Tag Archives: Ta’ayush

Feeling demolition in your fingers

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Wadi Ejheish, June 25, 2016

It is one thing to look at pictures of demolished homes. It is another to feel the rubble with your fingers. It is one thing to see a photograph of the wreckage of a building left by a bulldozer and another to pull the twisted wreck apart with your hands. It is one thing to cast your eyes on documented destruction and another to put your back into repairing the damage. These are two things, two different types of experience. Perhaps neither is better than the other, but they feel quite different.

btselem.reportTwo buildings in the hamlet of Wadi Ejheish were demolished by the (un)Civil Administration, a branch of the Israeli military government ruling over Area C of the West Bank, of Palestinian Occupied Territories. The demolitions are part of an undeclared process of creeping annexation of Area C, part of a pattern of dispossession and displacement of Palestinians, especially Bedouin. As part of that pattern, the demolitions in Wadi Ejheish were routine, although in this case they broke understandings about refraining from executing demolition orders during Ramadan.

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Detail from B’tselem map

 

Visual and written documentation of the destruction is also routine, notably by B’tselem which shares the information in the hope that it will halt the expulsion that is designed to follow from repeated demolition. Other anti-occupation groups and organizations supporting Palestinian human rights, such as Rabbis for Human Rights, have worked actively for the preservation of communities in Area C, such as in the high-profile campaign to Stand with Susiya. Wadi Ejheish is known as “south Susiya,” somewhat separate from it. While the activists of Ta’ayush do also take part in the sharing of the documentation of destruction, they share experience with the inhabitants of Wadi Ejheish in more tactile, physical ways.

I accompanied the activists on their weekly work in the South Hebron Hills area on June 25th, during which we went to Wadi Ejheish not to look but to touch. The sight is certainly distressing, poignantly marked by the remains of clothing and toys caught in the rubble. Yet as we tried, along with the people who live there, to clear away the mess and salvage the building materials that could be reused, I was struck by the heavy materiality of the destruction. Heavy both literally – the concrete blocks that are thicker for external walls, thinner for internal ones, that had to be sorted separately – but also heavy mentally. No doubt it was easier for we Israelis to regard the work as a job to be done without having to overcome the despair of those whose homes had been destroyed. But still, we were working with the men whose buildings had been crushed days before.

The materiality of demolition is not only about what is found among the ruins – I chanced across the ID card of the wife of the Palestinian man working next to me – but the material of the ruins themselves. To disentangle the tangle of metal poles, rope, tarpaulin, concrete blocks, stones, plastic pipes, electricity cables, corrugated metal is to linger in the violence of demolition. This is a stage between witnessing destruction and the defiance of rebuilding, maybe something like a stage of mourning in which you begin to get through the devastation and, with the help of friends or relatives, start putting a life back together.

But it’s not quite so pat. There are different ways of working together. For some time we worked without much conversation, as men do, coordinating actions by observing what others are doing. After a while two Israeli women came back from accompanying a shepherd elsewhere, and there was more chatter and verbal coordination. It also became more necessary to coordinate as we worked further into the tangle of rubble and it was less easy to pull out individual poles, tarps or pieces of corrugated metal. In any case given that some of us can’t speak Arabic or Hebrew well, some of the cooperation had to rely on gestures. Nonetheless, it was working together, the partnership that Ta’ayush embodies.DSC00205

It’s an odd partnership, not one of equals, but one in which equality is valued rather than achieved. Urban, middle class, and often intellectual Israelis doing Hebrew-Arab labour as if redefining Zionist halutziut (pioneering) alongside poor Bedouin shepherds. For all our privilege, what we offer is what anybody could volunteer. In the shade of a broken down cart, a couple of mathematicians burble away to each other incomprehensibly  (to the rest of us) about zeros while I can’t converse with the guy next to me as he doesn’t speak Hebrew and I don’t speak Arabic. As his son works with a couple of us later, I can only gesture to where he should cut string binding metal grating to corrugated metal. And then a thought flashes into my mind about the common Jewish Israeli saying about Arabs sticking a knife in your back. This work in common, a boy eager to help adults, shows how silly such thoughts are. But I don’t know what he’s thinking. They, the Jews, come with guns and bulldozers to demolition his home, then some other Jews come almost empty handed to help clear the rubble. It’s hard to make sense of that.

By the time we stopped work I’d been close to calling it quits for myself, my strength drained by the hard physical work under the unrelenting sun. I was deeply fatigued, but not in terms of the compassion I could feel by looking at yet another photo or video of Israeli occupation forces demolishing Palestinian homes and work places. I was deeply fatigued by the sheer effort of undoing destruction, and I wish that the photos could convey just a fraction of that difficulty to the Jewish Israelis in whose name the demolitions are executed. For all the sensuous power of visual experience, perhaps you have to feel demolition in your fingers to experience how cruel occupation is.

A Hot Field in Hebron: Ta’ayush and the Gleaners

On one of Saturday’s weekly activities by Ta’ayush in the South Hebron Hills area, nothing dramatic happened. Neither settlers nor soldiers used direct physical violence, and nobody got arrested. And yet, a lot was happening, a set of connected features of settlement, military rule and the symbiosis between them that characterise the banality of the injustice of occupation.

For once, I would have wished to get up earlier, as by the time the van load of seven Ta’ayush volunteers arrived from Jerusalem to Abu Anan’s house on the outskirts of Hebron, it was already hot. It didn’t help that (on instructions from above) the guard at the road entrance to Kiryat Arba hadn’t let us through, forcing us to find a different, longer route.

The police station above Abu Anan's field.

The police station above Abu Anan’s field.

Abu Anan lives in a difficult neighbourhood, sandwiched between the settlement of Givat Ha’avot and Kiryat Arba, and overlooked by a police station. He’s been jailed three times for short periods on charges he denies but is not deterred from remaining in place.  We had come to help Abu Anan harvest the grain crop on his terraced field, with which he would feed his goats.

DSC00146No sooner had we made our way on to the field than the military welcoming party arrived, brandishing a “closed military  zone” order which somehow drew a red line that excluded most of the area where harvesting was still to be done. The officer’s interpretation of the map would have meant that we could have worked on only a fraction of the field. He couldn’t explain why we were not allowed in the zone but the settlers are, other than that he believed (incorrectly) he has the authority to decide who the order applies to and where. When we questioned him further, he just said “the discussion is over,” and at one point referred us to his regiment’s (Yehuda) spokesperson, but couldn’t give us their number.

A policeman also came to the scene and tried to come to an agreement with Abu Anan himself, but the latter kept saying that he wanted to work the whole length of the field. We agreed for the time being to work within the permitted zone – vaguely delineated from a white building at the top of the hill to a tree near the bottom – until the “makat” (an officer who is supposed to coordinate civil and military affairs) turned up to negotiate. He never did.

DSC00149We were doing what we could in the permitted space when the real reasons for the military closure appeared. We shifted to the main road to watch the procession of settlers set up their mobile synagogue on the path, dressed in their clean shabbat clothes and the men wrapped in their prayer shawls. It seemed like an odd place to pray, but the prayer is politicized, less an expression of heavenly spirit and more a reflection of the sense of superiority, guaranteed by the guns carried by the soldiers and policemen, that is entailed in holding the prayer there.

DSC00164After a while we resumed our work, focusing on a corner of the field that was outside the zone and still had enough left to harvest. It extended to the road at the bottom of the hill and took us close to the forbidden path, where one of the settler canopies stood. There were a few comments shouted from their side, but for the most the settlers preferred to dialogue on friendly terms with the soldiers and police, until they eventually moved on.

We were working with our hands (fortunately wearing gloves) as agricultural tools are considered a threat. We tore the chaff along with the grain from the earth as fodder for the goats. The harvested piles were packed into bale bags and hauled up the hill to the pen. That part of the field was cleared, other than thorns that not even the goats would eat and some trash by the side of the road.

DSC00170Yet a small strip of the crop remained alongside the path. As we got closer to the path, we were also close to the red line on the map of the closed zone order, now guarded by a few remaining soldiers, at whose feet we found ourselves working. We had to leave the last few sheaves behind and between their boots, as if for the gleaners.

Last week was the Jewish harvest festival of Shavuot, at which time the Book of Ruth is read. Ruth, who was not Jewish, was a gleaner, providing also for her widowed Jewish mother-in-law Naomi. So the Biblical commandments and rabbinical teachings about leaving gleanings for the poor, orphans, widows and strangers should have been in the minds of the religious settlers and soldiers.

In close up, in that section of the field, we were leaving the gleanings. But in a broader perspective, and with regard to the Biblical simplicity of our work with our hands, gathering bundles in our arms, we were the gleaners confined to a corner of the field.

That is what occupation has made of Abu Anan and the Palestinians: gleaners on their own land. The settlers are the lords of the land, the soldiers their sometimes willing, sometimes unwilling henchmen, their fiefdom granted by the civil and military establishment of Israel. The occupation encroaches on more and more of the Palestinians’ life, their place, their fields, until they should feel grateful that they are allowed by these lords to glean from the corners of what was once theirs.

We did not strike a blow against the occupation today, at best a pinprick. Maybe the officer and those under his command realized how unjust the “closed military zone” order is, and how absurd it is to enforce it for some people but not for others. Maybe some of the settlers were reminded that their bullying does not go unnoticed. But many pinpricks, the accumulation of little acts, might tip the scales towards justice in the end. In the meantime, as we gleaned together with Abu Anan in the permitted corner of the field, we practiced quietly, under the unkind sun, what life could be like without occupation, Palestinians, Israelis and internationals working together without lord and master,

Fields and Facebook: Ta’ayush and the peace that will have come

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I am posting here a link to an academic journal article that I have just published about Ta’ayush. Here is an abstract (outline) of the essay:

Israeli peace activism has increasingly taken place on new media, as in the case of the grassroots anti-Occupation group,Ta’ayush. What is the significance of Ta’ayush’s work on the ground and online for peace? This article considers the former in the light of social movement scholarship on peacebuilding, and the latter in light of new media scholarship on social movements. Each of those approaches suggest that Ta’ayush has limited success in achieving its strategic goals or generating outrage about the Occupation in the virtual/public sphere. Yet, Ta’ayush’s apparent “failure” according to standard criteria of success misses the significance of Ta’ayush’s work. Its combination of grassroots activism and online documentation of its work in confronting the Occupation in partnership with Palestinians has assembled an impressive archive. Through the lens of Walter Benjamin’s philosophy of history, Ta’ayush can be seen to enact a “future perfect” peace that will have come.

And here is the link to the journal article: http://www.cogitatiopress.com/ojs/index.php/mediaandcommunication/article/view/390

 

The direct line between Susiya and Duma

Hundreds of Palestinian, Israeli and international activists march into the Palestinian village of Susya, demanding that Israel not demolish it, Suysa, South Hebron Hills, July 24, 2015. (Oren Ziv/Activestills.org)

Hundreds of Palestinian, Israeli and international activists march into the Palestinian village of Susya, demanding that Israel not demolish it, Suysa, South Hebron Hills, July 24, 2015. (Oren Ziv/Activestills.org)

The mobilization of international and Palestinian-Israel pressure to support Susiya and prevent the demolition of half of the village was remarkable. The US State Department and EU foreign ministers warned Israel against further destruction and expulsion, and the demonstration on July 24th in support of the village was the most significant Palestinian-Israeli rally for years. That so many eyes were on, and bodies in, Susiya is testament to the determination of the people of Susiya to remain steadfast on their land, and of the support they receive from the Palestinian Popular Struggle Coordination Committee, Rabbis for Human Rights, B’tselem, Breaking the Silence, Combatants for Peace, Ta’ayush, and others. News came that the “Civil Administration” of the military occupation decided to hold back on the demolition, and that the High Court hearing to appeal the demolition was being delayed while some other arrangement for the villagers to stay on their private land is considered. So for once there was some good news. Susiya remains to live another day, and the Occupation is held at bay.

But the news didn’t stay good for very long. It was a spark of hope in what remain dark times. The same week the Israeli security apparatus shot dead three unarmed Palestinians when soldiers went on arrest raids. Palestinian lives matter. The settlers did not let up on their efforts to grab the land of Susiya for their own use. In any case, Susiya has not yet been saved, merely given a reprieve.

A photograph of 18-month-old Ali Dawabsheh who died in the attack. Irish Times

A photograph of 18-month-old Ali Dawabsheh who died in the attack. Irish Times

Then the news became horrific, with the burning to death in an arson attack on his family’s home, apparently by militant settlers, of 18-month year old Palestinian Ali Dawabsheh. At the site of the attack in the village of Duma, graffiti was painted, including the word “revenge” under a Star of David. Israeli Prime Minister Netanyahu, Defense Minister Ya’alon and President Rivlin were quick to condemn the attack, even to call it Jewish terrorism, and to promise that the criminals would be brought to justice. They were also quick to draw a clear distinction between such extremism and the regular practices of the security forces and state without which the settlements, which are illegal according to international law (and some by Israeli law) could not exist. Palestinian President Abbas however saw the connection between them. And so he should, although it would also be good to see the resources of the Palestinian Authority put to use in support of the harassed Palestinians living under full Israeli military and civil rule in Area C.

The village of Duma, near Nablus, has not been forced to relocate itself as Susiya did in 1986. Nor is it facing any immediate danger of dispossession and dispersal. But the military-bureaucratic post-Olso occupation regime, as reported here, has left the village of Duma isolated among settlements and army bases, restricted movement with roadblocks, limited access to most of its land that is located in Area C, ordered the demolition of homes built in the part of the village located in Area C without the required permits that are almost never given, confiscated land for roads that connect Israeli settlements, and failed to protect it from numerous settler attacks.

"Revenge" graffiti at Duma. Photo from Rabbis for Human Rights

“Revenge” graffiti at Duma. Photo from Rabbis for Human Rights

The revenge attack is made to seem exceptional, its violence impassioned, whereas the routine structural violence of occupation that Netanyahu and Ya’alon practice is made to seem proportionate and justified. Homes of the Dawabsheh family were slated for demolition by the occupation authorities in 2013. Ali Dawabsheh’s murder (and that of any other members of his family who may not survive their severe wounds) is indeed exceptional in its viciousness. But to treat it as a homicidal exception to the politicide of occupation is an alibi for the viciousness and extremism that is the daily practice of governing people without rights whose lives simply don’t matter to their rulers. Occupation is a revenge attack for no crime that was committed by the people of Susiya or of Duma. Occupation is a revenge attack that condemns both those who can find no salvation in vengeance and those who are the target of their misdirected fear and hatred.

As the threat to Susiya grows, so does the need for action.

This is an emergency! Stand with Susiya.

The Leftern Wall

[Graphic put together by Rabbis for Human Rights]

Between July 20th, the end of Ramadan, and August 3rd, the date on which the Israeli Supreme Court will hear Susiya’s case against demolition, there are expected to be a number of demolitions in the village of Susiya.

This is hideous news.

We cannot allow ourselves to be made drowsy or apathetic. Yes, Susiya has been under threat of demolition since 2012. Yes, there have been times when the call to action has been framed as urgent, and in the end, nothing happened (thank God and citizen-activists). Yes, the issue of Susiya, for those who follow this blog or the work of many other human rights NGOs and activists, is not a new one.

And yet: The essence of the story is that residents of a village are threatened with the their homes and medical clinics and playgrounds being demolished simply because…

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