Trip to see "The Bad Fence"

by Adam Keller

Yesterday (Sat June 15) Gush Shalom organised a trip to see the fence from 
two sides. A Gush Shalom ad in Ha'aretz on Friday denounced "The Bad Fence" 
and called upon people to join in a trip and "see for themselves the fence 
and its effects".

And indeed, on the following day we did get a unique demonstration of what 
"separation" is all about — though, it must be admitted, not exactly as 
planned.

Our idea was to visit Bethlehem, which had suffered an invasion and curfew 
more prolonged than any other Palestinian city during Sharon's "Operation 
Defensive Shield" in April, with the suffering and destruction compounded 
in a repeat, week-long invasion in May.

To boot, erection of the "separation fence" had already begun there two 
months ago, with no public announcement.

When the inhabitants were finally able to leave their homes after more than 
a month of curfew they found the northern portion of their city completely 
transformed.

Many kilometres long, rolls of a barbed wire has been spread — barbed wire 
of a new type, not seen before in the Palestinian territories, "wire like 
dozens of razor blades, one on top of the other" as an awed inhabitant 
described it over the phone.

The army had not paid much respect to property rights, cutting through the 
long-held lands of old Bethlehem families.

Seeking to start judicial proceedings against the arbitrary seizure of 
their lands, the Palestinians discovered that the relevant land deeds had 
been removed from the municipal archive, during the month in which 
Bethlehem's Town Hall served as an Israeli military position.

Indeed, it was not difficult to fill a bus and several smaller cars with 
people of good will — but in the process, our intentions became known to 
the police and military, who turned out to be highly attentive and 
interested.

Already while gathering at the terminal in Tel-Aviv's Arlozorov Street 
Railway Station, traditional rendezvous of the peace movement, we had an 
unaccustomed visit from the police, who asked questions and demanded to see 
IDs — especially that of the bus driver, who happened to be the only Arab 
on the spot.

That was the prelude. It was powerfully followed up when we tried to use 
"The Tunnel Road" which goes southward from Jerusalem, bypassing Bethlehem, 
being mainly reserved for settler traffic and with Palestinian traffic 
strictly excluded.

A side road can take you into Bethlehem — most times in the year. But on 
this particular day, there was a police roadblock waiting.

An exceptionally large roadblock, with many dozens of police and at least 
ten patrol cars and jeeps. They knew who we were, too, no use to pretend to 
being innocent hikers.

"I have been instructed to tell you that Bethlehem and all approaches to 
Bethlehem have been declared closed military zones. We will permit 
absolutely no entry."

"We are simply going to see the sights near Har Gilo, no further than 
that."

"That's fine, but we will accompany you, just to make sure that you don't 
lose your way." And they did, too — a whole cavalcade of patrol cars in 
front and behind, for kilometres. An outside observer would have likely 
wondered who were the VIP's in that bus.

Over the phone we heard that our friends in Bethlehem were still waiting 
and hoping for us to arrive. So, we decided to go back to Jerusalem and try 
a different route.

In fact, we tried three different routes. They were all blocked. Even the 
very, very long and roundabout road, lasting an hour through the scenic 
mountains, had its own roadblock, and there too the police were expecting 
us.

There was not even a real pretence of keeping up the "closed military zone" 
routine.

When we pointed to a settler car being allowed through, they said openly 
"it is closed for you, not for them. Our instructions mention specifically 
the bus with these licence plates".

(A single activist, travelling in a private car which was not recognised as 
belonging to us, did make it into Bethlehem and was enthusiastically 
received.)

In a way, we should be flattered. The police thought us worth a major, 
carefully — planned and executed operation.

Preventing a bunch of Israelis from meeting peaceably with Palestinians was 
considered high enough a priority to justify a significant expenditure of 
manpower — and that at a time when (according to the media) the police is 
mobilising its forces "in an effort to intercept five dangerous suicide 
bombers".

In the eyes of somebody, peace is the most explosive mixture of all.

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Gush Shalom (abridged) http://www.gush-shalom.org