Protest, Grief
As Barrier Segregates Palestinian Village From Farms
By Jon Elmer
20 August, 2005
The
New Standard
Bilin,
West Bank, Aug 19 - A small farming community amid the stony, rolling
hills of the West Bank, spotted with olive groves and sage bushes, Bilin
is a quintessential Palestinian village.
In recent months,
it has become a symbol of the impact that Israels massive barrier
a network of concrete walls and electronic fences that will stretch
some 670 kilometers when all is said and done is having on Palestinian
life in the West Bank.
Likewise, Bilin
has become a symbol of the Palestinians resistance to the expansion
and cementing of the Israeli occupation in the West Bank while all eyes
are on Gaza.
More than half of Bilins 1000 acres will fall on the Israeli
side of the barrier once it is completed. The farmland the barrier separates
from the village includes some 20,000 olive trees on about 575 acres,
according to accounts from village farmers.
Since construction
began in this area in early 2005, more than 500 olive trees have been
uprooted, according to Abdullah Abu Rahma, one of the coordinators of
the villages Popular Committee Against the Wall. On February 20,
local farmers chained themselves to the trees, and thus formally began
the villages struggle against the barrier in Bilin.
"Since then
we have had over 60 demonstrations," Abu Rahma said as he sat in
his front yard, surrounded by puppets and placards used at the protests.
"We have used
many and varied demonstrations to explain our position in a non-violent
way," he said.
Samed Burnat, an
18-year-old from a Bilin farming family explained, "Every
week we do something different. Last week, it was a huge black snake
to symbolize the wall."
"This week,"
Burnat continued, "people will be wearing a variety of numbers
on their chest, each with a different significance of the walls
impact." For example, the symbolic numerals included: 9, the number
of Palestinians killed in popular protests against the wall throughout
the West Bank; 158, the number of protestors injured in demonstrations
in Bilin; and 53, the number of gates throughout the entire length
of the West Bank barrier that Palestinians expect to have as exit points
to access their land once construction is completed.
The demonstrations
particularly the regularly-scheduled Friday afternoon protests
have attracted international and Israeli participants, helping
to expand the struggle beyond the community, as well as temper the reaction
by the Israeli army.
Still, virtually every week the soldiers use crowd-dispersal methods
and make arrests.
"I come every
Friday," said Burnat. "Every Friday the soldiers shoot gas,
rubber bullets sometimes real bullets and every Friday
someone gets hurt.
"The wall must
fall," he continued. "And when it does, only then will the
demonstrations stop."
The soldiers
some dressed in riot gear for possible close-up confrontations, others
armed with M-16 assault rifles use coils of razor wire to literally
mark a line in the sand, well into the village, some distance from the
construction site. The soldiers, sometimes accompanied by border police,
stand behind their coiled, bladed barricade, preventing demonstrators
from advancing anywhere near the construction site.
"Every demonstration
is roughly the same," Abu Rahma said. "We go to the area of
the wall, as close as we can, and sit peacefully on our land. The army
declares the area a closed military zone and begins to fire
gas, rubber bullets, sound grenades. And they beat us and arrest us."
Moments before he
was carried away in handcuffs by four soldiers at last Fridays
weekly demonstration, Rabbi Arik Ascherman of the Israeli group Rabbis
for Human Rights told The NewStandard, "The message here is that
you have no right to protest." Aescherman was one of 26 arrests
that day all internationals and Israelis who positioned themselves
in front of the Palestinians, for whom the consequences of arrest are
significantly more severe.
Barak Meiri, an Israeli solidarity activist from the Galilee told TNS
that he has attended "too many demonstrations to count."
Meiri participates
in these demonstrations under the banner of Israeli Anarchists Against
the Wall. "Anywhere the wall is being built and people are struggling
against it, I will join them in solidarity," Meiri said.
Meiri acknowledged
that he represents a tiny minority in Israel opposing the barrier, the
general idea of which was first proposed by the so-called "peace
camp," which in Israel is generally considered left wing.
"Most Israelis
dont know about [the walls] impact," he said, "or
else they dont care."
In July 2004, the
International Court of Justice, also known as the World Court, ruled
14-1 that "the construction of the wall being built by Israel,
the occupying Power, in the Occupied Palestinian Territory, including
in and around East Jerusalem, and its associated régime, are
contrary to international law." The court told the Israeli government
that the barrier should be "dismantled," but the decision
was non-binding.
Israelis who favor the barrier tend to refer to it as a "fence,"
but Palestinians consider that term ironic, since where it takes such
form in rural areas such as Bilin it is often much
more foreboding and problematic than the 8-meter-high concrete wall
that is common along the urban stretches. In the areas where the barrier
is already completed in the northern West Bank, the fence portions actually
consist of two fences; one is electronic, accompanied by a buffer zone
of razor-sharp concertina wire, a deep trench and a security patrol
road. The whole apparatus can take up as much as one hundred meters
of area.
Israel calls the
barrier a security necessity, but many have challenged that assessment.
"The wall is
a land grab and a political wall which, in its current path, cannot
be considered a vital security need," Shabtai Gold, spokesperson
for Physicians for Human RightsIsrael told TNS.
David Shearer, head
of the United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs
(OCHA) called Israels security rationale "perplexing."
"We are told
that the barrier is for security reasons," he said, "but in
places where the barrier extends well into the West Bank, through the
middle of peoples agricultural land, from a laymans perspective
the security argument is rather unconvincing."
Shearer said OCHA
is not opposed to the barrier, per se. "The crux of the issue is
where the barrier goes," he noted. "In this case, well into
the West Bank. Inevitably Palestinian land will be on one side of the
barrier and the people on the other. That is the problem."
In the case of the
segment slated to cut right through Bilin, the barrier will reach
far past the internationally recognized border known as the "Green
Line" in order to encompass the expanding Modiin settlement
bloc, placing it, and the surrounding Palestinian farmland, squarely
on the western side.
Hania Mohamad Hamadah
is a Bilin village elder who has lived on this land for more than
half a century. A short woman in colorful, traditional dress, the deep
lines on her tough and weathered skin attest to her years in the sun
farming the land. When she speaks, it is clear that she commands the
respect of her fellow villagers; her words are emphatic, her gestures
pronounced.
She has lost access
to her land, she explained, most of which falls on the western side
of the barrier currently under construction. Asked how many dunams of
land she owned (four dunams make up an acre), Hamadah replied: "We
count the size of the land not by dunams, but by the number of days
it takes to plough; I own twelve days worth of land," indicating
her lot using the measurement preferred by the elder generation.
Working from 6 a.m.
until 6 p.m., Hamadahs land comes out to about 48 dunams, or 12
acres, other farmers in the area translated.
"We have tried
everything to resist the occupation and nothing has worked. We ask God
to do what he can to save us from this catastrophe," she said,
invoking the Arabic term "nakba," usually used in reference
to the 1948 creation of Israel. The original Nakba resulted in the destruction
of more than 400 Palestinian villages and the forced expulsion of more
than 700,000 Palestinians from lands encompassed by the new Jewish state.
Though Hamadah will
purportedly be able to reach her land through access gates in the barrier
once it is finished, she is unable to farm now because the area under
construction is protected by armed security guards and closed-circuit
cameras monitored by the Israeli military (IDF), which has declared
it and the surrounding farmland a "closed military zone."
Instead of farming,
Hamadah has begun to work occasional shifts in her sons small
grocery store, amid sparsely-stocked shelves.
"What can I
do? What is left for me?" she asked.
Israel in
response to criticism about the placement of the barrier - has said
that farmers will be allowed access to the land through gates in the
structure. Still, representatives of OCHA who meet "regularly"
with the IDF, are worried that irregular access times and insufficient
allotments of time for farmers to access their land threaten agricultural
communities such as Bilin.
"We are concerned that people will not be able to access their
land, and their agriculture," Shearer said. "In many cases,
the barrier will divide peoples land in two with village
on one side and their land on the other side. Our experience in the
northern West Bank [where the barrier is completed] is that it has become
very difficult for Palestinians to gain access to their lands that fall
on the other side of the barrier. There are gates, but they are only
open during certain times, and for set periods," Shearer said,
"making it difficult to farm the land."
As well, the gates
do not correspond to the existing roads and paths, meaning that people
often have to travel long distances, traversing other peoples
land, in order to get access to their own fields, Shearer said.
"As a consequence,
people are not farming as much land, and have moved away from high-intensity,
high-value crops to more low-intensity and low-value farming
the pattern of which will contribute to the impoverishment of the area,"
he said.
Another elderly
farmer from Bilin, when asked about her land, threw her hands
in the air with a hapless smile: "What can I say? It is all gone!"
the woman said.
"No Jews and
no Palestinians will take this land with them when they die," Hamadah
said, emphatically wiping her hands together in a common Palestinian
gesture indicating, "it is finished."
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