Tonight, the Israeli-Palestinian film Ajami might take home an Oscar. The Palestinian co-director of the film has stated today that he “does not represent Israel” . Below is a video from Israel Puterman from last week’s protest in Yafo against police brutality.

Bil’in, 5/3/2010

In Bil’in dozens suffered from gas inhalation when troops suppressed a march against the Israeli occupation organized by the Popular Committee Against the Wall and settlements. The demonstration was a manifestation against the wall being built on Bil’in’s land and the annexation and expansion of Israeli apartheid. The occupation forces fired tear gas towards the citizens of Bil’in, foreign peace activists and peace-loving Israelis.

This week’s demonstartion marked the Global Week against racism in the world and coincided with many popular events against racism and oppression against the peoples and territories – in particular the Palestinian people. The demonstration begun after Friday prayers and marched from the centre of the village, then continued to the western gate of the wall. Over one hundred people participated in the march, including a group from the PFLP (The Popular front for the Liberation of Palestine) and a delegation from the Freedom Theatre in Jenin. The demonstration was headed by people dressed up as three prominent figures in the global struggle against racism and occupation: Mahatma Gandhi, Nelson Mandela and Martin Luther King. Palestinian flags were raised and toured the village streets as the participants chanted slogans condemning the wall and the occupation.

As the march reached the wall it was met with a shower of tear gas, rubber bullets and sound bombs, then clashes broke out between demonstrators and occupation soldiers. The demonstartion lasted for hours as troops deliberately fired tear gas towards crews of journalists from Palestine TV and other stations to discourage the footage from the International Week Against Racism -and the Popular Committee’s condemnation of Israel’s racist and immoral practices- from being broadcast. In response, the Popular Committee stressed the need for cohesion, national unity and solidarity and highlighted that it was in the public interest for everyone involved in anti-racist stuggles to stand shoulder to shoulder with each other.

Below is a reportage from a Ta’ayush activist about Beit Jala. An action took place there yesterday in an attempt to save an olive grove from destruction in order to make space for the annexation wall that Israel is building through the West Bank.

Beit Jala 3/3/2010

Already when driving on route 60, we saw the intimidating bulldozers riding on the side of the road on their way to another day of “putting facts on the ground” as chiefs of the Israeli government call it. As we arrived in Beit Jalla, a heart-breaking scene came into view – a huge pile of sawed trees and olive and lemon branches spread all across the yard of the house next to the wall’s path. A yard it cannot really be called anymore – the grass is turned over, two children’s swings were uprooted and put aside, and the only thing left standing is a brick oven, with mounds of dirt and mud all around it. 10 olive trees were cut down here already yesterday. A red X on the front floor of the house marks the path of the wall to pass here, which will seize the whole yard area and cut the only access driveway to it. It’s hard to imagine how life would look like in this place in a week or two.
We were 45 protesters – 25 Palestinians, 15 international activists and 4 Israelis. We descended to the works path trying to stop the bulldozers. A group of twenty soldiers prevented us from doing so, and began pushing us up the hill without showing a closed military area order as they are required. While the bulldozer’s claws were uprooting trees one after the other, we explained to the officers that their actions violate numerous international laws, as well as the fact that they may not tell us to move without the order. We were pushed up the hill a few more meters to where we sat on the ground demanding to see a printed order before we move any further. At 08:53 they brought the papers and the officers declared the area will become a “closed military zone” within 7 minutes. One of them held two stun grenades with a nasty grin on his face. We reminded them again that constructing the wall on West Bank lands is a crime according to international law, as well as the settlers-only road which it “protects” and that they still may put down their guns/ and join us. A bearded IDF captain told us that the only law he follows is the biblical law. Rabbai Arik Ascherman referred him to to read the chapter in the book of Deuteronomy which refers to uprooting of fruit trees.

At 09:00 precisely they started pushing and dragging us up the hill again. 2 Israelis and one international activist were detained for a few minutes and were released shortly thereafter. Two Arab TV network reporters stationed on the upper road to report the events. Two young women from Beit Jalla were prominent among the protesters. As one of the officers told on of them them “Min fadlak, ruch min hon” (Please go away from here), she replied wisely “Min fadlak, ruch leIsrail” (Please, go back to Israel), with her finger pointing north-west.

When we left, the bulldozers were still working with all their might.

Written by a Ta’ayush activist about the events in Sheikh Jarrah last week.

Friday February 24 in Sheikh Jarrah

Even in the rain and cold, the residents of Sheikh Jarrah and their supporters won’t give up. I arrived in Sheikh Jarrah at 10 am, equipped with hummus and 4 layers of clothing, leaping over puddles in a failed attempt to keep my socks dry. I quicken my pace turning off of Nablus Road, glancing up at the occupied Hanoun home and continuing down the left fork towards the Ghawi and El-Kurd houses.

Empty. Deserted. No police, no settlers, no tent even. It reminds me of the times, it must be half a year ago by now, before the evictions, before the tents (except for Umm Kamel’s), before the gatherings on the sidewalk instead of in the houses, the protests, arrests, violence, the pray-offs, the new ‘neighbors’. They were tense times, but hopeful ones. Mostly international but also many Israeli activists committing themselves to be handcuffed to the gates of the houses in case of eviction, others to shield them from the police’s inevitable blows. This situation, with an eviction constantly possible, stood over the Ghawi and Hanoun families for months. Both moved their furniture out so as not to lose it to the eviction (as had happened to the Hanouns during their first eviction several years ago). It’s unclear which situation was tougher on them, this one or that one.

Back to February 2010, and once again there is no tent. What’s happened to it? I’ve been out of town for several weeks, but I’d become accustomed to the blue tent with the bearded Sheikh Nasser al Ghawi, several playing children, several cigarette smoking middle-aged Palestinians and an inviting fire. Surely torn down by the police for the umpteenth time. Later I find out the police in recent weeks have been tearing it down every morning at nine o’clock. For a while, Nasser would take it down every morning. Then they would arrive at all times of day and night and take it down. He gave up and moved into the tent in the El-Kurd house courtyard. I walk in there, leaping over a particularly vibrant flow of water down towards the olive grove at the end of the street. Peeking into the tent, I spot two sleeping international activists. Sitting in the tent, I can’t help but notice how uncomfortable is the settler knocking on the front door to the occupied section of the El-Kurd house. He calls frantically on his phone, knocks every 5 seconds, peeks through the window. “What do you know, they aren’t home. They’ve been evicted already, in case you hadn’t heard,” I can’t help but mutter.

A couple of hours later, things start happening. The police and border police, decked out in head to foot waterproof jumpsuits, gather by the entrance to Simon the Righteous’ Tomb. Around 1 pm they set up three checkpoints along the street: one at the entrance, one just before the turnoff to the tomb, and the last one at the end of the street, by the olive grove. Non-residents (which seems to translates as people who don’t look visibly like religious Jews) are prevented from entering. The horrid weather continues, hours of rain followed by hail yielding to a moment of sun and then more fat, heavy, contemplative rain.
Wandering back out of the tent, I hear the drums and head out to the protest.

This week they have built papier mache dolls with signs like “Apartheid is here” and “Jerusalem will not be Hebron”. The dolls, many human size are protected by the remaining unbroken umbrellas. The feeling is carnivalesque, the drummers are pumped, and the police are in a circle across the street, surely cursing us for making them spend their Friday afternoon in the rain. The chants get louder and the rain harder. We are no more than 70 or 80 people, the square more than half empty. But the act itself is impressive; surely Friday afternoon in the worst storm of the year should be spent at home? Apparently not. Sahar thinks up: “With a coat and umbrella, we won’t stand for discrimination” (it rhymes in Hebrew, trust me on this one). I am recruited to help pass out flyers listing the violations of international law committed by Jerusalem Mayor Nir Barkat. Within minutes the stack is soaked, breaking apart and running ink.

A representative of J-Street (“pro-Israel and pro-peace”) is there. He wants to present the protesters with a list of signatures from their supporters in solidarity with our struggle in Sheikh Jarrah. His megaphone hardly works, the hail has returned, the umbrella being held over him is flopping wildly; we are all being soaked, and he continues with his prepared speech. At the end, he opens a scroll of some several thousand signatures, and someone pulls the other end, backing up. It is almost as long as the crowd trying to listen. The drummers return to action, the adrenaline flows, and the chanting becomes frantic, preposterous, joyful, wet. At some point “Whoever doesn’t jump is a policeman” gets going, and not a soul there can keep from smiling, let alone jumping.

After a relatively short time, we head home, people yelling out the number of seats left in their cars and where they are going. It is impossible after a protest like this to discount the importance of peaceful protest and opposition, if for no other reason than the very energy in moments like this one. It is hard for me to see how this kind of commitment can lose.

Two weeks ago Mairav and I gave an interview to Pressenza about Ta’ayush.

Pressenza: Critics of non-violence say that non-violent methods may be morally right, but they are inefficient. Also, there always seems to be a justification for the absolute necessity of an immediate violent intervention… What is your explanation for the choice of non-violence?

MZ: In the international media the Palestinian resistance has been known to be quite violent, so we need to make our struggle more credible. Also, we are citizens of a country that claims to be democratic, so for us, unlike for the military, it is most important to uphold basic values. We have been met with a lot of verbal and physical violence, but both for your own soul when you go home at night and for the legitimacy of the opposition, it is important to remain non-violent.

JD: Ta’ayush as an organization is very non-conformist and very free form. We do not have any political stands on whether there should be one states, two states, five states, seven states…The only two things that we can agree on is that we are non-violent and that we are against the occupation. This is the foundation of our initiative, maybe as a reaction to the intensely militarized society that we live in. One of our goals is not to engage in the game of provoking and then responding to violence with violence. Also, if we were tempted to react in a violent way, we would be very quickly discredited and we would all go to jail immediately. So we have to look at the situation as pragmatically as possible.

Have a look at the entire interview.

On the afternoon of February 25, 2010 about 300 Palestinian, Israeli, and International activists met at the Hebron municipality where they made posters, distributed t-shirts and hats, and spoke with media personnel before they began the march towards Shuhada Street in Hebron. The protesters marched in the rain waving flags, linking arms, and chanting slogans in Arabic, Hebrew, and English. The protesters remained true to their commitment to nonviolence, yet they were met by a very heavy army presence which was quick to deploy harsh crowd dispersal techniques that included a heavy amount of tear gas and stunt grenades. The tear gas canisters were fired from all directions, often coming very close to hitting people. A few elderly protesters fainted and were evacuated by ambulance. Protestors scattered and rain in all directions to avoid the tear gas, but the army appeared to be surrounding the protest and shooting from all sides. The army continually tried to push the protesters further back by creating a human wall and physically pushing the protesters who, in response, formed their own wall to withstand the pressure. Three Israelis were picked out the crowd at random, taken away by the police and detained temporarily. One international activist was arrested and then released several hours later. The clashes between the military, police, protesters, and a few notorious settlers continued for about an hour and 45 minutes until a final barrage of tear gas caused everyone to retreat.

a Letter from Zleikha Muhtaseb, resident of Shuhada Street:

What it means to re-open Shuhada Street..

Many people migh think why do we need to have Shuhada Street open.. it’s one of the most important streets in Hebron, as it connects the northern part of the city to the south. Not only this, it also connects people.. many people have lost their social life when the Street was closed, because their relatives and friends do not like to be stopped at the check-points or in the streets when they come to visit. And when they visited in the past, it used to be a walking distance, but now they need to take a detour around the city to get to the house they desire. People now think ten times when they plan a visit to house at Shuhada Street. First, they have to consider the time that they will take for the visit, and the money they will spend. Many people lost their businesses when Shuhada Street was closed and the job opportunities are less available these day than before, so they have to think money wise.

Personally, I live at Shuhada Street but I can’t use my front door because I am Palestinian. My neighbours made an opening in their wall to make me a passage so that I don’t become a hostage in my house. In fact I live like a prisoner in my house.. I have installed some wire fence on my balconies to be protected from the stones “gifts” that the settlers always throw at the house. Before the fence, I could not open my shutters. If by mistake I left the shutters open, I would immediately recieve the “gifts” from these settlers. I still recieve these “gifts” but they do not hit me like before. I collected these “gifts” and used them to decorate my garden and wrote the word “peace” in Arabic.

It’s really hard to live where I am because everything is closed, I used to go shopping nearby, but now if I go shopping, I need to walk a distance and carry my shopping because I can’t bring my shopping home in a car. One time I had a sever kidney pain, I could not have the ambulance in front of my door to go to the hospital. My brother’s house is 2 minutes walk from Shuhada, but I need to walk about 20 minutes to get to his house.

The Israeli army and police always tell us that they are in the area for the protection of both Palestinians and Israelis, but in fact, they stormed my house 3 times in one week to check about a complaint from a soldier that some children threw stones at the street from my house, although I live only with my mother and have no children. Many times the settler children and youth threw stones at my house and I filed complaints to the soldiers and police, and they did nothing to stop it.

Opening Shuhada Street is a big need for peace and humanity.

Zleikha Muhtaseb
Shuhada Street

For More Information Click

22 February 2010

At 9:30am residents of Bil’in village, Palestinian political representatives, and International activists gathered in Bil’in to plant olive trees and almond seeds for 20 farmers who own land besides Israel’s Apartheid Wall. Approximately 200 trees were planted as part of the ongoing popular resistance to the Israeli apartheid wall and settlements. Bil’in has organized weekly and sometimes daily actions against the wall for the past five years, gaining international attention for the struggle and becoming a symbol for nonviolent, creative, popular struggle around the West Bank of Palestine.

An hour into the planting, an Israeli soldier appeared on the other side of the wall and gave a warning shot. He stated that planting next to the Wall is forbidden and that people were to stay 10 metres away from the wall. A jeep with four soldiers arrived and stood guard as the people continued planting slightly farther from the wall.

Two years ago the Israeli Supreme Court had deemed the path of the Wall, which cuts through Bil’in’s agricultural land to be illegal. Construction work to reroute the Wall in Bil’in began on February 11th, 2010. Israel has twice been found to be in contempt of court for not implementing the decision sooner. Residents of the village have had permission to access their land on the other side of the wall even before the courts ruling two years ago. Today, farmers planted 80 trees on the other side of the wall.

A complex logistic operation of the A.A. Wall travel agency brought over 300 people from Israel to Bil’in’s 5th anniversary demonstration. Despite several attempts, the army managed to prevent only a small number of cars from entering the village. The demonstrators joined radical clowns, a Palestinian prime minister, the Ka/Ya-Samba percussionists, representatives of various Palestinian parties, The Palestinian Struggle Youth Union marching band, one mayor from Geneva, dozens of journalists and supporters from all over Palestine and other parts of the world to express solidarity with the local wo/men of Bil’in in their struggle against the evils of the Israeli Occupation. After a string of speeches in various languages and a jam session of the Palestinian marching band and the percussionists residing between the wall and the Mediterranean, over 1,000 people marched to the wall. The soldiers stood behind their usual post, and so the demonstrators broke forward, crossed the gate, bent the fence, crossed it, and marched over the soldiers’ front post. After a few minutes of ecstasy, while dignitaries were still making their way forward, the army’s foul water cannon made a surprise guest appearance, and managed to push the demonstrators back behind the fence. In a typical expression of oppression, after the demonstrators backed away from the smelly water, the army used a cannon to fire dozens of gas canisters – not into the few demonstrators at the front, but rather into the hundreds retreating or standing peacefully behind. The wind coming down the path combined with the panic of inexperienced demonstrators led to many injuries from gas inhalation, impact and falling. After the initial dispersal some demonstrators remained to absorb exceptionally large amounts of gas for the struggle. As has become customary lately, when the last demonstrators were on their way to the village, a few soldiers invaded the village, but due to the massive presence of supporters, they settled for one more round of gas, returning to bask in their own stench.

This Friday!