How dismal it all is
by aletho
Sometimes the daily, petty nastiness of the occupation is encapsulated in the dismal theft of a few tools
By Yossi Gurvitz | Yesh Din | May 1, 2014
Ryad,
a resident of the Bethlehem region, has a small orchard with apricot,
hazelnut, olive and fig trees. Near the orchard is an ancient
agricultural structure, aged some one hundred years, which serves Ryad
and his family as a tool shed, as well as a resting place in the far too
many hot days.
One
day, Ryad was asked by his nephew, Khader, to hold a family barbecue in
the place. Ryad agreed. As Khader reached the place, however, he was
shocked to see a few men, whom he would soon identify as Israeli
civilians, attempting to damage the structure. Khader shouted at them
and moved in their direction, and the three immediately fled.
When
Ryad reached the place, after being summoned by Khader, he found that
the Israeli civilians did not limit themselves to their attempt to
destroy the structure: they also stole some agricultural tools and
silverware that were in it. Why? Because.
We’ve
already become pretty much inured to the daily violence against
Palestinians, whether coming from the military or civilians. We’ve grown
used to it. After all, it happens so often you could mumble the excuses
in your sleep: The soldier felt in danger, they were near the fence,
they were somewhere they shouldn’t be, and anyway,
you-know-what-they-would-do-
“To
plunder, to butcher, to steal: these they falsely name empire: they
make a desolation and they call it peace.” These are piercing words by
the Roman historian Tacitus in the mouth of the warlord Calgacus,
planning his final battle against the Roman invader. To the insurrection
of people fighting for their freedom, we give the misnomer of
“disturbances of order”; land stolen from them by the cunning of
jurists, is called “public lands”; coated steel bullets, “rubber
bullets”; shooting an unarmed man, “the force was acting in accordance
with the rules of engagement.”
But
while we’ve become accustomed to excusing violence towards persons, we
still have a problem explaining away simple theft. Such incidents pierce
the security veil of fog. Every IDF veteran can easily recite all the
excuses for why it is proper to fire a lead bullet from an assault rifle
through the body of an unarmed child; but he’d have a hard time
justifying the looting of the body. And such incidents allow us to see
what lies beyond the veil of excuses.
And
what we see, when all is said and done, is theft. Theft on the part of
people living in a well-to-do settlement, enjoying all the munificence
the government of a high-tech superpower can throw at them. The theft,
as we’ve seen in an earlier case,
of a donkey and a few obsolete agricultural tools. Did the thieves who
broke into Ryad’s shed need those tools and utensils? Not likely. But
they took them because they knew they could take them, and nothing would
happen. There would be no investigation, no indictment; they knew they
were the lords of the land, and that they could express their lordship
by carelessly harming the property of others.
Is
there, or can there be, any excuse – a security excuse, a national
excuse, a religious excuse – for damaging a shed used by farmers for
shelter and stealing their tools, tools which will not make much of a
difference to the thief, but for the victim, cause real damage to his
ability to make a living?
And,
behind all the bright shining lies that the Israeli civilians in the
West Bank tell themselves – the “security needs” lie, the “redemption of
land” lie, the “land of our forefathers” lie – can’t we see the same
urge, the urge to better yourself at the expense of someone whose
condition are far worse than yours? The urge to show your lordship by
harming the defenseless? Is there anything behind the big words, aside
from a small, dismal robbery?
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