NETZARIM, Gaza Strip, 4 November 2003 — Even before the loudspeaker inside her house had stopped blaring the 4:30 a.m. alert that terrorists had infiltrated this small Jewish settlement in the heart of the Gaza Strip, Shlomit Ziv’s two eldest sons were headed down the hall with their pillows and blankets to the family’s safe room.
Her husband, the administrator of the elementary school by day and civil guard by night — or any other time of emergency — grabbed his M-16 rifle and headed out the door, Ziv recalled. She clutched her pistol and joined their seven children in the safe room, closed the bulletproof shutters and locked the door until the all-clear sounded.
Such is life in this community of 400 Jewish settlers, hunkered down in what is considered one of the most isolated, heavily fortified and unsafe of the 155 Israeli settlements in the West Bank and Gaza Strip. In the Oct. 24 incident described by Ziv, a Palestinian succeeded in sneaking through the settlement’s perimeter fence and killing three Israeli soldiers, including two women who apparently were shot as they slept.
The attack sparked a chorus of calls from politicians, newspaper columnists and ordinary citizens for Israeli settlers and soldiers to get out of Gaza, a 25-by-5-mile strip of Mediterranean seafront where 7,000 Jewish settlers live in 17 communities, surrounded by about 1.2 million Palestinians.
Entering the fourth year of a Palestinian uprising in which 900 Israelis and more than 2,500 Palestinians have been killed, the demands for withdrawal from Gaza underscore deep disagreements among Israelis over the boundaries of their country and the land Jews claim is promised to them in the Bible, what is a realistic area to militarily control and defend, and how to achieve peace with the Palestinians.
“Is it reasonable to have a whole battalion of soldiers guarding one settlement with 60 families?’’ asked Yosef “Tommy’’ Lapid, the Israeli justice minister and a leading moderate in Prime Minister Ariel Sharon’s right-wing coalition government.
“Every Hebrew mother ought to ask herself what our sons are falling for, and what we are doing in Netzarim,’’ said Amram Mitzna, a member of Parliament from the opposition Labor Party and a former top army official.
Residents of this 625-acre settlement, founded in 1972, say that their community is part of “Eretz Yisrael,’’ or the Land of Israel, that the Bible says God promised to Abraham. They argue that the settlement, which has an adjacent military post with about 600 soldiers, gives Israel a strategic foothold in Gaza that the army uses for surveillance of the Palestinians and from which it can launch both defensive and offensive military operations. Soldiers from the base frequently man roadblocks that prevent Palestinians from traveling on the main northsouth roads, effectively cutting the Gaza Strip in two.
“Sometimes I’m afraid, but I know it’s very important to be here ... and not let the terrorists have control,’’ said Tomer Naor, 33, an elementary school teacher who has lived in Netzarim with his wife and four children for three years. “God sent me here to live, and I know what I need to do to keep myself and my family safe.’’
“I think this place is so important, with or without the people. It’s important to control Gaza so terrorism doesn’t get into Israel,’’ said Dina Abramson, 21. A religious woman exempt from mandatory service in the Israeli Army, Abramson came to Netzarim three years ago for a brief stint of national service and decided to make the settlement her home.
Abramson said it was the duty of citizens and families — not the army — to stake Israel’s claim to Netzarim. “Books show that since Abraham’s time, this belongs to us,’’ she said. And if the settlement were abandoned, the front line would move up the coast into Israel proper, she said, so living in Netzarim “is the way I protect my family,’’ who live outside occupied Jerusalem.
Many religious scholars say there is little evidence that the area now known as the Gaza Strip was ever widely settled by Jews, although there are some archeological sites that show a small Jewish presence. And despite the strategic value of having soldiers posted in the middle of enemy territory, a large majority of Israelis say it is not worth the price. In a public opinion survey by the Maariv newspaper three months ago, 59 percent of Israelis polled said that all settlements in Gaza should be evacuated.
“If I were not in uniform, I’d tell you we need to get out in a second,’’ said a 44-year-old Israeli reserve soldier this week as he began a one-month assignment at the army’s Netzarim base. Timing is the key, he said, echoing a widely held view here that Israel’s unilateral withdrawal from Lebanon in May 2000 was a sign of weakness that encouraged further Palestinian violence.
“This is not the time to talk about it, because we are under a terror offensive,’’ Defense Minister Shaul Mofaz said of withdrawal during a visit to Netzarim four days after the three Israeli soldiers were killed. “We must not turn every harsh and painful incident such as this into a political issue.’’
But the price of staying is high. According to Israeli military statistics, 12 soldiers and two settlers have been killed in and around Netzarim since the start of the Palestinian uprising in September 2000. Since the beginning of this year, seven Kassam rockets and 54 mortar shells have been fired at the settlement. The most recent Kassam attack occurred Friday.
Netzarim lies about three miles inside Gaza, and to get there from Israel, soldiers, residents and visitors travel along a Palestinian road in heavily armored buses and safari vehicles that are effectively armored boxes on wheels. Buses and safaris run about every 45 minutes, from 7 a.m. until midnight. Each morning, Israeli soldiers inspect the road for mines placed overnight by Palestinians.
According to the Israeli military, since the beginning of the uprising, militants have planted 81 bombs along the main road to Netzarim and some of the side roads that the army patrols, but only 26 were detected and neutralized. Two of the mines that were missed destroyed Israeli tanks, killing six soldiers.
“There have been mistakes,’’ said Yitzhak Wazana, 36, a leader of the settlement who lost an eye and a finger in a suicide attack on his car on the road to Netzarim six years ago, “but one should look at the positive side.’’ He said the settlement “is the most up-front base in the Gaza Strip.’’
The 120 adults and 280 children who live here take some special precautions. Every house is hooked up to a central intercom that warns of Palestinian attacks. Many houses have safe rooms, and virtually every family has a weapon in its home. There are free-standing cement shelters throughout the settlement. Seven-foot-high concrete walls line the elementary school’s playground to protect against shooting attacks. Fences with about a dozen guard towers surround the community. Inside the settlement, large groves of trees were cut down so Palestinian infiltrators would have no place to hide.
The settlement specializes in growing cherry tomatoes, mangoes, cucumbers and other fruits and vegetables, and until about 18 months ago, local Palestinians worked in Netzarim’s fields and greenhouses. But after two residents were killed and another injured in two separate attacks, and a detailed map of the settlement was found on the body of a dead Palestinian infiltrator, the Palestinian laborers were fired and about 30 Thais were hired to take their places, residents said. Despite the risks, residents interviewed said the fear they live with is no worse than the fear of suicide bombers that their countrymen live with in occupied Jerusalem or Tel Aviv.
“They say Netzarim is isolated, but it’s our home,’’ said Ziv, who said that though one of her sons is extremely afraid during the alarms, another takes them in stride and practices the loudspeaker alert in the bath, grabbing the shower head and yelling into it: “All the residents go into their houses!’’