January 16 1998 - VOL 4 No. 31
by: Joharah Baker
International and local efforts to forward the peace process have once again proven fruitless. The close of US peace envoy to the Middle East Dennis Ross' visit to the region has resulted in nothing more than a widening of the gap between Palestinians and Israelis. Officials in Washington have put the blame of Ross' failed mission on Israeli prime minister Benyamin Netanyahu, expressing frustration over his obstinacy. Even the United States, Israel's biggest and most faithful fan, is showing signs of impatience.
Netanyahu has now set new criteria for his redeployment plan. Earlier, Netanyahu made it clear that Israel would not redeploy until the Palestinians agree to implement a list of Israeli commitments dealing with the PA controlling any "incitement" against Israel in its territories. He is now demanding from the Palestinians to agree to the cancellation of the third phase of redeployment in order for Israel to withdraw from more than 10 percent of West Bank lands. This also entails immediately launching into final-status negotiations. As a "reward" the Israeli prime minister says he may discuss some "form of freeze" of settlement activity if Palestinians agree to the new situation. If they remain adamant in their refusal, then he maintains that they will not obtain more than 8 percent of lands. Minister of infrastructure Ariel Sharon suggests that the second phase be divided into four equal parts (i.e. 2 percent each part). This would mean that redeployment would take years, not months, to be implemented. An Israeli military document confirmed this by stating that, immediately following the first instructions given, redeployment will take at least two years.
Of course Palestinians are rejecting any such formula. Redeployment must be implemented over three stages, something which the US has given their assurances over. In his numerous meetings with Dennis Ross last week Palestinian president Yasser Arafat discussed the urgency in reaching a solution maintaining that Israel must commit to signed agreements. Although the two did not discuss specific numbers, Ross assured the president that the US will settle for no less than a two-digit figure from Israel. However, it remains to be seen how much pull the Americans have with the right-wing government.
Arafat is also working on the international committee. On January 12 he met with European envoy to the Middle East Miguel Morathinos to discuss the current deadlock in the peace process and to urge the Europeans to exert more pressure on Israel. Arafat also flew to Amman on January 13 to meet with King Hussein and discuss the Palestinian and Arab positions in the stagnant process. Arafat expressed his frustration to the King over Israeli intransigence and praised Jordan's stance in supporting the Palestinian cause.
The real test, however, will be later on in the month when both Arafat and Netanyahu meet with US president Bill Clinton. How serious the parties involved are and just how much they are willing to concede will become apparent from the outcome of the meetings. Still, Netanyahu has made it perfectly clear that whatever he has to say in Washington is his final word by announcing that he will leave the US capital on January 21 immediately after his meeting with Clinton. Arafat arrives on that same day, hinting that there will be no possibility for a meeting between the two leaders and therefore no negotiating over Israel's position. Arafat also has his expectations for Washington and the US ability to convince Netanyahu into compromising. The Washington meetings are, according to Arafat, "the last chance" to save the peace process.
Another negative indicator is the recent approval of additional housing units in Israeli settlements. The prime minister gave Israel's green light to build 574 housing units in the Efrat settlement near Bethlehem and 94 housing units in Elkana settlement in the northern West Bank. Netanyahu insists that the Oslo accords do not stipulate a total halt of settlement activities, therefore Israel is not breaching any of the agreements it signed with the Palestinians. He also stated that the activities which are currently taking place are an expansion of already existing settlements and not the initiation of new ones. Nonetheless, Netanyahu is allotting a substantial part of his government's budget to settlement activities as indicated by a Peace Now report which indicated that the 1998 budget will invest an estimated $350 million in settlements.
Urging on the Scuds: A Gulf War Diary
By Muna Hamzeh-Muhaisen
(January 17 marks the seventh anniversary of the Gulf War. The following is a personal account of life in a West Bank refugee camp during the war.
During the 1991 Gulf war, the Israelis accused the Palestinians of being heartless. They claimed that while Iraqi Scud missiles were falling over Tel Aviv, Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza Strip were standing on their rooftops, whistling and laughing, urging on the Scuds. The Western media picked up on this, their coverage of the war implying that the Palestinians enjoyed watching Saddam's missiles spread panic and destruction into the heart of Israel.
Having spent the war in Dheisheh Refugee Camp in Bethlehem " when the entire West Bank and Gaza Strip were still under Israeli occupation " I know the Palestinians were misunderstood. No one outside the Occupied Territories had the vaguest idea what we were going through.
On January 16, one day before the war started, the West Bank and Gaza Strip were placed under Israeli military curfew. In Dheisheh, the curfew didn't matter much because the camp had already been under curfew since January 2, following severe confrontations with Israeli soldiers. What mattered was that camp residents had no way of getting ready for the war " and this was going to be the first war which could involve chemical and nerve gas weapons carried by missiles, and the first time ever that people here had to wear gas masks.
We heard about the gas masks, of course. We saw them on Israeli TV every night, and watched how Israeli citizens were instructed on how to use them. But the Israeli military authorities never issued us any, and while some Palestinians living in West Bank cities received gas masks, none were distributed in any of the 28 refugee camps in the West Bank and Gaza Strip. Therefore, we knew that for the duration of the war, we would have no real protection from chemical or nerve gas. If Saddam Hussein had actually used either, it is very likely that more Palestinians than Israelis would have died.
Shortly before the war, a Palestinian health organization distributed leaflets in the Occupied Territories instructing us on how to make homemade gas masks. We were told to place barbecue coal inside a hot oven to clear it of carbon dioxide. After cooling, we were to smash the coal into tiny pieces and place it on a piece of gauze, cover it with another piece of gauze, and stitch the two pieces together. "In the event that chemical gas is used, cover your nose and mouth with the coal-enforced gauze," the leaflet read. It also instructed us to wear long pants, socks, long-sleeved shirts, and heavy jackets. To prevent the gas from seeping through at the ankle or wrist areas, we were to wear plastic bags on our feet and plastic gloves, securing the edges with tape.
Meanwhile, Radio Israel's Arabic service informed listeners how to seal a room in order to make it safe against chemical gas. We were told to buy rolls of plastic sheeting and tape, and secure the windows and doors of one room in the house. We were further instructed to stock up on canned food and bottled water. It all sounded so simple, but it wasn't.
The curfew we had been living under insince January 2 was lifted on the morning of January 14 and clamped down again on January 16. Everyone in the camp had precisely two days to buy everything they need. Yet most residents faced a serious problem: there was no cash flow. Dheisheh had been placed under curfew off and on since the previous October. This meant that people had been out of work for most of that three months and many were suffering severe financial hardship. My husband Ahmed and I were among them, and the most we could buy were a few meters of plastic, four rolls of tape, a bag of coal, gauze and a week's supply of canned food.
Now it was time to seal a room. The radio advised listeners to seal the room with the fewest windows and nearest to the bathroom. Whichever way we looked at it, however, none of the rooms in our house fit the requirements. Like most houses in Dheisheh at the time, our house had four rooms, built with cinder blocks nearly 30 years ago, and was full of cracks. Furthermore, the rooms led to one another through an open courtyard, making it impossible to get to the bathroom without going outdoors.
Although it was the farthest from the bathroom, our bedroom was the only room we could seal. It was small, four meters by three meters, and had only one window and less cracks in the walls than the rest of the rooms. Ahmed covered the window with plastic and secured it with tape. Using putty, he closed as many of the cracks in the walls as possible. Finally, he rolled up a piece of plastic over the door, which had to be secured with new tape every time the sirens went off.
After getting the room ready, we couldn't sleep in it. The air in the room was stuffy and we couldn't use the kerosene heater for fear of suffocation. There also wasn't enough space to move about since we had stored all the perishable food and several containers of water in the bedroom. It was also impossible to be inside the room and not get an eerie sense that something horrible was about to happen. It was too depressing to bear, so we moved our blankets and television set into the living room, where we ate, slept, socialized and watched TV for the next few weeks. The TV and radio were never turned off, except when the electricity went out, which was often; we then operated the radio on batteries.
When the sirens went off, announcing the first Scud missile attack, I felt sedated with fear. I imagined chemical gas entering my body through my eyes, my ears, and my nostrils. I imagined being the only survivor in Dheisheh. I imagined emerging from the sealed room to a dreadful stillness in the camp, going from house to house and finding everyone dead in the spot where they had last been sitting or lying. I realized that it would be a swift death with no visible destruction, no blown up houses, no bent electric poles, and no gutted windows; a quiet death that destroys only the living. The hundreds of birds nesting on the gigantic pine tree down the street would die, and so would the dozens of stray dogs whose howling shatters the silence of the nights. All the children who live in our neighborhood, all the babies, the girls and the boys would die and so would Ahmed, my husband of less than a year. The thought of his death lingered.
The announcer on Radio Israel was urging people to stay calm, remain in their sealed rooms, and keep their gas masks on. He sounded solemn and frightfully serious. I don't recall how I finally managed to fall asleep that first night but I do recall waking up very early the next morning. Ahmed and my mother-in-law were both asleep. I wrapped a blanket around my shoulders and went outside. Nothing and nobody stirred. All was quiet at 'Abdullah's house next door. I couldn't hear any of Fawzi's eight kids moving about across the alley. Zuhair's house, usually the noisiest in the neighborhood, was dead still. I panicked. My heart throbbed so loud that my ears hurt. I was sure, absolutely sure, that all the neighbors had suffocated to death inside their sealed rooms. I smoked one cigarette after the next, pondering what to do. I wanted to open the front gate and go check on everyone but what about the curfew?
Finally realizing that my fear of finding all my neighbors dead was far greater than my fear of being caught by an Israeli army patrol, I slipped out the door and ran to 'Abdullah's house next door. The front gate was locked so I jumped over the wall. I knocked on the door with great urgency. The need to talk to another living soul suddenly became vital. I heard the rattling of plastic and the door opened. 'Abdullah's mother stood there, trying to shake the sleep from her eyes. I had never been so happy to see her. We exchanged a few words and I left. I went to one more house before realizing that all the neighbors might think I was crazy walking about with my face unwashed, my hair uncombed and a huge blanket wrapped around my shoulders. I went back to the house and waited for Ahmed to wake up.
When we were placed under curfew at the outset of the war, I thought Ahmed and I would spend the entire time by ourselves. I couldn't have been more wrong. With absolutely no place to go and nothing to do for weeks on end, everyone in Dheisheh had time to socialize. Even the curfew didn't stop them. Most of our neighbors and friends would come over and spend hours with us, sitting around in the living room, drinking tea with sage, watching TV and discussing the latest developments of the war. We listened to the news around the clock. Ahmed and our neighbor, 'Abdullah, took turns staying up all night to keep up with the latest events. We would debate Saddam's next move " would he use chemical gas? How would the Allies respond if he did? We differed. The debates became heated but on one thing, we all agreed: Israel would never be the same again.
The moment the first Scud hit, the Israelis panicked. They appeared on our TV screens, scared and vulnerable. It was precisely this that made us feel so euphoric. The same people who had occupied us with their guns, bombs, and iron fists were gripped with fear. We watched, with great delight, as armed Israeli soldiers ran out of the camp, terrified. It happened every time the sirens went off. Loaded with their guns, helmets, trenchcoats and gas masks, they would dash out of Dheisheh to the military camp across the street. We would watch them and laugh. It was a wholehearted laughter, the kind that makes your entire body shake.
While the soldiers hid, wearing their stupid gas masks, Dheisheh went to work. This was the best time to break the curfew and not worry about being caught. The camp's alleys would bustle with activity: two teenaged girls walk by, carting a sack of flour. An old man scurries along with an electric heater under his arm. A woman, with a big pot balanced over her head, strolls by. Two brothers carefully carry a TV set, explaining to curious onlookers that their set had broken down and they're borrowing this one from a relative. While Saddam's missiles raged through the skies, Dheisheh's refugees were busy moving things from house to house, the heavier things, things they could not risk carrying when the soldiers were around.
Ahmed and I would stand on the roof, along with all the neighbors, and watch the Scuds light the sky as they swiftly made their way to Tel Aviv. Our four rolls of tape had run out early on and we could no longer secure the plastic on our bedroom door. Hiding in the sealed room had become pointless. Whenever the sirens went off, announcing the end of a missile raid, a sudden stillness would wrap Dheisheh. Not a soul, even a stray cat, would remain in sight. The soldiers were back with their guns and sticks. We would all disappear inside our houses and wait. Soon there will be another raid, another Scud attack, and another threat of chemical gas making the stillness in Dheisheh eternal.
Palestinians and Israelis Agree on Peace, But Not on Each Other
JMCC Public Opinion Polling Unit &
Tami Steinmetz Center for Peace Research
The Jerusalem Media and Communication Centre and Tel Aviv University's Tami SteinmetzCenterfor Peace Research this week published the results of an unprecedented public opinion poll carried out jointly among Palestinians and Israelis. The survey, funded by the government of Norway and the CRB Foundation, was carried out in late November and early December 1997. On the Palestinian side, 1,185 people were interviewed face-to-face, 769 in the West Bank (including East Jerusalem) and 416 in the Gaza Strip. Inside Israel, 1,002 people were interviewed, 501 Jews and 501 Arabs.
(It should be noted that a disproportionately large sample of Israeli Arabs " normally only 11 percent of the total Israeli population " was used in order to correctly analyze this population group by its subgroups. When data computations were made for the entire Israeli population, the Israeli Arab group was weighted in accordance with its correct proportion. Thus, totals shown on the Israeli side predominantly reflect the attitudes of the Jewish public.)
In general, Palestinians and Israelis expressed support for the Oslo process, although support was stronger on the Palestinian side (68 percent compared with 59 percent among Israelis). In addition, both sides are generally optimistic that a peace settlement will be reached eventually (59 percent of Palestinians / 62.5 percent of Israelis). Perceptions of the obstacles facing progress in the peace process were similar too: Israelis as well as Palestinians tended to place the responsibility for the delays on the Netanyahu government, and there was a greater tendency on the part of Israelis surveyed (16 percent) to blame both sides.
Less Israelis than Palestinians felt that the current interim phase is helping to build confidence between the two sides as it was intended to do (33 percent of Israelis compared with 43.4 percent of Palestinians). However, more Palestinians than Israelis (45.5 percent compared with 40.6 percent) believe that the interim phase is actually destroying confidence. Yet Palestinians' sense of personal security is far higher than that of Israelis: 64.2 percent feel personally more secure since the peace process, compared with only 9 percent of Israelis. The overwhelming majority of Israelis either felt that their personal security was the same (54.5 percent) or worse (34.6 percent). And only a small minority of respondents on each side feel that their personal economic situation has improved since the peace process began (16.9 percent of Palestinians, 6.6 percent of Israelis). Among all respondents, the feeling of economic deterioration is stronger at the collective level than at the personal level (59 percent of Palestinians, 40 percent of Israelis).
Large majorities of Palestinians (65 percent) and Israelis (77 percent) believe that in order to strengthen support for peace, relations between the two peoples should be intensified in all areas. Yet both sides are insistent on the need for a closed, clearly defined border between the two entities in order to keep them apart. Support for stronger relations and support for separation seem mutually exclusive, but in fact are not. It appears that both sides want to enhance the prospects for peace but without forfeiting their separate identities. Not many on either side believe in the possibility of a "new Middle East" emerging (23 percent of Palestinians and 22 percent of Israelis). And, currently, there is relatively little interaction at either the personal or business level between Palestinians and Israelis (22 percent of Palestinians and 32 percent of Israelis have a personal or business relationship with someone from the other side).
Those who do have such relationships found them generally pleasant. Yet Israeli and Palestinian perceptions of each other are quite different. Palestinian perceptions of Israelis tended to be clearer, with 77 percent of Palestinians believing Israelis to be violent and 62 percent intelligent. Israelis' perceptions of Palestinians tended to be less rigid: 39 percent believe Palestinians are violent and 42 percent think Palestinians are dishonest. Only 19 percent of Israelis consider Palestinians intelligent, however.
To sum up, despite a certain asymmetry in the situations of the two peoples and the differences found in their attitudes, a large majority of Palestinians (73 percent) and Israelis (70 percent) feel either very optimistic or optimistic concerning the future in general.
To View the Poll Results: JMCC Public Opinion Poll No. 25