I held my British Airways online ticket squarely in my hand as I walked through the sliding glass door of the Ben Gurion International Airport. It was nearly 4:00 AM. My flight would not leave for another 3 1/2 hours.
Vivid memories of my last experience at this particular airport whirled through my mind as the first security checkpoint came into distant view. I began to scoot my luggage forward with reluctant optimism, as the airport appeared vacant of aspiring passengers.
“Excuse me, Miss!” a voice called from behind. I turned around to see a young Shin Bet officer smiling at me through thick-framed Harry Potter glasses. He proudly exhibited a shiny new badge on his chest with the word “Trainee” printed in bold English and Hebrew letters. “My name is Yoav. If you don’t mind, I’m going to practice asking you some procedural questions before your flight! Is that okay?” His voice rang with enthusiasm, something I had not experienced during my previous encounter with the Ben Gurion Shin Bet unit. I was flattered to have attracted the attention of a mere trainee. I must look innocent.
I glanced to the side to see a large Shin Bet officer, bearing a large shiny badge that read “Supervisor” in big letters, hovering over Yoav. Supervisor wore a scowl reminiscent of Professor Snape, sinister and judging, awaiting Potter’s inevitable screw up. Oh great, I thought to myself. This is so not going to be a pleasant experience.
So the questioning began. “Why were you in Israel?” “What were you researching?” “Who do you work for?” “Who paid for your trip?” “What is your occupation?” “Where do you go to school?” (and the characteristic *gasp* that follows after I say “The American University in Cairo”) “You study in Egypt?” “What do you study there?” “WHY are you studying the Middle East?” “So you LIVE in the US but you STUDY in Egypt?” “Why?” “Why are you interested in the conflict?” “Why this conflict and not other conflicts?” “How did you conduct your research?” “Do you have notes?”
“Where in Israel did you go?” “How many times did you go to West Bank?” “Where did you go?” “Who did you meet there?” “Why were you in Hevron?” “Who did you meet there?” “Where did you live?” “How many buses did you take?” “Have you been to Tel Aviv?” “What is the bus number from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv?”
“Did you make any friends in Israel?” “What are their names and where do they live?” “So you have Jewish friends in Israel, but do you have any Arab friends?”
“Why were you in Egypt for so long?” “Who are your friends there?” “What are their names?” “Who did you live with?” “Who did you travel with?”
You get the idea. This went on for a little over an hour, and I was shuffled between four different officers, sometimes more than one at once. It went considerably better than last time, though I encountered a few problems explaining to Shin Bet why I had tear gas in my duffle bag (its a Christmas present for my sister). We went through my camera, and I pointed out each person individually, and gave a brief description of each photo.
Shin Bet also insisted on viewing my research notes and my blog. All of my notes save for the random scribbles in my books were on my laptop, which was briefly confiscated and had to be shipped separately to Philadelphia. After an item-by-item search of all three of my bags and a slightly invasive pat-down (executed by two female Shin Bet officers in a four foot by four foot dressing room), I was able to successfully board my flight with exactly three minutes to spare.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Saturday, December 12, 2009
"A Stone's Throw from Civilization"
by Laura Logan
http://dartmouthindependent.com/site/world_detail/a_stones_throw_from_civilization, for pictures
A chilly winter breeze stung my face as I stood on the edge of the Palestinian village of Bil’in. I stood there in solidarity with the villagers, scanning the square kilometer that lies between the village and the wall. What would become of this land? To whom does it belong?
It was a typical Friday for the citizens of Bil’in. The noon prayer had just ended, and the village began to gather for a non-violent protest against the “separation wall” – a 760 kilometer fence built by the Israeli government in 2003. The men, women, and children of Bil'in were joined by human rights activists of every ilk: Palestinian, American, Israeli. This particular week, I was among them.
Since that day, several people have asked me why I would protest something that has been instrumental in preventing Palestinian militants from entering Israel. Why don't I support the wall?
The short answer is that I do. I believe that Israel has every right – in fact, a duty – to protect its citizens from militant threats. The construction of the separation wall is not only legal, but practical, to ensure national security. It's not the wall that I oppose. It's where the wall is.
Before Israel approved the construction of the wall in 2003, that rugged kilometer of terrain in Bil'in was Palestinian land – well within the boundary enumerated by the 1949 Armistice Agreements, U.N. General Assembly Resolution 181, and every major peace agreement since Camp David (commonly known as the “Green Line”). In fact, only 20% of the separation wall follows the Green Line. The remaining 80% cuts deep into the West Bank, annexing some of its most resource-rich lands and over half of its water supply. The land between the separation wall and the Green Line has been declared a “closed military zone”: any man, woman, or child who enters it risks being gassed, stunned, or shot by riot control agents of the Israeli Defense Forces.
Approximately 12% of Palestinians in the West Bank (around 375,000 people) are now trapped inside this zone. They live in a state of political limbo – lacking the rights of Israeli citizens, yet separated from their fellow Palestinians. And without proper permits, their houses may be bulldozed.
A surprisingly large number of the West Bank Palestinians I’ve spoken with – as well as a fair number of the Palestinian refugees I've encountered in Egypt and Jordan over the past year and a half – share my opinion. The citizens of Bil'in aren't protesting the wall; they're protesting its route.
In fact, very few Palestinians I've spoken with have denied Israel’s obligation to protect its citizens. Many have even acknowledged and praised the wall's effectiveness at decreasing attacks against innocent Israeli civilians. One Palestinian I spoke with went as far as to hail the wall as “vital to the peace process,” noting that decreases in extremist violence allow for better negotiating conditions. Sadly, the “security wall” has evolved into something more like a “temporary border,” de facto annexing 46% of what was once the West Bank.
As the wall stands today, multiple Palestinian villages are literally encircled by an eight-meter electric fence. The Palestinian city of Qalqiliya (population 45,000) is not only completely encircled, but also cut off from a third of its water supply. A similar situation exists in Bethlehem. For these unfortunate victims of circumstance, the only path to the outside world is through an IDF-controlled checkpoint. In order for a local villager over the age of 12 to return home, he is required to possess a permit as evidence of land ownership.
For a Palestinian to legally live in his own (often pre-1948) home, on Palestinian land, he is required to possess an Israeli-issued “temporary residence permit.” All houses not properly documented are subject to demolition, courtesy of a “clearing operation.” For the Palestinians who live close to the wall, a permit still might not be enough: if their houses fall within one of Israel’s planned “buffer zones,” they can legally be bulldozed without compensation.
Other Palestinian homes are subject to demolition if they are built on property needed by the Israeli government, or if a family member is believed to be a security threat. According to the Israeli human rights group B’Tselem, twelve innocent families lose their homes for every person the IDF believes to be engaging in “militant activities” (a designation which includes stone throwing) against Israel. Nearly half of the homes demolished are never even suspected of housing militant activity, according to B'Tselem.
In response to these allegations, the IDF claims that it gives prior warning in all but the most extenuating of circumstances. B’Tselem says otherwise: according to their figures, prior warning is given in less than 3% of all cases. A 2006 report by the UN Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Aid (OCHA) states, “To date, more than 3,000 Palestinian-owned structures in the West Bank have pending demolition orders, which can immediately executed without prior warning.”
According to OCHA, the typical family in a house demolition is only able to salvage a few prized possessions, as demolition squads allow, on average, between two and thirty minutes to evacuate. When no prior warning is given, the consequences can be even more severe: in addition to rendering a family homeless and ridding them of their possessions, the element of surprise often produces “heat of the moment” confrontations between tenants and the IDF. Many of these result in injuries and deaths.
The 34 fortified checkpoints (3 main terminals, 9 commercial terminals, and 22 terminals for cars and workers) that divide the West Bank today greatly restrict freedom of travel, leaving hundreds of thousands impoverished and living in ghetto-like conditions, as they are unable to find stable work. In order to accommodate the 1,661 kilometers of private “Israeli-only” roads and the other 634 checkpoints (which include military trenches, roadblocks, and metal gates), 44 underground tunnels are currently being constructed to connect 22 isolated Palestinian villages inside of 3 adjacent jurisdictions.
Several international bodies, including the International Court of Justice (the judicial arm of the United Nations), have declared the route of construction illegal. “The construction of the wall and its associated regimes are contrary to international law,” the 2004 ICJ ruling read. It went on to remind Israel that it is “bound to comply with its obligations to respect the right of the Palestinian people to self-determination and its obligations under international humanitarian law and international human rights law.” According to the ruling, Israel can build a wall for security purposes, but only on its side of the Green Line.
Even Justice Thomas Buergenthal, the American judge who cast the only dissenting vote, recognized the Palestinian right to self-determination, reiterated Israel’s obligation to international humanitarian law, and conceded that there were legitimate questions as to whether the barrier, given its route, qualifies as self-defense. The United States itself has denounced the route as an impediment to the peace process: in a July 25, 2003, remark to Palestinian Authority President Mahmoud Abbas, President Bush stated that “the wall is a problem.”
In response to these concerns, the Knesset has maintained that the separation wall is only a "temporary" measure, to be reversed as soon as the Palestinians and Israelis reach a successful peace agreement. This position would be more convincing if the construction of ethnically-exclusive settlements on the disputed land between the wall and the Green Line hadn’t begun almost immediately after the wall was approved.
The original Israeli settlements in the West Bank (which have also been declared illegal by multiple ICJ rulings and UN resolutions, as a breach of the fourth Geneva Convention) were also called “temporary” at first. They began as military outposts and evolved into civilian settlements. Eventually, they were regarded as “facts on the ground” during negotiations. It's reasonable to wonder whether these new settlements will follow suit.
Israeli courts, though ruling in favor of a slight route revision in the Ramallah district, have opted not to accept the ICJ’s decision, even though they have acknowledged that Israel controls the West Bank in a “belligerent occupation” and that the “law of belligerent occupation…imposes conditions” on the occupying military, even in security sensitive areas. Bil'in was one of the villages in the Ramallah district that the courts approved for rerouting. Regardless, construction continues as planned.
As I stood on top of that hill in Bil’in, I observed a sandy dirt road that paved a clear path through the wild goat grass, dodging the occasional sabra cactus, toward the edge of the separation wall. A chaotic fusion of village noise consumed me: a child crying, a mother consoling. The sound of Israeli riot dispersal techniques reverberated throughout the village. The deafening boom of a 44mm rubber bullet echoed from a sister protest in the nearby village of Na’alin. Tear gas canisters hissed through the air.
Despite the non-violent nature of the weekly protests in Bil’in and Na’alin, 18 demonstrators have been killed. Of those, ten were children under the age of 18. 15 were killed by live ammunition, a method of riot dispersal banned by the IDF following the second intifada because of its highly lethal nature.
Thirty minutes after the noon prayer, we began to march toward the wall. Some chanted, others simply held signs. As soon as we stepped into the “closed military zone,” which extended far into the village, IDF riot control began to shoot tear gas into the crowd.
Some protesters fled, visibly suffering from tear gas inhalation. Others continued toward the wall, where they would plant a Palestinian flag in symbolic expression of their resistance. They were met with rubber bullets.
At no point did I witness any significant stone-throwing. This was, in every respect, a non-violent protest. I wondered how “threatening stone hurling” had become such a staple justification for violent IDF behavior in Israeli newspapers. I stuck around to find out.
A few hours after the protest ended, I re-entered the "closed military zone" to find a number of Palestinian boys hurling rocks at the IDF riot control. The most aggressive hurlers wore kifayas and sported large sling-shots. They hid behind rocks to shield themselves as the IDF returned fire with tear gas, stun grenades, and rubber bullets.
How old were these rock-hurling militants? Probably somewhere between 8 and 12.
I felt like I was caught in the middle of a paintball game. The possibility of getting nailed by a rock or high-velocity tear gas projectile provided me with an adrenaline rush I hadn't experienced since my days playing high school soccer. It was exciting, but it didn't feel real. It felt like a game.
I watched in shock as a smiling 8-year-old boy jumped over a bouncing tear gas canister like it was a dodgeball, whirled around, and returned fire with his sling-shot. He fell short of his target by about 20 meters. Another grinning boy came up behind him, and they exchanged a high-five.
What better way to play Cowboys and Indians than with a real, live enemy? An occupier. What a great way to prove one's “manhood.” It was very difficult to take seriously. Immediately after the tear gas stopped, the kids went home. Khalas. It wasn’t exciting for them anymore.
by Laura Logan
http://dartmouthindependent.com/site/world_detail/a_stones_throw_from_civilization, for pictures
A chilly winter breeze stung my face as I stood on the edge of the Palestinian village of Bil’in. I stood there in solidarity with the villagers, scanning the square kilometer that lies between the village and the wall. What would become of this land? To whom does it belong?
It was a typical Friday for the citizens of Bil’in. The noon prayer had just ended, and the village began to gather for a non-violent protest against the “separation wall” – a 760 kilometer fence built by the Israeli government in 2003. The men, women, and children of Bil'in were joined by human rights activists of every ilk: Palestinian, American, Israeli. This particular week, I was among them.
Since that day, several people have asked me why I would protest something that has been instrumental in preventing Palestinian militants from entering Israel. Why don't I support the wall?
The short answer is that I do. I believe that Israel has every right – in fact, a duty – to protect its citizens from militant threats. The construction of the separation wall is not only legal, but practical, to ensure national security. It's not the wall that I oppose. It's where the wall is.
Before Israel approved the construction of the wall in 2003, that rugged kilometer of terrain in Bil'in was Palestinian land – well within the boundary enumerated by the 1949 Armistice Agreements, U.N. General Assembly Resolution 181, and every major peace agreement since Camp David (commonly known as the “Green Line”). In fact, only 20% of the separation wall follows the Green Line. The remaining 80% cuts deep into the West Bank, annexing some of its most resource-rich lands and over half of its water supply. The land between the separation wall and the Green Line has been declared a “closed military zone”: any man, woman, or child who enters it risks being gassed, stunned, or shot by riot control agents of the Israeli Defense Forces.
Approximately 12% of Palestinians in the West Bank (around 375,000 people) are now trapped inside this zone. They live in a state of political limbo – lacking the rights of Israeli citizens, yet separated from their fellow Palestinians. And without proper permits, their houses may be bulldozed.
A surprisingly large number of the West Bank Palestinians I’ve spoken with – as well as a fair number of the Palestinian refugees I've encountered in Egypt and Jordan over the past year and a half – share my opinion. The citizens of Bil'in aren't protesting the wall; they're protesting its route.
In fact, very few Palestinians I've spoken with have denied Israel’s obligation to protect its citizens. Many have even acknowledged and praised the wall's effectiveness at decreasing attacks against innocent Israeli civilians. One Palestinian I spoke with went as far as to hail the wall as “vital to the peace process,” noting that decreases in extremist violence allow for better negotiating conditions. Sadly, the “security wall” has evolved into something more like a “temporary border,” de facto annexing 46% of what was once the West Bank.
As the wall stands today, multiple Palestinian villages are literally encircled by an eight-meter electric fence. The Palestinian city of Qalqiliya (population 45,000) is not only completely encircled, but also cut off from a third of its water supply. A similar situation exists in Bethlehem. For these unfortunate victims of circumstance, the only path to the outside world is through an IDF-controlled checkpoint. In order for a local villager over the age of 12 to return home, he is required to possess a permit as evidence of land ownership.
For a Palestinian to legally live in his own (often pre-1948) home, on Palestinian land, he is required to possess an Israeli-issued “temporary residence permit.” All houses not properly documented are subject to demolition, courtesy of a “clearing operation.” For the Palestinians who live close to the wall, a permit still might not be enough: if their houses fall within one of Israel’s planned “buffer zones,” they can legally be bulldozed without compensation.
Other Palestinian homes are subject to demolition if they are built on property needed by the Israeli government, or if a family member is believed to be a security threat. According to the Israeli human rights group B’Tselem, twelve innocent families lose their homes for every person the IDF believes to be engaging in “militant activities” (a designation which includes stone throwing) against Israel. Nearly half of the homes demolished are never even suspected of housing militant activity, according to B'Tselem.
In response to these allegations, the IDF claims that it gives prior warning in all but the most extenuating of circumstances. B’Tselem says otherwise: according to their figures, prior warning is given in less than 3% of all cases. A 2006 report by the UN Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Aid (OCHA) states, “To date, more than 3,000 Palestinian-owned structures in the West Bank have pending demolition orders, which can immediately executed without prior warning.”
According to OCHA, the typical family in a house demolition is only able to salvage a few prized possessions, as demolition squads allow, on average, between two and thirty minutes to evacuate. When no prior warning is given, the consequences can be even more severe: in addition to rendering a family homeless and ridding them of their possessions, the element of surprise often produces “heat of the moment” confrontations between tenants and the IDF. Many of these result in injuries and deaths.
The 34 fortified checkpoints (3 main terminals, 9 commercial terminals, and 22 terminals for cars and workers) that divide the West Bank today greatly restrict freedom of travel, leaving hundreds of thousands impoverished and living in ghetto-like conditions, as they are unable to find stable work. In order to accommodate the 1,661 kilometers of private “Israeli-only” roads and the other 634 checkpoints (which include military trenches, roadblocks, and metal gates), 44 underground tunnels are currently being constructed to connect 22 isolated Palestinian villages inside of 3 adjacent jurisdictions.
Several international bodies, including the International Court of Justice (the judicial arm of the United Nations), have declared the route of construction illegal. “The construction of the wall and its associated regimes are contrary to international law,” the 2004 ICJ ruling read. It went on to remind Israel that it is “bound to comply with its obligations to respect the right of the Palestinian people to self-determination and its obligations under international humanitarian law and international human rights law.” According to the ruling, Israel can build a wall for security purposes, but only on its side of the Green Line.
Even Justice Thomas Buergenthal, the American judge who cast the only dissenting vote, recognized the Palestinian right to self-determination, reiterated Israel’s obligation to international humanitarian law, and conceded that there were legitimate questions as to whether the barrier, given its route, qualifies as self-defense. The United States itself has denounced the route as an impediment to the peace process: in a July 25, 2003, remark to Palestinian Authority President Mahmoud Abbas, President Bush stated that “the wall is a problem.”
In response to these concerns, the Knesset has maintained that the separation wall is only a "temporary" measure, to be reversed as soon as the Palestinians and Israelis reach a successful peace agreement. This position would be more convincing if the construction of ethnically-exclusive settlements on the disputed land between the wall and the Green Line hadn’t begun almost immediately after the wall was approved.
The original Israeli settlements in the West Bank (which have also been declared illegal by multiple ICJ rulings and UN resolutions, as a breach of the fourth Geneva Convention) were also called “temporary” at first. They began as military outposts and evolved into civilian settlements. Eventually, they were regarded as “facts on the ground” during negotiations. It's reasonable to wonder whether these new settlements will follow suit.
Israeli courts, though ruling in favor of a slight route revision in the Ramallah district, have opted not to accept the ICJ’s decision, even though they have acknowledged that Israel controls the West Bank in a “belligerent occupation” and that the “law of belligerent occupation…imposes conditions” on the occupying military, even in security sensitive areas. Bil'in was one of the villages in the Ramallah district that the courts approved for rerouting. Regardless, construction continues as planned.
As I stood on top of that hill in Bil’in, I observed a sandy dirt road that paved a clear path through the wild goat grass, dodging the occasional sabra cactus, toward the edge of the separation wall. A chaotic fusion of village noise consumed me: a child crying, a mother consoling. The sound of Israeli riot dispersal techniques reverberated throughout the village. The deafening boom of a 44mm rubber bullet echoed from a sister protest in the nearby village of Na’alin. Tear gas canisters hissed through the air.
Despite the non-violent nature of the weekly protests in Bil’in and Na’alin, 18 demonstrators have been killed. Of those, ten were children under the age of 18. 15 were killed by live ammunition, a method of riot dispersal banned by the IDF following the second intifada because of its highly lethal nature.
Thirty minutes after the noon prayer, we began to march toward the wall. Some chanted, others simply held signs. As soon as we stepped into the “closed military zone,” which extended far into the village, IDF riot control began to shoot tear gas into the crowd.
Some protesters fled, visibly suffering from tear gas inhalation. Others continued toward the wall, where they would plant a Palestinian flag in symbolic expression of their resistance. They were met with rubber bullets.
At no point did I witness any significant stone-throwing. This was, in every respect, a non-violent protest. I wondered how “threatening stone hurling” had become such a staple justification for violent IDF behavior in Israeli newspapers. I stuck around to find out.
A few hours after the protest ended, I re-entered the "closed military zone" to find a number of Palestinian boys hurling rocks at the IDF riot control. The most aggressive hurlers wore kifayas and sported large sling-shots. They hid behind rocks to shield themselves as the IDF returned fire with tear gas, stun grenades, and rubber bullets.
How old were these rock-hurling militants? Probably somewhere between 8 and 12.
I felt like I was caught in the middle of a paintball game. The possibility of getting nailed by a rock or high-velocity tear gas projectile provided me with an adrenaline rush I hadn't experienced since my days playing high school soccer. It was exciting, but it didn't feel real. It felt like a game.
I watched in shock as a smiling 8-year-old boy jumped over a bouncing tear gas canister like it was a dodgeball, whirled around, and returned fire with his sling-shot. He fell short of his target by about 20 meters. Another grinning boy came up behind him, and they exchanged a high-five.
What better way to play Cowboys and Indians than with a real, live enemy? An occupier. What a great way to prove one's “manhood.” It was very difficult to take seriously. Immediately after the tear gas stopped, the kids went home. Khalas. It wasn’t exciting for them anymore.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
"These boots are meant for walkin'..."
NOVEMBER 3, 2009
Jerusalem, Israel
“...and that's just what they'll do."
I went shopping today. I now look fabulous in my highly fashionable black jacket (with a black fleece-collar), complete with a set of highly fashionable black boots. They’re tall, with a four-inch heel, but they’re NOT “hooker boots.” They’re a specific type of boot that appears to be very popular among Israeli youth. Even orthodox girls wear them. If orthodox girls are wearing them, they’re definitely not hooker boots. But they ARE very warm, which is kind of what I need, since it’s still raining outside and I still can’t seem to find my shoes.
So it looks like I've finally finalized my travel plans to the "forbidden land." Unless something very important comes up, it'll be the of week the 15th. I’d prefer to be back in Jerusalem for Thanksgiving dinner at Mike’s Kitchen. Delicious. You know, I’m thinking Thanksgiving may very well mark the end of my “vegetarianism.” I’m practically salivating at the thought of freshly baked turkey.
Jerusalem, Israel
“...and that's just what they'll do."
I went shopping today. I now look fabulous in my highly fashionable black jacket (with a black fleece-collar), complete with a set of highly fashionable black boots. They’re tall, with a four-inch heel, but they’re NOT “hooker boots.” They’re a specific type of boot that appears to be very popular among Israeli youth. Even orthodox girls wear them. If orthodox girls are wearing them, they’re definitely not hooker boots. But they ARE very warm, which is kind of what I need, since it’s still raining outside and I still can’t seem to find my shoes.
So it looks like I've finally finalized my travel plans to the "forbidden land." Unless something very important comes up, it'll be the of week the 15th. I’d prefer to be back in Jerusalem for Thanksgiving dinner at Mike’s Kitchen. Delicious. You know, I’m thinking Thanksgiving may very well mark the end of my “vegetarianism.” I’m practically salivating at the thought of freshly baked turkey.
Monday, November 2, 2009
Where is Laura's Ark?
NOVEMBER 2, 2009
Jerusalem, Israel
It’s raining outside. I’ve taken refuge in a cute little bookshop-café in West Jerusalem, where I am sipping delicious ginger tea (with lemon and honey) and thawing out my toes. I don't know where my shoes are. Not that it's really going to matter if G-d is trying to flood the world again, which is kind of what it looks like outside. There aren't a lot of drains. Who knew Jerusalem could get so cold? Seriously, this weather is intense. I was nearly blown over by one particular gust of wind on my way to Ichikidahana Indian Restaurant in the Makhane Yehuda shouk. Why can’t it be like California everywhere?
Sometimes I wonder whether I should just give up on the Middle East and become a food critic. I really like eating and I wouldn’t mind writing reviews in exchange for free meals. Then again, there aren’t very many foods I don’t like so I probably would not be doing a lot of critiquing. But I’d still get free meals!
Jerusalem, Israel
It’s raining outside. I’ve taken refuge in a cute little bookshop-café in West Jerusalem, where I am sipping delicious ginger tea (with lemon and honey) and thawing out my toes. I don't know where my shoes are. Not that it's really going to matter if G-d is trying to flood the world again, which is kind of what it looks like outside. There aren't a lot of drains. Who knew Jerusalem could get so cold? Seriously, this weather is intense. I was nearly blown over by one particular gust of wind on my way to Ichikidahana Indian Restaurant in the Makhane Yehuda shouk. Why can’t it be like California everywhere?
Sometimes I wonder whether I should just give up on the Middle East and become a food critic. I really like eating and I wouldn’t mind writing reviews in exchange for free meals. Then again, there aren’t very many foods I don’t like so I probably would not be doing a lot of critiquing. But I’d still get free meals!
Thursday, October 29, 2009
My Hostel Manager is a Pedophile
OCTOBER 24, 2009
Jerusalem, Israel
***
Article from Ynetnews (October 21, 2009)
US pedophile arrested in Jerusalem after escaping 110 year sentence(http://www.ynetnews.com/articles/0,7340,L-3792974,00.html)
“An employee in a Jerusalem hostel turned out to be a fugitive American pedophile. Donald Nelson, 59, who was sentenced to 110 years in prison for pedophilia, was arrested Tuesday in Jerusalem by the Police's Lahav Unit. He will be brought to court to extend his remand on Wednesday and then the extradition process will commence.
A few days ago, the Interpol desk of Israel Police's operational intelligence unit received a request from US authorities to help locate the criminal. Following complex intelligence operations, Nelson was found in the Jaffa Gate Hostel in Jerusalem. " -Reporter for Ynet, Eli Senyor
***
Hostel managers are like the colors of the rainbow: they come in a variety of types. Some are fun-loving and soccer-obsessed. Some see themselves as Loonette from “The Big Comfy Couch,” constantly cleaning and inspiring children to be productive. Some prefer to keep to themselves.
Usually, this latter inclination is indicative of independence and self-sustainability. But sometimes it's not. Sometimes, it’s a sign that your hostel manger is a pedophile fugitive from America, with a pending 110-year prison sentence for 52 counts of sexual misconduct with minors.
This particular hostel manager was named Donald Nelson. Convicted by a California court in early 2009, Nelson fled U.S. authorities and hid out in Israel – where he remained from February until October of last year. That's when, according to Ynetnews (one of Israel’s top news outlets), “following complex intelligence operations, Nelson was found in the Jaffa Gate Hostel in Jerusalem.”
While working at the hostel – where he received a free room in exchange for part-time management and cleaning duties – Nelson spent much of his time engaging guests in conversation on the gated outdoor patio. There were certain people that he took to. I happened to be one of them.
My first impression of Nelson – or “Ryan Fields” as I knew him – was quite positive. He was incredibly helpful when I checked in, he smiled a lot, and he absolutely radiated friendliness. The only odd thing was his hygiene: with crooked yellow teeth, greasy brown hair that fell slightly above his shoulders, and a bristly beard fit only for the Philadelphia homeless, a brief glimpse at Ryan might easily scare a small child (although his criminal convictions suggest that this may not always have been the case).
On my third night in Jerusalem, I was pounding away on my laptop as I sat on a cushioned bench in a side-lobby of the hostel. Suddenly, my concentration was broken by a voice: “I always see you in that same spot! What are you working on so diligently?” I looked up to see Ryan leaning on a broomstick. “Oh, just research,” I said as I flipped the screen from Facebook to Microsoft Word.
“That’s so interesting! What are you researching?” He took a seat across the table, and settled in for what would evolve into a four hour conversation.
In perfect accordance with Dale Carnegie’s principles of How to Make Friends and Influence People, he started by inquiring about me: who I am, what interests me, what I study, what I want to do with my life. Clearly, Ryan was very practiced in the art of making and maintaining conversation. His voice rung with warmth. It suggested maturity, intelligence, and genuine interest. His laugh, though, left something to be desired. I’d put it somewhere between Killjoy and Chucky Returns. That was the first alarm.
Eventually, I steered the conversation away from myself. Ryan seemed pleased – once he got started, he didn’t stop talking about himself until 3 a.m. He seemed proud of his accomplishments and was eager to describe his life – in vivid detail – to a virtual stranger.
“Where did you go to school?” I asked him. “I actually went to school in Los Angeles. I was an Environmental Studies major at UCLA and later got my masters in Anthropology. It was really quite interesting. I liked it so much I even worked as a professor at various universities over the years.” “That’s awesome!” I exclaimed. “Which universities?” He looked thoughtful. “Oh, just...various universities.” Second alarm.
“So how did you end up in Jerusalem?” I asked, now genuinely curious.
“Yeah, I’ve just been traveling around a lot. I never stay in one place for long. A few years in South Carolina, a few years in New York, a few years in California...and now I’ve been in Jerusalem since January! I like to explore, to learn about new cultures, to experience new people. Ever since I got to Jerusalem I feel like I’ve really connected with my Jewish heritage. Did I tell you that I spent six years as a monk in a Buddhist monastery?”
We discussed the position of Arabs in Israeli society, the water crisis in the Palestinian territories, and the large Orthodox representation in the Knesset.
“You know, I ran for Congress once. South Carolina. I did a lot of that campaign stuff, you know, talked to a lot people, and tried to get my voice heard. I ended up losing, but I feel like it was still worth it. I’m just glad we have a few people in Congress who are still honest and will try to keep our government in check.”
Suddenly, he started giggling uncontrollably. I sat there smiling. “What’s up?”
“You know, you’re not going to believe this – I don’t talk about it a lot. Back when I was young – this would have been the early sixties – I signed up for the military reserves. When Vietnam rolled around, I received this letter saying, “You’ve been drafted.” Of course, by that time, I had become a pacifist. So I went to the base and tried to opt out on moral grounds. And they rejected my application! That’s when I went to the courts. I kept appealing and eventually my case made it to the Supreme Court for review. It was a big scandal, but Justice Scalia wrote me a nice letter, saying I was right and deserved to win.”
Knowing full well that Scalia was a Reagan appointee, I smiled and nodded.
“When my son, Alejandro (he’s half Latino – I adopted him when he was eight), told me he wanted to go into the military, I wasn’t sure what to do. I knew they’d do a background check on me and find out all of my history, which could disqualify him or affect his application.” He went on. “Alejandro was a really nice boy. I was also adopted, and I’d always wanted to adopt. He was a smart kid. He started out getting average grades in school, but managed to get a good enough GPA later to get a $180,000 scholarship to the Naval Academy. Now he is an officer – a lieutenant – stationed somewhere in Spain.”
“Do you two talk a lot?”
He looked sad and distant for a moment. “We talk every now and then.”
Almost every night that I stayed at the Jaffa Gate Hostel, Ryan would find me in my usual “research corner” and we’d talk for several hours before he would go to bed.
I loaned him my book, Bill Bryson's A Walk in the Woods, which he found quite amusing. He would regularly recommend books about religion and the Middle East. He'd write his recommendations down on yellow legal paper.
Anyone familiar with handwriting analysis? This is a list of book recommendations he gave me:
“Thank you so much for letting me borrow it!”And that was the last I saw of “Ryan Fields.”
Jerusalem, Israel
***
Article from Ynetnews (October 21, 2009)
US pedophile arrested in Jerusalem after escaping 110 year sentence(http://www.ynetnews.com/articles/0,7340,L-3792974,00.html)
“An employee in a Jerusalem hostel turned out to be a fugitive American pedophile. Donald Nelson, 59, who was sentenced to 110 years in prison for pedophilia, was arrested Tuesday in Jerusalem by the Police's Lahav Unit. He will be brought to court to extend his remand on Wednesday and then the extradition process will commence.
A few days ago, the Interpol desk of Israel Police's operational intelligence unit received a request from US authorities to help locate the criminal. Following complex intelligence operations, Nelson was found in the Jaffa Gate Hostel in Jerusalem. " -Reporter for Ynet, Eli Senyor
***
Hostel managers are like the colors of the rainbow: they come in a variety of types. Some are fun-loving and soccer-obsessed. Some see themselves as Loonette from “The Big Comfy Couch,” constantly cleaning and inspiring children to be productive. Some prefer to keep to themselves.
Usually, this latter inclination is indicative of independence and self-sustainability. But sometimes it's not. Sometimes, it’s a sign that your hostel manger is a pedophile fugitive from America, with a pending 110-year prison sentence for 52 counts of sexual misconduct with minors.
This particular hostel manager was named Donald Nelson. Convicted by a California court in early 2009, Nelson fled U.S. authorities and hid out in Israel – where he remained from February until October of last year. That's when, according to Ynetnews (one of Israel’s top news outlets), “following complex intelligence operations, Nelson was found in the Jaffa Gate Hostel in Jerusalem.”
While working at the hostel – where he received a free room in exchange for part-time management and cleaning duties – Nelson spent much of his time engaging guests in conversation on the gated outdoor patio. There were certain people that he took to. I happened to be one of them.
My first impression of Nelson – or “Ryan Fields” as I knew him – was quite positive. He was incredibly helpful when I checked in, he smiled a lot, and he absolutely radiated friendliness. The only odd thing was his hygiene: with crooked yellow teeth, greasy brown hair that fell slightly above his shoulders, and a bristly beard fit only for the Philadelphia homeless, a brief glimpse at Ryan might easily scare a small child (although his criminal convictions suggest that this may not always have been the case).
On my third night in Jerusalem, I was pounding away on my laptop as I sat on a cushioned bench in a side-lobby of the hostel. Suddenly, my concentration was broken by a voice: “I always see you in that same spot! What are you working on so diligently?” I looked up to see Ryan leaning on a broomstick. “Oh, just research,” I said as I flipped the screen from Facebook to Microsoft Word.
“That’s so interesting! What are you researching?” He took a seat across the table, and settled in for what would evolve into a four hour conversation.
In perfect accordance with Dale Carnegie’s principles of How to Make Friends and Influence People, he started by inquiring about me: who I am, what interests me, what I study, what I want to do with my life. Clearly, Ryan was very practiced in the art of making and maintaining conversation. His voice rung with warmth. It suggested maturity, intelligence, and genuine interest. His laugh, though, left something to be desired. I’d put it somewhere between Killjoy and Chucky Returns. That was the first alarm.
Eventually, I steered the conversation away from myself. Ryan seemed pleased – once he got started, he didn’t stop talking about himself until 3 a.m. He seemed proud of his accomplishments and was eager to describe his life – in vivid detail – to a virtual stranger.
“Where did you go to school?” I asked him. “I actually went to school in Los Angeles. I was an Environmental Studies major at UCLA and later got my masters in Anthropology. It was really quite interesting. I liked it so much I even worked as a professor at various universities over the years.” “That’s awesome!” I exclaimed. “Which universities?” He looked thoughtful. “Oh, just...various universities.” Second alarm.
“So how did you end up in Jerusalem?” I asked, now genuinely curious.
“Yeah, I’ve just been traveling around a lot. I never stay in one place for long. A few years in South Carolina, a few years in New York, a few years in California...and now I’ve been in Jerusalem since January! I like to explore, to learn about new cultures, to experience new people. Ever since I got to Jerusalem I feel like I’ve really connected with my Jewish heritage. Did I tell you that I spent six years as a monk in a Buddhist monastery?”
We discussed the position of Arabs in Israeli society, the water crisis in the Palestinian territories, and the large Orthodox representation in the Knesset.
“You know, I ran for Congress once. South Carolina. I did a lot of that campaign stuff, you know, talked to a lot people, and tried to get my voice heard. I ended up losing, but I feel like it was still worth it. I’m just glad we have a few people in Congress who are still honest and will try to keep our government in check.”
Suddenly, he started giggling uncontrollably. I sat there smiling. “What’s up?”
“You know, you’re not going to believe this – I don’t talk about it a lot. Back when I was young – this would have been the early sixties – I signed up for the military reserves. When Vietnam rolled around, I received this letter saying, “You’ve been drafted.” Of course, by that time, I had become a pacifist. So I went to the base and tried to opt out on moral grounds. And they rejected my application! That’s when I went to the courts. I kept appealing and eventually my case made it to the Supreme Court for review. It was a big scandal, but Justice Scalia wrote me a nice letter, saying I was right and deserved to win.”
Knowing full well that Scalia was a Reagan appointee, I smiled and nodded.
“When my son, Alejandro (he’s half Latino – I adopted him when he was eight), told me he wanted to go into the military, I wasn’t sure what to do. I knew they’d do a background check on me and find out all of my history, which could disqualify him or affect his application.” He went on. “Alejandro was a really nice boy. I was also adopted, and I’d always wanted to adopt. He was a smart kid. He started out getting average grades in school, but managed to get a good enough GPA later to get a $180,000 scholarship to the Naval Academy. Now he is an officer – a lieutenant – stationed somewhere in Spain.”
“Do you two talk a lot?”
He looked sad and distant for a moment. “We talk every now and then.”
Almost every night that I stayed at the Jaffa Gate Hostel, Ryan would find me in my usual “research corner” and we’d talk for several hours before he would go to bed.
I loaned him my book, Bill Bryson's A Walk in the Woods, which he found quite amusing. He would regularly recommend books about religion and the Middle East. He'd write his recommendations down on yellow legal paper.
Anyone familiar with handwriting analysis? This is a list of book recommendations he gave me:
(You'll notice that the book entitled The Ragamuffin Gospel has been written three times. The author's name, Brennan Manning, has been rewritten twice, for no apparent reason. There doesn't appear to be a legability issue, and there were no changes in spelling. Any handwriting experts want to venture a guess?)
“Thank you so much for letting me borrow it!”And that was the last I saw of “Ryan Fields.”
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Thoughts of an Extremist Jew
OCTOBER 7, 2009
Jerusalem, Israel
Ramallah, West Bank
Hebron, West Bank
Israelis that support the settlement of the entire historical Palestine on religious pretenses represent a very small minority of the Israeli population. Many of them do not actually live in Israel and instead spend their lives in settlements or outposts in West Bank. Or so I thought.
Then I met Yezekiel.
I had agreed to meet Evan in the Jewish Quarter before our trip to Yad Vashem (the Holocaust Museum), and upon turning the corner to the place at which we were supposed to rendezvous, I saw Evan engrossed in conversation. The other end? A burly old white-bearded man who reminded me a bit of an angry, animated version of Santa Claus. Evan and I exchanged a knowing look. “I see you’ve made a friend!” I said, cheerfully. I introduced myself. “Hey, I’m Laura!”
Yezekiel stopped for a moment to respond. “Oh….*ahem*… hi. Uh, what was I saying? Oh yes, that’s right…and THAT is the reason why Ahmedinajad is the son of Satan.”
Curiously, I asked, “So do you think Iran might attack Israel?” It had only been a few days since Iran revealed its secret nuclear site, sparking intense speculation regarding its nuclear ambitions. His oversized nostrils flared, and he glared at me like a Spanish bull ready to charge at any moment. “MIGHT?!?!?!” he howled. “Of course they will!! Any day now! You’d better find cover!” Yezekiel proceeded to explain how all Muslims are the spawn of Satan and their ultimate goal is to lead the “chosen people” astray. There were lots of Torah quotes involved, of course, none of them particularly convincing.
'Hashem (G-d) said that Jerusalem must not be bartered. That is exactly what Ariel Sharon did- he was going to barter Jerusalem to the Palestinians! Do you remember the Gaza disengagement plan in 2004? And look what happened to Sharon! That's right- he had that crippling stroke! *proceeds to act it out* And you know what else? That was Hashem’s way of saying "Hey Ariel, you really f*cked this one up”'
Yezekiel proceeded to explain how G-d likes to smite soft-hearted politicians who make concessions to the Palestinians, or in one way or another, have prevented the annexation of the Occupied Terrorities. Ehud Olmert, for example, joined Mahmoud Abbas (President of the Palestinian Authority) in the “prostate cancer club” after destroying a promising career of broken treaties and airstrikes with his corruption indictment last year. So I guess the real question is this: how did Barak get off so easily? Poor Tzipi might have been next if it hadn’t been for her latest public bashing of the United Nations Human Rights Council (UNHRC)! (http://www.jpost.com/servlet/Satellite?cid=1255694851574&pagename=JPost/JPArticle/ShowFull)
However:
Muslims, according to Yezekiel, are not the ONLY sons of Satan. Satan has lots of sons: Christians, for example. Cleverly, Yezekiel pointed out the five-pointed star’s history as a “symbol of Satan’s son, Kain,” and its presence on the flag of almost every predominately Christian nation. Same goes for Muslim nations. Not that there are many other countries in the world, other than Israel, that are predominately anything else? Everyone is the son of Satan! Except the Jews. And the United States, now that’s a double-whammy…. FIFTY stars! And for bonus points: We have John McCain (Mc=Son of, according to Irish tradition), John son of Kain! Thank G-d he lost the last election- not that Obama, a secret Muslim, is much better.
Now of course, McDonalds, the son of G-d (Don=G-d), is a blessing to us all. G-d can't have a real flesh son, but he can have a representative food chain. Obviously, G-d wants us to be fat and have high cholesterol. No, really though. This is serious business! McDonalds represents the son of God, because it competes with all of the evil fast food chains that represent Satan. Jack in a Box, for example. Boxes, you see, are automatically evil because the Pharoah that enslaved the Jews in Egypt back in the day wore a square-shaped diadem. Oh and let's not forget Hardies: the gigantic five-pointed star with the misleading, manevolent and oh-so-enticing smile.
As G-d always prevails, so doth His son. McDonalds. Except for when Pontius Pilate/Michael Moore condemned it to death (an obvious parallel to the crucifixion) in his historical film "Supersize Me."
“Are you Jewish?!” demanded Yezekiel. “No.” I said. “So then, what are you…. Christian?” I nodded. “By heritage.” He looked like he was about to vomit.
Yes, I think it is safe to say that Yezekiel has a very unique perspective on things. As creative as his theories are, they unfortunately not conducive to any sort of solution to the ongoing violence.
Right-wing political party, Gush Emunim, advocates on behalf of settlers in West Bank and formerly, Gaza. Based heavily on the teachings of Rabbi Abraham Kook and his son, Rabbi Tzvi Yehuda Kook. The Kook family taught that secular Zionists, through their conquests of Eretz Israel, had unwittingly brought about the beginning of the “messianic age”, which would end with the coming of the Jewish messiah. Supporters believe that the coming of the messiah can be hastened through Jewish settlement on land that they believe God has allotted to the Jewish people as outlined in the Hebrew Bible. Created out of the National Religious Party (NRP) in the 70's, Gush Emunim now has close ties to the Tehiya party and the Herut wing of Likud. Likud currently holds twenty-seven seats in the Knesset and leads the Israeli government under Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu.
While religious extremism may be the most difficult obstacle to overcome as it would require the parties involved to rethink their entire life ideology, extremists also represent only a tiny minority of the Israeli population. Most Israelis (some 66%, according to CBS Israel) are content to accept the pre-1967 borders, so long as they don’t have to worry about whether or not a Qassam rocket is going to wreck their house that day. Security is a legitimate concern.
There is also a point where one is forced to wonder whether all past Israeli military actions have genuinely been in the interest of “national security.” Many dispute whether Operation Cast Lead was in Israel's best interest. I’ll elaborate on that in a future blog.
Jerusalem, Israel
Ramallah, West Bank
Hebron, West Bank
Israelis that support the settlement of the entire historical Palestine on religious pretenses represent a very small minority of the Israeli population. Many of them do not actually live in Israel and instead spend their lives in settlements or outposts in West Bank. Or so I thought.
Then I met Yezekiel.
I had agreed to meet Evan in the Jewish Quarter before our trip to Yad Vashem (the Holocaust Museum), and upon turning the corner to the place at which we were supposed to rendezvous, I saw Evan engrossed in conversation. The other end? A burly old white-bearded man who reminded me a bit of an angry, animated version of Santa Claus. Evan and I exchanged a knowing look. “I see you’ve made a friend!” I said, cheerfully. I introduced myself. “Hey, I’m Laura!”
Yezekiel stopped for a moment to respond. “Oh….*ahem*… hi. Uh, what was I saying? Oh yes, that’s right…and THAT is the reason why Ahmedinajad is the son of Satan.”
Curiously, I asked, “So do you think Iran might attack Israel?” It had only been a few days since Iran revealed its secret nuclear site, sparking intense speculation regarding its nuclear ambitions. His oversized nostrils flared, and he glared at me like a Spanish bull ready to charge at any moment. “MIGHT?!?!?!” he howled. “Of course they will!! Any day now! You’d better find cover!” Yezekiel proceeded to explain how all Muslims are the spawn of Satan and their ultimate goal is to lead the “chosen people” astray. There were lots of Torah quotes involved, of course, none of them particularly convincing.
'Hashem (G-d) said that Jerusalem must not be bartered. That is exactly what Ariel Sharon did- he was going to barter Jerusalem to the Palestinians! Do you remember the Gaza disengagement plan in 2004? And look what happened to Sharon! That's right- he had that crippling stroke! *proceeds to act it out* And you know what else? That was Hashem’s way of saying "Hey Ariel, you really f*cked this one up”'
Yezekiel proceeded to explain how G-d likes to smite soft-hearted politicians who make concessions to the Palestinians, or in one way or another, have prevented the annexation of the Occupied Terrorities. Ehud Olmert, for example, joined Mahmoud Abbas (President of the Palestinian Authority) in the “prostate cancer club” after destroying a promising career of broken treaties and airstrikes with his corruption indictment last year. So I guess the real question is this: how did Barak get off so easily? Poor Tzipi might have been next if it hadn’t been for her latest public bashing of the United Nations Human Rights Council (UNHRC)! (http://www.jpost.com/servlet/Satellite?cid=1255694851574&pagename=JPost/JPArticle/ShowFull)
However:
Muslims, according to Yezekiel, are not the ONLY sons of Satan. Satan has lots of sons: Christians, for example. Cleverly, Yezekiel pointed out the five-pointed star’s history as a “symbol of Satan’s son, Kain,” and its presence on the flag of almost every predominately Christian nation. Same goes for Muslim nations. Not that there are many other countries in the world, other than Israel, that are predominately anything else? Everyone is the son of Satan! Except the Jews. And the United States, now that’s a double-whammy…. FIFTY stars! And for bonus points: We have John McCain (Mc=Son of, according to Irish tradition), John son of Kain! Thank G-d he lost the last election- not that Obama, a secret Muslim, is much better.
Now of course, McDonalds, the son of G-d (Don=G-d), is a blessing to us all. G-d can't have a real flesh son, but he can have a representative food chain. Obviously, G-d wants us to be fat and have high cholesterol. No, really though. This is serious business! McDonalds represents the son of God, because it competes with all of the evil fast food chains that represent Satan. Jack in a Box, for example. Boxes, you see, are automatically evil because the Pharoah that enslaved the Jews in Egypt back in the day wore a square-shaped diadem. Oh and let's not forget Hardies: the gigantic five-pointed star with the misleading, manevolent and oh-so-enticing smile.
As G-d always prevails, so doth His son. McDonalds. Except for when Pontius Pilate/Michael Moore condemned it to death (an obvious parallel to the crucifixion) in his historical film "Supersize Me."
“Are you Jewish?!” demanded Yezekiel. “No.” I said. “So then, what are you…. Christian?” I nodded. “By heritage.” He looked like he was about to vomit.
Yes, I think it is safe to say that Yezekiel has a very unique perspective on things. As creative as his theories are, they unfortunately not conducive to any sort of solution to the ongoing violence.
Right-wing political party, Gush Emunim, advocates on behalf of settlers in West Bank and formerly, Gaza. Based heavily on the teachings of Rabbi Abraham Kook and his son, Rabbi Tzvi Yehuda Kook. The Kook family taught that secular Zionists, through their conquests of Eretz Israel, had unwittingly brought about the beginning of the “messianic age”, which would end with the coming of the Jewish messiah. Supporters believe that the coming of the messiah can be hastened through Jewish settlement on land that they believe God has allotted to the Jewish people as outlined in the Hebrew Bible. Created out of the National Religious Party (NRP) in the 70's, Gush Emunim now has close ties to the Tehiya party and the Herut wing of Likud. Likud currently holds twenty-seven seats in the Knesset and leads the Israeli government under Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu.
While religious extremism may be the most difficult obstacle to overcome as it would require the parties involved to rethink their entire life ideology, extremists also represent only a tiny minority of the Israeli population. Most Israelis (some 66%, according to CBS Israel) are content to accept the pre-1967 borders, so long as they don’t have to worry about whether or not a Qassam rocket is going to wreck their house that day. Security is a legitimate concern.
There is also a point where one is forced to wonder whether all past Israeli military actions have genuinely been in the interest of “national security.” Many dispute whether Operation Cast Lead was in Israel's best interest. I’ll elaborate on that in a future blog.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Balancing Jewish and Democratic
SEPTEMBER 27, 2009
Jerusalem, Israel
I woke up with a start at 4 PM. The owner of my hostel, Ryan, had walked into the dorm and was showing it off to two new tenants. A young and very attractive couple, who I would later discover were from Spain, were to occupy the beds next to mine.
Still exhausted from the night before, I took a long hot shower, and went on a walk. I had made it a little ways down Salah al-Din Street in East Jerusalem when I met my first friend. His name was Osama.
Osama, a teenage Palestinian boy who had grown up in Jerusalem, spoke a marginal amount of English and fluent Arabic. He could not read or write in Hebrew, nor did he have any desire to learn. “Learning Hebrew (would be) useless.” I asked him to elaborate. “I am Palestinian. There is no job.”
He went on to explain, in so many words, that it is difficult to get a job in Israel unless one holds citizenship. So why learn Hebrew? Even though Osama was born in Jerusalem, he is not recognized as an Israeli citizen because neither one of his parents are Israeli. This is a common problem in Arab East Jerusalem (where many Arabs are non-citizens), as lack of citizenship translates into lack of employment, which further translates into poverty.
Osama threw a fit when I tried to buy him coffee, as characteristic of most Arab men, and we sat down in a little café in East Jerusalem, a few blocks away from Damascus Gate. “Where is your family from originally?” I inquired. “(We are) from (a) little town outside of Ramallah.” His uncle, I discovered, owns a used book store which has been used to support his entire extended family. Judging by Osama’s tattered clothing and scrawny physique, the money hadn’t gone very far.
“The Jews do not like Muslims. They starve us and kill our people.” I asked him to elaborate. “We try to defend our land and they kill us.”
I noticed his usage of “Jews" instead of "Israelis." It would have been the same in Egypt.
“Do you think the root of the conflict is a clash of religions? Or is it more about land?” He didn’t understand. I tried to simplify. “You think Israelis hate Muslims? Why?” He thought for a moment. “Israelis do not like Muslims because Israel wants to be a Jewish state.”
According to the Central Bureau of Statistics, the Muslim population in Israel has a growth rate of 3.8%, which is significantly higher than any other demographic. The growth rate for the Jewish population in Israel is a mere 1.6%. CBS studies have concluded that at the current growth rate, Muslims will make up almost 60% of the total population of Israel by 2040. Israel would no longer be a Jewish state.
This is perhaps the leading reason for why Israel is reluctant to grant the "right of return" to Palestinians- the Muslim population residing within Israeli borders actually poses the greatest threat to Israel’s continued existence as a Jewish state. Ninety-eight percent of Arab Israeli’s (Arabs represent approximately twenty percent of Israel's total population) are Muslim.
If Israel wants to remain a Jewish state, it must find a way to, 1) increase the growth rate for Jewish Israelis, or, 2) reduce the growth rate for Arab Israelis. Efforts to increase the number of Jews in Israel have been in effect since the creation of Israel in 1948. Campaigns to reach out to Jewish youth abroad as well as other "recruitment" efforts have been semi-effective, but have not had a dramatic impact on the growth rate in recent years.
The growth rate for Arab Israelis, however, has been stifled in various subtle ways over the past few years. The denial of citizenship to all children born in Israel to non-citizens (non-citizens residing in Israel are usually Arab Muslim, since all Jews are citizens of Israel under the “Law of Return”), as in Osama’s situation, is a good example of a policy that cleverly targets Arab Israelis. Other government policies aimed to motivate or force Arab Israelis to leave Israel have also been effective.
The “Citizenship and Entry into Israel Law,” passed on July 31, 2003, was a one year amendment to Israel's Citizenship Law denying citizenship and Israeli residence to Palestinians who reside in the West Bank or Gaza Strip and who marry Israelis. This means if you are an Israeli, and you marry a Palestinian, your spouse will not enjoy the benefits of Israeli citizenship. The law, publicly proclaimed as a method to preserve the “Jewish character” of the State of Israel, applies in theory to all Israelis. However, in practice, it usually only affected the Arab population since an Israeli Arab, statistically, is much more likely to marry a Palestinian than an Israeli Jew.
If this was an issue of state security, intended to prevent Israelis from bringing high risk liabilities into the country, other important factors such as the person’s moral character, family background, and education, would have been taken into consideration as potentially redeeming qualities. However, it seems that the only relevant factor stated in Israel’s Citizenship Law is nationality.
According to U.S. State Departments Report on Human Rights Practices (2004):
"Approximately 93 percent of land in the country was public domain, including that owned by the state and some 12.5 percent owned by the Jewish National Fund (JNF). All public land by law may only be leased, not sold. The JNF's statutes prohibit the sale or lease of land to non-Jews. In October, civil rights groups petitioned the High Court of Justice claiming that a bid announcement by the Israel Land Administration (ILA) involving JNF land was discriminatory in that it banned Arabs from bidding."
"Israeli-Arab advocacy organizations have challenged the Government's policy of demolishing illegal buildings in the Arab sector, and claimed that the Government was more restrictive in issuing building permits in Arab communities than in Jewish communities, thereby not accommodating natural growth."
"In June, the Supreme Court ruled that omitting Arab towns from specific government social and economic plans is discriminatory. This judgment builds on previous assessments of disadvantages suffered by Arab Israelis."
'Israeli-Arab organizations have challenged as discriminatory the 1996 "Master Plan for the Northern Areas of Israel," which listed as priority goals increasing the Galilee's Jewish population and blocking the territorial contiguity of Arab towns.'
"Israeli Arabs were not required to perform mandatory military service and, in practice, only a small percentage of Israeli Arabs served in the military. Those who did not serve in the army had less access than other citizens to social and economic benefits for which military service was a prerequisite or an advantage, such as housing, new-household subsidies, and employment, especially government or security-related industrial employment. The Ivri Committee on National Service has issued official recommendations to the Government that Israel Arabs not be compelled to perform national or "civic" service, but be afforded an opportunity to perform such service".
"According to a 2003 Haifa University study, a tendency existed to impose heavier prison terms to Arab citizens than to Jewish citizens. Human rights advocates claimed that Arab citizens were more likely to be convicted of murder and to have been denied bail."
"The Orr Commission of Inquiry's report [...] stated that the 'Government handling of the Arab sector has been primarily neglectful and discriminatory,' that the Government 'did not show sufficient sensitivity to the needs of the Arab population, and did not take enough action to allocate state resources in an equal manner.' As a result, 'serious distress prevailed in the Arab sector in various areas. Evidence of distress included poverty, unemployment, a shortage of land, serious problems in the education system, and substantially defective infrastructure.'"
The challenge: can Israel remain a Jewish state without controlling the population of its religious minorities?
Jerusalem, Israel
I woke up with a start at 4 PM. The owner of my hostel, Ryan, had walked into the dorm and was showing it off to two new tenants. A young and very attractive couple, who I would later discover were from Spain, were to occupy the beds next to mine.
Still exhausted from the night before, I took a long hot shower, and went on a walk. I had made it a little ways down Salah al-Din Street in East Jerusalem when I met my first friend. His name was Osama.
Osama, a teenage Palestinian boy who had grown up in Jerusalem, spoke a marginal amount of English and fluent Arabic. He could not read or write in Hebrew, nor did he have any desire to learn. “Learning Hebrew (would be) useless.” I asked him to elaborate. “I am Palestinian. There is no job.”
He went on to explain, in so many words, that it is difficult to get a job in Israel unless one holds citizenship. So why learn Hebrew? Even though Osama was born in Jerusalem, he is not recognized as an Israeli citizen because neither one of his parents are Israeli. This is a common problem in Arab East Jerusalem (where many Arabs are non-citizens), as lack of citizenship translates into lack of employment, which further translates into poverty.
Osama threw a fit when I tried to buy him coffee, as characteristic of most Arab men, and we sat down in a little café in East Jerusalem, a few blocks away from Damascus Gate. “Where is your family from originally?” I inquired. “(We are) from (a) little town outside of Ramallah.” His uncle, I discovered, owns a used book store which has been used to support his entire extended family. Judging by Osama’s tattered clothing and scrawny physique, the money hadn’t gone very far.
“The Jews do not like Muslims. They starve us and kill our people.” I asked him to elaborate. “We try to defend our land and they kill us.”
I noticed his usage of “Jews" instead of "Israelis." It would have been the same in Egypt.
“Do you think the root of the conflict is a clash of religions? Or is it more about land?” He didn’t understand. I tried to simplify. “You think Israelis hate Muslims? Why?” He thought for a moment. “Israelis do not like Muslims because Israel wants to be a Jewish state.”
According to the Central Bureau of Statistics, the Muslim population in Israel has a growth rate of 3.8%, which is significantly higher than any other demographic. The growth rate for the Jewish population in Israel is a mere 1.6%. CBS studies have concluded that at the current growth rate, Muslims will make up almost 60% of the total population of Israel by 2040. Israel would no longer be a Jewish state.
This is perhaps the leading reason for why Israel is reluctant to grant the "right of return" to Palestinians- the Muslim population residing within Israeli borders actually poses the greatest threat to Israel’s continued existence as a Jewish state. Ninety-eight percent of Arab Israeli’s (Arabs represent approximately twenty percent of Israel's total population) are Muslim.
If Israel wants to remain a Jewish state, it must find a way to, 1) increase the growth rate for Jewish Israelis, or, 2) reduce the growth rate for Arab Israelis. Efforts to increase the number of Jews in Israel have been in effect since the creation of Israel in 1948. Campaigns to reach out to Jewish youth abroad as well as other "recruitment" efforts have been semi-effective, but have not had a dramatic impact on the growth rate in recent years.
The growth rate for Arab Israelis, however, has been stifled in various subtle ways over the past few years. The denial of citizenship to all children born in Israel to non-citizens (non-citizens residing in Israel are usually Arab Muslim, since all Jews are citizens of Israel under the “Law of Return”), as in Osama’s situation, is a good example of a policy that cleverly targets Arab Israelis. Other government policies aimed to motivate or force Arab Israelis to leave Israel have also been effective.
The “Citizenship and Entry into Israel Law,” passed on July 31, 2003, was a one year amendment to Israel's Citizenship Law denying citizenship and Israeli residence to Palestinians who reside in the West Bank or Gaza Strip and who marry Israelis. This means if you are an Israeli, and you marry a Palestinian, your spouse will not enjoy the benefits of Israeli citizenship. The law, publicly proclaimed as a method to preserve the “Jewish character” of the State of Israel, applies in theory to all Israelis. However, in practice, it usually only affected the Arab population since an Israeli Arab, statistically, is much more likely to marry a Palestinian than an Israeli Jew.
If this was an issue of state security, intended to prevent Israelis from bringing high risk liabilities into the country, other important factors such as the person’s moral character, family background, and education, would have been taken into consideration as potentially redeeming qualities. However, it seems that the only relevant factor stated in Israel’s Citizenship Law is nationality.
According to U.S. State Departments Report on Human Rights Practices (2004):
"Approximately 93 percent of land in the country was public domain, including that owned by the state and some 12.5 percent owned by the Jewish National Fund (JNF). All public land by law may only be leased, not sold. The JNF's statutes prohibit the sale or lease of land to non-Jews. In October, civil rights groups petitioned the High Court of Justice claiming that a bid announcement by the Israel Land Administration (ILA) involving JNF land was discriminatory in that it banned Arabs from bidding."
"Israeli-Arab advocacy organizations have challenged the Government's policy of demolishing illegal buildings in the Arab sector, and claimed that the Government was more restrictive in issuing building permits in Arab communities than in Jewish communities, thereby not accommodating natural growth."
"In June, the Supreme Court ruled that omitting Arab towns from specific government social and economic plans is discriminatory. This judgment builds on previous assessments of disadvantages suffered by Arab Israelis."
'Israeli-Arab organizations have challenged as discriminatory the 1996 "Master Plan for the Northern Areas of Israel," which listed as priority goals increasing the Galilee's Jewish population and blocking the territorial contiguity of Arab towns.'
"Israeli Arabs were not required to perform mandatory military service and, in practice, only a small percentage of Israeli Arabs served in the military. Those who did not serve in the army had less access than other citizens to social and economic benefits for which military service was a prerequisite or an advantage, such as housing, new-household subsidies, and employment, especially government or security-related industrial employment. The Ivri Committee on National Service has issued official recommendations to the Government that Israel Arabs not be compelled to perform national or "civic" service, but be afforded an opportunity to perform such service".
"According to a 2003 Haifa University study, a tendency existed to impose heavier prison terms to Arab citizens than to Jewish citizens. Human rights advocates claimed that Arab citizens were more likely to be convicted of murder and to have been denied bail."
"The Orr Commission of Inquiry's report [...] stated that the 'Government handling of the Arab sector has been primarily neglectful and discriminatory,' that the Government 'did not show sufficient sensitivity to the needs of the Arab population, and did not take enough action to allocate state resources in an equal manner.' As a result, 'serious distress prevailed in the Arab sector in various areas. Evidence of distress included poverty, unemployment, a shortage of land, serious problems in the education system, and substantially defective infrastructure.'"
The challenge: can Israel remain a Jewish state without controlling the population of its religious minorities?
Friday, October 2, 2009
Orthodox Ritual of "Kapparot:" Transfer Sins to Live Chicken
SEPTEMBER 26, 2009
Jerusalem, Israel
I spent my afternoon in a state of constant and indescribable confusion. Rewind a few hours:
I am walking beside the Tower of David, just outside of Jaffa Gate. Suddenly, I am accosted by a group of young ultra-Orthodox Jewish boys, one of which is clasping a live chicken to his chest. He thrusts the chicken at me. “NO Hebrew!” I exclaim, hoping to deter them. Still, they seem intent on having me hold their chicken. "LO Lavrit!" ("NO Hebrew!" in Hebrew) I do not know what to do, and our verbal communication is limited to very basic vocabulary. His "English" and my "Hebrew."
The boy shoves the poor chicken, reluctant but compliant, into my arms. I stand there in a perplexed daze with the chicken. I must have looked very confused, because the boy took it upon himself to elaborate: “Chicken,” he states, pointing to the mysterious unknown creature I have cradled in my arms. He then points up. “...Head.” His face lights up with a satisfied smile. A little alarmed and not knowing whether I should be offended, I hand the chicken back. “Mish faHma!” (“I don’t understand" in Egyptian Arabic) I have a vague hope that he might understand Arabic. No such luck.
I walk the perimeter of the Armenian quarter, round the corner toward Zion Gate, and find myself surrounded by booths. Each booth is complete with a pair of orthodox Jews, a donation box, and a live chicken. As I continue toward the “Kotel” (Hebrew name for the “Western Wall”), the booths begin to multiply in number. I observe one particular booth at which a lady had made a donation. She stands with her head bowed as one of the booth attendant’s takes a live chicken out of a box. He raises it over her head and mutters what appears to be a quick prayer. Donor walks away.
I found an old article entitled “Orthodox Call on Sinners to Give Chickens a Fairer Shake” in the Jewish Daily Forward that sums it up pretty well: “the ritual in question is kapparot, a practice generally performed during the period between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur in which a live chicken is swung over one’s head in a gesture of transferring one’s sins of the past year onto the animal.”
This practice is one of violent controversy and has been denounced by PETA as a "gross violation of animal rights."
“At the August 6 meeting in the synagogue of the Novominsker rebbe, more than a dozen religious heavyweights — including Rabbi Aryeh Kotler and Rabbi David Zwiebel — considered evidence that the chickens may have been mistreated in past ceremonies and acknowledged that the problem rose to a level that could violate rabbinic law.”
“The move was particularly notable because it came in response to complaints from People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals. In recent years, the animal rights group has come to be viewed as an adversary to the Orthodox community, with PETA run-ins leading more often to the butting of heads than to conciliatory gestures.”
The latest commentary on the PETA vs. “Kapparot” controversy: “In general, I don’t think that PETA is taken very seriously in the Orthodox community, or in any civilized society,” said Rabbi Avi Shafran, spokesman for the ultra-Orthodox Agudath Israel of America. “But that doesn’t mean that they won’t on occasion bring up something that is worth being brought up.”
One PETA advocate went so far as to describe the Jewish practice of Kapparot as a genocide, calling it a “shoah.” The word “shoah” (“catastrophe” in Hebrew) is usually used in reference to the Holocaust.
As the night progressed, I make my way back over to the Kotel for the annual prayer that takes place on the last midnight before Yom Kippur. The crowd is unbelievable, and security is very tight. A little past midnight, a man on a loudspeaker sings Jewish prayer. The crowd follows. It is a very moving experience, and I am fortunate enough to have gotten it on video.
The entire Jewish quarter is a lively party, crowded beyond belief, and pulsates to the beat of House techno music.
I stay until around 3:30 AM, celebrate with a Bacardi Breezer, and call it a night.
Jerusalem, Israel
I spent my afternoon in a state of constant and indescribable confusion. Rewind a few hours:
I am walking beside the Tower of David, just outside of Jaffa Gate. Suddenly, I am accosted by a group of young ultra-Orthodox Jewish boys, one of which is clasping a live chicken to his chest. He thrusts the chicken at me. “NO Hebrew!” I exclaim, hoping to deter them. Still, they seem intent on having me hold their chicken. "LO Lavrit!" ("NO Hebrew!" in Hebrew) I do not know what to do, and our verbal communication is limited to very basic vocabulary. His "English" and my "Hebrew."
The boy shoves the poor chicken, reluctant but compliant, into my arms. I stand there in a perplexed daze with the chicken. I must have looked very confused, because the boy took it upon himself to elaborate: “Chicken,” he states, pointing to the mysterious unknown creature I have cradled in my arms. He then points up. “...Head.” His face lights up with a satisfied smile. A little alarmed and not knowing whether I should be offended, I hand the chicken back. “Mish faHma!” (“I don’t understand" in Egyptian Arabic) I have a vague hope that he might understand Arabic. No such luck.
I walk the perimeter of the Armenian quarter, round the corner toward Zion Gate, and find myself surrounded by booths. Each booth is complete with a pair of orthodox Jews, a donation box, and a live chicken. As I continue toward the “Kotel” (Hebrew name for the “Western Wall”), the booths begin to multiply in number. I observe one particular booth at which a lady had made a donation. She stands with her head bowed as one of the booth attendant’s takes a live chicken out of a box. He raises it over her head and mutters what appears to be a quick prayer. Donor walks away.
I found an old article entitled “Orthodox Call on Sinners to Give Chickens a Fairer Shake” in the Jewish Daily Forward that sums it up pretty well: “the ritual in question is kapparot, a practice generally performed during the period between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur in which a live chicken is swung over one’s head in a gesture of transferring one’s sins of the past year onto the animal.”
This practice is one of violent controversy and has been denounced by PETA as a "gross violation of animal rights."
“At the August 6 meeting in the synagogue of the Novominsker rebbe, more than a dozen religious heavyweights — including Rabbi Aryeh Kotler and Rabbi David Zwiebel — considered evidence that the chickens may have been mistreated in past ceremonies and acknowledged that the problem rose to a level that could violate rabbinic law.”
“The move was particularly notable because it came in response to complaints from People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals. In recent years, the animal rights group has come to be viewed as an adversary to the Orthodox community, with PETA run-ins leading more often to the butting of heads than to conciliatory gestures.”
The latest commentary on the PETA vs. “Kapparot” controversy: “In general, I don’t think that PETA is taken very seriously in the Orthodox community, or in any civilized society,” said Rabbi Avi Shafran, spokesman for the ultra-Orthodox Agudath Israel of America. “But that doesn’t mean that they won’t on occasion bring up something that is worth being brought up.”
One PETA advocate went so far as to describe the Jewish practice of Kapparot as a genocide, calling it a “shoah.” The word “shoah” (“catastrophe” in Hebrew) is usually used in reference to the Holocaust.
As the night progressed, I make my way back over to the Kotel for the annual prayer that takes place on the last midnight before Yom Kippur. The crowd is unbelievable, and security is very tight. A little past midnight, a man on a loudspeaker sings Jewish prayer. The crowd follows. It is a very moving experience, and I am fortunate enough to have gotten it on video.
The entire Jewish quarter is a lively party, crowded beyond belief, and pulsates to the beat of House techno music.
I stay until around 3:30 AM, celebrate with a Bacardi Breezer, and call it a night.
Monday, September 28, 2009
First Night in Jerusalem
SEPTEMBER 24, 2009
Jerusalem, Israel
My first step out of the airport and into Israel was monumental. I had made it! Security would have to run to catch up with me now! I looked around to confirm that I had made it to the correct country. In a state of combined awe/relief to be out of the clutches of Israeli security, I stood outside of the airport’s high-tech automatic door and took a moment to absorb my surroundings. Never in my life have I seen so many Yamacas concentrated in one place! Location confirmed.
Red Jews, blue Jews, one Jew, two Jews!
Mediterranean Jews, Ethiopian Jews, Middle Eastern Jews, European Jews! It always blows my mind to see blondes speaking fluent Hebrew. I listened to the loud hum of colloquial Hebrew while attempting to decode the various signs (most of which are written in Hebrew, Arabic, and poor English transliteration) that lined the sparkling clean, shockingly not-trashed streets. Where to go to find the shuttle to Jerusalem?
Of course, this still being the Middle East, it wasn’t long before I was greeted by a barrage of Arab cab drivers who all courteously offered their services for “special price.” Fortunately I had learned enough from Cairo to know that “special price” is no different than “tourist price,” which usually translates to 3x “native price.”
Not wanting to be taken for a ride, I found a cozy little shuttle to Jerusalem. This shuttle wasn’t much different than a Sherut (the Hebrew name for a shared taxi), except it operated on a “leave-when-full” basis. This reminded me a bit of the public transportation system in Jordan, except Israeli Sherut drivers usually speak enough English to effectively communicate with overwhelmed American travelers. Sheruts, to their credit, also won’t drop you off on the side of isolated desert freeways (unless you ask).
As we were waiting to leave, I took a minute to examine my fellow passengers. Then I spotted him: a beautiful blonde Jewish boy, who I immediately presumed to be American. His golden locks swam out from underneath his Yamaca in a spirit of god-like perfection. I approached. “Hey! …I like your Yamaca.” He smiled shyly. “no English….Sorry. speak Hebrew?” I was shocked. No bakellum inkleezee?! We chatted casually in basic sentences for a few minutes, but I didn’t manage to find out more than that he is from Ashkelon (the Israeli city just north of Gaza that Hamas keeps shooting its missiles at) and is, in fact, Jewish.
Finally, after accommodating various drop-offs throughout Jerusalem, my shuttle pulled up next to the New Gate outside the Old City. The road to Jaffa Gate had been closed off for “security reasons.” Fortunately, a fellow passenger named Abe (short for Abraham) was kind enough to help drag my luggage to the Jaffa Gate Hostel. Abe, an orthodox Jew from Fresno, California, returns to Israel for Yom Kippur every year to lead tours for Jewish youth in the Old City. I credit him as the sole reason my toe is still intact after the strap on my forty-pound duffle bag full of terrorist literature broke.
We did eventually find Jaffa Gate Hostel. Energized by the celebrations outside, I felt inspired to walk around for a bit. I felt vaguely hungry and in remembering a really good hummus place in the area from my first visit to Jerusalem last September, I decided to check it out. Surprise! The venue is now occupied by a “Joseph’s Pizza.” I went inside.
“Hello can I help you?” “Yes, I’d like a slice of margarita please.” The man who I had ordered from walked up to my table. “How is your food?” “It’s good, thanks.” He introduced himself as Joseph. Though his family is originally from Cyprus, Joseph grew up in Jerusalem. He speaks fluent Arabic, Hebrew, English, and Greek.
Jerusalem, Israel
My first step out of the airport and into Israel was monumental. I had made it! Security would have to run to catch up with me now! I looked around to confirm that I had made it to the correct country. In a state of combined awe/relief to be out of the clutches of Israeli security, I stood outside of the airport’s high-tech automatic door and took a moment to absorb my surroundings. Never in my life have I seen so many Yamacas concentrated in one place! Location confirmed.
Red Jews, blue Jews, one Jew, two Jews!
Mediterranean Jews, Ethiopian Jews, Middle Eastern Jews, European Jews! It always blows my mind to see blondes speaking fluent Hebrew. I listened to the loud hum of colloquial Hebrew while attempting to decode the various signs (most of which are written in Hebrew, Arabic, and poor English transliteration) that lined the sparkling clean, shockingly not-trashed streets. Where to go to find the shuttle to Jerusalem?
Of course, this still being the Middle East, it wasn’t long before I was greeted by a barrage of Arab cab drivers who all courteously offered their services for “special price.” Fortunately I had learned enough from Cairo to know that “special price” is no different than “tourist price,” which usually translates to 3x “native price.”
Not wanting to be taken for a ride, I found a cozy little shuttle to Jerusalem. This shuttle wasn’t much different than a Sherut (the Hebrew name for a shared taxi), except it operated on a “leave-when-full” basis. This reminded me a bit of the public transportation system in Jordan, except Israeli Sherut drivers usually speak enough English to effectively communicate with overwhelmed American travelers. Sheruts, to their credit, also won’t drop you off on the side of isolated desert freeways (unless you ask).
As we were waiting to leave, I took a minute to examine my fellow passengers. Then I spotted him: a beautiful blonde Jewish boy, who I immediately presumed to be American. His golden locks swam out from underneath his Yamaca in a spirit of god-like perfection. I approached. “Hey! …I like your Yamaca.” He smiled shyly. “no English….Sorry. speak Hebrew?” I was shocked. No bakellum inkleezee?! We chatted casually in basic sentences for a few minutes, but I didn’t manage to find out more than that he is from Ashkelon (the Israeli city just north of Gaza that Hamas keeps shooting its missiles at) and is, in fact, Jewish.
Finally, after accommodating various drop-offs throughout Jerusalem, my shuttle pulled up next to the New Gate outside the Old City. The road to Jaffa Gate had been closed off for “security reasons.” Fortunately, a fellow passenger named Abe (short for Abraham) was kind enough to help drag my luggage to the Jaffa Gate Hostel. Abe, an orthodox Jew from Fresno, California, returns to Israel for Yom Kippur every year to lead tours for Jewish youth in the Old City. I credit him as the sole reason my toe is still intact after the strap on my forty-pound duffle bag full of terrorist literature broke.
We did eventually find Jaffa Gate Hostel. Energized by the celebrations outside, I felt inspired to walk around for a bit. I felt vaguely hungry and in remembering a really good hummus place in the area from my first visit to Jerusalem last September, I decided to check it out. Surprise! The venue is now occupied by a “Joseph’s Pizza.” I went inside.
“Hello can I help you?” “Yes, I’d like a slice of margarita please.” The man who I had ordered from walked up to my table. “How is your food?” “It’s good, thanks.” He introduced himself as Joseph. Though his family is originally from Cyprus, Joseph grew up in Jerusalem. He speaks fluent Arabic, Hebrew, English, and Greek.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Security Interrogation at the Ben Gurion International Airport
SEPTEMBER 24, 2009
Tel Aviv, Israel
Since my arrival in Cairo late August of 2008, I have had the opportunity to travel extensively throughout the region of the Middle East known best as the “Holy Land.” I have traveled through countless border crossings and endured many a security checkpoint across Sinai, Jordan, Israel, and the Occupied Palestinian Territories.
As an 18-year-old female student with an American passport, I had never run into any major problems at any border. Even at the Israeli border, renowned for its rigorous interrogation procedures, security never deemed it necessary to approach me with more than the procedural light questioning: “Why do you want to go to Israel?” “Where will you go?” “What is your occupation?” “Do you know anyone in Israel?” “Where will you stay?” “How long will you be here?” Sure, it’s a bit more intense than what us Americans see at JFK or LAX, but as long as you’re not a threat to national security, you should be okay, right?
Wrong.
Nothing I had experienced in my travels could have begun to prepare me for the questing I would endure upon my arrival at the Ben Gurion International Airport in Tel Aviv-Yafo on September 24, 2009.
My fabulous flight from London, made memorable by a chorus of loudly crying babies (I was surrounded), a two-hour delay, and a sub-arctic cabin temperature, was made less memorable by the obnoxious amount of airline-quality red Bordeaux I drank. Suffice to say, the British flight attendant was kept very busy by my section of the plane: “Can I get you something to drink, anything at all?” “Can I get you some more wine, any at all?” “Would you like some water with that, any at all?” British people are funny.
We rolled into the Ben Gurion International Airport around 5:30 PM IST- about an hour after our scheduled arrival. Happily and still a bit buzzed (though not obviously), I strolled off the plane, looking forward to three months of exciting investigative research. Not so fast!
I spotted a group of officers from Shin Bet (Israeli’s internal security unit) waiting outside of my terminal. They scanned the large flood of passengers departing my flight. So far, no one had been stopped. Security continued to scan the crowd, but their gaze suddenly stopped on a particular person: 5’5, wavy dark brown hair, blue eyes, clearly sleep-deprived, of obvious Caucasian heritage. A female security officer approached and asked to see my passport. “Why do want to go to Israel?” “How long do you want to stay?” She flipped through my passport, examining my collection of visas, entry and exit stamps. “I see you have been here before? Why?” “Why were you in Jordan?” “What were you doing in Egypt for so long?” Seemingly unsatisfied by my answers, she told me to wait as she conferred with her colleagues in fast Hebrew. There was a tone of serious concern.
They decided to call back-up. “You wait here!” demanded the female officer. I was not particularly concerned at this point, so I got out my iPod. Fifteen minutes later a large male escort appeared. “Come with me.” He gestured for me to follow. “Please walk in front.” I was beginning to feel more and more like a suspected security threat.
Eventually we arrived at Passport Control, where I was intercepted by another officer, a large man named Yak. “Why do you want to go to Israel?” “Why are you here?” “How long do you plan to stay?” “Why do you want to stay so long?” “What are you going to do?” “Who is paying for it?” The questioning at this point was still fairly light, though a little more aggressive, and slightly more intrusive. Still unsatisfied with my answers, I was handed off to a blonde officer who began a more aggressive line of questions. “Why were you in Egypt for so long?” “Why did you go to school there?” “Can I see your student ID?” “What do you study?” “Why?” “Why are you learning Arabic?” “Do you have friends in Cairo?” “Who are they?” “Are you traveling alone?” “Why?” “Where are your friends?” “Why are you here?”
I answered each question as best I could. The blonde officer seemed to be unconvinced. “Please step away from the box.”
She picked up the phone and spoke in fast Hebrew for about two minutes. “Go with these men,” gesturing to my immediate right. Sure enough, there was a group of four burly male officers, waiting for me to follow. “We are very sorry for this inconvenience.” They led me into a large closet-like room with blank walls and about a dozen chairs. “Please sit here.” Two Arab Muslim men sat across from me and glumly waited to be called into the special questioning room.
A little while later, I found myself sitting across a desk from a large but overall-pleasant looking female Israeli security officer. She asked me to explain my situation; who I am, my background, why I want to visit Israel, why I am here, who my contacts are, what my intentions are for the next three months. Finally, she smiled at me and calmly said “Thank you for your time. Welcome to Israel.” I was shocked. “That’s it?” I was surprised that after all that questioning, they were just going to let me go like that. Too good to be true, right? Right.
As I was walking toward the baggage claim, I was once again intercepted by a group of officers. One of them was Yak, and Yak had brought friends! After yet another round of intense questioning, they asked whether I had an Israeli guidebook that I could show them. I reached into my bag and fumbled through it to find my Lonely Planet guide. Let’s just say I should have left Voices of Hezbollah and Jihad in the check-in luggage. Whoops. As I emptied the contents of my bag, Yak’s scrawny friend caught a glimpse of my book selection and gasped in broken English “WHAT are you STUDYING?!??!”
I was led to another room in which questioning continued. I think the only new questions were “Who is your father?” and “Who is the father of your father?” This officer also asked for my basic contact information including phone numbers and e-mail address. I was directed to another “waiting room” with blank white walls, where I would await further questioning.
Half an hour later, I found myself sitting across a polished desk from the Chief of Security. An intense Ashkenazi Jew with strikingly good looks, Ariel’s glare could kill. In front of him sat a piece of paper with my picture as well as information gathered by the previous officers. The paper was covered in scribbled Hebrew writing.
“Before we begin, please bear in mind that I am the last step between entry into Israel and deportation. My colleagues have referred you here because they think there is something ‘not quite right’ with your story. We are concerned that you may be entering Israel to partake in illegal activities. I will determine this. I am the final say.”
Bewildered, I informed him (once again) that I would be in Israel to conduct research.
Ariel: “From this point on, I want you to assume that we know everything.”
You can only imagine my shock. “Excuse me?”
Ariel: “I want you to be completely honest. Be careful what you tell me. If what you say does not match with what I know from my research, I will have no choice but to send you back.”
I reiterated everything I had told the previous Shin Bet officers. After I gave him my San Diego home phone number, my Egyptian cell phone number, and my American cell phone number, we went through my contacts, text messages, and phone calls (“incoming,” “outgoing,” and missed”). I was asked to give a short biography of each person.
All of this was followed by a full examination of my digital camera. As Ariel was flipping through my pictures from Jordan, he came across a picture of me drinking tea with a Bedouin in Wadi Rum. “Who is this?!” he demanded. I explained that it was just a Bedouin I met on a trip through Jordan. “Do you have his contact information?” I shook my head.
Ariel looked down at my printed profile. “Is this your only e-mail address?” I quickly wrote down my two others (AUC and UNASD). Half-smiling, he said, “Thank you for your time, Ms. Logan. I hope you have been completely honest with us. I will conduct the rest of my research and let you know my decision.”
I returned to the blank-walled waiting room. Twenty minutes later, after a tedious three and a half hours of questioning, an Israeli officer entered the room and handed me my passport. I opened it to find a three-month visa and airport security clearance.
Tel Aviv, Israel
Since my arrival in Cairo late August of 2008, I have had the opportunity to travel extensively throughout the region of the Middle East known best as the “Holy Land.” I have traveled through countless border crossings and endured many a security checkpoint across Sinai, Jordan, Israel, and the Occupied Palestinian Territories.
As an 18-year-old female student with an American passport, I had never run into any major problems at any border. Even at the Israeli border, renowned for its rigorous interrogation procedures, security never deemed it necessary to approach me with more than the procedural light questioning: “Why do you want to go to Israel?” “Where will you go?” “What is your occupation?” “Do you know anyone in Israel?” “Where will you stay?” “How long will you be here?” Sure, it’s a bit more intense than what us Americans see at JFK or LAX, but as long as you’re not a threat to national security, you should be okay, right?
Wrong.
Nothing I had experienced in my travels could have begun to prepare me for the questing I would endure upon my arrival at the Ben Gurion International Airport in Tel Aviv-Yafo on September 24, 2009.
My fabulous flight from London, made memorable by a chorus of loudly crying babies (I was surrounded), a two-hour delay, and a sub-arctic cabin temperature, was made less memorable by the obnoxious amount of airline-quality red Bordeaux I drank. Suffice to say, the British flight attendant was kept very busy by my section of the plane: “Can I get you something to drink, anything at all?” “Can I get you some more wine, any at all?” “Would you like some water with that, any at all?” British people are funny.
We rolled into the Ben Gurion International Airport around 5:30 PM IST- about an hour after our scheduled arrival. Happily and still a bit buzzed (though not obviously), I strolled off the plane, looking forward to three months of exciting investigative research. Not so fast!
I spotted a group of officers from Shin Bet (Israeli’s internal security unit) waiting outside of my terminal. They scanned the large flood of passengers departing my flight. So far, no one had been stopped. Security continued to scan the crowd, but their gaze suddenly stopped on a particular person: 5’5, wavy dark brown hair, blue eyes, clearly sleep-deprived, of obvious Caucasian heritage. A female security officer approached and asked to see my passport. “Why do want to go to Israel?” “How long do you want to stay?” She flipped through my passport, examining my collection of visas, entry and exit stamps. “I see you have been here before? Why?” “Why were you in Jordan?” “What were you doing in Egypt for so long?” Seemingly unsatisfied by my answers, she told me to wait as she conferred with her colleagues in fast Hebrew. There was a tone of serious concern.
They decided to call back-up. “You wait here!” demanded the female officer. I was not particularly concerned at this point, so I got out my iPod. Fifteen minutes later a large male escort appeared. “Come with me.” He gestured for me to follow. “Please walk in front.” I was beginning to feel more and more like a suspected security threat.
Eventually we arrived at Passport Control, where I was intercepted by another officer, a large man named Yak. “Why do you want to go to Israel?” “Why are you here?” “How long do you plan to stay?” “Why do you want to stay so long?” “What are you going to do?” “Who is paying for it?” The questioning at this point was still fairly light, though a little more aggressive, and slightly more intrusive. Still unsatisfied with my answers, I was handed off to a blonde officer who began a more aggressive line of questions. “Why were you in Egypt for so long?” “Why did you go to school there?” “Can I see your student ID?” “What do you study?” “Why?” “Why are you learning Arabic?” “Do you have friends in Cairo?” “Who are they?” “Are you traveling alone?” “Why?” “Where are your friends?” “Why are you here?”
I answered each question as best I could. The blonde officer seemed to be unconvinced. “Please step away from the box.”
She picked up the phone and spoke in fast Hebrew for about two minutes. “Go with these men,” gesturing to my immediate right. Sure enough, there was a group of four burly male officers, waiting for me to follow. “We are very sorry for this inconvenience.” They led me into a large closet-like room with blank walls and about a dozen chairs. “Please sit here.” Two Arab Muslim men sat across from me and glumly waited to be called into the special questioning room.
A little while later, I found myself sitting across a desk from a large but overall-pleasant looking female Israeli security officer. She asked me to explain my situation; who I am, my background, why I want to visit Israel, why I am here, who my contacts are, what my intentions are for the next three months. Finally, she smiled at me and calmly said “Thank you for your time. Welcome to Israel.” I was shocked. “That’s it?” I was surprised that after all that questioning, they were just going to let me go like that. Too good to be true, right? Right.
As I was walking toward the baggage claim, I was once again intercepted by a group of officers. One of them was Yak, and Yak had brought friends! After yet another round of intense questioning, they asked whether I had an Israeli guidebook that I could show them. I reached into my bag and fumbled through it to find my Lonely Planet guide. Let’s just say I should have left Voices of Hezbollah and Jihad in the check-in luggage. Whoops. As I emptied the contents of my bag, Yak’s scrawny friend caught a glimpse of my book selection and gasped in broken English “WHAT are you STUDYING?!??!”
I was led to another room in which questioning continued. I think the only new questions were “Who is your father?” and “Who is the father of your father?” This officer also asked for my basic contact information including phone numbers and e-mail address. I was directed to another “waiting room” with blank white walls, where I would await further questioning.
Half an hour later, I found myself sitting across a polished desk from the Chief of Security. An intense Ashkenazi Jew with strikingly good looks, Ariel’s glare could kill. In front of him sat a piece of paper with my picture as well as information gathered by the previous officers. The paper was covered in scribbled Hebrew writing.
“Before we begin, please bear in mind that I am the last step between entry into Israel and deportation. My colleagues have referred you here because they think there is something ‘not quite right’ with your story. We are concerned that you may be entering Israel to partake in illegal activities. I will determine this. I am the final say.”
Bewildered, I informed him (once again) that I would be in Israel to conduct research.
Ariel: “From this point on, I want you to assume that we know everything.”
You can only imagine my shock. “Excuse me?”
Ariel: “I want you to be completely honest. Be careful what you tell me. If what you say does not match with what I know from my research, I will have no choice but to send you back.”
I reiterated everything I had told the previous Shin Bet officers. After I gave him my San Diego home phone number, my Egyptian cell phone number, and my American cell phone number, we went through my contacts, text messages, and phone calls (“incoming,” “outgoing,” and missed”). I was asked to give a short biography of each person.
All of this was followed by a full examination of my digital camera. As Ariel was flipping through my pictures from Jordan, he came across a picture of me drinking tea with a Bedouin in Wadi Rum. “Who is this?!” he demanded. I explained that it was just a Bedouin I met on a trip through Jordan. “Do you have his contact information?” I shook my head.
Ariel looked down at my printed profile. “Is this your only e-mail address?” I quickly wrote down my two others (AUC and UNASD). Half-smiling, he said, “Thank you for your time, Ms. Logan. I hope you have been completely honest with us. I will conduct the rest of my research and let you know my decision.”
I returned to the blank-walled waiting room. Twenty minutes later, after a tedious three and a half hours of questioning, an Israeli officer entered the room and handed me my passport. I opened it to find a three-month visa and airport security clearance.
Friday, September 25, 2009
A Church of Many Names
SEPTEMBER 25, 2009
Jerusalem, Israel
I have seen many impressive buildings in my lifetime. There are few that can compete with the historical and religious magnificence that is the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Also known as “Golgotha” (the Hill of Calvary) by many Christians, or the “Church of the Resurrection” by Eastern Christians, it is venerated as one of Christianity’s most holy sites. Christian pilgrims have flocked to the Old City since the 4th century CE to pay homage to the site at which Jesus Christ, son of God, was stripped of his clothing, nailed to a cross, and crucified by the Romans. It is also, according to tradition, the burial site of Jesus Christ (the Sepulchre) as well as the place at which the Resurrection occurred.
The Church of the Holy Sepulchre, originally a temple for Aphrodite, proudly overlooked the Old City for over eight hundred years- from its construction in the second century CE, to its destruction at the hands of Fatamid caliph al-Hakim in 1009. Al-Hakim, supposedly, “was aggrieved by the scale of the Easter pilgrimage to Jerusalem, which was caused specially by the annual miracle of the Holy Fire within the Sepulchre.” (Christian writer Yahya ibn Sa’id) Still, the destruction of the church “was only part of a general campaign against Christian places in Palestine and Egypt.” Other major churches damaged in the raid include the Church of St. George. Little did al-Hakim know that his precious slash-and-burn fest would be cited by Pope Urban II, in 1095, as one of the foremost “justifications” for the First Crusade.
Reconstruction was funded by Byzantine Emperor Constantine IX and the church was completed, though not nearly to its original splendor, in 1048 CE. It stood untouched through the Crusades, conquered by Salah al-Din (Saladin) in 1187, and later became the seat of the first Latin Patriarchs.
Now, here I am, a thousand years later, in 2009 (exactly one millennium after al-Hakim’s little raid), sitting in a quiet corner next to “The Prison of Christ.” Just upstairs is the “Calvary,” where one can view the approximate place at which Jesus is believed to have been 1) stripped of his clothing, 2) nailed to the cross, and 3) raised to the cross and crucified.
(where Jesus was nailed to the cross)
(where Jesus was crucified)
(the Edicule at the center of the church)
(Church of the Holy Sepulchre from the outside)
One of the first things I noticed upon entering the church is the solemn atmosphere. The Church of the Holy Sepulchre, marking the place of Jesus’s death, is most certainly a place of mourning. The constant unmelodious hum of monastic chant pervades throughout the interior as pilgrims light candles as a symbolic gesture of lifelong dedication to Jesus Christ.
(the Stone of Anointing- marks where Jesus was prepared for burial by Joseph of Arimathea)
This atmosphere was much different from what I had witnessed at the Church of the Nativity (which was allegedly built upon the birthplace of Jesus Christ) during my visits to Bethlehem last December and January. The Church of the Nativity is a place of rejoicing, of celebration. I recall walking in on a sermon directed to a large group of Nigerian pilgrims that ended on a melodious note with a group rendition of “Silent Night.”
Jerusalem, Israel
I have seen many impressive buildings in my lifetime. There are few that can compete with the historical and religious magnificence that is the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Also known as “Golgotha” (the Hill of Calvary) by many Christians, or the “Church of the Resurrection” by Eastern Christians, it is venerated as one of Christianity’s most holy sites. Christian pilgrims have flocked to the Old City since the 4th century CE to pay homage to the site at which Jesus Christ, son of God, was stripped of his clothing, nailed to a cross, and crucified by the Romans. It is also, according to tradition, the burial site of Jesus Christ (the Sepulchre) as well as the place at which the Resurrection occurred.
The Church of the Holy Sepulchre, originally a temple for Aphrodite, proudly overlooked the Old City for over eight hundred years- from its construction in the second century CE, to its destruction at the hands of Fatamid caliph al-Hakim in 1009. Al-Hakim, supposedly, “was aggrieved by the scale of the Easter pilgrimage to Jerusalem, which was caused specially by the annual miracle of the Holy Fire within the Sepulchre.” (Christian writer Yahya ibn Sa’id) Still, the destruction of the church “was only part of a general campaign against Christian places in Palestine and Egypt.” Other major churches damaged in the raid include the Church of St. George. Little did al-Hakim know that his precious slash-and-burn fest would be cited by Pope Urban II, in 1095, as one of the foremost “justifications” for the First Crusade.
Reconstruction was funded by Byzantine Emperor Constantine IX and the church was completed, though not nearly to its original splendor, in 1048 CE. It stood untouched through the Crusades, conquered by Salah al-Din (Saladin) in 1187, and later became the seat of the first Latin Patriarchs.
Now, here I am, a thousand years later, in 2009 (exactly one millennium after al-Hakim’s little raid), sitting in a quiet corner next to “The Prison of Christ.” Just upstairs is the “Calvary,” where one can view the approximate place at which Jesus is believed to have been 1) stripped of his clothing, 2) nailed to the cross, and 3) raised to the cross and crucified.
(where Jesus was nailed to the cross)
(where Jesus was crucified)
(the Edicule at the center of the church)
(Church of the Holy Sepulchre from the outside)
One of the first things I noticed upon entering the church is the solemn atmosphere. The Church of the Holy Sepulchre, marking the place of Jesus’s death, is most certainly a place of mourning. The constant unmelodious hum of monastic chant pervades throughout the interior as pilgrims light candles as a symbolic gesture of lifelong dedication to Jesus Christ.
(the Stone of Anointing- marks where Jesus was prepared for burial by Joseph of Arimathea)
This atmosphere was much different from what I had witnessed at the Church of the Nativity (which was allegedly built upon the birthplace of Jesus Christ) during my visits to Bethlehem last December and January. The Church of the Nativity is a place of rejoicing, of celebration. I recall walking in on a sermon directed to a large group of Nigerian pilgrims that ended on a melodious note with a group rendition of “Silent Night.”
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