Ashraf Abu Rahmah in the midst of circus military court

by Maria Stephanya

28 October 2011 | International Solidarity Movement, West Bank

The proof is all there: photos, videos, witnesses. All of them showed that Ashraf Abu Rahmah, one of the main activists of popular non violent struggle in the village of Bil’in, Palestine, walked peacefully on the road which goes from Bil’in’s recent liberated land to the center of the village, when an Israeli jeep passed besides him. Then it stopped. The soldiers stepped down, took the flag Ashraf carried and arrested him, forcing him to enter in the back of the vehicle under arrest, on October 23rd.

Rani Burnet, who saw everything in his wheelchair – part of his body was paralyzed because of live ammunition shot by an Israeli soldier, 11 years ago – complained.

In spite of lack of evidence to support charges brought against Abu Rahmah, in spite of the witnesses and the video which prove otherwise, Captain Tzvi Frenkel, a military judge at the Ofer Military Court, ordered the indefinite extension of his arrest, until the end of legal procedures against him.

In July 7th, 2008, Ashraf was blindfolded and bound in Ni’lin when the soldiers shot his foot. The video, seen by millions of people around the world, caused international protests. In April 17th, 2009, his brother Bassem was shot dead while trying to alert the soldiers for not harming livestock which was passing on the road beyond the wall. A high-velocity tear gas projectile, aimed at him from a distance of 40 meter hit him in the chest, killing him. In January 1st, 2011, their sister Jawaher also passed away because of the effects of the massive amount of toxic tear gas she had inhaled during a peaceful demonstration of December 31, 2011.

Maria Stephanya is an activist with International Solidarity Movement (name has been changed).

Welcome to the settler party

by Jenna Bereld

28 October 2011 | International Solidarity Movement, West Bank

As I pass, my Palestinian scarf is hidden in my bag – I do not want to get any spit on me tonight. Around the tomb of Shimon HaTzadik, the festival is going on. The settlers have built a stage, erected a huge party tent and assembled a long line of portable toilets. Danceable klezmer music is booming from the loudspeakers and the Israeli police are present with horses and cordons. Children are playing around amidst guns and dancing men with beards and luminous bracelets.

One wouldn’t expect a Jewish festival to take place in the middle of the Palestinian neighborhood of Sheikh Jarrah. But it’s not a coincidence – it’s a statement. Otherwise I would gladly have jumped into the crowd and joined  the vibrant mass.

A while back, someone sprayed “A.S.A.B.” on the wall to the al-Kurd family house in Sheikh Jarrah. All Settlers Are Bastards. There are people in the garden when I enter it, and I am desperately trying to figure out whether they are friends of the family or rabid festival-goers that are here to backslap the Israeli settlers.

Illegal, Zionist settlers have decorated a settler occupied Palestinian house with Israeli flags.

I’m relieved when I catch a glimpse of Alex and Ellen in the tent outside the house. Since March this year, activists have been keeping watch outside the al-Kurd house, and tonight it is our turn. But there are more activists here tonight because the settlers’ festival is perceived as a threat. I greet an activist from EAPPI and some Israeli activists who say that they usually play drums on demos. “Good thing they didn’t bring their drums here”, I managed to think through the noise from the settler celebrations.

If one could break down the Israeli occupation of Palestine to one single conflict, it would be Sheikh Jarrah. Since 2008, many Palestinians here have been evicted from their homes and extremist settlers have instead moved in and barricaded themselves behind barbed wire and surveillance cameras. These settlers are neither interested in UN resolutions nor the Oslo Agreement. They are politically and religiously fanatical nationalists who believe that they have been given this land by God.

 Nabil al-Kurd offers a new round of tea in the tent where we sit, and he pours a heaped teaspoon of sugar in my cup before I can protest. Since 2009 the al-Kurd family unwillingly lives side by side with a bunch of settlers occupying half of the family’s house. The settlers have marked territory using large Israeli flags on the terrace. The Palestinian flag, however, is conspicuously absent here in occupied East Jerusalem since it is banned by law.

 The settlers are macho guys in their 20s whose main task seems to be turning the life of al-Kurd family into hell. They stay up all night, booze, provoke their dog, flash themselves and fuss a lot. Last time I kept watch in this tent, they tried to throw water on us seven or eight times through their window. They spat in my face, called me a “Palestine bitch” and threw stones in our direction. Activists have sometimes called the police there when the settlers go too far, but the police seldom intervene.

 The legal process of the occupied houses in Sheikh Jarrah is still ongoing. “But this is not about law, this is about politics”, Nabil al-Kurd says. He is backed by the Civic Coalition for Defending Palestinian Rights in Jerusalem, which concludes: “The existence and continuous expansion of Jewish settlements throughout the occupied Palestinian territory, in particular East Jerusalem, is fast foreclosing any future possibility of a viable Palestinian State with East Jerusalem as its capital”. I tell Nabil al-Kurd that he needs a good lawyer. “I have three lawyers,” he says, smiling. “And it is Norway and Sweden that pay for them.”

The tent outside al-Kurds house where international observers keep watch

All through the evening, people walk in and out of the settlers’ part of the house. It is mainly young men with orthodox Jewish outfits who pass, but for the first time I also see women and children visiting the settlers. They chat a bit with the settlers and then the settlers’ dog scare the children so they get terrified and rush away.

 Towards midnight, the festival begins to calm down and several of the activists leave Sheikh Jarrah too. Nabil al-Kurd goes to bed and I sit alone in the tent with Alex and Ellen. Some Palestinian teenagers from the neighborhood come by and try to teach us some curses in Arabic.

One of the settlers comes out and screams something, and the teenagers, who also speak Hebrew, scream back. “They said they’d call the police if we don’t shut up”, they translate. One of them, Joseph, tells how the Israeli police tend to harass Palestinians in Jerusalem, and how the policemen every day stop him in the street and ask him: “Hey, Joseph, will you show us your ID?”. People with “non-Arabic” looks can freely pass by.

Now a policeman with a luminous bracelet between his teeth enters the garden. He looks around and peeks into the house where the settlers live. “It’s gonna be cold tonight,” he says to us in the tent. “Yes,” we answer, interrogatively looking at each other. The policeman leaves again.

At 3 am the area is quiet and dark and even the settlers seem to have gone to bed. We are thankful for an early night without confrontation. Together we walk through Sheikh Jarrah and now I dare to wear my Palestinian scarf. The police are still there and someone yells “Go to hell!” after us.

 Jenna Bereld is an activist with International Solidarity Movement (name has been changed).

Settlers desperately try to fit the role by stealing olives

by Aida Gerard

 25 October 2011 | International Solidarity Movement, West Bank

On Tuesday, illegal settlers from the Susiya settlement harvested the olive trees belonging to the Abu Sabha family from Susiya and Yatta, South Hebron Hills.

Settlers pick olives from Palestinian trees – Click here for more images

Around 12 o’ clock a villager from the area spotted two settlers picking olives from the land of Abu Sabha. He alerted the police, the District Coordination Office (DCO) and international observers who then were the first to arrive at the scene. When the settlers were asked to stop stealing the olives they claimed ownership of the land and warned the observers from setting foot on the land.

Israeli military arrived and they reluctantly called the police and the DCO for the second time, who then arrived and engaged in a lengthy discussion with the settlers. After a couple of hours the picked olives were confiscated and the land declared a closed military area.

The DCO said that the olives would stay in their custody until the Israeli court makes a decision on who is the rightful owner of the land. Except from the few olive trees next to Road 60, all of the Abu Sabha land in Susiya is occupied by the settlers who built a settlement there in 1982 and have continued to expand since then. The fear expressed by the villagers, is of course that when the police and army leave the land, the settlers will immediately return and continue their violation against the Palestinians and their land.

Last year when the Abu Sabha family had picked their olive trees, the settlers stole their harvest. When the family complained to the Israeli police, the police closed the case citing that the settlers had already turned the olives into oil.

 Aida Gerard is an activist with International Solidarity Movement (name has been changed).

Anata falls victim to militarized, illegal settlement once again

by Jenna Bereld

26 October 2011 | International Solidarity Movement, West Bank

Anata falls victim to demolition - Click here for more images

When Mohammad woke up on Tuesday, he still did not know about the Israeli forces or the bulldozers that were on their way to uproot his trees and demolish his entire farm. But before the day was over, all of his property was erased and one could hardly guess that there had ever been a building there.

“I’m very sad because of the farm”, Mohammad said.

The soldiers claimed that the buildings were illegal, referring to the Israeli Civil Administration. “This is the land from my grandfather, and I have no other land,” Mohammad says.

Mohammad lives in Anata in the West Bank with his wife and twelve children. The village is trapped by the Separation Wall around Jerusalem to the west, and Area C and the planned expansion of the settlement Ma’ale Adumim to the east. The village has no possibility to expand without building permits from the Israeli Civil Administration. The process is expensive, and for Palestinians, the application is rejected in 95% of the cases. From 2000 to 20007 91 almost 5,000 demolition orders against Palestinian buildings were issued.

In a separate incident, a four year old Palestinian child from Anata was shot in the neck around noon. Asil Arara’s wounds have left her in  serious condition and may cause paralysis. The illegal Israeli settlement of Anatot, also home to settlers who recently violently attacked Israeli peace activists, is home to a military training camp, where it is said the shot that struck Arara was fired.

 

 

 Jenna Bereld is an activist with International Solidarity Movement (name has been changed).


Harvesting olives as a statement of resistance

by Ben Lorber

24 October 2011 | The Electronic Intifada

Palestinian villages across the West Bank are undertaking their annual olive harvest this October, amid fears of harassment and violence from Israeli settlers and soldiers.

While the Palestinian olive harvest is a tradition that stretches back countless generations, the phenomenon of settler violence during the olive harvest is only as old as the illegal Israeli settlements themselves. Every year around October, grandparents, parents and children saddle up the donkey and, tree by tree, day by day, methodically comb, scrape and pick sack-fulls of olives from their family’s allotted portion of the 10 million olive trees that dot the hills and mountains of the West Bank and Gaza.

According to an Oxfam report, “more than 80 percent of olive farmers are small-medium scale farmers, owning olive orchards equal to or less than 25 dunams (a dunam is the equivalent of 1,000 square meters) in size … olive cultivation provides employment and income for around 100,000 farming families who are olive oil producers … in a good year, the olive oil sector contributes over $100 million income annually to some of the poorest communities” (“The Road to Olive Farming: Challenges to Developing the Economy of Olive Oil in the West Bank,” October 2010 [PDF]).

This way of life, vital for the economic survival of countless Palestinian families, is becoming increasingly threatened — both by the hostility and violence of settlers who live near Palestinian villages, and by the crippling restrictions and regulations of the Israeli military.

Surrounded by settlements

The village of Burin, near Nablus, offers a prime example of the dangers faced by the 2011 olive harvesters. Burin’s 4,000 inhabitants live in a valley, surrounded on all hilltops by Israeli settlements — Yitzhar, Har Bracha, and a Yitzhar “outpost.” Last month, settlers from Yitzhar, proud birthplace of the “price-tag” campaign of racist violence, burned 200 olive trees as villagers were celebrating a wedding (“Yitzhar settlers violently crash Burin wedding, military watches,” International Solidarity Movement, 6 September 2011).

This followed a similar attack in late June, described by Burin residents as the worst attack in 10 years, as 2500 olive trees on more than 900 dunams of land were destroyed, according to a report by the Monitoring Israeli Colonizing activities in the Palestinian West Bank and Gaza project (“Israeli colonists Set tens of Olive Fields Alight in Burin,” 2 July 2011).

Ghassan Najjar, director of the Burin Community Center, told The Electronic Intifada that “every year it is getting worse, and this year it is a lot worse. It used to be they burned trees once a year, but this year they have burned trees four times since April. Since April, they have cut down and burned entire areas to clear the land so we can use nothing.”

The olive harvest is frequently a target for settler attacks in Burin. Between 9-16 October 2010, the Israeli human rights group B’Tselem reported four separate settler attacks against Burin olive harvesters (“List of incidents in which damage was caused to Palestinian olive trees or property,” 28 October 2010).

Over the course of the 2009 olive harvest, almost 250 olive trees were cut down by settlers, often with chainsaws, as activists with the Michigan Peace Team documented in October 2009 (“Burin tree massacre,” 3 October 2009).

“Like a sister to me”

Ibrahim El Buriny is a 27-year old olive harvester whose family has combed the trees on Burin’s hillsides for generations. “This land is like a sister to me,” he said. “My grandfather bought this land in 1975 from the village of Huwara. They have records. The papers are in the PA and Israeli databases.”

On the first day of this year’s harvest in Burin, he spoke of how settler attacks in the last five years have escalated. “Settlers are getting more radical as they are growing stronger,” he said. “They are growing in numbers and are better armed … Usually groups of 25 settlers come [from the hilltops down to] us, many with guns. [Or] settlers will get out of their car on the main road, curse at us and shoot at us. The soldiers come and defend the settlers … there are two alternatives — either run and leave all the olives, or stay. If we can, we scare them or chase them away.”

Settlers burn olive groves in an attempt to physically erase Palestinians’ claim to the land, and they attack olive harvesters intending to terrify Palestinians into submission and exile. One-third of Yitzhar sits on privately owned Palestinian land, according to data provided by the Israeli Civil Administration (“Guilty! Construction of Settlements on Private Palestinian Land,” Peace Now, March 2007).

For the settlers of Yitzhar, a burning Palestinian olive tree signifies exactly what a burning cross signified to the Ku Klux Klan in the US of the 1950s — in either case, the message is racial intolerance, and the purpose is ethnic cleansing. “The settlers use fear, they intimidate people to leave their homes … they say ‘we cut down the trees because a Palestinian touched this and made it dirty. This is our land and we can do whatever we want,’” Najjar said.

“We can’t leave”

For the Palestinians of Burin, the olive harvest — in the face of settler violence — becomes a political statement of resistance. “The land is like our mother and father,” said El Buriny. “We can’t leave our land, and who would leave their land? That’s the number one reason [we continue to harvest]. But in our situation, we also need [to harvest] this land for the money as well. [But] even if we had money we wouldn’t give up our land. Even if they forbid us from our land, we are not going to drink a cup of fear, and we’re not gonna stay quiet.”

Najjar echoed this determination emphatically. “Olives are the most important farming product here for us. Of course the olive harvest is important for the olives and for the resistance. We know for certain that if we leave the land they will steal it, and claim it is their land.”

As an aside, Najjar added, “we know for certain that it’s not their land, because they burn it.”

Oftentimes, settler attacks spark confrontations between farmers and settlers. El-Buriny, while stressing that villagers almost never retaliate, insisted on their right to repel the attacker, and to defend themselves, and their olive trees, if in danger. “How can we let someone come on our land, and not let us be on our land, and hit us, and curse at us, and stay quiet? … All we have is a rock to defend ourselves. We don’t have anything but a rock, our hearts, and God,” he explained.

As conflicts have escalated in recent years, the Israeli military has committed itself to administrative and on-the-ground interference in the olive harvest. Its stated intention has even been to protect Palestinian farmers from settler attacks.

In the words of the 2008 United Nations report “The Olive Harvest in the West Bank and Gaza,” “As a military occupying power, the [Israeli army] is obligated to ensure public order and life in the Occupied Territories and the Government of Israel has repeatedly committed to ensuring that Palestinian farmers have access to their fields … according to the Israeli authorities, the IDF and the police will be present at friction points for designated few-day periods to ensure protection for Palestinian farmers from settler harassment” (“The olive harvest in the West Bank and Gaza,” October 2008 [PDF]).

In reality, however, the presence of the Israeli army only offers a minimal amount of meaningful protection for Palestinian farmers, and serves rather to intensify the administrative barriers and physical dangers facing the farmers during their olive harvest.

In 2008, Omar Suleiman, an olive harvester from Kafr Qalil near Nablus, was harvesting with his son when, he told The Electronic Intifada, “six or seven settlers came over the hills with guns and said ‘this is not for you, this is for us, go!’ Since then, the military comes to protect us.”

To a certain extent, he said, “the soldiers are here to make sure there are no problems between settlers and Palestinians.” However, the presence of the Israeli army means that “now, for the last three years, we have to ask the army for permission [to harvest] … [and] if the settlers come to attack us again, the soldiers will help them.” Najjar echoed this claim that “the soldiers are there to protect the settlers. Most of the army are settlers anyway.”

To regulate the olive harvest, the Israeli District Coordination Committee (DCO) provides farmers with permits to access their own land with the “protection” of Israeli forces. Thus, Palestinian families often harvest their land in plain view of the military jeeps and white DCO vans parked on the adjacent hillside. Far from sheltering the Palestinians under a benevolent wing of protection, however, the army will frequently forbid families from accessing their land, usually with no explanation. Additionally, the DCO decides on which days farmers can legally access their land, and usually allots only one or two days for harvesting time, not nearly enough for the majority of families. Finally, if a family does not request a permit from the DCO, the army is given a pretext to prevent them from harvesting, especially if their land is close to a settlement.

On 12 October this year, the Israeli military drove up to the fields of Burin at 9am and ordered the families, on the first day of harvesting, to leave their harvest. Soldiers refused to give an explanation. The military then stated that families would be allowed to return to their fields for the next three days. Two days later, however, the military returned to kick one family off of their land, declaring the area a closed military zone and again offering no further explanation.

Najjar was present with his family when they were ordered to stop harvesting on 12 October. “This is normal for us,” he said later that day. “We are used to it.”

He continued: “This is not the first time we have been kicked off our land. That is no reason for us not to go back and continue work. If my father was not there, I would have been angry and refused to leave. But in front of my father I controlled my emotions, and did not show that I was upset.”

Israeli army’s inaction toward settler violence

Realistically, the presence of the Israeli military during the olive harvest, far from meaningfully alleviating the threat of settler violence, works instead to thicken the layers of oppression through which the Palestinians must struggle in order to make it to their olive trees and back.

In October 2010, Oxfam noted that, “in the first six months of 2010, the United Nations reported that hundreds of dunams of agricultural land and thousands of olive trees and other crops had been damaged in settler-related incidents. Israeli NGO [non-governmental organization] Yesh Din, an Oxfam partner, recently published a study in which it did not find a single case where the Israeli authorities had taken action to bring those involved to court.” (“Palestinian olive oil profits in the West Bank could double if Israeli restrictions ended,” Oxfam, 15 October 2010).

As the settlers grow more radicalized and Israeli regulations grow more dense, October 2011 may be a rough olive harvest for Palestinians in the West Bank. However, Omar Suleiman from Kufr Qalil offered a glimmer of hope. While an Israeli military jeep, a DCO van, and a small group of settlers sit perched together on the opposite hillside, he continued to affirm the pride, steadfastness and determination of his people.

“This settlement [pointing to Har Bracha] came here 20, 30 years ago. Israel has been here for 60 years. My family has had this land for 4,000 years.”

Ben Lorber is an activist with the International Solidarity Movement in Nablus. He is also a journalist with the Alternative Information Center in Bethlehem. He blogs at freepaly.wordpress.com.