well... it seems that nobody pick up this thread. What I just was
implying is that if we are looking for a link between culture and
collaboration we should also look for a way to explain how cultures of
reciprocal mistrust and hate develop.
Quoting david.preiss@yale.edu:
>
> I just read the article below in Haaretz. I thought it well
> illustrates how cultural practices can be degraded by the lack of
> trust in the other. What does the reality depicted there say about
> our
> recent discussion on reflectivity and collaboration?
>
> David
>
> Welcome to Tora Bora
>
> By Daniel Ben Simon
>
>
>
> The A-Ram checkpoint is considered a "soft" checkpoint. It filters
> Palestinians who want to enter Jerusalem and who have already gone
> through a prior and rigorous filtering process at the terrifying
> Qalandiyah checkpoint. "This is a secondary checkpoint and is
> considered political in character," Doron said of the A-Ram site.
> Doron is a veteran policeman, who in the past few years has spent
> days
> and nights in his job of supervising the movements of the
> Palestinians. With time has come proficiency. He can now spot the
> different accent, the look, the facial expression, the body movement,
>
> he says. Every Palestinian has his way of entering Israel. "With the
>
> Christians, we're more flexible," he noted.
>
>
>
>
> This week, he and his buddies at the checkpoint were asked to keep a
>
> special eye on the children. Once, women were thought to be innocent
>
> of all malicious intent. Since they joined the family of suicide
> bombers, they have become ticking bombs. This week, children entered
>
> the terrorist club: A 10-year-old boy was caught trying to smuggle a
>
> bomb through a checkpoint, although he didn't know what he was
> carrying. So kids, too, were added to the list of suspects. It's an
>
> impossible situation, Doron says. On Wednesday morning, about 5,000
>
> schoolchildren entered Jerusalem for another day of school. Every one
>
> of them carried a bag on his or her back. There were children of 6
> and
> children of 8 and children of 10.
>
> Benny, an officer with the Border Police, is the commander of the
> A-
> Ram checkpoint. Like Doron, he too wears a protective vest. Here the
>
> chance of smuggling in a bomb is almost nil, but the men in uniform
>
> are fearful that a Palestinian man or woman will open fire at them at
>
> short range. This week, Benny felt distressed. The fact that children
>
> had joined the club of suspects disturbed him - both logistically and
>
> mentally.
>
> "How can you check 5,000 children?" he asked, shaking his head. "And
>
> how can you check 5,000 bags? Even if you place dozens of guards and
>
> dozens of policemen here, you will never succeed in examining all the
>
> bags, and there is also no chance that the children will get to
> school
> on time."
>
> The line is orderly and flowing. Hundreds of Palestinians are
> standing
> here, waiting for the soldier to wave them toward the checkpoint. One
>
> more small revision, one more step, and they are in the Promised
> Land.
> They show ID cards in a rainbow of colors. Green, orange, blue. The
>
> holders of the blue cards enter without delay. With the others,
> lengthy negotiations begin, which are sometimes oppressive.
>
> One woman succeeded in softening Benny's heart. She is a resident of
>
> the territories and doesn't have an entry permit to Israel. One of
> the
> soldiers noticed her as she tried to make her way between the
> boulders
> in order to sneak into Beit Hanina. "Come here!" he ordered her in
> Arabic. In her interrogation, which took place in front of all those
>
> who were waiting in line, she related that if she didn't get to Beit
>
> Hanina, she would be passing a death sentence on her husband and her
>
> children. She showed Benny their photograph and burst into tears. The
>
> husband's disability has created a division of labor between them: he
>
> collects squash from the nearby fields, extracts juice from them and
>
> puts it into bottles. She sells the bottles of juice in Beit Hanina
>
> for next to nothing, and thus is able to provide food for the
> family.
>
> Heartrending negotiations went on for close to an hour. Under the
> orders, she is not allowed to cross without authorization from the
> army. She begged so piteously that Benny broke. He moved away from
> her, as though intimating to her to enter. The woman, already
> experienced, started to walk, and didn't look back.
>
> Dulled faith
>
> According to Doron, the checkpoints have created a reality that every
>
> human being would protest. Including him. But in the madness that
> currently rages, there is no choice but for him and the soldiers to
> do
> their work. "It's hardest for me with the children," he said, moving
>
> his rifle from one hand to the other. "I have kids, too. I look at
> the
> Palestinian children and I see my children. That makes things really
>
> hard for me. An old woman comes and begs me to let her enter. I look
>
> at her and I see my grandmother or my mother. My heart breaks."
>
> Benny and Doron say they have lost their innocence in this grinding
>
> job. On the day they started being suspicious of women, something
> changed in them. This week they felt that another line had been
> crossed. "A child who lives in this reality is no longer naive,"
> Doron
> explained. "He's not some kid from Switzerland who wants to enter
> Israel. A 6-year-old Palestinian kid already knows what an M-16 is
> and
> even how to use it. He knows what a device is and how it's activated.
>
> In general, every container that a child or an adult carry with them
>
> is a means to bring in explosives. They aren't naive and we aren't
> naive."
>
> Over time, Doron's faith in humanity has become dulled. He sleeps
> with
> a pistol under his pillow, takes down the garbage at home with a
> pistol in his pocket. "In today's reality it's become part of my
> body," he said. "Unfortunately, I don't see a rosy horizon."
>
> Ten minutes from Jerusalem
>
> At the Qalandiyah checkpoint, which is very different from the one at
>
> A-Ram, tens of thousands of people and thousands of cars are handled
>
> every day. This checkpoint crudely splits the area of separation
> between Israel and the territories. The Palestinians call it Tora
> Bora, after the region that was blasted by the Americans in
> Afghanistan.
>
> It's hard to believe that such a nightmarish, ruinous reality exists
>
> 10 minutes' drive from the capital of Israel. With the crack of dawn,
>
> thousands of people are channeled into three lines that lead to the
>
> coveted exit gate. One line for the elderly as well as women,
> children
> and the disabled. Two lines for the healthy and the strong.
>
> The sights create the impression of a jungle, of a non-place. The
> noise is earsplitting. Whoever has access to a vehicle honks his
> horn;
> everyone else shouts. Hundreds of taxicabs and trucks make their way
>
> between roads the army cut in two to control the traffic. There is no
>
> space for the masses of people who stream hither and thither,
> sometimes with no clear aim. Every car that gets through the
> checkpoint, after a wait of two or three hours, speeds wildly toward
>
> Israeli territory.
>
> On both sides of the checkpoint, for hundreds of meters, are stalls
>
> whose owners sell everything they can lay their hands on. Razor
> blades, stylized combs, hot pitas, shoelaces, shoes, T-shirts. There
>
> are also food stalls offering meat meals in the kind of hygienic
> conditions that recall certain parts of Calcutta. Exhaust fumes from
>
> the vehicles sting the eyes and the relentlessly blaring horns
> paralyze thought.
>
> The soldiers are vigilant, wearing helmets, hands ready to use their
>
> weapons. So many events have occurred here, so many alerts have been
>
> issued, that they feel their lives are in danger. This is a full-
> fledged military zone, and Israelis are not allowed to cross the
> checkpoint, not even journalists. The vehicles entering Israel mingle
>
> with the vehicles entering the territories, creating a huge melee of
>
> traffic that is perilous for pedestrians. The taxi drivers fight
> desperately for every Palestinian who crosses the checkpoint into the
>
> territories, trying to grab them as a fare and earn a few shekels.
>
> "This is a madhouse," one of the soldiers admitted, "but everyone
> knows his part in this madhouse. Whoever breaks the rules pays the
> price. It could be them and it could be us."
>
> Here, too, a bizarre routine exists between the soldiers and the
> Palestinians who lack the proper permits. The soldier says that since
>
> being posted here, he has discovered that "all the Palestinians are
>
> suffering from all types of cancer, diabetes and other illnesses."
> Everyone has his medical authorization, everyone has his
> doctor. "There is nothing I haven't heard since being here," the
> soldier added. "Everyone tries his luck. Some tell the truth, and
> some
> lie. I don't blame them, because the situation turns them all into
> liars."
>
> A aged woman tried to get past the checkpoint on a path outside the
>
> line. She shuffled along, making slow progress. The soldier notices
>
> her and moves toward her. She shows him a very swollen leg. Her toes
>
> are bandaged and blood can be seen seeping through the gauze. "I
> can't
> stand in line," she said, crying. The soldier is unmoved by her
> importuning. "It's against orders," he explains to the journalist
> next
> to him. Finally he gives in and lets her through without having to
> wait in line.
>
> "I just can't," the soldier mumbles. "The situation is totally
> impossible. How can I tell her that it's against army orders?" His
> gesture didn't catch the gaze of the responsible officer, and the
> woman went through safely.
>
> Even this brutal reality has amusing moments that bring a smile to
> the
> soldiers' lips. In the afternoon a Palestinian came to them with an
>
> unusual request. He wanted to move from the Palestinian side to the
>
> Israeli side for a few minutes, claiming his barber was there. "I'll
>
> get a haircut and be right back," he told the soldiers. "Why not get
>
> your hair cut in Qalandiyah or Ramallah?" he was asked. "By Allah's
>
> life, only my barber knows the kind of haircut I like. He turns me
> into a real doll." The soldiers told him to go back home.
>
> Security checks have become more rigorous in the past few weeks. At
>
> this checkpoint, children were considered suspicious even before it
>
> was learned that they could serve as unwitting carriers of
> explosives.
> Every morning, all the schoolchildren are checked by sensors that are
>
> installed at the entrance to the checkpoint. Their bags also undergo
> a
> strict search.
>
> "I know it will plant hatred in their hearts," one of the officers
> acknowledged. "But our children also develop hatred when they hear
> about a terrorist attack. Even if there is a political solution, what
>
> happened between us will generate hatred for generations, and that's
> a
> pity."
>
This archive was generated by hypermail 2b29 : Tue Nov 09 2004 - 11:42:23 PST