ARRAM, West Bank, 14 September 2003 — The news started trickling in to my office within minutes last Tuesday. There had been a suicide bombing at a bus stop east of Tel Aviv. I could immediately feel the anxiety start to build all around me. We Palestinians have been down the same road many times, and we know what to expect. At some point — we could not know precisely when, but we knew it would happen — the Israeli Army tanks would come roaring down the streets of our cities, wreaking havoc all around.
Colleagues came to ask me for permission to leave early, wanting to get home and make preparations. I listened to them wondering whether they had enough milk for their children, enough food, enough fuel; worrying about getting their sick family members to the hospital, about making contingency plans in case their apartments got hit or demolished. Everyone was expecting the usual siege — the Israelis sweeping in and imposing an extended curfew, imprisoning us in our homes, and firing freely at those who dared or had to move.
But as I listened, what struck me most was the mechanical nature of the reaction I was witnessing — and feeling myself. There was little emotion in the air. There was no effort to analyze what had happened, or why. People were simply discussing logistics as though they were preparing for a snowstorm. We’re so used to it, I thought to myself. The situation is mad, but we’ve adapted to it. A few hours later, I heard about a second bombing at a coffee shop in Jerusalem. Now we were really in for it. And yet the thought filled me not with fear or rage or despair, but simply with hopelessness.
Hopelessness is a Palestinian’s daily companion now. A year, two years ago, I was angry; then the anger became frustration. But now I feel nothing. It’s as though I have a broken heart. Like most, if not all, of my countrymen, I see no end to the cycle of violence, to this Israeli-Palestinian war — and make no mistake, it is a war. We Palestinians feel as though we will just keep watching the same movie over and over again. An Israeli “targeted assassination’’ of a Hamas, Islamic Jihad or Fatah leader, followed by retaliation from our side in the form of a suicide bombing, followed by the Israeli crackdown on the entire Palestinian population, followed by a targeted assassination. ... Blood in the streets, endlessly. We’re just going to keep killing each other unto eternity. And I feel many Israelis are just as puzzled over how to get out of this mess as we are.
A few months ago, the Palestinian people had some slim reason to believe things might change, when Mahmoud Abbas became prime minister and Israeli and Palestinian leaders declared a truce while, supposedly, America’s “road map’’ for peace was put into effect. Hope dared to flourish. It lasted for 50 days.
Then the Israeli leaders resumed their crazy assassination policies and went after five Palestinian factional leaders. The killings were soon followed by a suicide bombing in Jerusalem. And the snowball started rolling again. Now Abbas, who carried the flag of hope, has resigned, and Yasser Arafat is in control once more. His new choice for prime minister, Ahmed Qureia, is a man strongly influenced by Arafat, and he can be expected to do Arafat’s bidding. But do you know what? My people are cheering this. They are cheering for Arafat, whether they like him or not, whether they think he is an effective leader or not. They are forced to get behind him. Why? Because he is the only leader who stands firm against the Israelis, the only one who stands firm behind our legitimate demands for independence. The thousands of Palestinians who flooded the streets of West Bank and Gaza cities at midnight last Thursday to support Arafat and protest the Israeli government’s decision to expel him are living proof of what I am saying. Palestinians support Arafat because nothing changed under Abbas’ four-month government. Here is how we see what happened during his tenure: Abbas managed to arrange a truce between the Palestinian factions and the Israelis. But the Israelis wanted more than that. They wanted Abbas to overcome Hamas, Islamic Jihad and the others by force. They wanted him go after them, to arrest and kill their leaders, to wipe them out, in order to guarantee Israel’s security. There was no way Abbas could do this. First, Hamas and the other radical groups enjoy significant support among the Palestinian population. Attacking them with our own police could mean a Palestinian civil war. But even more significantly, where else in the world has there ever been an occupied nation that was forced to safeguard the security of its occupier? The very idea is ludicrous.
The Israelis demanded everything of Abbas, but they gave him nothing in return. What did we want? Let me tell you first what my life is like: My home is here in Arram, a suburb of Jerusalem. My new job, which I started in July, is in Nablus, about 60 kilometers away. Once upon a time, getting from here to there was a matter of 45 minutes by car. But today Nablus is completely besieged. There are only two entrances to the city; all other roads have been blocked by piles of dirt and concrete barriers. Getting in or out takes hours every day. It isn’t feasible for me to go back and forth to home every day, so during the week I live in Nablus and only go home to my wife and two little girls on weekends. I feel like a prisoner in my own land, and the Israelis do everything they can to reinforce that feeling. After the bombings last week, I started to think logistics like all my colleagues. How would I get home? I decided to take Thursday off from work and head home before any Israeli action might take place. I left Nablus early in the morning. It took me 45 minutes to get to the checkpoint. At the checkpoint I waited two hours before I finally broke through. I thought I was home free, but there was a surprise — well, not really a surprise — ahead. After the bombings, the Israelis, as they often do, had thrown up four more checkpoints along the road. It took me two more hours to get home.
So here’s what I want:
I want these checkpoints removed. I want to be able to move back and forth to my house every day. But the checkpoints remain.
I want the Israelis to stop building their so-called security wall, which is forcing Palestinians into apartheid statehood. They told Abbas they would stop, but they keep building.
I want Israeli tanks out of our cities, but they are there still, 24-7.
It seems to me the Israelis made sure that Abbas would fail. They continued with their targeted assassinations policy, with the confiscation of land, with expansion of settlements, with no regard for the new atmosphere that Abbas and his government were trying to create. Because he was unable to win any concessions, Abbas was unable to build up any popularity among Palestinians. He came to be seen as someone who gave away too much to the Israelis and to the Americans, who completely follow the Israeli line. He was seen to be selling out his own people. And this meant he could not stand up to Arafat and those who opposed or wanted to influence him. He was doomed to failure.
And Arafat, who also failed to empower Abbas, has reaped the benefits. Now he can point to what has happened — or rather, has not happened — and say, “You see, it proves my point. You tried another way. But it does not work.’’ And the people respond to this.
Here is what you have to understand: Palestinians want a democratic, professional, institutionalized government. They probably want a leader who is not Arafat, and who is not influenced by Arafat. But such a leader must take us someplace and give us something new. For Palestinians want their freedom before everything else. A leader independent of Arafat who simply gives away the store to the Israelis is unacceptable.
