| Date posted: November 04, 2009 By Britain Eakin for MIFTAH | |
| As the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall approaches, I find it appropriate to reflect on what lessons its fall has to teach us about the Wall being built here in Palestine, what is known to Israelis as the “Security Fence” and what is known to many Palestinians as the “Apartheid Wall.” In order to deepen my understanding of its significance and the various meanings it holds, I wanted to see the Wall up close and in person. I decided to travel with a Palestinian friend to Qalqilya, a town in the northern West Bank that is completely surrounded by the Wall. The drive to Qalqilya from Ramallah is nothing less than stunning. The landscape of the West Bank and its terraced hills dotted with olive trees mesmerized me with its beauty. The Palestinian villages along the way seemed to blend into the landscape seamlessly and timelessly. Yet it wasn’t long before I was pulled out of this dreamscape and back into reality. I began to notice Israeli military jeeps, watch towers and checkpoints. Then came the gas stations with Hebrew-only signs, along with the Jewish settlements and outposts; many of the settlers stood on the side of the road trying to hitch rides into Israel. The settlements are unmistakable with their red-tiled roofs and their symmetric design. In contrast to the Palestinian villages, the settlements and outposts look very out of place and in disharmony with the landscape. They sit perched on hilltops, towering ominously over Palestinian areas like cordoned off fortresses surrounded by barbed wire and electric fences. They are guarded heavily by Israeli soldiers, evidence that the Israeli government is facilitating the entire settlement enterprise. The closer we got to Qalqilya, the more numerous the settlements grew, along with my understanding of how problematic they are for the viability of any future Palestinian state. When we arrived in Qalqilya, my friend and I headed for the Wall walking to the Western edge of the town, until we reached what is now the outskirts of Qalqilya and its remaining farmland. In this particular area, the Wall is a massive and obtrusive structure reaching eight meters in height. I felt quite small standing next to it – not only in comparison to the Wall itself, but also in the face of the powers that allow it to exist. Many parts of the Wall cut deep into Palestinian territory. However, this part of the Wall happens to fall along the Green Line, and I could hear the buzzing of cars whizzing by on the Israeli freeway on the other side. As I listened to the cars, I couldn’t help but think that one of the main functions of the Wall is the separation and exclusion of Palestinians from Israel, who have always been considered a “demographic threat” to the Jewish character of the state. After observing the Wall in Qalqilya, we took a taxi to a village just outside of the town where part of my friend’s family lives. We walked through their land and approached the Wall again, which in this particular location consisted of two giant electrified fences separated by a dirt road for Israeli military patrols. I noticed that its appearance closely resembles Israel’s border with Lebanon, although Israel has always denied that the Wall serves as a border. Yet as I observed the landscape, I could see very clearly how the Wall snaked through the land in order to incorporate the settlements into the Israeli side of the Wall. When you see it with your own eyes, there is no doubt that one of the primary functions of the Wall is to annex Palestinian land and resources to Israel. As we surveyed our surroundings, my friend pointed to a hilltop in the near distance. There I could see the familiar red-tiled roofs; however my friend informed me that this particular hilltop falls just outside of the Green Line, and the community there is not considered a settlement because of this. I noticed the landscape differed vastly from the land on the side of the Wall where we stood. I stared at the pine trees and vegetation on the other side, thinking that it looked rather artificial, especially in comparison to the much less developed Palestinian side. It seems Israel is trying to create a landscape that is totally foreign to anything Palestinian. As I stood there taking it all in, my friend pointed to some barely visible ruins on the hillside next to the Israeli homes. He informed me that these ruins are remnants of a house that prior to 1948 belonged to his family. They were forced to flee when Israel was established, and they rebuilt in the area we were now standing on. However, they were forced to move and rebuild yet again a few years later. Apparently they had rebuilt too close to the Green Line for Israel’s liking the first time around. As we continued walking towards his family’s home, I could see the distinct outline of downtown Tel Aviv in the distance, which was highlighted against the pinkish-orange backdrop of the setting sun. I marveled at how small Israel/Palestine is, and thought about how often we forget that many of the people living on the Palestinian side of the Wall once lived in what is now Israel. The Wall to me represents another Israeli manifestation of its desire to separate and exclude those who are non-Jewish. The West Bank, east Jerusalem and Gaza consist of only 22% of historic Palestine. Of that, approximately 40% of the West Bank has been effectively annexed by the Wall, the settlements and the settler bypass roads. This alone should reveal the writing on the wall – there is no possibility of a two-state solution if these facts on the ground continue to exist. If there’s anything we can and should learn from the fall of the Berlin Wall, it’s that walls and separation are not solutions, particularly when they inflict severe injustice onto an entire group of people. Britain Eakin is a Writer for the Media and Information Program at the Palestinian Initiative for the Promotion of Global Dialogue and Democracy (MIFTAH). She can be contacted at mip@miftah.org. | |
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