The Jerusalem Post notes that Ala Abu Dhaim, the gunman who shot up the Merkaz HaRav yeshiva in Jerusalem:
…did not meet the typical profile of Palestinian attackers, police said. “He is not known to the security forces,” Jerusalem Police Chief Cmdr. Aharon Franco told Channel 2. “He was a normal man … who was going to wed soon.”
Franco added that the gunmen drove students to school for a living, once again denying Abu Dhaim’s family’s claim that he had been working at the Yeshiva. He said that while Abu Dhaim had recently become more religious, he was not devout. Franco said he believed Abu Dhaim had planned the attack some time in advance and that it was not a response to recent violence in the Gaza Strip.
This man was from Jabl Mukaber. in eastern Jerusalem. In a post last July, I wrote about a checkpoint at the edge of one of Jabl Mukaber’s several distinct neighborhoods, a mini-village called Sheikh Saâ€™ed. I have re-written it a bit and will offer it again. Ala Abu Dhaim must have known all about the suffering of his neighbors in Sheikh Sa’ed, and no doubt the situation there added to his rage.
The first part of this post enraged readers on the pro-Israel right. The second part enraged readers on the anti-Israel left. The rest of us must figure out how to live in the grey area where an understanding of moral ambiguity is a prerequisite to finding the truth.
Checkpoints, the wall and an unexpected message
I think of Hannah often these days, now that I have begun to wade into the difficult task of conversing with the left on Israel. She is from Australia, in her late 50s, and has lived in Israel since the early â€™70s. Hannah (not her real name) is one of the brave, tireless, often rather eccentric Israeli Jews (most of them women) who volunteer for Machsom Watch.
Machsom means â€œcheckpoint.â€ These woman have taken it upon themselves to monitor the treatment of Palestinians at some of the most controversial checkpoints in the West Bank. Like the wall/barrier/fence (it can be any one of those things, depending on where itâ€™s located), many of the checkpoints that were established in the last few years prevent Palestinians from traveling from one part of the West Bank to another without approval from Israeli Border Police or soldiers.
About a year ago, at the end of June 2006, I accompanied Hannah and her companion, J, to Sheikh Saâ€™ed. That is–or at least used to be–one of several distinct neighborhoods of Jabl Mukaber, a village on the eastern edge of Jerusalem. Jabl Mukaber was not annexed by Israel, so it is technically part of the West Bank. The residents of Sheikh Saâ€™ed are closely linked to Jabl Mukaber and the rest of East Jerusalem, where they have many family ties and go for many services.
The Israeli government had planned to extend the wall/barrier/fence so that it divided Sheik Sa’ed from Jabl Mukaber. But in March, 2006, the Israeli Supreme Court ruled that the planned route of the wall was improper. So the Israelis set up a permanent, staffed checkpoint at the entrance to Sheik Sa’ed. According a report from Bâ€™Tselem, the Israeli human rights organization (which calls Shei Sa’ed a “village”):
“Village residents who do not hold Israeli identity cards are forbidden to exit the village and enter Jerusalem . Even those who have permits to enter Israel are not allowed to cross the checkpoint. Instead they are directed to the Olive Checkpoint. To get to that checkpoint, they have to negotiate a long descent down the cliff on which the village lies. In fact the siege imposed by Israel means that those without Jerusalem identity cards with two ways to leave Sheikh Saâ€™ed : to go along a difficult and, for some residents, an impossible path down the cliff, or to enter Jerusalem illegally.
The siege affects every aspect of the residentâ€™s lives. One of the most serious consequences is its effect on access to medical treatment: the village has no medical clinic, so the residents have to go to facilities in East Jerusalem, in most cases to Jabel Mukaber, which lies about 100 meters from the entrance to Sheikh Saâ€™ed. The villagers have difficulty obtaining essential foodstuffs and other consumer needs.
When we arrived there, Hannah, J and I got past the checkpoint and walked into Sheikh Saâ€™ed, where a cab driver met us and drove us around. The women were there to bear witness, to take notes as they talked to villagers. From the top of the steep, sloping donkey path that is now the only way in and out of the neighborhood for many residents, we watched two teenage boys hauling some wood up the hill. Hannah told me that if people have physical problems, like asthma, and canâ€™t make it up the hill, they are stuck in the village. They canâ€™t get out.
An old man with a cane walked past us and gingerly moved down the donkey path. He appeared to be tip-toeing. The women took notes. The cab driver ticked off a number of indignities, like the tear gas that the Border Police had tossed at some teenagers who had approached the checkpoint, talking loudly and boisterously, but, he claimed, had meant no harm.
In rejecting the stateâ€™s plans to build the wall/barrier there, the Israeli court had indicated there was no evidence that these people posed a direct security threat to the State of Israel, Hannah told me. But the Court did urge the Israeli government to build the barrier on another route, further east. As we walked back through the checkpoint to her car, she said, loudly, so a young Border Policeman could hear, â€œThe Germans said they didnâ€™t know. They didnâ€™t know what was happening. I know. I know what is happening.â€
She was reluctant to talk politics, to examine the big picture. As we drove away, I kept pressing about her political beliefs, and all she would tell me was that she didnâ€™t vote for Meretz. She was â€œway leftâ€ of Meretz, she said.
But later, as we drove past the wall at Abu Dis, I heard something unexpected from Hannah.
I asked her the inevitable question that must be asked by anyone who insists on seeing both sidesâ€™ points of view: â€œBut donâ€™t you think the wall and the checkpoints have stopped terrorists?â€
She gave me the standard, post-Zionist answer, something along the lines of â€œIt has nothing to do with security. Itâ€™s just there to control people, to humilate them.â€
I kept at it. I said that, at one point a few years back, moderates in the Palestinian Authority had accepted the idea of some kind of barrier, as long as it was on the Green Line. The PA had been unable to control Hamas and Islamic Jihad, and they appeared to understand that, for the time being, the State of Israel had to do something to stop suicide bombers. They were not happy about the wall/barrier/fence, but as long as it did not cut a swath through the West Bank, at least some PA officials appeared to be willing to live with it, for the time being. I told Hannah that I knew this to be true because I had heard them voice that sentiment.
Then Hannah said, â€œIt would be ugly. It would be horrible…I could live with it, too.â€
I expressed surprise. I had been assuming, without thinking much about it, that she was in the same camp as the international leftists who urge Israel to just tear down the â€œapartheid wall,â€ demolish it unilaterally, pretend there is no need for concerted negotiations, pretend there is no problem, pretend there is no blood feud that has been going on for a hundred plus years.
Instead, Hannah said, simply, â€œThere are people who donâ€™t want me here.â€
So here she was, the kind of Israeli witness who feeds the fury of anyone with a smidgeon of concern for basic human decency and humanity. But even Hannah, who spent her days exposing the nightmarish conditions of Palestinians under occupation, wanted a wall or a barrier to protect her children, grandchildren, friends and neighbors from getting blown to bits.
I havenâ€™t the faintest idea what Israel should do right now about the wall/fence/barrier, other than ensuring that it doesn’t cut through Palestinian villages and olive groves, and re-routing those parts of it that jut into the West Bank to protect far-flung Israeli settlements, and announcing, loudly and clearly, that it is TEMPORARY, a security measure that can be eliminated if and when there is a political settlement. As for the system of checkpoints and other obstacles to Palestinian movement, Peace Now says the vast majority of them do not protect Israeli security. But it still calls for 35 of them to remain. Sharing the rage of people who donâ€™t want old men to be forced to tip-toe down old donkey paths does not mean that one should ignore the worries and fears of Israeli parents who donâ€™t want their kids to be slaughtered in supermarkets and discos.
To call out, simply and passionately, â€œTear down the apartheid wallâ€ at demonstrations, without offering a reasonable, immediate solution to those Israeli parents, is to tell them they should not worry about their kids. One could say, â€œHannah should not be there,â€ Hannah should go back to Australia, the whole experiment should be summarily cancelled. Thatâ€™s not just offensive; it is unrelated to objective reality, yet I read comments like that all the time on the lefty blogs.
Hannah isnâ€™t leaving, and that is a good thing. She and her comrades rage and rage against the brutality and dehumanization that is an inevitable consequence of the occupation. She refuses to stop holding a mirror up to the Israelis who bear much of the responsibility for this unremitting tragedy. But they do not bear that responsibility alone. While Hannah rages, she also needs to protect herself and the people she loves. She is faced with conflicting moral imperatives that are impossible to reconcile. As some point, I suspect, she stopped trying to reconcile them, like a lot of Israelis who have as much concern for human rights and justice as the sloganeers on the anti-Israel left.