Carly A. Krakow
Mada al-Carmel — Arab Center for Applied Social Research
Palestine/Israel
A visit to the city of Hebron is likely to astonish even the most jaded traveler or human rights researcher familiar with the atrocities associated with war, colonialism, and Occupation. Upon arriving in the Old City, you will quickly notice the metal net filtering the sun’s rays above your head. Tragically, it was put in place to filter out objects far more harmful: garbage and stones thrown down onto the Palestinians of Hebron by the Israeli settlers living above. Unfortunately, the net cannot contain the urine and various other liquids also often thrown by settlers.
Hebron is a unique place. It is plagued by a lack of water access, electricity restrictions, and military occupation like much of Palestine, and the settlers living within its city limits are permitted to bear arms. On my trip to Hebron, I saw a settler casually walking down the street, yielding a machine gun. Those who decide not to bear arms need not worry—several IDF soldiers are assigned to accompany a single settler family on a stroll down the street.
On my way to Hebron from Bethlehem, I encountered what is known as a “flying checkpoint,” a military barricade spontaneously established on a road that is supposed to be free and open for travel. The driver of the vehicle I was in was stopped. A Palestinian from Bethlehem, his ID was confiscated, and we were then detained at the “flying checkpoint” at which the IDF soldiers had randomly decided to wreak just a bit of havoc on the lives of Palestinians driving through this particular intersection. It was Saturday—Sabbath—so religious Israelis were not driving. After we were detained for approximately 20 minutes, the driver’s ID was returned, and he was slammed with a fine of 500 shekel (about $132), supposedly because one of the other passengers in our vehicle did not have his seat belt properly fastened. It is worth noting that this justification for the detainment was given after the vehicle (bearing Palestinian license plates) had already been stopped and it had been well established that the driver was a Palestinian.
This brief experience is just a snapshot of life under Occupation. Shortly after our release from the “flying checkpoint,” we passed through Beit Ummar, the village where a 53-year-old Palestinian man was murdered in his own home while trying to aid his wounded son a couple of days earlier.A few days later, I found myself in Nablus. Witnessing the economic desperation in parts of the city and the abuse of Palestinians by settlers in places near Nablus such as Wadi Qana was disturbing enough, though this experience was made much worse upon hearing the horrible news that settlers had burned the home of a Palestinian family in a nearby village, murdering an 18-month-old infant, Ali, inside his home and injuring the rest of the family. This type of violence is sickeningly not new; lest we recall last summer’s war on Gaza, during which over 500 children were killed. Murdering Palestinian children is horrifically not a novel occurrence, but this latest murder—truly terrifying and awful beyond the ability of words to describe—signifies the increasing viciousness of settler extremist violence.