when they say, “the Arab Palestinian citizen of Israel faces direct and indirect discrimination in all aspects of political social and economic life”. In 2011 alone the Coalition against Racism [In Israel] reported that there were 35 pieces of discriminatory legislation in the Knesset, 60 cases of racism committed by elected representatives in Israel and 58 cases of racism committed by the Israeli Army.

The soldier’s assertion that we can write off football chants simply as a reflection of a moronic minority sadly holds a lot of weight in the UK as well as in Israel. Chants, however moronic, do not occur completely out of a social context though. When we hear disgusting racist, homophobic or even anti-Semitic chants on our terraces in the UK they are framed by an undeniable persistence of these problems in our society. The biggest mistake we can make is to pretend that we do not have these problems. Like an alcoholic, the nature of our problem has numbed our ability to spot the problem in itself. We have developed a culture that laughs off problems that when analysed in the cold light of day hold little humour. To acknowledge the nature and severity of the problem is to take our first steps to recovery.

In the UK racism is too often talked about in the past tense as something that John Barnes had to endure back in the ‘bad old days’ (if this season has taught us anything, it is that racism is still alive in British football). There is nothing special about the ‘type of discrimination’ you find inside football stadiums compared to ‘real life’.  The only thing that makes a stadium’s terrace unique is that it can shine a light on a problem which would otherwise lurk in the shadows of society. The sooner we face up to this reality the better.

In Israel we have seen a series of grass-roots initiatives to voice opposition the recent attack and disgraceful chanting. I would suggest however, that the real challenge for Israeli society is to acknowledge the severity of the underlying causes for such chants. The ‘Death to Arabs’ chant (as far as I am aware) is uniquely Israeli but how we tackle prejudice and hatred highlighted through football chants is a universal one. In Israel, I cannot swallow the argument that these chants were just ‘a small moronic minority’ of football supporters – it is clear that this prejudice sits much much deeper. Equally, in the UK I do not accept that we have ‘kicked racism out of football’ any more than we have out of our communities in general.

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April 2, 2012 · 4:10 pm

Jerusalem is encircled by violence as another Land Day comes and goes under occupation

Stood just outside of the historic Old City in Jerusalem I witnessed scenes of panic as the Israeli army, special forces and police force used rubber bullets, riot horses and sound grenades on Palestinian protesters at this year’s ‘Land Day’ protests.

Meanwhile, resident’s in and around Jerusalem saw violence erupt on their streets. Haaretz reported that, at “Qalandiyah checkpoint [protesters] hurled rocks at soldiers, who responded with stun grenades and tear gas” while Ma’an News reported from Bethlehem that “Israeli forces fired tear gas and rubber bullets at protesters”. Al-Jazeera reported that “over 120 people have been injured at Qalandiyah checkpoint”.

Before any of the protests started news reached those on the streets that the civil authority in Israel has been covertly setting outside land for settlement expansion in the West Bank. A particularly hard report to hear on ‘Land Day’ of all days. Haaretz ran the headline ‘Israel Defense Ministry plan earmarks 10 percent of West Bank for settlement expansion’. This did nothing to calm the tensions.

After the mid-day prayers a few hundred protestors gather outside of Damascus gate in the old city. They were met by a comparable number of soldiers, policemen and special forces. News spread that all men under the age of 40 were banned from entering Al Aqsa mosque. Again, a move that did nothing to ease the tensions. Soon after this, no one was allowed to enter or leave Damascus Gate that leads to  the old city. At this stage, the gathering crowd was peaceful (despite reports coming in about injuries and rioting at Qalandiyah checkpoint).

With a rising noise level the tension also grew. Early on in the protest the occasional plastic bottle was thrown from within the crowd. This acted as justification for the Israeli Army and special forces to go in with a series of heavy handed tactics including charging with riot horses and letting off sound grenades. Throughout the protest I saw the occasional act of violence from a protester (such as a stone being thrown) which was then responded to with disproportionate force imposed on the crowd as a whole.

At one stage, I witnessed a Palestinian throw a stone towards a soldier (and miss). The soldier saw who threw the stone, chased after him and fire what I was told was rubber bullets directly at him (they are designed to be fired at the floor to rebound into legs, not directly at a person). On another occasion I saw soldiers beating men who were simply standing, watching and taking photographs. An international who was with me at the protest commented that she saw, “A soldier head butting a protestor in the face using his helmet. Luckily an Israeli policeman was there to pull the soldier away before anything worse happened”. Throughout the protest riot horses were used to charge at protestors who were not showing any visible threat or security concern.

Sadly, I know all too well that this disproportionate use of force at protests occurs all too often throughout the West Bank. A few weeks ago I reported on how the Israeli army breached their own regulations in the way they ‘policed’ a protest at the village of Kafr Qaddum.

I left the protest feeling exhausted. I walked back past ambulance workers treating minor injuries and shop keepers attempting to carry on trading. This Land Day has once again seen injuries, arrests and limitations on the basic right to peacefully protest. Outside of Jerusalem there were reports coming in that a protestor had died in Gaza.

What I saw in Jerusalem was an unnecessary and disproportionate use of violence against an overwhelmingly peaceful protest. This event however is not unique, it remains the impossible reality for those who are attempting to oppose the occupation through non-violent means.

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