Crazy Airplane Guy

That's kind of a silly title for a blog post, but that's the whole point of this story, and we all know I like to be direct. So, here goes: taking off from Tel Aviv took a bit of time, and according to the flight attendant, always does. This is because some ultra-Orthodox Jewish men cannot sit by women, but are seated wherever Continental seats them ... which means they tend to get on the plane, sit wherever they want, and displace other people, who then aren't sure where they should sit, and often aren't happy with their new seats, etc. So in this time, and then for awhile after take-off, I sat in my seat, idly listening to the hum of conversation around me.

Until something behind me caught my attention – the young man sitting directly behind me was talking to a guy next to him about the current strife in Gaza and about his experiences in the Israeli army generally. Most of what he said was appalling, and I had to stop myself more than once from turning around and confronting him directly. I was less successful in controlling my semi-under-my-breath mutterings, but the men on either side of me wisely did not react. I can't remember the order of his statements, or the general conversational flow, but I remember most of what he said.

On why Palestinians should be grateful to Israel: “Every time I shoot an Arab, we call an ambulance and he gets taken straight to the hospital. If an Arab has a heart condition, we pay for their medication.” (Of course! Israel has nationalized health care – that's a basic right of citizenship.) “The Arabs in the West Bank live in awful conditions, but we've given them the choice of having foreign companies build factories for them to work at, and they just refuse. It's like they just want to keep saying no so they can claim that Israel doesn't care.”

On fighting the Palestinians: “Whenever we kill Arabs, we check them for weapons. Once, I killed two Arabs, and between them they were carrying an automatic rifle, two magazines – one for each of them – and eight grenades. If we hadn't killed them, they would have been happy killing one of my regiment. We aren't fighting an army – we're fighting a bunch of suicidal terrorists.” “When they fire rockets into Israel, we can track that rocket to within like ten feet. Within a minute, there are helicopters or army personnel on the way, and we fight back. It may sound like we're targeting civilians, and not all Arabs are terrorists, but for every rocket they fire at us, we're going to fire two back.”

On the current situation in Gaza: “If they don't stop firing rockets into Israel by March 23, the entire Israeli Army is going to march into Gaza. The army sent out a letter asking for volunteers from everyone eligible for active duty, and like 98% of people signed on. I signed on. Isn't that fucking amazing?” (Wow, sure does inspire feelings of patriotism ...)

On peace and reconciliation: “I can tell you that there are only two ways that the fighting will ever end, and neither of them will happen. First, we kick all the Arabs out of Israel. Or second, Israel pulls out of the West Bank completely. But neither of them will ever happen.”

The weird thing – this was a young guy with an American accent, probably someone with dual American/Israeli citizenship. And yet he has been completely indoctrinated to hate all Arabs, and to be perfectly persuaded in the rightness of his cause. I guess that's how soldiers in any army think, but given that army service is compulsory in Israel, this results in a whole lot of brainwashed people. It's an entire nation, raised to hate. I may have wanted to punch this guy, but I do agree with one of the things he said – with the current situation, there's no way that a real resolution can ever be achieved.

(Random note: indoctrination doesn't just take place in the army. Hannah was telling me that some Birthright Israel trips that teenagers/young adults take begin at the death camps in Europe – what kind of tone does that set for the rest of the experience???)

I don't like Israeli security ...

And as far as I can tell, Israeli security also hates me. While I'm glad that the feeling is mutual – hate those one-sided relationships! - it does make crossing Israel's borders quite the trial.
As I briefly mentioned before (maybe), the difficulty started as soon as we hit Tel Aviv. While I had no problem getting through security, Hannah was caught because of her Lebanon and Syria visas. The whole investigation took about 2.5 hours – first, she had to wait outside the immigration booth for some supervisor. Then she was taken away and asked some questions. Then she told them that she was with me, and I was taking from my nice waiting spot to wait with her instead. THEN we finally got waived through immigration, only to get stopped on the other side and asked MORE questions. I'm not sure what they were looking for, but they didn't find it, and we finally got released ...

Travel within the country was fine, if sometimes a little frustrating. Because we were with a Palestinian man, security details were often a bit suspicious. For example, when entering the Wailing Wall plaza in Jerusalem, Hannah and I had no problem, but Ahmad was hassled – enough that I suspect he wouldn't have been allowed in if he'd been alone. For the most part, though, we were allowed to go on our merry little way ...

Even getting into Jordan was painless – I thought it meant that Israel doesn't care who leaves the country, just enters, but turns out that wasn't right – but getting back into Israel afterwards was yet another experience. We were crossing by land, and the set-up requires us to take a 5 minute bus ride from the Jordan to the Israel terminal. Our bus probably had 15-20 people on it, and we were the only people in the security area ... which should have made things quick, right?

But, of course, our little group made someone suspicious. When our passports were checked, we were asked a few questions and then big red stickers were placed on each of our travel documents – never a good sign. The next step is putting your bags through an x-ray machine and walking through a metal detector, just like standard airport security ... except on the other side of the metal detector, we were left bag- and passport-less and told to sit and wait.

After about 20 minutes, someone came over with our passports, made Ahmad go sit across the room, and pulled me aside for questioning. Ahmad had primed us a couple of times about how to explain our project to Israeli security – we weren't to lie, exactly, but make sure we paint ourselves as innocent university students, rather than human rights activists and general rabble-rousers. So, when asked what I was doing in Israel, I had an answer. Of course, that wasn't enough – I was also asked where else I had traveled, how I knew my traveling companions, what I study in school, and on and on and on. I happened to speak loudly enough that Hannah could overhear me (completely on accident, of course), so when Hannah was questioned about our work, there were no contradictions. And then it was Ahmad's turn. We couldn't hear his conversation, but apparently his answers were legitimate, because soon thereafter our passports were returned and we were sent to passport control to get our entry visas.

And then they found Hannah's Lebanon and Syria stamps. And wouldn't give her passport back. And told us we should probably sit down, as it might “take awhile.” Apparently, the communication isn't great – you would think her record would still be in the computer, and they could tell it was cleared, but nope – and it took another 30-45 minutes before we were cleared to leave the border crossing.

Frustrating, to be sure, but we reassured ourselves that Israel only worried about people entering the country – after all, leaving for Jordan was no problem at all. So we showed up at the airport the next morning our standard 3 hours before our flight, relatively optimistic about the whole security process. Who knew we were so naive?

The Tel Aviv airport, like a lot of international airports outside of the US, requires bags to be x-rayed before they are checked, so the process is typically: a) show your passport and ticket, b) get your backs x-rayed, c) check in/check your luggage, d) go through security, and finally e) go through passport control. Easy enough, right? I've done it at other airports with little problem. But, of course, Israel has to be different ... Hannah and I handed over our passports and tickets to the first screener, who flipped through, asked us a few questions (including “Do you belong to any congregation in America?” and “What school do you go to?”), and then told us to wait for a moment. She ran the passports over to a sinister-looking security guy, and then returned and told us to wait for her supervisor, who had a few questions.

So we waited, still optimistic, and finally the guy returned. He asked the standard questions – whether we have family in the area, what we had been doing, etc. When he asked what we had been doing in Israel, I told him that we had been studying the issue of the Bedouins in the Negev. He asked, “What is the situation in the Negev?” I told him, “Well, tens of thousands of people live without basic services, like electricity and water ... it seems like a pretty big problem.” His response, in a kind of dubious, scornful voice: “Israeli citizens??” At this point, I was just fed up with the ridiculous state-sanctioned discrimination, and answered in a kind of confrontational voice, “Yes, as I understand the issue, the Bedouins in the Negev are Israeli citizens.” He nodded as he marked up stickers that went on all our luggage, that signaled the other security staff that we were to be very thoroughly screened.

Oops.

Before he handed our passports back, he asked, “Has anyone given you anything to carry back with you?” We both answered “No,” and he continued, “Because someone might have given you something that seemed nice, but was actually a bomb.”

Seriously.

We passed our bags through the x-ray machine and carried on to the final security area. People ahead of us were asked questions, and a couple of bags were half-heartedly searched, so we were hopeful for the same treatment. But again, we were thwarted. Instead, they went through all of our bags, running some sort of wand around, between layers of clothing and along the sides of suitcases, looking for something undetermined (I asked, and was told, “I can't really talk about that”; Hannah asked as well, and got a muttered response about chemicals). All of our electronics were removed and scanned separately, and our backpacks were x-rayed a second time. They even removed the battery from Hannah's computer, then reassembled it and made her turn it back on and open a file to demonstrate that it was actually a computer.

But that wasn't all – we were also both afforded the pleasure of a full-body search. We were (separately) escorted to a back room by security personnel and thoroughly patted down and wanded. Hannah had it worse than I did – I was searched by one young woman, who made me remove my shoes and sweatshirt but nothing else, while Hannah had to take down her hair (because she might have hidden a bomb in it?) and remove her pants, with three security personnel crowded into the little cubicle. While the security people were kind and even apologetic, the entire experience was quite degrading. As Hannah says, it gives one an entirely new understanding and respect for what Palestinians living in Israel go through on an almost daily basis.

Snow in the Middle East!

Culture Shock

With all the depressing work stuff, I've forgotten to talk about the weird things that remind me that I'm out of the country. But trust me, they're here ... so, in no particular order, here are some relatively amusing/annoying/crazy things that just don't happen in the US.

At least not to me.

So one of the things I've never particularly liked about the Middle East is the shower situation. In many hotels and homes, showers are really nothing more than a shower head sticking out of the bathroom wall and a weird squeegee on a stick with which to push around the biggest puddles once you're done (into the drain in the center of the floor). It's annoying, generally speaking, because the entire bathroom floor gets wet, and takes hours to completely dry, so you either have to wear shoes (and get the floor muddy) or go barefoot (and then your feet get cold). But the other day, in our hotel in Nazareth, it was even worse. Hannah had warned me that the drain was kind of slow, so I didn't really pay much attention to the pools that quickly accumulated ... until I hear, from outside the bathroom, “Turn off the shower! NOW!!” I managed to flood pretty much the entire room, and poor Hannah was running around moving luggage and unplugging the space heater before something even more tragic happened. Meanwhile, I had to turn off the water as soon as I finished lathering up with soap, which meant my nice toasty shower turned into a sponge bath. Ahhhh, Israel.

Hannah and I keep trying to get our supervisor Ahmad excited about going out in the evenings, because hanging around the hotel room isn't nearly as much fun as it sounds ... tonight, we went for a late dinner, and Hannah and I were pushing for a pub. Except, as it turns out, in Jordan “pub” basically means “whorehouse with booze.” We walked into a place called Rouge, which advertises itself as a “restaurant and bar.” I was a bit suspicious from the beginning, because there were two very sleazy-looking guys out front, but Ahmad was optimistic ... until we walked in and saw the bar surrounded by women in tight clothes and too much makeup, staring at Ahmad like vultures. We quickly turned around and walked back out, but then Ahmad insisted on taking us to a cafe he likes to show that some places have a “higher caliber of people.”

The Middle East is more or less lacking in ironing boards. Mom will appreciate this the most: you know how horrible I am at ironing generally? Imagine me working on my dress slacks on a marble nightstand. Enough said.

As for hospitality, this region is still by far the best. In the past 11 days, we have: had tea at Ahmad's sister's home and at his mother and father's home, had dinner at his brother's cafe, and spent the night with a friend of his (even though he has a two-month old baby) because we couldn't find a decent hotel. If that wasn't enough, a friend of his has taken three days off the work to be our driver and translator while we're in Amman. And this doesn't even take into account the amazing hospitality we're given at every one of our interviews, even at places where our human rights stance is less than welcome. For example, we met today with the head of an association of various real estate investors and construction firms, and were ushered into the meeting room to find cloth-covered tables with water, cookies, paper and pens waiting for us, and had a round of tea and a round of coffee (in their best china, of course) before the meeting was out. And that's not the exception, but the rule. Ahmad's father put it best: in Arab culture, you are under your host's care and protection from the moment you start your journey to his home/office to the moment you return back to your own, and in that time, you are family.

One thing that I noticed in Israel that I found a bit overwhelming: the huge army presence. For Jewish Israelis, military service is mandatory, which means the majority of the country has served or will serve; at any given time, dozens of soldiers will be out and about in fatigues, sometimes with scary-looking semi-automatic weapons slung casually over their shoulders. It's been even more apparent lately than I think it is generally, because many people have been wearing their warm regulation sweaters to fend off the extraordinary cold.

Which is one of my biggest complaints – no central heating! Instead, you get a space heater or occasionally, as in my current hotel room, a radiator. It's not a huge problem normally, but the past 10 days have had some of the coldest temperatures in decades – people are dying from hypothermia, and I'm pretty sure it snowed in Baghdad. Which means everyone wears their coats indoors and hot showers are a source of emotional satisfaction. And occasionally, tragedies occur – poor Hannah ruined her wool suit pants by standing too close to a gas space heater with a live flame this morning.

Anyhow, this is but a short sampling, but I should get back to work. I'll ponder a possible round two, but meanwhile, don't worry: I am in fact well-aware that I'm surrounded by a different and unique culture, and am doing my best to enjoy my different and unique experiences.

Amman, Jordan

As of Saturday afternoon, I am in Amman, Jordan. The issue of the Bedouins has been put aside for now - having solved, as my previous post suggested, almost nothing - and we're now looking at an issue a bit less depressing, if equally as controversial.

Rental contracts in Jordan, for both commercial and residential uses, are governed by the Landlords and Tenants Law of 1994. Essentially, this is a rent control act that keeps rents very low, and prevents landlords from evicting tenants except in the most extreme cases, and leases that were initially for 1-2 years have been extended indefinitely. This means that long-term renters in a single place are paying rents that were set, in many instances, tens of years ago. (The first law was enacted in 1953, and was replaced with minor changes in 1994. This means that some contracts that were formed in the 1950s are still in place today!)

In 2000, the Landlords and Tenants Law was amended - at the end of 2010, all contracts that have technically terminated will end, and landlords will be given the authority to ask for whatever rent they'd like, or evict their tenants. The problem: a substantial percentage of the building units in Amman (estimates by our NGO client are about 70%) are rented, which raises the spectre of substantial displacement in 2011. If I and my family cannot afford the new rent set, I won't be able to find a new place, because rent set there will likely be substantially higher than previous as well! Not to mention the fact that the expired leases will include public and private schools, bakeries, hospitals, etc ...

The government is well aware that this has the potential to cause "substantial unrest" in society, and has proclaimed 2008 the "year of housing." To that end, the Ministry of Justice has convened a committee to study the issue and make recommendations for amendments to this law (or issuance of a new one). Our role: get a basic background of the situation, by discussing the issue with government officials, lawyers, and representatives of both tenants and landlords, and then issue a short memo discussing the international legal standards that should be considered by those working towards a resolution. Presumably, our NGO will then take this information and formulate a submission to the committee.

It's a fascinating issue, because there is no "right" side - while no one wants thousands of families to get evicted from their homes, it is unfair that the individual landlords have been subsidizing the housing crisis, since it is in fact the responsibility of the government.

We currently have six meetings lined up, and we're hoping for more. Meanwhile, we're enjoying Amman, which is, despite the pending housing crisis, a charming and comfortable city.

Tel Aviv

The Dead Sea

Jerusalem

Where are all the pictures?!

I promise, I have a handful of pictures that will be posted of my various adventures, both work and play. However, this task requires both fast internet and some patience, and I'm finding it impossible to get both at the same time around here! I'm currently sitting in the lobby at my hotel (the internet doesn't reach the rooms), listening to an exuberant argument in Arabic and wishing there was a law against smoking indoors. While I got the Nazareth pictures up, which took about 10 minutes, I'm not sure I'm willing to start batch two when my bed and space heater are waiting upstairs. So instead, I will promise: I will try to post pictures when I can, and definitely within the week, even though some, or many, of them may just have to wait until I'm back in Somerville with my high-speed cable internet (and my smoke-free apartment).

Meanwhile, enjoy the Nazareth pictures - next up (insha'allah): Jerusalem!

Nazareth

The Most Democratic Man in the World

In an earlier post, I discussed my visit to the West Bank, and the daily misery of the Palestinians. In recent days, violence in Gaza has intensified, raising the possibility that there may be some acknowledgment in the Israeli press of the state's daily atrocities (for example, a recent attack targeted a wedding party, injuring 45 people).

I'm not discounting that possibility, but the fact is I'm encountering very few Israeli points of view these days. Our supervisor is an Arab (he holds Israeli citizenship but self-identifies as Palestinian), and after growing up in Israel and dealing daily with both the disparate treatment of Arabs and the hardships suffered in Gaza and the West Bank, he is less than fond of the Jewish Israeli people. That being the case, Jewish Israeli news and gossip is, for me, hard to come by.

On the other hand, Arab gossip is plentiful. We returned to Nazareth this afternoon, and were invited for tea at Ahmad's parents' home. Joined there by Ahmad's uncle, we sipped our tea and watched the Lebanese news discuss today's death toll in Gaza (seven). While generally I have been accepted in my travels as an individual, not a representative of America, I have had political conversations before – but never quite so intensely. It's astonishing, and frightening, to realize that the results of our next presidential election will have a not-insignificant impact on the rest of the world, and especially here in the middle east.

Ahmad's family discussed the differences between Clinton's presidency and that of George W. Bush. When Clinton visited Gaza, they said, he cried at the sight of a young, frightened Palestinian girl – and was shamed by the Israelis. (According to Ahmad's uncle, “They expect that when a Jew in Russia gets a head pain, your president should be concerned! But a scared Palestinian girl? That is nothing – she's just an animal!”) When Bush visited last week, the state expended an estimated $50,000 per hour in security, closing down roads, bringing in extra patrols, and so on. The moral: Clinton feels for the Arabs, while Bush just takes.

They feel that when Clinton was president, Israel did not feel free to do whatever it wanted with an excess of force. The state knew that if it tried, the US would stand in its way. But these days, they say, the Arab leaders are nothing more than Bush's yes-men, or even slaves – Israel can do what it wants, and the Arab countries have no choice but to grin and bear it.

Given the historically low voter turn-out in the US, not to mention the limited information on which most of us make our decisions, it seems strange to realize that one election can have such far-reaching impacts. After all, many of us think that the winner of the presidential race doesn't really impact our own lives – how could it matter abroad? But the truth is that the rest of the world, or at least the middle east, is watching with bated breath. Hundreds, thousands, maybe even millions of people live or die based on our choices in 2004 – hopefully, voters in 2008 will be more aware of the impact their one vote may have.

There is a bumper sticker floating around that says something like, “Be nice to America, or we'll bring democracy to your country.” It gave me a good chuckle, but really, things have clearly gone wrong when Bush, “the most democratic man in the world,” has turned democracy from a social ideal into a threat.

The moral of the story? Wake up! It's easy for us to say, “Well, I didn't vote for Bush, so I can't be responsible,” but all of us can, and should, be doing more. I'm not going to tell you who to vote for (unless you ask), but please make sure it's a well-researched decision, and keep in mind that a tax break really isn't worth the far-reaching consequences of reprehensible foreign policy.

So what am I doing here, exactly?

Beating my head against the wall, primarily. Human rights work is essentially a whole lot of struggle for little to no change, and I'm getting the distinct impression that this will be one of those “no change” projects. Essentially, the background is as follows: when Israel was formed, in 1948, a lot of Arab Bedouins were removed from the Negev (the southern part of Israel, desert land that forms about 60% of the current boundaries of the state) and concentrated in a small area called the “Siyag,” for what the state claimed was a six month period necessitated by security reasons. Of course, six months turned into a few years, which extended into a few more, and the displaced Bedouins were forced to build shanty-towns in which to live, find means of subsistence aside from their traditional shepherding and agriculture (because they didn't have access to enough land), and otherwise wait for the day they were allowed to return home. In the 1960s, military rule in the Siyag finally ended – by that time, the Bedouin population had exploded and tensions between the Jews and Bedouins were running pretty high. For many different reasons, most Bedouins remained in their current locations while filing land claims with the government to get their ownership of the land officially acknowledged. The government froze the claims process, refused to grant ownership to pretty much all Bedouins, and began its process of creating a permanent underclass. As it stands today, there are some 80,000 Bedouins living in shacks without any municipal services (water, electricity, etc.), and another 100,000 living in townships planned by the state to concentrate the largest number of Bedouins onto the smallest amount of land. These townships were planned without any respect for the Bedouin tradition or way of life – not only are they planned over land some Bedouin claim (which means other Bedouin cannot enter the land, because it doesn't belong to them), they are lacking in the necessary divisions between the male and female spheres that accord women some freedom, and have no public areas, places of meeting, or other basic social necessities. Recently, the government has “recognized” nine of the formerly unrecognized villages (shanty-towns), but this recognition has resulted in very little improvement, in large part because the underlying land claims are still unresolved.

Recently, a government order composed a new committee to study and resolve the land-claim issue. The Bedouin community is skeptical – there have been tens of committees through the years, and nothing has been accomplished – but the government seems to think this is the silver bullet the situation needs. Our task is basically to gather a bunch of information, make some recommendations, and submit our report to the committee (which is open to public participation) in the hopes that they will, at the least, make an informed decision (it will still be bad, but at least they can't claim ignorance). To that end, the team in October interviewed a bunch of Bedouins, and we have spent the last week interviewing mainly academics and government officials. I have to say, as graciously as their time was (usually) offered, these government people are incredibly racist and biased in their policy-making. The obvious goal is the Jewish state, which would ideally have no Arabs. As that isn't the case, the second-best strategy is concentration into tiny towns, while Jewish settlers are granted hundred-plus acre farms with little struggle. The state refuses to acknowledge any Bedouin right to these lands, and takes the position that the Bedouins are essentially invaders. In one meeting with an official from the Ministry of Housing, we were told, “What if the Mexicans came into America and settled where they wanted, in Arizona or New Mexico? That wouldn't be allowed, right?” I'm not sure the comparison is apt.

Over the past few years, the plight of the Bedouin has been gaining more international attention, which is why the government is so urgently trying to resolve the “situation.” I would urge all of you to read up on the issue and share the story with others – the best way to fight cases of injustice is to force people to face the issue head-on.

(If you don't feel like reading, http://www.theunrecognized.com.)

Israel vs. Palestine

In the US, the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is taught in a very limited and very biased way. Even the most common facts – like the fact that Nazareth and Bethlehem are both Arab cities, and Bethlehem is in fact in the West Bank – are surprising me. Granted, some of this might be my own poor attention span and aversion to the news, but a large part of it is the very one-sided stance public schools in America take on the issue. According to the US, Israel is good. End of story.

It's not so clear that the US has the right idea, though, and today's visit to the Human Rights Clinic at the Abu Din Law School has substantially muddied up the waters. Abu Din is technically in the West Bank, a Palestinian village, and right on the edge of the wall Israel has constructed to separate Israel proper from the occupied Territories. Of course, the wall and the Green Line (the line between Israel and Palestine drawn at Oslo in 1967) don't line up – Israel is de facto annexing substantial portions of Palestinian territory by building the wall further into Palestine than the Green Line was drawn. Anyone who knows international humanitarian law (IHL - the laws of war, essentially) knows that an occupying power cannot annex portions of the occupied territory, but Israel carries on with this and other IHL violations with impunity. (For example, Palestinians are subject to Israeli law in some parts of the West Bank, even though IHL clearly states that occupied territories may keep their own law and cannot be governed by the law of the occupying power.)

We met with the clinic administrator, who gave us some history on the area, the clinic, and the law school, and then took us out to look at the wall. This segment of the wall, like many segments, has been graffiti-ed with messages of peace and reconciliation in dozens of languages. It's at least 20 feet tall, made of concrete slabs, and cuts between neighborhoods – houses that were previously next door are now separated by a wall, and families that could walk 30 seconds to relatives' homes must now drive 30-45 minutes, on a road that Israel is planning on closing, through a security checkpoint manned by Israeli soldiers authorized at any time to refuse entry to the West Bank to Palestinians for “security reasons.” And that's just the hardship of those on the outside of the wall, who have East Jerusalem residency and therefore East Jerusalem ID cards (although no Israeli citizenship or passports) – the people inside are stuck, not allowed past the checkpoint at all. And while they are restricted to the Palestinian territories, this doesn't mean that they have free movement within the territories. Roads between major cities are ruled by Israeli police, who may or may not allow access for any reason under the sun. Even a travel permit, granted by the military authority, guarantees nothing – it just decreases the likelihood that travel will be refused.

As if the wall wasn't depressing enough, we also visited a prison museum at the University. I have had enough experience with prisons and prison reform to know that oppressive regimes have disturbing prison policies, and it seems Israel is no exception. The museum is full of artwork done by prisoners and former prisoners, letters written by prisoners and smuggled out via plastic wrapped capsules swallowed by those prisoners being released, and photos and stories to make the most grizzled war veteran a bit squeamish. We also met with the museum director, who founded it as a response to his own time as a political prisoner. He told stories of being “tagged” as a Palestinian by guards who needed to practice their torture techniques and otherwise discriminated against and oppressed by Israeli prison staff. Even in prison, the state insists on enlarging the difference between Israelis and Palestinians.

With two peoples laying claim to the same land, things are obviously going to end badly. I have to admit, much as I hate Israeli policy, they're quite efficient – they've taken over the country and instituted a pretty strong occupying force in only 60 years of statehood. All the same, I get the sense that the Palestinians are starting to realize the Jews aren't going to just go away, that something needs to be done, soon. It's going to be a long and drawn out fight, and I only hope both groups are left standing when the dust finally settles.

Jan 11: Mixed Cities

It's Friday in Israel, and the weather is beautiful. We are driving south to Jerusalem, and the biting cold has been replaced by a cool breeze and a clear, sunny sky. The scenery is absolutely amazing – everything is green and fertile, with rolling hills off in the distance, verdant orchards closer by. But the stories bely the peacefulness of the situation – about 60 seconds ago, we drove past the site of a suicide bombing, where a car once pulled up alongside a bus and exploded. No matter how gorgeous this land is, it's impossible to forget that Israel is the home of violent unrest. Given the beauty of the land, it's not hard to understand why people might want to fight over it.

Last night, we attended a round-table discussion about the right to education as it applies to indigenous groups and national minorities. The speakers were diverse – UNESCO and EU representatives, a Hebrew professor, the Nazareth mayor, and Arab NGO representatives – but the attendees, excluding Hannah and myself, were uniformly Arabs. The topic of conversation: the state education system and the substantial Arab population. Currently, Arabs are required to study the Hebrew Bible, take all classes in Hebrew, and essentially replace their own cultural teachings with those of the colonialist Jewish population. International standards guarantee a right to culture, and prohibit discrimination in public schools, but Israel continues its pursuit of a Jewish state with impunity. Obviously, the Arabs aren't happy.

While the panelists were informative, the conversation was hardly fruitful. No matter the advice, recommendations or comparisons made, the comments repeatedly returned to one issue: the Arabs, a national minority and indigenous group, oppose the formation of the state of Israel. I expected the participants to be liberal – attendees of human rights conferences tend to be – and it's quite possible they were ... but the injustices inherent in the 1948 statehood, referred to by Arabs as “the Disaster,” are impossible for even the most liberal of scholars to overlook. And while I understand that position, and agree that the Arabs have been subjected to injustices and indignities that the international community should not have allowed, I find myself wondering what good we can possibly do, when the only satisfactory remedy would be to turn back the clock.

But the work must go on! We are driving to Ramle, a “mixed city” in which both Arabs and Jews live, but where the Arabs are segregated into their own neighborhoods, and suffer from an astonishing lack of equality. While Jews get garbage pick-up twice a week, Arabs have to call repeatedly to get it picked up once a month. While police regularly patrol Jewish neighborhoods, calls for help from Arab districts are rarely answered. And while development continues apace in the Jewish areas, Arabs are consistently denied building permits, forcing them to construct “illegal” homes that are at risk of demolition any day. Many of the Arabs in Ramle are Bedouin, internally displaced persons who relocated to the city after being forced off their agricultural land in the early 1950's, and we hope to start drawing connections between the hardships faced by Bedouin city-dwellers and those faced by the Bedouin in the Negev, who are treated as trespassers and refused all civil services even though their families have often lived in the same place for five or more generations. The state often views these issues as separate problems, but they can all be traced back to the displacement at the time of the Disaster and the Zionist plan Israel has in place.

We have reached the West Bank. We aren't going in, obviously, but the wall between Israel and Palestine tracks the highway for miles. While there were once regular checkpoints, they are now spaced about an hour apart. They are fairly “easy” to get across, but Israeli citizens are no longer allowed in, for security reasons. It's segregation on a national (or international) scale, and it makes our pathetic efforts for human rights seem laughable.

Israel: First Impressions

Here I sit, in a hotel room in Nazareth, soaking up the heat from a (potentially hazardous) space heater and wishing the wireless signal was strong enough that I didn't have to go to the lobby to post this. It is my first night in Israel, and if today is any indication, it's going to be quite the experience.

When I told people I'd be going to Israel, I got a lot of disbelief and comments about my safety, but the potential risk didn't really sink in until I arrived at Newark airport for my direct to Tel Aviv flight. The flight was leaving out of gate 138, which was surrounded by an extra layer of security. Everyone had to get their passports rechecked, their bags searched, their bodies examined with a metal detector wand, and then their seats and passports checked yet again before being allowed on the plane. Once in the secure boarding area, there was no escape to the rest of the airport. Israel takes its security quite seriously – especially on the eve of a visit from the U.S. President.

The plane ride was an experience all in itself. I found myself wondering at the Jewish culture that I know nothing about – while this trip is supposed to be about the Bedouin population, I hope to learn something about the Jews as well. But right now, I'm still at the stage where I marvel at the group of men praying around the lavatories at designated times, and wonder if there's some sort of social taboo against talking to – or even making eye contact with – non-Jewish women such as myself. And while I'm very accustomed to being in a plane full of people speaking another language, I've never before had that experience when everyone looked so much like me!

Arriving in Tel Aviv, we got stranded in Immigration for about 2.5 hours because my friend Hannah has a Lebanon stamp in her passport. I guess they had to “check out her story,” because eventually they not only let us go, but agreed not to stamp her passport, because with an Israeli stamp she wouldn't be able to get back into Lebanon if she wanted to.

After our brief detention, Hannah and I hopped on a train to Haifa, a city in the north of Israel. Our trip leader had initially planned on picking us up at the airport, but with the President's visit, traffic was set to be a nightmare and the train seemed a better option. Contrary to all expectations (including our own), we got off the train at the correct stop and waited for Amara, sitting on the steps and staring at our first real view of Israel, a cool dome lit up on the side of the hill in front of us. (It's apparently a Ba'ria temple, which is a small sect that originated in Iran – Haifa is an Arab town, and one of the few places we'll see openly Muslim places of worship.)

Taking pity on our famished selves, Amara took us to a Lebanese restaurant for dinner, and sitting under the stars, feeding a stray cat, we got the run-down on what the next two weeks are going to be like. We've got some pretty interesting meetings lined up with governmental officials, as well as tours of some of the unrecognized villages and the planned townships on which our research is focused. We may also be headed to Jordan after all (there was some question), for a day of interviews and hopefully a side trip to Petra. I'll keep you all updated!

For now, I'm ready for bed ... tomorrow should be a pretty slow day, but there will still be a LOT to take in!