RE: A culture of mistrust

From: Carol Macdonald (macdonaldc@educ.wits.ac.za)
Date: Mon Mar 22 2004 - 23:01:29 PST


[Carol Macdonald] David-
How about cultures are that are predicated on mistrust and jealousy? This
is not particular to a situation, but one in which this is the usual way of
going about things. The Tswana people, whom I know, are a very "jealous"
people, and they spend a lot of time trying to work out how it is somebody
was trying to have one on over them; trying to unpack each other's "lies".
Then they tell me how refreshing it is that whites like me don't have to
tell lies all the time (which might be another lie!!!) It is very tiring
working with these people-the lack of trust is pervasive.
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."
>



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