by Mark Thomas
This is our last night before flying home, and I am happy to owe Nava a meal for securing our release from the clutches of the military, among so many other things.
‘Where would you like to eat?’ she had said. ‘I know a place that does good Middle Eastern food.’
‘No, no more hummus.’
‘Pizza,’ says Phil.
‘Italian.’
‘OK, I know a place,’ she had replied.
The place is in East Jerusalem, not far from Sheikh Jarrah and the families facing eviction, just up the road from the journo haunt of the American Colony hotel and in the middle of the NGO and diplomat area. The room is full of foreign accents and half-heard conversations about reports, funding and office politics.
Sitting in a corner by a brickwork wall and in candlelight, Phil chats away to one of the folk from the Ecumenical Accompaniment Programme who has come over for a drink.
‘I have been to this place before,’ I say to Nava.
‘Really? It’s a nice place, yes?’
‘Yes. It was on my first day in East Jerusalem, during the recce before the first walk. I rushed from Jerusalem to Bethlehem and back. I saw illegal outposts, I met leftie campaigners, talked to human-rights folk, and bumped into Mordechai Vanunu, the nuclear whistleblower. I met Ray Dolphin from the UN, and went to Sheik Jarrah all on my first night. I was flabbergasted. Totally bewildered, and Ray brought me here for a meal at the end of it all.’
‘You came here to recover from your culture shock.’
‘And just when I thought the day couldn’t get any weirder, Tony Blair’s wife walked in for her dinner.’
‘Wow!’
‘Just there,’ I say, pointing to a table through an arch. ‘All I remember thinking was, “If I can get through the tiramisu before her husband walks in everything will be OK.”’ It is an evening for remembering, for talking about falling off hills, missed meetings, maps and mishaps, a time to say thank you and propose honest toasts. But over coffee, Nava says to me, ‘You know your problem?’
‘Will it stop you if I do?’
‘Not really. Your problem is you didn’t meet Israelis.’
‘That’s not true,’ I say defensively. ‘I spoke to loads of Israelis and you often helped arrange it.’
‘Sure you spoke to some Israelis. You spoke to political activists at one end of the spectrum, and the settlers and soldiers at the other end. But there is all the rest of Israel in the middle that you didn’t see. You only saw soldiers, settlers and the activists.’
‘That’s true, but that is who is out there by the Barrier: soldiers, settlers and activists. The rest of Israel isn’t there. They don’t live there and it barely intrudes on their consciousness.’
‘Of course it doesn’t. Seventy per cent of Israelis live on the coast, in places like Tel Aviv …’
‘With their croissants and small dogs …’
‘… and they want a nice life. They don’t want to live next to the Occupation and the Wall.’
‘You know, when I first started the walk I thought, “Do Israelis know what is happening here?” Because the hardship of living under occupation is so great that I thought, “If Israelis knew about this they would not allow it.”’
‘But, Mark, most Israelis don’t want to know. That is the truth. Most Israelis don’t know and if they do they don’t care. You only spoke with the crazies …’ (when I had wanted to meet one particular settler leader, Nava had arranged the interview and had said, ‘OK, enough crazies now or you want me to get you some more?’) ‘… and the crazies do not represent all Israelis, all Israel is not like them.’
‘But that is not good enough. It is no good saying, “We’re not like them,” if no one takes responsibility for them. The settlers are de facto government policy: they build and expand into the West Bank unless stopped. All the Israelis, the ones I didn’t meet, have failed to stop the settlers and take control of them. And until they do, Israel will allow the settlers to create facts on the ground.’
Nava and I have talked throughout the walk and although it was not her job to defend Israel’s actions, she does passionately want me to understand. ‘During the Second Intifada people were terrified,’ she says. ‘A bomb went off near where I live; it was in a coffee shop. When my girlfriends and I would go out, instead of saying “Which coffee shop shall we meet in?” we would say, “Where do you want to die?” You understand? We joke but it is frightening.’
‘I can understand people were terrified and I can understand public fear became the political motor to put the Barrier up, but what will get it down?’
‘I don’t know. Do you know what I tell my friends? I say all of this Occupation and the Wall has to end, because we are better than this.’ She holds my attention with her intensity and repeats the words, ‘We are better than this.’
I started this walk thinking that a barrier like this is an admission of failure; after all, a military structure 723 kilometres long can hardly be described as a ringing endorsement of a political process. But it is far more than a symbol of failure. From the commander of the Border Patrol to settlers in Ariel, most people I have met say the Barrier is to stop suicide bombers. But when questioned further, they know they can never prevent them. So many people cross the Barrier illegally already that if a suicide bomber wanted to cross they probably will. True, the process will have been made more difficult for them, but if someone wants to blow themselves up and everyone else around them, they will have transgressed enough boundaries already not to allow a merely physical one to get in their way. For Israel, the Barrier is a trompe l’oeil, a trick of the eye; it gives the illusion of safety and the illusion of security, with no effort to end the Occupation or strive for peace.
‘You know why this Barrier is so stupid for Israel?’ I say to Nava, knowing full well that she does. ‘It allows Israel to turn its back on the problem, literally for those on the coast, and pretend it is not there. The Barrier is mile after mile after mile of self-delusion.’
The more I think about it, the more the layers of irony begin to pile up: as Israelis turn their back on the West Bank, so the rest of the world starts to be evermore drawn to it. As Israel turns further from the Middle East, looking instead to the West, so the calls for boycotts on Israel grow even louder from Europe.
This Barrier does not only isolate the West Bank.
Tiredness gets the better of us in the restaurant and we leave while the place is still full, and before Cherie Blair pops in for a nightcap. Outside we say our final goodbyes and promise to keep in touch. Phil and I are staying in East Jerusalem before flying home tomorrow, and the hotel has the harp music playing when we walk in past the overgrown plants and scruffy easy chairs. It is a comforting sound. Genuinely. I am glad for its Celtic ambient plinking playing over the sound system outside my bedroom door. A slit of light shines into my hotel room from outside, cutting through a gap in the blinds, and the small sounds of the street come in, too: a car on the road, a shout, and something falling over. I lie awake, remembering random moments of the ramble: the posters of the dead decorating the streets, wild asparagus, bullet-proof cars, the green light from the mosque at Zububa, cigarette smoke in the back of the Hummer while under near-arrest, orange groves, tortoises, poppies, hot sweet black tea in glasses and of, course, the hills.
Three days later, I am standing in front of parents and teachers and I ask them a question. I am at my daughter’s primary school so some of these people are friends, some are nodding acquaintances in the playground, and then there is the head teacher I have known since I was ten when, as a young teacher, she taught me. It is what you might call a home crowd.
Holding up the microphone I ask, ‘What …’ and pause, waiting for them to give their full attention. ‘What is the collective noun for sea cucumbers? Question seven.’
‘What?’ shouts one of the dads, who is something in the City.
Slowly I repeat the question. The Parent Teacher Association quiz night is i
n various stages of inebriation, most of it friendly, some awkward; the growing lack of coordination is highlighted by the child-sized tables and chairs the adults are seated at. A couple of mischievous mums are flirting with a teacher; dads who have not been seen all year have turned up in stripy yuppie shirts braying about the wine; and the school secretary has complained that I don’t ever ask questions that she knows the answer to. For years I worked as a stand-up comic and would take a crowd of late-night drunks any day of the week over this audience: at least you can tell the club drunks to shut the fuck up without them complaining about it in the playground for the rest of the year.
‘Where would you find Vulgaria?’
‘Wha’ …?’ goes the man from the City, but I am there before him and chip in with the repeat, ‘WHERE … would you find Vulgaria?’ Folk look at each other and shrug, a couple gasp, ‘Oh, oh, oh, I know!’ then clap their hands over their mouths to whisper the answer.
I walk to the CD player, announcing, ‘And now the music round!’ There’s a Johnny Cash question and an Arabic version of ‘Rock the Casbah’ to come tonight.
It feels good to be home.
In the break my wife Jenny comes over and squeezes my hand, then, turning to friends, grins and says, ‘It’s all right, I’ve told him if there are any questions about Israeli human rights abuse, he’ll have me to answer to.’
Familiar faces queue at the bar, which is a Formica table in front of the cubbyhole holding sports equipment and stacked chairs. Everyone brings something for the buffet: home-made salads, bowls of lentils and spinach things, cooked meats, piles of chicken wings and quiches; others bring supermarket pies and cheeses, joking, ‘I made it all myself.’ Everyone helps themselves and chats to whoever they are next to in the queue. People are kind here. Some who know about the ramble come up and say, ‘Glad to have you home,’ Or, ‘Good to see you safe.’
‘Bet you’re glad to see the family,’ says another, and a few ask, ‘How was it?’, keen for an answer but desperate for a short one, because they know me. The dad from the City leans in and says, ‘Terrorists. Had to stop ’em, eh?’ with brash certainty before sailing past, leaving behind him a wake of aftershave and swapped looks.
I still don’t know if the Barrier succeeds in its officially declared aims. Did it stop the suicide bombers of the Second Intifada? There are different schools of thought. Palestinians say the suicide bombers stopped because the Second Intifada burnt itself out, while the Israelis, who might share a similar view, phrase it differently; that the military were sent in to get the terrorists in Jenin, and that is what stopped them. Then there are those who say that it did stop the bombs, as the number of attacks decreased as the Wall was built. I don’t know one way or the other. This barrier of wire and concrete is a blunt instrument of complex desires but, unfold them, and this wall, this fence, this military barrier, is the continuation of the conflict in concrete and wire form. It imposes a de facto border, creating a one-sided ‘solution’ achieved not through negotiation but through subjugation. It claims security but grabs land, which settlers then build upon. It is no mere protective shield but a military entity which, if completed – with the Two Fingers in the north and the E1 corridor in Jerusalem – has the added intent on destroying a possible Palestinian state.
I set out wondering how a people can find their freedom and a country can protect its citizens from suicide bombs. And I did find an answer of sorts: not with a barrier, which degrades, steals, humiliates, violates and impoverishes. If Israel is lucky, the growing campaigns of non-violent resistance will flourish. If Israel is lucky, ordinary men and women across the world will realise that it is not politicians and the UN that are the real international community, but us. Everyone from trade unions to faith groups, from the Women’s Institute to the Lib Dems, will realise that this cannot be ignored any more and that this Occupation is one of the biggest moral issues of our age. The Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions call has come from Palestinian civic society and, if Israel is lucky, this call will be heeded and more and more people around the world will support the non-violent boycotts, divestment, legal challenges and direct action. If Israel is lucky, the Barrier will come down quickly and the Occupation will end. If not, I fear Israel will find the Barrier does not deter suicide bombers but, instead, simply breeds the hatred from which they spring.
Out in the school’s hall, a dad in corduroy, clutching a paper plate loaded with Ritz crackers and stilton and a glass of slopping red, innocently makes the most offensive comment possible.
‘It must have been awful out there,’ he says with a face of concern. I reply in a flash of clarity. Very calmly, I put my hand on his shoulder and say, ‘No, it wasn’t, it really wasn’t. It was great. I mean, really, really great. It was one of the best things I have ever done.’
And it was. In time I come to think that actually it didn’t matter about the ‘perfect walk’, as Phil and I rambled in the best sense of the word. We walked in areas we should not have been in but carried on regardless; we assumed we could walk anywhere and did so unless told not to; and sometimes we ignored that and carried on anyway, until we were stopped.
And that, my friends, is proper rambling.
acknowledgements
Above all thanks goes to Phil Stebbing for talking the talk and walking the walk. Special thanks goes to Susan McNicholas who I am extremely lucky to have as a researcher and friend. And Conor, Rian and Orla for their endless patience. Special thanks also goes to Ed Smith agent, friend and Colonel Tom Parker figure. Of course thanks to Nava, Lydia and Abed.
To all the walkers and talkers. Daoud, Fadhi, Geoff, Hakim, Hindi, Jakob, Jamal Marwan, Martine, Matt, Michael, Mohammad from Jayyus, Othman, Mousa, Ray, Richard, Sami, the Shepherds, Yunes, Taysir, Wael, Yunice, Zohar. Especially to Mustafa, Mohammad from Qalquilya, Isshaq, Fred and Itamar who went above and beyond all possible expectations. Salem, Shalom and WTF! The Khouriya family guest house at Jifna, The Freedom Theatre, Cinema Jenin, Al Komajti, the Alcazar hotel in Wadi Al Joz, Green Olive Tours, Abu Hanta, Haj Sami and all those who put us up and let us sleep on their floors.
Thanks to Yasmin Khan, John Hillary and all at War on Want, Jews for Justice for Palestinians, Israeli Committee against House Demolition and Linda, IMET 2000 and Professor Colin Green, Palestinian Solidarity Campaign, Stop the Wall, Abdefattah Abusrour, Tony Pletts, Jeni Dixon, Ashifa Farooq, Donna Baranski-Walker, Amanda Telfer, Haaver Ellingsen, Nick Hildyard, John McGhee and all the support from the Regional and National Fire Brigade Union, Combatants of Peace, Veronica Pasteur and Fairtrade Foundation, Atif, Zaytoun, Felix Gonzales, Mark Brown and friends, Alternative Information Centre, Dror Etkes, B’Tselem Ecumenical Accompaniment Programme, International Solidarity Movement, everyone who helped from the Christian Peacemaker Team, Ecumenical Accompaniment Programme, Machon Watch, The Red Crescent. And Frank.
Keren, Bipasha and Nicky. Mike and Martin and Janet at Roast Beef Productions. Amy at Phil Mac’s. Jake, Liz, Ali, Sarah and Rae at Ebury Press.
As usual thanks to JL, CB and IJ … No! You’re the best!
appendix
FULL TEXT OF THE Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions CALL IN 2005
Palestinian Civil Society
Calls for Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions against Israel until it Complies with International Law and Universal Principles of Human Rights
9 July 2005
One year after the historic Advisory Opinion of the International Court of Justice (ICJ) which found Israel’s Wall built on occupied Palestinian territory to be illegal; Israel continues its construction of the colonial Wall with total disregard to the Court’s decision. Thirty-eight years into Israel’s occupation of the Palestinian West Bank (including East Jerusalem), Gaza Strip and the Syrian Golan Heights, Israel continues to expand Jewish colonies. It has unilaterally annexed/occupied East Jerusalem and the Golan Heights and is now de facto annexing large parts of the West Bank by means of the Wall. Israel is also preparing – in the sh
adow of its planned redeployment from the Gaza Strip – to build and expand colonies in the West Bank. Fifty-seven years after the state of Israel was built mainly on land ethnically cleansed of its Palestinian owners, a majority of Palestinians are refugees, most of whom are stateless. Moreover, Israel’s entrenched system of racial discrimination against its own Arab-Palestinian citizens remains intact.
In light of Israel’s persistent violations of international law; and given that, since 1948, hundreds of UN resolutions have condemned Israel’s colonial and discriminatory policies as illegal and called for immediate, adequate and effective remedies; and given that all forms of international intervention and peace-making have until now failed to convince or force Israel to comply with humanitarian law, to respect fundamental human rights and to end its occupation and oppression of the people of Palestine; and in view of the fact that people of conscience in the international community have historically shouldered the moral responsibility to fight injustice, as exemplified in the struggle to abolish apartheid in South Africa through diverse forms of boycott, divestment and sanctions; and inspired by the struggle of South Africans against apartheid and in the spirit of international solidarity, moral consistency and resistance to injustice and oppression; we, representatives of Palestinian civil society, call upon international civil society organisations and people of conscience all over the world to impose broad boycotts and implement divestment initiatives against Israel similar to those applied to South Africa in the apartheid era. We appeal to you to pressure your respective states to impose embargoes and sanctions against Israel. We also invite conscientious Israelis to support this Call, for the sake of justice and genuine peace.
These non-violent punitive measures should be maintained until Israel meets its obligation to recognise the Palestinian people’s inalienable right to self-determination and fully complies with the precepts of international law by:
