Journal, April 3, 2006—Ramallah

Photos: Protecting the Lands of Bil'in

Other photos and writing

Protecting the Lands of Bil'in

Now about Bil'in, my second journey there. Begin with a dream, I believe directly about Bil'in.   I was sitting on a Palestinian terrace, opposite one of the neighboring massive Israeli colonies, watching the settlement grow before my eyes. The swarming settlement was a spilled ink blob, an ameba or a thriving cancer, swishing, pulsating, and expanding in a terrifying manner. I felt--despairingly--utterly unable to stop the growth.

The idea of this Friday's Bil'in action was loss of food due to the occupation. The local organizers tried to symbolize this by carrying a large sheet metal tub with a small boy in it waving a Palestine flag. But I doubt many understood, because in the review session afterwards, the first question was, what was that tube all about? Earlier, I'd heard a snatch of an explanation, something about carrying food, or having no food because of the occupation, but then, watching people heave the tub over the razor wired fence gate, a few people theorized the tub was a tool for surmounting the barrier.

Despite the ambiguity, we forged ahead with the demonstration, mostly not violent, well attended (compared with recent days),   high-spirited, but for many, I'm guessing, ultimately frustrating. The Israeli colony continues to expand, the occupation grows more restrictive, the world is largely silent and blind about events in Israel-Palestine--the Israelis get their way, illegally, immorally, and perhaps ultimately self destructively.

Because the day before was Land Day, celebrated nationally, this was slated to be a big event. Thus, many internationals, Israelis, media, and embassy and consular officials attended. The parking area was jammed with SUVs, not necessarily a good sign in my opinion.

Several incidents and people stand out for me personally:

A young Australian man, James, here with ISM, tried to hang on to the bridge or ladder brought by the Palestinians. Police and soldiers pushed him hard, I show him grimacing, perhaps in pain. Later I learned he'd been arrested, one of about 3 internationals arrested (including a German journalist), and 3 Israelis, no Palestinians. I learned later that he'd been interrogated and released, all charges dropped.

I'd met James 3 weeks ago, when I was trying to find my way to the ISM media office in Ramallah. He'd come to meet and guide me. He is slender, has a heavy black beard, and very mobile face. On our walk and subsequently I learned he is a dedicated soul, well onto the ways of Palestinians, willing to risk his life, and has an admirable sense of humor.

Another young ISMer, Anna, is adept at confronting soldiers, engaging them in conversation, asking them why they are "just following orders." "You have no right to be here," she said, "this is not your land, go back home to Israel." During this conversation, I noticed one solider going to the one that was talking to her and saying the equivalent of, "Buzz off, don't talk with her, don't even look at her."

She used her hands well, blocking in a gentle way a potentially vicious act. She was not only fact to face with the soldiers, but body to body. The body contact is close and regular. Yes, something sexual in all this, something most surprising, given the context and the potential for violence.

Bam--a sound grenade, near me once again, surprising and making me shake. Very hard to control the camera with these damn things going off. Then I remembered something from our orientation: when the soldiers start throwing grenades, stand close to them, they won't throw them at themselves.

One great surprise for me, a gringo used to the relatively more aggressive ways of the US police, is that I have virtually free access to the military as a guy with a big camera, looking like a pro, a photojournalist perhaps. With only a few exceptions, I can walk among, behind, and with the soldiers and police. I'm always wary of a sudden explosion of energy and anger, flames about to burst forth, that at any moment someone could slap my face, crack me across the head, knock me down, smash my camera. So with one eye out for danger, the other for photos, I merrily and warily try to do my job.

Uri Avery is in his 80s and very easy to pick out in a crowd. He has flowing white hair and a white beard. He walks with a strong gait. I noticed him first in the procession from the village to the demonstration site, then again standing to one side holding a sign in Arabic and Hebrew, Gush Shalom, Peace Block . Tempted to interrupt his concentration by asking to shake his hand, I refrained, merely watching long enough to try to get a decent portrait of this Israeli guru of the peace and justice movement. I'd just read his analysis of the recent Israeli election results, calling the old force of influence represented by former prime minister Sharon severely weakened, the settler moment feeble, widely rejected by voting results. You can read his words at the link below.

During the election campaign, a right wing candidate called for his assassination. Hearing of this internationally, respecting Uri's courage and wisdom, many rallied to his support.

Later I heard that his wife had been injured at this demonstration by a stun grenade, a piece of hot metal burning her leg. She was one of several injuries: a journalist was hit in the back by a rubber-coated bullet, solders knocked a young Israeli woman to the ground, cutting her leg, and a boy apparently throwing rocks was hit by a rubber bullet. The wind was too strong for tear gas to do much damage. Compared with some days, this was called "quiet."

During one lull in the action--typically the events span several hours, alternating between high dangerous energy and not much going on, a standoff, who will leave first?--I climbed a small hill, careful of the slippery limestone rocks and found myself standing next to an elderly woman who spontaneously offered an observation to me. She spoke in heavily accented English, sounding Israeli. "How strange," she exclaimed, "the victims become the victimizers, the powerless the powerful, the people that have lived here for millennia now the outcasts. David is Goliath and Goliath David" Her name in Hebrew is "Mother of Moses" and she is with Women in Black, missing today's vigil in Jerusalem (every Friday at 1 pm in the central city) because they were called to be in Bil'in today for this important event.

As the Palestinians were chanting to the soldiers and police, she translated--In Hebrew they are saying, "go home, your mothers are calling you, you have no right to be here, this is our land." I noticed several Israelis, 3 young women and 2 older men, speaking, sometimes shouting at the soldiers, always in Hebrew, and I'd surmise they were telling them they have to think carefully about "just following orders"--Remember what the Nazis said during the Nuremberg trials.

Walking back to the village together, the "Mother of Moses" told me about a well-known   take off on the Passover prayers that depicts with scathing irony how distorted Judaism has become when it is used to justify the occupation. "David has become Goliath, and Goliath, David."

The young women, the elderly woman, and Uri Avery were not the only Jews in Bil'in yesterday. I'd noticed a man walking with a tottering old woman, holding her hand. We met. His name is Dani, he is Jewish, he is Israeli, and he is in Bil'in regularly.

He told me--We came in a bus of 53 people, and upwards of 20 more Israelis came privately. Unfortunately this is not a large number compared to one year ago when this all started in Bil'in. People have grown weary, frustrated, demoralized, burned out. So little change from so much effort. Getting here from the north, from Haifa and beyond, is laborious. A long ride. This requires an entire day, and when it is weekly, it is a huge investment in time.

What keeps you coming?--I inquired.

After explaining first that he was single and currently unemployed, he added some important details.

--20 years ago I was solidly on the right. I believed the Israeli line of special privilege, a land without a people for a people without land, given by God, a covenant documented in scripture. But I changed, now I place myself in a different camp.

--One turning point occurred about 5 years ago when I heard a man running for some office declare that all the Arabs should be removed, they call it transfer, I call it something worse. I found a political party that opposed this shocking line and began attending their meetings. Eventually I volunteered, that was the beginning of my politically active life."

I promised to try to tell a small part of his story, and I show him in the follow-up meeting discussing new strategies with the Palestinian organizers.

During one of the lulls, giving me a chance to observe more carefully, I tried to show the context, where all this is happening, the juxtaposition with the settlement block, the way the fence cuts off the village from the farm land, the huge swatch of territory taken by the fence itself. What doesn't show in my photos is the illegality and wrong headedness of this land confiscation.

I confess to being intrigued by soldiers. Weapons. Anger. Violence. Most seductive, at least for a person like myself: male, from a violent culture, a nation built largely on the violence and inhumanity of slavery and genocide. A failed state, in the recent words of Noam Chomsky. So I concentrate on weapons, not only the conspicuous rifles and grenades and tear gas canisters, but the clubs. These are rudimentary, mere sticks of wood. In the hands of some of the young Israelis, the more relaxed among them, clubs could be tools, instruments of production, extracting food from the earth, feeding others, beating a Buddhist prayer drum. But in the hands of some--one in particular that I noticed--they are potentially lethal instruments. I show this man's hands, red and clenched, tight around his weapon, ready to wield it if given the order.

Luckily, today, for now, no clubbing, that I witnessed at least. But had there been, who would have noticed? Among the world population, Bil'in is a mere pimple on the pumpkin, a blip on the media radar, but for at least two people, the hitter and the hit, we would have an act of inhumanity that will be forever recorded into the great book of life.

And finally, the last personal highlight, very personal, the monk in orange, with the odd head covering, beating a small drum, chanting Namu Myoho Renge Kyo . Who in the world is this?

Some will recognize the attributes and guess: a monk of the Japanese Buddhist order Nipponzan Myohoji, builders of peace pagodas, conductors of walks and pilgrimages, out of the temple and into the streets and villages, Buddhism at its best, engaged Buddhism, my kind of Buddhism, my kind of religion. This is Brother Horikoshi, solitary monk of the order in Israel-Palestine. His is a steadfast witness to the phenomena of the occupation. A stalwart soul, part of a small worldwide order with pagodas in New England and New York, temples and pagodas throughout the world. For me, somewhat lonely, scattered,   and forlorn, a roving reporter and photographer, he is inspiration. Thank you, dear monks and nuns of the resolute Buddhist peace community, thank you Jews from Israel and elsewhere, thank you internationals from around the world, thank you resolute Palestinians, thank you media who dare to enter the fray, thank you readers who might be interested in finally taking action. There is hope yet.

"Diplomats Observe Bil'in Demonstration," 3-31-06, Gush Shalom (scroll down to find the article)

"Bil'in Tries to Bridge Over Troubled Waters"
April 1st, 2006 | Posted in Reports , Bil'in Village

Bil'in, a village in Palestine

Land Day

"Who Sits with us at our Seder?" - A Hagadda supplement, from Rabbis for Human Rights

"What the Hell has Happened?" an analysis of the recent Israeli election by Uri Avnery, March 3, 2006