from the village voice (npc)

[Dlofdahl]

Impunity and Its Discontents

Letter From Palestine


    
 
This is the A-Rum checkpoint, a few miles outside of Jerusalem, where two repor
ters wait on the side of the road for a taxi back to the Old City. The family s
tanding next to us borrows our cell phone; their cab is late. Jehad, the photog
rapher, is making faces at their youngest, who clings coyly to her beleaguered 
father's pantleg and plays along. 
The Israeli army jeep with several soldiers pulls up to the corner where we all
 stand, and Teenage Soldier 1 (I'll call him TS1) gets out of the passenger sid
e and playfully tosses a soda can at the family. Then, still having fun, he tos
ses a concussion grenade in the same direction, prompting the father to grab hi
s children and run. The Voice reporters, unused to dodging explosives, stare du
mbly at the smoking orange cylinder a few feet away, and then it blows up. Conc
ussion grenades can break bones. Everyone gets off easy this time, slightly dis
oriented and temporarily deaf. 

But TS1 is not done. He hops back into the jeep, and the soldiers tear off for 
100 feet to the concrete blocks that mark the checkpoint proper, where a Palest
inian van waits for permission to pass. TS2, sporting the same peroxide-blond c
oif as his partner, asks the driver a question, and then the two soldiers charg
e over to the passenger side, pull out a Palestinian teenager, and while TS1 st
eadies the lethal end of his M16 an inch from the boy's nose, TS2 kicks the shi
t out of him with his boot. I look at Jehad, whose usual thirst for bang-bang h
as fled; his camera stays in his bag, and he whispers, "They're going to shoot 
him." But they don't shoot him, instead hauling him off, shackled, blindfolded,
 and surely bruised, to the waiting jeep. 

The Israel Defense Forces (IDF) spokesperson is available 24 hours to journalis
ts, which is a real help. A pleasant woman answers the phone, and I ask her abo
ut the incident at the A-Rum checkpoint. 

"I don't know about this," she confesses. "But probably this boy was carrying a
 bag?" I'm not sure, I reply, thinking that I usually carry a bag. Does she car
ry a bag? But we're getting nowhere, and another genial spokesperson finally su
ggests that I call the prime minister's office for more information. 

The Israeli human rights group B'Tselem has tracked Israel's investigations int
o abuse by its soldiers from the start of the current intifada in October 2000 
through the beginning of May. The group reports that of the 125 cases opened, 1
2 criminal indictments have been handed down, and eight cases have prompted dis
ciplinary proceedings. Three of the indictments were for "firing offenses (one 
killing and two injuries)," but the guilty soldiers have yet to be sentenced. A
nother three were related to "violence and brutality," and concerned an inciden
t in which soldiers detained two taxis, severely beat the male Palestinian occu
pants, and then ordered the Palestinians to beat each other. 

"When you talk about statistics, the numbers of investigations that were opened
 compared to the number that should be investigated is amazingly low," says Lio
r Yavne of B'Tselem. "Up until April 1, only 12 death cases were opened, from t
he several hundred civilians killed during the intifada." 

An investigation last December by the Los Angeles Times into abuses by the IDF 
came to similar conclusions, finding that killings by the army are given "curso
ry, on-site review, and, if any fault is found, chalked up to justifiable error
 or the fog of war. Fuller inquiry is seldom pursued." Both studies cite Israel
's contention that they are engaged in an "armed conflict short of war" as at l
east partially responsible for the greater impunity its soldiers seem to displa
y. The conflict is "short" of war because the Palestinians do not have an army.
 

Of course, the incident at the A-Rum checkpoint is a minor one compared to most
 Palestinian tales of abuse. One Palestinian woman tells me that four Israeli s
oldiers beat her one day for "mouthing off." Although she is an Israeli citizen
, she has not reported the incident, and cannot really explain why. Many who ha
ve heard victims' testimonies say this is commonplace, as Palestinians who poss
ess either Israeli citizenship or the coveted identification cards that actuall
y allow them to work keep quiet for fear these privileges will be taken away. 

In search of more bang-bang, we decide to travel to Bethlehem, which is officia
lly closed for IDF operations. We find a way through neighboring Beit Jala, and
 travel a whole 200 meters before our taxi driver stops and points to an Israel
i jeep. This is a "targeted operation": IDF soldiers going house to house to gr
ab the men they want. The neighborhood is watching the whole thing from balconi
esāthis part of Beit Jala has missed most of the latest action. For the next fi
ve hours, we sit in the bushes and watch as the Israelis blow up doors, shoot u
p houses, and arrest people. 

To make sure no one misses the fun, the army rounds up some 30 Palestinians who
 live in or near the houses they've targeted, and make them watch the show. But
 some of them are blindfolded, so they'll miss the best partāa sighting of what
 appears to be a real-life "human shield," not three weeks after the IDF declar
ed that it was "absolutely forbidden" for its soldiers "to use civilians of any
 kind as a means of 'living shield' against gunfire or attacks by the Palestini
an side, or as 'hostages.' " But there one is, a Palestinian man in his mid thi
rties, knocking on the door, his hands raised, with soldiers cowering behind hi
m. 

The IDF spokesman takes a couple of days to comment on our pictures of the Beit
 Jala incursion, but does call back, good-natured as always. Captain Jacob Dall
al thinks the real issue is terminology. "I reject the use of the term 'human s
hield,' " he says, steering me to the preferred "guides for informational purpo
ses". He points out that the operations we witnessed netted the taxi driver of 
the Rishon Letzion bombings, and says that the use of civilians to grab suspect
ed terrorists "is reasonable." 

"We're living under terrible circumstances here," Dallal says, casually. "What 
do you want?" 

Moshe Nissim's easygoing demeanor earned him the nickname "Kurdi Bear." Last mo
nth, Nissim, an army reservist, gave an interview to the Israeli daily Yediot A
hronoth, in which he recalled his experience operating a bulldozer in the Jenin
 refugee camp. He told the paper that after placing the flag of his soccer team
, Beitar, atop his American-made Caterpillar D9 bulldozer, he started flattenin
g houses. "When they told me to destroy a house, I took advantage of it and rui
ned a few more . . . the soldiers warned with a speaker, that the tenants must 
leave before I come in, but I did not give anyone a chance . . . others may hav
e been more restrained. Or they say they have. Don't believe their stories." 

For those unfamiliar with the D9, it is a wonder to behold, sort of the Great W
hite of bulldozers. Manufactured by the Caterpillar company of Peoria, Illinois
, it weighs over 50 tons without armor. "D9" is now a fixture in the growing Am
erican lexicon of Palestinian teenagers, along with words like "Apache," "Cobra
," and "F-sittosh" (F-16). Usually, the Israeli army requires lengthy training 
before allowing soldiers to operate the D9. Moshe Nissim says he trained on the
 beast for only two hours. 

Nissim says the army brass ordered the D9s out of the camp quickly, lest the in
ternational press get a look at them. "Jenin empowered me," says Nissim, who dr
ank whiskey and munched on snacks in order to stay awake while he bulldozed. "I
 answered to no one."