Protest: An Nabi Salih

Storm clouds were looming overhead as mist rolled over the hills surrounding the small West Bank village of An Nabi Salih that Friday morning. Three of us had left Ramallah early to avoid the closure of the checkpoints that the Israeli military were imposing as part of their crack-down on the demonstrations organised by the Palestinian Popular Committees.

From the hilltop above the village, we could see the pointed, regimented roofs of the Israeli Hallamish (Neve Zuf) settlement that lies on the other side of the valley. The European-style houses lay in stark contrast to the traditional, square houses of the Palestinian villages of the West Bank. On the road below, Israeli army jeeps were beginning to assemble; the reason for our presence here.

The protest is against the illegal seizure of Palestinian agricultural land. Furthermore, the settlers have tried to re-annex more of the An Nabi Salih land despite an Israeli court ruling that the land belonged to the Palestinian village. They have also uprooted hundreds of the village’s olive trees, and have poured concrete into their well.

Entering the house of the organiser of the demonstration, the smell of cooking filling the air as his wife prepared a buffet for the international and Israeli demonstrators who come to lend their support to the Palestinians every Friday. Warming ourselves by the wood-fuelled fire, drinking sweet, strong shay, a video was playing on the computer. It was footage from a previous demonstration here, where Israeli troops were forcefully removing Palestinian women from the streets and subsequently arresting them. Violent repression by the Israeli Defence Forces was commonplace; the large presence of international and Israeli demonstrators here, week after week, was hoped to reduce the level of aggression used. The previous week, one of our fellow volunteers required stitches after being hit in the mouth by a rubber-bullet.

The protest began in the village square with groups of children holding posters that were present at all of the West Bank demonstrations that day. They pronounced solidarity against the recent announcement by President Netanyahu that two West Bank shrines would be added to Israel’s national heritage list. (An article on the BBC.)

We crossed over to the grassy hillside, walking towards the agricultural land that the Israeli settlement restricts. On the road below, the assembly of IDF soldiers began to fire-off large amounts of tear gas towards the demonstrators. The troops began to advance on us, firing more tear gas indiscriminately at the men, women and children above. A woman stood with a raised Palestinian flag as the clouds of tear-gas began to reach us. The local shebab (youths) then began to respond, throwing stones at the soldiers. This was the first time I had witnessed such resistance at a demonstration, which has become known as the archetype of Palestinian resistance.

The sound of the Israeli shots suddenly changed. When firing tear-gas, the fizz of the canisters is preceded by a softer, deeper resonance. I could now see the muzzle-fire from their rifles, accompanied by a shorter crack as the sound reached us. They were firing rubber bullets. The intensity of shots, and its retaliatory stone-throwing, increased as the soldiers made ground further up the hill. As we retreated back to the village, at my side was Ellen, a fellow demonstrator. She was hit by a rubber bullet as we ran. We ushered her back into the house, before continuing to document the violence that was being used to repress this protest.

People ran through the village, and tear-gas was now entering into houses. An Israeli jeep drove up into the village, fired-off forty tear-gas canisters in rapid succession, before quickly driving away. On the opposite hillside, further Israeli troops were advancing upon the village, faced with a line of the shebab who responded with stones and slingshots.

It was on this hillside that the rest of the exchanged occurred. Soldiers would advance on the shebab, firing rubber-bullets and tear-gas, and this would be countered by stone-throwing. As the IDF would retire in order to re-arm, the positions that they previously occupied were taken by the Palestinians. The soldiers then re-advanced on the shebab. These protracted exchanges continued for the next couple of hours, as Palestinians and IDF soldiers conducted a drawn-out dance across the hillside.

I left this demonstration with a lot of questions. What had been achieved here today? My previous experience at demonstrations had involved some close-contact with the soldiers, but today’s events seemed to be played-out with large distances between the two sides. This led to a feeling of little “discourse”. It was the first time I had witnessed a demonstration that was not “non-violent”, with the retaliation by the Palestinian youths. Speaking with veterans of this protest, the events today were the norm. This scene had been played-out time and time again over the preceding weeks; in all likelihood, they would be re-enacted in the weeks to come. As we drank tea and ate fresh almonds back in the organiser’s house, it seemed to be a case of “business as normal”.

» See the collection of photographs from this demonstration.

A Soldier Torn?

It reached that point of the Hebron protest where a line of (largely Palestinian) demonstrators faced a line of Israeli soldiers. The IDF had just declared the area a “closed military zone”, but with no authorising papers, the demonstrators refused to back down.

As I stood with the Palestinians, our arms occasionally linked against the tussles that invariably broke-out, I heard an intriguing thing. In English, “I love Palestine” came out of the mouth of an Israeli soldier. The Palestinians jumped on this and demanded further explanation, in Hebrew, but the soldier was quickly silenced by his confreres.

Following this brief exchange of words & subsequent curtailment, he looked rather uneasy. I don’t know if this was due to his feelings about his presence here, or concern about the derision he would later receive from his fellow soldiers. In either case, his expression of these words set him apart from the bullish soldier stood to his side.

I had often questioned the zeal of the soldiers that I had encountered during my time here. National service is compulsory in Israel, but whilst I had initially used this to excuse the actions of those forced into a certain role, I had also heard that the soldiers we faced had chosen this path, over more administrative roles, or other postings.

The soldiers I had encountered that morning at Bir al ‘Idd were full of zionistic gusto, and I had witnessed soldiers at demonstrations who viewed the whole thing as a game, congratulating each other on “good shots”. Yet here was a man who looked very uncomfortable when facing-off a line of Palestinian demonstrators, and declared his love for this land, not as a Jewish State, but by its pre-Israeli name of “Palestine”.

Breaking the Silence is a group of former Israeli soldiers who decided to speak out against the attitudes of the Israeli military, and the actions they were forced to perform. I had met one of their founders at Sheikh Jarrah and he had explained his overwhelming need to publicise what goes on in the name of his country.

Will that vocal soldier from today’s demonstration later join their ranks? And more immediately, what kind of consequences would he face for his words, back in the barracks? Whilst it is easy to see the army as simply an opposing force, these soldiers are, after-all, fellow human beings, despite the disregard for human rights and human life they often show.

Protest: Hebron

It was with a nonchalant air that two activists passed through the checkpoint into Hebron’s H2 and onto Shuhada Street. We had arrived straight from a confrontation in South Hebron to attend what was dubbed a “Global Campaign for Justice in Hebron”: a demonstration against the closure of Shuhada Street to Palestinians and of the segregation of the city in general. Four days prior to the protest, which fell on the 16th anniversary of the Goldstein Massacre where 29 people had been massacred by a right-wing Israeli gunman, Benjamin Netanyahu had added another cause to the agenda. The Israeli president had declared that the Tomb of the Patriarchs in Hebron would become a protected Jewish Holy Site, therefore continuing Israeli control in this West Bank city. To Muslims, the site goes by the appellation of the Ibrahim Mosque, and one of the most holy Islamic sites outside of Saudi Arabia. The Palestinian Authority leader, Mahmoud Abbas, had warned that this could incite a “religious war”.

Two photographers stood at the intersection near the barrier that bars entry to Shuhada Street and warned us that his was “a good place to see action, or a good place to get arrested”. Crossing Fathiyeh, a CPT volunteer whom we had met two weeks previously and who was here in her role as an international observer of the protest, we confirmed that this was the place. Soldiers began documenting those present.

Several coaches were arriving in the distance and above the wall of the Muslim cemetery that borders Shuhada street, the banners and placards of the demonstrators became visible as they alighted the buses under the falling rain. They carried slogans such as “Open Shuhada Street”, “There is no holiness in an occupied city”, and “Ibrahim’s mosque is a bi-national holy site”. The sound of Arabic, English & Hebrew chants could be heard issuing from a megaphone as the muezzin’s call to prayer broadcast from the local mosque. As we went to join the protestors, so did the Israeli Defence Force (IDF), carrying their assault rifles and laden with backpacks of tear-gas & munitions.

Within minutes, the group of wholly non-violent demonstrators was attacked by IDF soldiers trying to repress the protest. We were amid clouds of tear-gas — made more potent by the rain — and sound grenades were rolled at our feet. As well as the Palestinian & international protestors, many Israelis were amongst those objecting to their government’s policies of occupation here. As the soldiers attempted to disperse the crowd, demonstrators linked arms to prevent them advancing further. Several scuffles broke-out as the soldiers tried to physically move the crowd, people were pushed to the ground, and I witnessed an AFP photographer being dragged off into a military jeep. I crossed him several days later in Jerusalem and he told me that he had been charged with “assaulting a police officer”. During this time, interviews and statements were made to the international press who were present.

It did not take long before the IDF announced that the area was now a “closed military zone”, a tactic often employed at demonstrations, thereby making it an offence to be present in a specified area. Without the signed orders which authorise this, their words were not legally binding, as the Palestinians well knew. A stand-off then ensued and I joined the line of demonstrators who were face-to-face with the Israeli soldiers. This stalemate continued for over half an hour, with several small skirmishes breaking out as the soldiers tried to physically push-back the protestors. In between these skirmishes, Palestinians danced amongst the chants in Arabic & English calling for an end to the occupation.

The decision was taken by the Israeli forces to once again use force against the crowd, and more tear-gas and sound grenades were fired to disperse them. As children retreated through the nearby cemetery, Israeli soldiers trained their guns on them whilst we tried to reason with them, reminding them that they were pointing live rounds at small, unarmed children. Dusk drew in as the soldiers watched watched them leave.

It was a long, cold ride back to Ramallah that night, eyes still stinging from the tear-gas. But today we had witnessed a strong show of solidarity between Palestinians, Israelis and internationals, a solidarity which would be shared again in the coming days.

» My photos from the protest are in this annotated slideshow, or you can view it as a photo-essay set.

From the Hills to Hebron

In the morning I had witnessed Israeli soldiers intimidating the Palestinian shepherds in Bir al ‘Idd. Come lunchtime, I was sat in the back of a beat-up old Peugeot 203, missing half of its dashboard, as we raced across dirt-tracks between farmland. Bound for Yatta, I was to catch the servees from Yatta to Hebron: there was a demonstration there that day for the re-opening of Shuhada Street, and I had wanted to be there ever since I had visited the city two weeks previously.

The young, Palestinian driver was forced to take this road because his car was unregistered and police would be on the road. His foot was to the floor, an aspiring rally driver. Bouncing over rocks, the engine suddenly cut-out and I could smell petrol. Fearing that the fuel tank had been punctured, I thought that we would have to forsake hopes of getting to Hebron. Mohammed fiddled under the car and reconnected the fuel pipe. We were quickly on our way again. Hamdu lillah.

Bir al ‘Idd: Facing the Problem

Since we had arrived four days previously, I had accompanied Abu Tarek whenever he was out grazing his flock. So when an Israeli land official drove up to him & Abu Nassir, claiming that he had seen seen them grazing their sheep on the land reserved for the settlers, I knew this was untrue. He defined the dirt-track over which he had driven from the settlers’ farm as the division. We had not strayed above this line.

A short while later, an army jeep approached from the same farm. Three young soldiers exit, their rifles slung across their chests, and they confront Abu Tarek & Abu Nassir. The young recruits speak patronisingly and derogatorily to these two dignified Palestinian men. One soldier tells them that this is “Jewish” land, and they are but “children” here. He is referring to his Jewish ancestry and to the ideals that Zionist Jews hold regarding their “Biblical right” to the whole of the region. Earlier that morning, I had spoken with one of the settlers on this very subject, trying to understand the situation from his point of view. He said that they believe that God has given them not only the land that comprises Israel, but the Palestinian Territories as well. Despite the generations of Palestinians who have lived here, it is theirs to now take based on Biblical tales.

Based on this Zionist belief, the soldiers claimed that these men should’t be here at all, contradicting what the Israeli land official had said only minutes before. We were thus faced with religious ideas contrasting with the legal “rules” that are established by the Israeli courts. When I ask to see a map of the area, defining the division and allocation of the land, they claim not to have one. They then leave.

This is the sort of intimidation that Palestinians, on Palestinian land, face in their every-day life. Whilst Israel is an occupying force in the Palestinian Territories, in contravention of international law, the lives of the people here cannot be peaceful.

» A collection of photographs from Khirbet Bir al ‘Idd