Israel Occupied Territories Closure Marks First Anniversary

By Mary C. Cook

On the afternoon of Nov. 25, 1993, a TV cameraman filming in Gaza zoomed in on a scene which was later played repeatedly by television stations around the world. As Ala' Nimr, 27, cautiously put his head around the edge of a 15-foot wall, an Israeli soldier fired at him. A dumdum bullet struck Nimr in the skull, and he fell to the ground in his own blood.

Although witnesses at first thought him dead, Nimr survived the grave wound and eventually was taken to Asuta Hospital in Tel Aviv for treatment. But there was a catch. Due to the military closure, Nirnr's relatives could not obtain the necessary permission to cross into Israel from Gaza. At a time when the young man needed his family most, they were forbidden from making the trip to the hospital.

Through the intervention of an organization called Israeli-Palestinian Physicians for Human Rights, Nimr's brother, Atef, finally received a permit and was able to be with his brother through three operations. Israeli doctors removed 39 pieces of shrapnel from his brain, leaving him able to understand what is going on around him, but paralyzed on the left side of his body. The young man, who is married and the father of a baby girl, probably never will be able to do anything for himself again.

After the new cycle of violence that began with the killing of more than 30 Muslim worshippers in and around the Ibrahimi mosque in Hebron, the military siege, imposed a year ago on the occupied territories, was tightened once again. The recent assaults were just the excuse the Israeli government needed to close off Jerusalem and Israel completely to Palestinians with West Bank and Gaza identity cards.

Long waits at the Israeli Civil Administration to be granted a permit, or in many cases to be refused, have become a fact of life, like the checkpoints and identity cards. So much so that when the massacre in Hebron took place the media began to talk of a new closure when, in, fact, there was already one in existence.

March 31 passed without much notice in the occupied territories, although it marked the one-year anniversary of the closure. Long halts at the checkpoints which separate the West Bank and Gaza Strip from Israel and Jerusalem have become a procedure which now goes almost unquestioned by Palestinians.

So while the peace talks are being conducted in a number of locations in the world, the world of the Palestinians has actually been squeezed tighter and tighter. The Hebron massacre, the shootout in Hebron two weeks later, and the bus bombings in Aftila and Hadera, along with the blanket curfews and the closure, seem to have sucked the last remnants of hope from the already exhausted population.

Despite talk of peace, it has been a year of frustration and growing despair as the consequences of the closure become more and more apparent. Every aspect of life has been affected: work, agriculture, travel, health and education.

Prior to March 1993, 120,000 Palestinian laborers were employed in Israel. After the closure was imposed, the Israeli authorities allowed only a small percentage of those Palestinians to travel to and from work. After several months, that number increased to nearly 50,000, only to decrease by nearly 10,000 at Christmas time. It is rumored that those who lost their permits were persons holding views in opposition to the peace process.

Since the bombing at an Aftila bus stop inside Israel April 6, no workers with West Bank and Gaza IDs have been permitted into Israel proper. This has left thousands of Palestinians without any type of income and exacerbated an already critical situation.

Without permission to travel or transport their produce, farmers' incomes also have plummeted. According to the Palestinian Agricultural Relief Committees, marketing is almost solely restricted to the territories. This has caused prices to hit an all-time low. Strawberries, which were selling for the equivalent of $1 per kilo before the Hebron massacre, now are going for 30 cents. The price of a crate of zucchini, formerly retailing for $2.80, also has dropped to 30 cents. Farmers who cannot sell their crops have decided to distribute what they can to refugee camps, use them for fodder or leave them in the field.

Struggling to Subsist

While farmers struggle to subsist, other Palestinians in the West Bank have been taking long detours around Jerusalem and Israeli territory to work and school. Since the closure last year, the dangerous, winding Valley of Fire road originally constructed under Jordanian occupation in 1953 has become the only route by which some Palestinian residents from the southern West Bank can reach the northern West Bank and vice versa. Scores of taxis can be seen driving along the old road which circumvents Jerusalem.

Said one passenger in such a taxi, "This is because of peace. Instead of traveling only 40 kilometers from Bethlehem to Ramallah, we now have to travel 100 kilometers. All for peace."

According to an Israeli Civil Administration spokeswoman, Major Elise Shazar, the old road "makes it easy" to go from Ramallah to Bethlehem. The road does in fact keep the regions accessible to each other, but at more than twice the price of transportation before the closure. More important, the closure means that thousands of West Bank residents cannot enter Jerusalem to pray, visit hospitals, work, attend school or see relatives.

Doctors, nurses and other health care workers staged a demonstration at the Jerusalem-Ramallah checkpoint April 3. They protested the Israeli government's policy of preventing West Bank Palestinian medical personnel and patients from reaching Jerusalem medical facilities.

Meanwhile, 1,300 Gaza students have found themselves trapped at home, unable to travel to West Bank schools and universities without the necessary documents. In solidarity, 300 Bir Zeit University students attempted to travel to Gaza in late March, but were stopped at the Latrun army checkpoint on the Green Line. In defiance of the refusal to let them transit through Israel, which is the only route to and from the Gaza Strip, the students held a sit-in on the spot.

Many educators from the West Bank who teach in Jerusalem schools have also found themselves locked out during the past few weeks. Their exclusion from Jerusalem educational institutions once again is creating havoc with the Palestinian educational process.

As the peace process sputters along, and both sides point fingers at the other, the current situation resembles the story of the chicken and the egg. Is the closure a reaction to the many violent events that preceded it, or the cause of the escalation in violence that followed it?

Mary C Cook is a freelance journalist living in the West Bank.