Report 4: Finding the Courage to Refuse—and Resist

Thursday, July 20

Birzeit University—Refusing to Accommodate to Occupation

Ahmed surely catches the attention of the women students as he walks, quick of step and with his confident smile and his sparkling, piercing, intelligent eyes, through the vibrant campus of Birzeit University in the heart of the West Bank.  He and three of his fellow students met with us as we visited their campus.  The discussion could have gone on for hours, but our time was short.  I suspected the answer to my question, but I really wanted to know how he would address it before we ran out of time, so I asked. 

“We are really not interested in meetings or joint projects with our peers in Israeli universities,” he said in answer.  “When my Israeli counterpart is ready to refuse the IDF uniform that places him at a checkpoint that violates my basic human rights and robs him of his dignity and integrity, when he is ready to commit to actions that show his willingness to relate to me as an equal and a partner toward peace, then I will be interested in talking to him.  Until then, I am not interested in words.”

I thought:  you can’t be my colleague if you are my jailer.

Were we aware that Palestine has more universities per capita than any other country in the world?  Does anyone know who these people are?

Mark Braverman

The Economics of Occupation—Analysis as Resistance

On the third day of the delegation, I was looking forward to hearing some economic analysis on why the development of Israel and Palestine has so differed. With a father who took us on family vacations not only to the beach to swim or sail, but to visit paper and canoe factories in order to understand the economic forces at play in the daily life of even resort towns, it seemed very comfortable to be meeting with Shir Hever, an Israeli economist studying the economics of the occupation with the Alternative Information Center (AIC) in Jerusalem.

The following presents some of his analysis:

After 1967 when Israel assumed responsibility for the Palestinian territories, the Israeli government did not allow partnerships between Palestinians and Israelis, and did not allow Palestinians to import machinery. This had the effect of severely limiting Palestinian economic development. In spite of a 1968 Israeli commission recommendation that goods and labor not pass into Israel from the occupied territories, a market nonetheless developed for low wage, unskilled jobs for Palestinians in Israel.

In 1973 oil prices shot up and Palestinians with technical skills found jobs in the Gulf states. This was one of the impetuses for Palestinian institutions of higher education to develop cutting-edge engineering departments. In 1984 an inflation surge devalued the Israeli shekel and concomitantly oil prices plummeted, so that Gulf states were no longer hiring workers, including Palestinians with technical skills. These economic forces played into worsening economic conditions and, in Shir’s opinion, they were one (of many) factors that led to the outbreak of the first Intifada in 1987.

Fired up by this  in-depth analysis about underlying economic forces, I am looking forward to reading Shir’s AIC pamphlet entitled “The Economy of the Occupation #415, The Gaza Withdrawal—Winners and Losers” with its focus on how economic forces interact with and undergird political and social life.

--Lee Porter

Sunday, July 21

Barriers--Flying Checkpoints and Concrete Blocks

We naturally associate checkpoints and border crossings with security, but in the case of the checkpoints maintained by the Israeli Army through which Palestinians must pass, clearly something else is going on.

We learned from Machsom Watch that checkpoints are not just standing physical structures, but also unpredictable ‘flying’ checkpoints consisting of an army jeep and a small barricade set up in the road for variable periods of time and in different locations. At these checkpoints the contents of bags and vehicles are not generally checked, just IDs. The effect of the flying checkpoints is a constant insecurity and lack of knowledge regarding where, when and for how long one might be stopped; it causes travel delays and often they occur at rush hour or around exam time, when the consequences of lateness can be dire.

We experienced a flying checkpoint on our travel to Ramallah on Sunday, two days after we observed the effect of ‘permanent’ checkpoints with Machsom Watch. From Jerusalem, exiting from the north, passing from the smooth settler road into the village of Ad-dahiyya, we passed the white van of the tax collector inspecting the papers of a Palestinian woman.  “If they find you in arrears, they can take your car” said Said.  At the next intersection we found the road blocked by concrete barriers.  “They are working on the wall.” explained Said, pointing to the 10-foot barbed wire barrier running along the center of the street.  This village is marked for bisection—when completed the wall will divide one part of the village from the other, one part becoming part of Jerusalem, the other part remaining part of the West Bank.  Said remarked that he had a friend here who wanted to sell his house.  He was waiting to find out on which side of the barrier his house would be.  If in Jerusalem, it would be worth $200,000.  If in the West Bank, maybe $60,000. 

Our bus continued down the road, until we came to a sudden stop.  “Now,” Said went on, “our friend Ayid (our bus driver) has a big problem.”  The road was simply blocked—the haphazardly-placed barriers saying clearly:  it is of no concern that your main street is blocked, that you are inconvenienced.  You don’t matter, you are invisible, you are not here.  Ayid  would have to find a way around the blocked road.  Patiently, patiently, he maneuvered our 60-foot bus through the narrow streets of the village—it seemed impossible to me.  Time and again he would find himself in a dead end.  Uncomplainingly, he would back out, several times leaning out of his window to confer and coordinate with cars and tradespeople occupying the same space on the street.  He got us out of there and on our way.  Only when we arrived at our destination, and I complimented him on his patience, did he say, his eyes and his voice revealing his feelings, “this is our life here.” 

--Mark Braverman & Dave Matos

 Quakers in Ramallah—Seeking the Grounding for Peace

Sunday morning dawned cool and beautiful as usual.  We climbed on our bus early for the trip to Ramallah and the Friends (Quaker) meeting.  We strolled through the tranquil garden area to the reception house where we were graciously welcomed by Kathy Bergen, resident Program Coordinator for the Friends International Center in Ramallah (FICR). Kathy has spent around 10 years living in the West Bank (she worked for the Mennonite Central Committee in Jerusalem from the early 1980s to the early 1990s) and as I listened to her talk about her work here in Ramallah I learned that she truly loves this place and these people.

Although Palestine is far from her native Alberta, Canada, we learned that there has been a long history of Friends in Ramallah. Right now they are busy setting up a Sunday School for kids, getting teachers and curricula ready for the fall. Sounds familiar to a lot of us. They are always ready and eager to welcome groups like us to talk about their mission, based in the Quaker belief of peace and nonviolence, to support and encourage local groups with similar aspirations in this troubled land.  The FICR hopes to provide a peaceful haven for Muslims, Jews and Christians to meet and work.

Kathy noted that the people of Ramallah are feeling depressed and abandoned, especially after the recent elections in which Hamas won control of the Palestinian Legislative Council (PLC).  Although Palestinians expected the U.S. to withdraw its aid, it did not expect Canada, Europe, and other countries to do so as well. Kathy said that the Palestinians have little leverage or power for making change from within Palestine; more people are coming to believe that the time has come to consider boycott, divestment and sanctions from the outside.

The Friends agonize over the situation in Gaza with its consistent violence, and loss of basic utilities, which make even telephone calls difficult given the need to charge mobile phones, and refrigeration impossible.  After this conversation it was with heavy hearts that we went into the simple, lovely, recently restored stone meeting house. We were joined by local Quakers and several groups and individuals visiting the area. We sat in silence but with a real sense of community of like spirits. Toward the end of the hour, several people offered prayers, song, and words of peace, and encouragement. We left, went back through the garden, out of the gate to the hustle of the streets of Ramallah, and to our next engagement with a feeling of peace, renewal, and determination to carry on in solidarity with our friends who continue to suffer the tragedy of this occupation.

--Julianne Pirtle

Refusing to Serve

Gilad is an unlikely conscientious objector.  The son of a nationalistic Israeli artilleryman, he went as a child with his brothers to the armor museum in Latrun to climb on the tanks; his older brother is on the bomb squad.  Yet, as a senior in high school when  the second intifada broke out, Gilad began to question his role in a society where universal military service is compulsory.  Gone were the posters of doves, letters between Israeli and Palestinian children, and the general euphoria of a coming peace.  Instead, pervasive fear and the trauma of the cycle of violence replaced these hopes.  Gilad was struck by the contrast.

He contacted New Profile, a feminist anti-militarist organization, and, accompanied by a friend to help him overcome his shyness, he attended a meeting.  There, surrounded by some fifty-odd graying middle-aged women who could have been his mother, he heard something he had never heard before: “You don’t have to go into the army.”  Still uncertain, Gilad volunteered for a year of service after graduation with the park service.  During that time, he made his decision to be a Refuser, or Refusenik, being one of a handful of Israelis to refuse to serve in the military.  He prepared for the long process, composing a well-studied letter to his draft board, condensing twenty pages into one. 

In 2001, Gilad was one of 62 Israeli youth to sign onto the “seniors’ letter,” (Shministim Letter) an open letter from Israeli youth entering their senior year in high school (a year spent primarily doing tests related to matriculating in the army) to the prime minister stating their intention not to serve in the military.  When Gilad finally appeared before his draft board, he was surprised to find himself excused from military service with no time in military prison as punishment, one of three released from service in an unprecedented move.  The Israeli military would not be so lenient for long, though.  The very next year, a second seniors’ letter emerged, this time garnering 150 signatures; the military began sending signatories to the original letter to prison.  The third year’s senior letter gathered 240 signatures.  However, it was not just Israeli youth who were objecting.  An open letter written by members an elite Israeli combat unit scandalized the Israeli public.  In the letter, these heroes of Israeli society declared that they knew the realities of war and rejected Israel’s tactics of maintaining occupation as immoral.  Likewise, in 2003, an open letter signed by 13 air force pilots, the highest echelon of the Israeli military, shocked Israeli society.  In it, they condemned the bombing of civilians, a predictable outcome whether intentional or not.

During this contentious time, Gilad served for two-years as New Profile’s co-coordinator for youth programs, organizing weekly for Israeli students to question militarism and “talk about things not talked about” in a space safe from the pressures of society.  Occasional seminars organized by the youth broaden the discussion and an alternative summer camp makes a space for both recreation and questioning “free from the party line.”  Since then, Gilad has served as part of a counseling network, shepherding no more than two conscientious objectors through the long, drawn-out process of opting out of military service.

Tonight, as we have dinner with Gilad, he could be any one of his peers who have served in the military.  He sports a grizzled beard and has just returned from a sojourn in North America just like many young Israelis who travel abroad to find themselves after finishing their three-year terms in the military.  Unlike them, however, he has his compass.  He helped arrange three bus loads from Jerusalem for a Tel Aviv protest of the Lebanon war; a definite success in his estimation, despite the overwhelming support for war in Israel and the occasional abusive call to his published phone number.  He worries about his own reaction to a newly constructed section of the separation wall he had worked against, rallying Israeli and Palestinian communities on both sides against its path that would cut off Palestinians from their lands in an unprecedented joint petition to the Israeli high court.  If Israelis and Palestinians are to find a way out the cycle of violence, it will be because of people like Gilad who have the courage to refuse and go in a different direction.

--David Matos