Men With Guns Stop Plowing

We went to the South Hebron Hills today to try to make it possible for Palestinians to plow their fields. But men with guns came and sent us away.

We were five men without guns -- a rabbi, three other Jewish Israelis, and one American Christian. The Palestinians had appealed to Rabbis for Human Rights for help, because the nearby settlers were preventing them from cultivating their land. Rabbi Arik Ascherman, the Executive Director of RHR, had confirmed with the district army commander of the area that the Palestinians owned the land they wanted to plow and had a right to plow it.

We came to assist them in exercising their right to plow, so they might sow their seeds and then, in the autumn, harvest their crops.

Without our presence, the Palestinian farmers would not attempt to plow, as the settlers have not only threatened them, but also damaged their equipment, burned their crops, and uprooted their trees. Moreover, the army and the police provide no protection for them, but are only concerned with protecting the settlers.

It seems there is no rule of law in the South Hebron Hills, but only men with guns.

When we came to the first field to be plowed, there were two tractors waiting on the top of the hill above the field and several Palestinians standing in the field. We stopped our minivan beside the road, and three of us got out and walked into the field. The van continued down the road to bring the other two men in our group to another field, where RHR had promised to be present.

By the time the three of us reached the Palestinians, two army vehicles had arrived and a half dozen soldiers, fully armed, got out of the vehicles and came to the side of the road. The soldiers said we couldn’t plow the field, so Arik telephoned the army district commander. A lengthy discussion ensued, with phone calls made by Arik, the Palestinian landowner, and the officer of the army unit. Soon, two policemen, also fully armed, arrived and joined the debate.

The first position taken by the soldiers and police was that the farmers could plow on the other side of the road, but not on the side they were on (which was their property). After a lengthy argument, the Palestinians were told they could plant a few olive trees. They apparently thought this meant down in the field where we were, so we walked up the hill to a car and carried a few saplings back down. But the army officer said the trees had to be planted higher up the hill.

Then the army officer received a fax in his vehicle that said there would be no plowing, because he had been ordered to remove us from the entire area, which had been declared a security zone. At this point, Arik asked the Palestinians what they wanted to do. If they wanted to stay, he said, we would stay with them, but that would risk arrest for all of us. They said they didn’t want to put us in that position. So we all left. In our van we hurried to reach the second field up the road (which was outside the area the army officer described as now "closed for security reasons").

On our way to the second field Arik explained that the army unit responsible for protecting the security of the settlers had overruled the army district commander, who is in charge of relations with Palestinians. But as he was giving us a more detailed explanation, he was interrupted by what proved to be an urgent call. "The settlers are attacking our group," he said. "Be ready to move quickly when we arrive."

As soon as we came to the second field, we got out of the van and moved to where settlers were standing in front of the tractor, preventing it from plowing. Although we had just left soldiers and policemen about a mile back down the road, none of them had come to protect us from the settlers. Two of the settler men were armed with automatic rifles, and almost as soon as we entered the field a vehicle came over the hill driven by a settler, with an armed soldier riding in the front seat, who got out of the car and stood watch.

About a quarter of the field had been plowed, and the farmer driving the plow remained seated on the tractor, with the engine shut off, as once again there was a vigorous debate, this time between Arik and the settlers. One of the settlers spoke no Hebrew, only English, but most of the settlers spoke in Hebrew.

The settlers claimed that they had worked this land, and that the ownership of the land was in dispute with the Israeli Custodian of land in this area. The Palestinians in this second field acknowledged that the settlers had plowed this field last year and planted in it, but against their protests. For they not only owned the land, but also had planted seeds there before the settlers came, plowed their seeds under, and replanted the field.

More settlers arrived, including a large man with a gun who walked to the front of the tractor and yelled at the driver, "These leftists will go home, but you live here and we know where to find you." Then he yelled at us, as Arik ignored him and negotiated with the other settlers.

At this point, one member of our group, Beny Green, a good-sized man in his 70s, began to yell back at the big, armed settler, who walked over to confront him. As Arik tried to mediate their dispute, the army unit that had prevented plowing in the other field arrived on the scene.

Once again, there were many phone calls made on the cell phones that everyone here carries, including the Palestinians and the army officers. A different police unit arrived, and finally the army officer told the farmer on the tractor to go home. So, the farmer lifted his plow and drove his tractor out of the field.

While the settlers, the army unit, and the police chatted on the road, we walked with the elderly Palestinian, who owned this land, up over the hill to his home, which was only two or three shacks made out of stones, sticks, cloth, and plastic. We had, of course, been invited for tea.

Several thin mattresses with plastic covers were laid out, and we sat down, reclining on pillows provided by the women, with three elderly Palestinian men, and a couple of younger men. Two older Palestinian women sat about twenty feet away, with a small child, and one younger Palestinian woman continued to work in one of the tents behind us. Two young girls, 3 or 4 years old, hovered nearby, as we talked and drank tea.

Even before the tea was served, soldiers appeared on the hill above us, so Arik went to talk with them. When he returned, Arik said we had become an "event" that might lead the army to close the entire area. The soldiers remained on the hill, watching us with the Palestinians, while the Palestinians explained that the settlers were not only interfering with their cultivation of their land, but with their use of the water well on their property.

We were seated close to the cistern they used to trap water in the winter, but without access to the well they had to bring water in during the summer, which was very expensive. Arik took notes, as they gave him the details of their difficulties, and then we thanked them for the tea, and walked back to the road and our van.

As we walked, Beny explained to me that the statement in Hebrew on his backpack might be translated as "I hate settlers." One of the more moderate settlers had asked him, if he really hated all settlers. Beny’s response was that he hated all settlers that were putting his grandchildren at greater risk, by treating the Palestinians so badly. "I lost a son during the invasion of Lebanon," he said, "and at first I thought violence was the only answer. But now I see the only hope for peace is to have separate states for Israelis and for Palestinians. The religious settlers are making that impossible."

Before we reached the road, Beny and I stopped to admire the wild flowers in the field, for they offered a dazzling display of red, yellow, white, and purple, for those with "eyes to see." Beny said that he had worked in agriculture all his life, but each spring always took time to enjoy the beauty of the wild flowers.

As we rode back to Jerusalem in the bus, Beny said he feared there would be a war in Israel, between religious settlers and secular Israelis. He also told me that going out with RHR was how he was spending his retirement years. It was, he said, the least he could do for his grandchildren.

As the bus continued toward Jerusalem, I learned from Hillel Bardin, another retiree in our group, that he’d become involved with RHR when the Jews in his neighborhood near Beit Sahour (which is close to Bethlehem) tried to help prevent land from being taken from Palestinians for an Israeli settlement. Their protest had failed, but Hillel continued in dialogue sessions with Palestinians and in that way learned of the work of Rabbis for Human Rights.

He had not lost a child to violence, like Beny, but he was deeply disappointed by what Israel had become. Hillel has one son living in the United States, who has become more conservative about Israel since leaving the country, and two other children living in Israel. He said his youngest child, a daughter, was most sympathetic to his involvement with RHR. Hillel had invited his son living in Israel to come with him on one of RHR’s trips to help Palestinian farmers, but his son had said, "I’m afraid I’d be so angry with the settlers, that I’d lose control of myself."

Arik reminded us, as we entered Jerusalem, that the effort we’d made to help the farmers was not wasted, even though they were unable to plow. "You have to force the issue here to get anything to happen," he said. He’d already talked with a newspaper reporter for the Hebrew newspaper in Israel with the largest circulation, and he thought there might be an article covering what had happened.

Moreover, both the army and the police had been put on notice that Israeli activists would be investigating their actions, and doing their best to bring pressure on them to protect the legal rights of the Palestinian farmers in their area.

"We’ll be back," Arik said, "and maybe next time the farmers will be able to plow their fields."

Bob Traer, 15 March 2005

I am writing as a participant in the Ecumenical Accompaniment Program in Palestine and Israel, which is sponsored by the World Council of Churches. The views expressed above are personal and do not necessarily represent the World Council of Churches. If you wish to publish or disseminate this letter beyond personal friends, please contact the EAPPI Communications Officer (eappi-co@jrol.com) for permission to do so. Thank you.

For photos taken during the events described above, go to http://christian-bible.com/Ethics/photos.hebron.htm. 

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