Category: Journals - Page 9 - International Solidarity Movement

Settlers call the shots in Al-Khalil

February, 2019 | International Solidarity Movement, Al-Khalil team | Ramallah, occupied Palestine

Last week, a notoriously violent and antagonistic Israeli settler Ofer, who calls for the extermination of Palestinians, had me arrested and detained by the Israeli police, and if I was Palestinian, I could have been killed. Furthermore, this was another incident demonstrating the concerning and increasing trend of collaboration between settlers and the Israeli Occupation, as they attempt to force the remaining witnesses out of Al-Khalil (Hebron).

Twenty-five years ago on this day, Baruch Goldstein, a New York-born Israeli settler – who Ofer worships and refers to as “the Holy Saint” – walked into Ibrahim Mosque in Al-Khalil and opened fire, killing 29 Palestinians and seriously wounding more than 150. The “official” response to this attack was an injection of international observers throughout the city – UN group Temporary International Presence in Hebron (TIPH) – with the belief that this presence would dissuade the settlers from unleashing further terror on the native Palestinian community. In effect, what transpired was little more than a speed bump as the settlers continued their crusade, albeit gradually, as they attempted to colonise Al-Khalil and erase the Palestinian soul from the city. Today Goldstein is memorialized in his settlement of Kiryat Arba, home to Ofer, where his revolting shrine is well tended and revered.

At the start of February, the Israeli Occupation expelled the UN observers, and, while I acknowledge the multitude of valid criticisms concerning the work of TIPH, what the Occupation and their fanatical foot-soldiers are scheming is gravely concerning. The Palestinians fear that the international expulsion is yet another stage in the planned ethnic cleansing of Al-Khalil. I joined up with a team of local and international activists who mobilised to maintain a presence throughout the city and fill the observational void. The settlers though – galvanised by their recent victory – have shifted gear, intensifying intimidation tactics from daily harassment and aggravation to sticking up “wanted” posters of activists around the city and death threats, hoping to force the remaining witnesses out of Al-Khalil.

A few days ago, while monitoring a checkpoint on Shuhada Street as Palestinian children passed through on their way to school, Ofer – who harasses us on a daily basis – tried a new tactic to get us expelled from the city. This settler – a man who has called for the extermination of Palestinians, who locals know as a murderer, who yelled “the dog is still alive, somebody do something” right before the extrajudicial execution of Abed al Fatah a-Sharif, who unnervingly shoves his handgun into his belt as he gets out of his car – told the police that I had attacked him, resulting in my subsequent arrest and detainment. For a privileged foreigner, this meant a strange (no typical blindfolding) sort-of kidnapping, where I was awkwardly bundled into the back of an Armoured Personnel Carrier and taken to the military compound for investigation. Had I been Palestinian though, this accusation could have had me killed – as has been the case many times before. It’s what locals describe as the Israeli policy of: “Shoot first and throw a knife beside the lifeless body later”. The Israeli army, the so-called “Most Moral Army in the World”, in typical doublespeak dialogue legally permits soldiers to respond with lethal force against children (“terrorists”) throwing stones. That bestows honorifics, as was the “Terminator,” a member of a military unit who shot dead three alleged Palestinian assailants in the space of nine days.

When I was arrested – although demonstrating early in the proceedings that I wasn’t actually in Khalil on the day of the alleged attack – I was subject to hours of interrogation of which little had to do with the accusations. Nevertheless – as I’m sure is the case for most foreigners who know they didn’t “do it” – I sat there confidently, assured of my entitlement to justice, with a lawyer and embassy at my beckoning. As I indignantly said “no comment”, I thought of a 15-year-old Palestinian boy I’d met a few weeks previously who had just been released from prison, after serving three years for allegedly “planning” an attack on the way home from school, while I was accused of actually attacking a settler. The “evidence” for that boy was an extracted confession after 14 hours of interrogation and a dubious photo of a knife.

Currently, there are almost 500 Palestinians being held in administrative detention without trial or charge – a period that can last up to six months and be renewed by the military. The Israeli Occupation routinely uses administrative detention and has, over the years, placed thousands of Palestinians behind bars for periods ranging from several months to several years without charging them, without telling them what they are accused of and without disclosing the alleged evidence to them or to their lawyers.

For me, eventually after my DNA samples were taken, I was informed of my exclusion order that prevents me from entering the southern half of the West Bank – effectively deported from Al-Khalil. My royal treatment culminated in being allowed to “remove” myself from the city to collect my things. Less can be said for more than 1500 Palestinians deported between ‘67 and ‘92, many simply kidnapped, escorted and thrown over the border into Jordan, in total disregard of proper administration and due process. Scornfully, the officer wished me luck trying to ever get back into “Israel”. Had I thought of it in the moment I would have replied that, like the five million Palestinian refugees who are illegally denied the right of return, I’ll be back when Palestine is liberated.

On beauty in Al-Khalil

February 2019 | International Solidarity Movement, Al-Khalil team | Hebron, occupied Palestine

The Old City, Al-Khalil, occupied Palestine

I have spent about 30 days in Al-Khalil this year. A short stay by ISM standards, and nothing compared to the tens of thousands of people who call this place home. Despite this, I already feel that the city has got under my skin. The beauty of Al-Khalil creeps up on you. First impressions can be rough; the soldiers, the police, the armed settlers, the wire and halogen lamp monsters that are the checkpoints, but after a while you begin to see it. The limestone brickwork glowing in the sunlight, the echoes of conversation that bounce up and down the tunnels of the old city souk. It creeps out and makes itself visible. The more you look for it, the more you see. Places have energy and tell stories, but these places would be nothing without the people.

Boys with horse at Salaymeh — The occupation: horses hate it too!

Above all else it has been the people of Al-Khalil that have made this place beautiful for me. The smiles as warm as the sun on the buildings, the shouts of “welcome!”, “ahlan wah sahlan!” and the endless offers of coffee make it hard to go anywhere fast, but they make your heart sing. Some people call Ireland the land of a hundred thousand welcomes, but I think that Palestine is more deserving of that title. There is so much beauty in the warmth and openness of the people here, but there is beauty in the daily acts of resistance against the occupation too.

There is a deep and dignified beauty in the story of Abdulraouf Al-Mohtaseb, an Al-Khalil shopkeeper who refused to sell his shop and family home to settlers, even when offered 100 million US Dollars. There is a beauty in the fact that day in, day out he opens his shop, right in plain sight of settlers & border police and greets everybody with warmth and respect.

A man watches the sunset from his roof in Qeitun

There is beauty in the actions of the Principal of Qurtoba School, as she arrives early every day, walking defiantly down Shuhada Street and making sure that every one of her pupils gets to school safely.

There is beauty in the fact that Leila, a member of the Palestinian Women’s Embroidery Co-operative, keeps her shop open every Saturday when her street is invaded by occupation forces and extremist settlers. Shop keepers, local activists and internationals all band together; cooperating to ensure that no violence is enacted against the residents of the old city during this time.

Palestinian children watch as tear gas floods the streets of Qeitun outside of their school

There is beauty in the fact that whenever an act of harassment, oppression, or injustice occurs in H2, there is a good chance that Imad Abu Shamsiyya, or one of his comrades in Hebron Human Rights Defenders will have trained their camera lens on the perpetrator and victim. Despite violence against them and threats on their lives, these activists fearlessly capture the violence and oppression that the Israeli state tries so hard to hide.

Palestinians marching towards a gate that closes off Shuhada Street, Feb 22, 2019

Finally, there is beauty in the bravery, rage and defiance of the Palestinian youth who turn up to defend their communities from the regular Israeli army invasions of Al-Khalil. Say what you want about tactics of resistance, definitions of non-violence, pacifism. Seeing boys no older than 15 face down an attack from one of the most advanced armies in the world, armed with nothing but stones, their experiences and courage is a beautiful sight. It’s a sign of the future and reminder to the oppressor that resistance is woven into the fabric of life here in Al-Khalil.

I don’t want to romanticise the oppression of the occupation, or try to paint a picture of it through rose-tinted glasses. However, places like Al-Khalil usually only grab international attention when an injustice or an atrocity occurs. Yes, they occur regularly, but there is so much more to this place than violence and oppression.

Come to Al-Khalil and look for the beauty. Before long you will begin to see it everywhere. Come to Al-Khalil to work with all its wonderful residents to build a world in which they can direct their creative energy at something better than an occupying force.

Come to Al-Khalil to end the occupation.

Anat Cohen steals international observer’s notebook

February 17, 2019 | International Solidarity Movement, Al-Khalil team | Al-Khalil, occupied Palestine

Anat Cohen (ענת כהן), daughter of the convicted Israeli terrorist Moshe Zar, attacked another international who was observing schoolchildren on their commute to the Qurtuba school this morning.

The International was an elderly woman who was keeping tally in a notebook of the number of schoolchildren that passed through the checkpoint and how many were harassed by illegal settlers or the israeli occupation forces. These numbers are submitted to UNSECO and Save the Children.

Cohen suddenly appeared and, before ISM volunteers could start recording video, she punched the woman in the ribs and began scolding her. ISM caught the rest of the exchange on video, when Cohen stole the observer’s notebook:

The observer complained to the police–who retrieved the notebook from Cohen–and then the police proceeded to evict the observers (including ISM volunteers) out of H2, claiming that the school and its surroundings were a “Closed Military Zone.”

The above document presented by the israeli occupation forces to the international observers shows that the order was created just 30 minutes before they were told to leave.

Creating closed military zones is a common tactic used by Israel to thwart international observers from being able to monitor for the illegal settler’s and soldier’s crimes against the Palestine people. In this case, Palestinian children.

Another interesting week in sunny Palestine

January 2019 | International Solidarity Movement, Al-Khalil team | Hebron, occupied Palestine

Al Khalil (Hebron), occupied West Bank, Palestine, late January 2019

It’s the first day of winter term for Palestinian schoolkids. Israeli settlers from the colonies in and around Al Khalil, the Israeli Border Police, and the Israeli Defense Force, are all known for systematically impeding the passage of children to and from school. The settlers verbally harass the schoolchildren as well. These kids are of all ages from kindergarten to twelvth grade: the kindergarteners often walk hand in hand with a parent or older sibling but a few five-year-olds make the trek to school alone or with a couple of friends.

My ISM teammate, D, and I keep an eye on the army checkpoint that controls Palestinians’ passage at Salaymey, on the southeastern end of the Old City. Most of the children filter easily through the turnstiles, and through the armored inspection building, although some of the older ones are subjected to identity checks, bag searches and an occasional, not very intrusive body search.

The road leading uphill from the checkpoint to the settlement of Qiryat Arba is dusty, steep and winding and often clogged with schoolchildren; settlers in vans and late-model cars take the road too fast and many of them barely bother braking, and lean on the horn instead. Some shout angrily at the kids as they take the slope. It strikes me as inevitable that a child will eventually be hit by one of these cars. Foolishly, I get into an altercation with a speeding settler in a van; he stops, reverses furiously, slides down his window and spits at me.

A fat settler gets out of his car next to where I and D are standing, not far from an SUV in which two observers from the UN group known as TIPH–Temporary International Presence in Hebron–are also observing the checkpoint. He taunts the two TIPH women, saying, “You will be gone soon.” (Sure enough, less than two weeks later, Israeli Prime Minister Netanyahu revokes TIPH’s observation rights, and TIPH is, indeed, gone.) The settler strolls up to D and myself, smiling and filming us with his cellphone. We know this man: he’s famously violent. He often harasses international observers. Also, he carries a handgun; we have been told he has shot Palestinians, and blocked medical first responders from helping the wounded. He has never been punished for these unprovoked attacks. Our local Palestinian friends refer to him as a murderer.

I have not been in Al Khalil long. I was trained, swiftly, in the philosophy and practice of non-violent observation, by ISM personnel in Ramallah, and trained further by my teammates at an ISM base, but I’m still not ready for what I experience here daily. I am an American, from a country where, for all its faults, some form of rule of law applies, even if it’s less available for the poor, the outsider, the disadavantaged. Of course the history of the US is a long tale of theft from, and murder of, Native-Americans but I, personally, am not used to living in a police state that enforces on a daily basis the systematic robbery of land from a native people, and sets up a system of apartheid and military rule to crush ensuing dissent.

“You’re going to stay safe,” my daughter told me, very firmly, before I left for the Occupied Territories, and I assured her I would. But I had not known then what I now live every waking hour of every day: the constant pressure of passing through military checkpoints, waiting while the Palestinians in front of us are held up for five, ten minutes at a time, apparently just to make them remember who’s boss here; arguing with heavily armed soldiers or border police officers who object to our walking down a street in their presence; being held up in the market by military patrols who surround us for twenty minutes, Tavor assault rifles at the ready, when we refuse to let them take our passports. At one point they physically push us out of a checkpoint where an ISM teammate is demanding to know why a Palestinian man is being held up, for no apparent reason, for close to a half hour.

One of the checkpoints smells of tear-gas. A kid threw a rock at what is, in effect, an armored mini-fort, and the troops inside responded by firing a gas canister.

Al Khalil has been divided by the Israelis into two sectors: one Palestinian, known as H1, and the other, H2, reserved for settlers. A walled military base flying the Israeli flag glowers from a hill over the town. Four colonies: Tel Rumeida, Beit Hadassah, Beit Romano, and Avraham Avinu; have been encrusted into the heart of the Old City. Palestinians have covered the streets beneath their walls with heavy wire because the settlers routinely toss bottles, trash, even tins full of urine out of their windows onto the people below.

Most Saturdays–the Jewish sabbath–a tour guide takes groups of settlers from the Al Khalil colonies through the H1 areas of the Old City, the parts the Israelis do not live in. The tours are guarded, front back and flanks, by at least twenty infantrymen; the soldiers act as if they’re on patrol, with squaddies on point or defending the rear, guns at the ready. Though the Palestinians generally ignore the tours, I can only imagine what it must feel like, for them, to have colonists gape at the city they have not yet stolen.

Before a 1929 massacre in which 69 Jewish residents died, a small Jewish community existed in Al Khalil, but the property they actually owned constituted a microscopic fraction of what the settlers have taken. The al-Ibrahimi mosque here contains the remains of Abraham, the founder of the Jewish, Christian and Muslim faiths. Apparently seeing their presence as religiously ordained, the settlers in Al Khalil are known for adopting a particularly hard-line and vindictive attitude toward the local people.

A Brooklyn-born settler, Baruch Goldstein, who massacred 29 Palestinian worshippers and wounded over 150 others in the Ibrahimi mosque in 1994, lies buried on a hillside in H2. Some of Al Khalil’s settlers, apparently, revere his grave as a shrine.

Al Khalil may not be dying, but the Israeli occupation and its system of apartheid is taking a toll on the Old City. A good third of the storefronts on the main drag, Al Shuhaba Street, are shuttered. Every local I meet has so many stories of being detained, harassed, impeded in the conduct of day-to-day life that no one even bothers to recount them anymore, they are just how one lives in this place. The younger people, of Intifada age, know they can be jailed at the first sign of protest, and kept in an Israeli prison without trial for years under a system known as “administrative detention,” at the whim of the occupying power. And yet the Palestinians I meet in Al Khalil do not seem cowed or broken. They nurture a healthy sense of humor and, most often, a philosophical take on the situation.

The same is true of the ISM team I am living with: D, Katie, Roberto, Penny, Ed. While constantly aware of the risk–ISM members have been killed in Palestine while observing what the Israeli forces are doing–they are diligent in respecting the tenets by which they live here. These include, as well as strict adherence to principles of non-violence, a blanket refusal to guide or advise the Palestinians in any aspect of their lives, including how to survive under or resist apartheid. We are in Palestine to observe; to make known to the occupying power that its actions cannot be swept under a rug; and hopefully, to restrict through this process some of the more serious abuses of power an occupying army inevitably will commit.

On a roadside leading from Checkpoint 56 to Qeitun, in the Old City, a female settler screams at a pair of international observers from EAPPI, the Ecumenical Accompaniment Program in Palestine and Israel, who shelter in a doorway from her torrent of invective. A few days later EAPPI’s observers, citing a targeted campaign of harassment, will be withdrawn from Al Khalil. The almost simultaneous eviction of TIPH leaves only one other church group, the CPT (Christian Peacemaker Teams), as well as the ISM’s group of international observers, to keep an eye on the occupation here. This week the CPT team has not been present in Al Khalil. Ed, too, is leaving. When I quit the city in a few days time, our team will have dwindled perilously close to a size that’s too small to do its job.

Ras Karkar, Palestine, late January, 2019

This country, for all its lengthy history of massacre, religious bigotry, and exile; of water theft also, of over-exploitation and deforestation; remains beautiful. The rough limestone hills that range up and down Palestine seem to flow like a cat’s spine, khaki earth and white rock studded with olive trees under a clear blue winter sky.

One of the heights to the north of Jerusalem, a pair of hilltops separated by a shallow saddle, known as Ras Karkar, has traditionally served as common ground for the three Palestinian villages surrounding it. Recently a neighboring Israeli settlement invaded the hilltop. Even in the context of the UN-mandated territory of Palestine, where roughly three-quarters of a million settlers now live on stolen land, in illegal colonies; where a long, brutally massive wall built of cement, guard towers and razor wire cuts up the rest of the country; this was an egregious act. Now, every Friday, Palestinians from the surrounding villages and activists from farther afield meet in a valley underneath and, at least symbolically, strive to take back Ras Karkar.

Up on the hilltop, Israeli soldiers dressed in black riot gear await the Palestinians. Their rifles stick out from the cover of thorn brush, of olive trees. A handful of settlers shelter behind the military.

In the valley, an imam prays through a loudspeaker to a group of fifty or so men. Then the men start up the hill, toward the waiting soldiers. The younger among them wield slings, just as David did against Goliath in the Valley of Elah, to the west of here. Their rocks fall short of the soldiers’ defensive line. The IDF responds by firing tear-gas canisters that emit acrid, choking clouds of white smoke which the Palestinians and a couple of international observers run from, or around, as best they can. Then the soldiers fire small hard plastic bullets that whiffle shrilly past our ears. We turn away and cover our necks–these rounds are not supposed to be lethal but they can blind or wound if we are hit in head or neck.

An army drone buzzes overhead. The younger men, known here as “shabab,” try to outflank the Israelis. More teargas is fired into the valley. If the confrontation grew more dire the soldiers could fire live .22 rounds at the legs of their attackers, a practice common enough that people warn of it by shouting the English words, “two-two!”, but it doesn’t look as if this level of intensity will be reached today.

Some of the older men sit in the shelter of rocky outcrops and watch. A youth caught in a cloud of teargas doubles up, retching, blinded, gasping for breath. Another, hit in the head by a plastic bullet, is taken away by a Red Crescent ambulance. Later a car drives into the valley with food and water. Falling back from Ras Karkar the Palestinians, and a couple of ISM observers, sit on the ground to eat and drink in the sun.

-Journal by Nick

Anat Cohen assaults ISM volunteers in Al-Khalil (again)

[three_fifth_last]February 08, 2019 | International Solidarity Movement, Al-Khalil team | Al-Khalil, occupied Palestine

ISM volunteers were detained by Hebron Police for over 8 hours after Anat Cohen assaulted them outside the Qurtuba school checkpoint on Thursday.

In direct response to the violence waged against Palestinians at the hands of illegal settlers (and the military that protects them), a neutral observer force had been present in Hebron (Al-Khalil) for the past 22-years, in part, to ensure that children walking to/from school would not be harmed, harassed, or murdered by settlers. This observer force was called TIPH.

Unfortunately, the Israeli government expelled TIPH from Hebron last week.

One of the more dangerous checkpoints for Palestinian children in Al-Khalil exists outside the Qurtuba school–which is juxtaposed immediately adjacent to the Beit Hadassah settlement. Another independent observer group, EAPPI, had been peacefully monitoring this checkpoint until last week–when their head offices announced that their team would also withdraw from Hebron following a targeted campaign of harassment by the right-wing fascist group Im Turtsu.

To fill this void, ISM volunteers have been monitoring the Qurtuba checkpoint in mornings and afternoons to provide an international presence to ensure the safety of Palestinian schoolchildren. As a result, ISM has become the target of harassment by these illegal settlers. On Thursday, this ordinary verbal abuse escalated to physical assault when Anat Cohen–a particularly violent settler with a history of attacking peaceful observers–assaulted ISM volunteers at the Qartuba checkpoint.

ISM captured the assault on video:

Minutes after Cohen assaulted the ISM volunteers, she called the police. When the local Hebron Police arrived, they detained the ISM volunteers and informed them that Cohen was pressing charges against the ISM volunteers for assault.

The ISM volunteers vehemently deny these accusations, and they have video evidence clearly showing that the only physical violence that occured was when Cohen assaulted the peaceful ISM volunteers, who were simply observing the checkpoint to ensure the safety of the schoolchildren.