The Psalm is spoken at the start of prayers in the House of Lords on the final day of sitting each week and its words are often used in blessing: ‘The Lord will keep you from all evil; He will keep your life. The Lord will keep your going out and your coming in from this time on and for evermore’ (Psalm 121:7-8 NRSV). These words speak of security and freedom, and of coming and going in the safe presence and care of God whether living delight or pain. Yet, it was a hard Psalm to reflect on when being with and listening to the stories and daily experiences of Palestinians in the Occupied Palestinian Territory.
The Christians I had the privilege to spend time with in Ramallah and Bethlehem hold fast to God’s love revealed in Jesus Christ, and yet their daily human experience is not seemingly of being protected from evil or of being able to come and go freely.
Psalm 121 holds a sense of God’s care and goodness, and whilst Christians and Jews alike hold fast to this in faith and worship, the daily human existence of Palestinians in the West Bank is strongly shaped by trauma, separation, injustice and unequal power, with a constant undermining of people’s identity. All this began long before 7 October 2023 but the events since that date formed the backdrop to my visit.
7 October 2023
On 7 October 2023, Hamas broke through the security fence separating Gaza from Israel. The atrocities and trauma which unfolded were truly horrendous and to this date of writing there is a distressing and cruel holding of hostages, and it is not known how many of these are still alive.
On arrival in Israel, we were immediately confronted not only by a noticeable increase in Israeli flags hung from just about everywhere possible, but also multiple posters bearing the faces of the hostages, accompanied by the heartfelt message of ‘Bring them Home’. These pictures, whether on cash machines, walls or windows, all amplify the tragic and unjust separation of individuals from families and communities. This unexpected and savage invasion by Hamas has unsurprisingly been a cause of trauma for Israelis, not least set against the ever-present history of the Holocaust.
7 October was also the trigger for a cruel and devastating war on Gaza by Israel which has resulted not only in the deaths of thousands of people, including thousands of children, but also in the inhumane deprivation of aid such that everyday necessities of shelter, food, water, medical supplies and sanitation are withheld. The trauma which has been inflicted on individuals, families and communities is immeasurable and, just as with the Holocaust and the October attack by Hamas, it will leave a scar on the face of humanity with far-reaching consequences for many generations to come.
Key words
All this set the context for my brief visit to Israel and the Occupied Palestinian Territory of East Jerusalem and the West Bank. I went as a guest of the Very Revd Canon Richard Sewell, Dean of St George’s College Jerusalem, and was accompanied by Dr Charles Reed, International Policy Adviser for the Church of England. The primary aim of the visit was to show solidarity with the Episcopal Diocese of Jerusalem and local Christians whose voices have too easily been ignored. My aim was to listen deeply. It was a rich and poignant time and I returned to the UK with the words of separation, power and trauma writ large in my mind, set within an overarching narrative relating to identity, both of land and peoples.
7 October 2023 will forever be named as a watershed moment, but when it comes to separation, power and trauma, it cannot be separated from a series of notable dates and events throughout history. The story of the complex history of continued conflict, contested borders and land, is told differently by different nations and peoples, but what is clear is that what is being lived in the present, whilst so deeply impacted by what has unfolded since 7 October 2023, is intrinsically rooted in previous chapters of the past. These chapters include the horror and brutality of the Holocaust and the brutal attempt to wipe out Jews and their identity, set alongside the significant date of 1948 – a year I have heard named repeatedly on my different visits to Israel-Palestine, whether by Israelis or Palestinians.
In 1948 came separation which was celebrated by many as the State of Israel came into being thus giving credence to the identity of land and the Jewish people. Yet for Palestinians 1948 is referred to as the Nakba (the Arabic word for catastrophe). Thousands of Palestinians were driven from their homes and communities and others fled in the war that followed. For them it is a devastating story of separation from home and land and a denial of their identity.
In subsequent years, amid conflict and political negotiations, there was international recognition that Israeli occupation of certain land was to be temporary whilst a State of Palestine was brought into being. Today, while certain areas of land remain designated as coming under Palestinian Authority for particular administrative functions, Israel’s military power and control is dominant. Furthermore, so called Israeli settlers have continued to build and create communities on land recognised by the majority of UN countries as Palestinian. There has been reiteration by the UN that the building of such settlements is illegal and a contravention of international law as well as being a blockage to achieving long-term peace, yet on my visit in 2022 I was struck by the growth of settlements, and this was even more pronounced on this recent visit.
Standing on the hillside looking down on the increasing growth of Israeli settlements accompanied by an ever expanding network of roads which join the settlements to one another and to Jerusalem, but which cannot be accessed by Palestinians, one cannot avoid seeing blatant annexation taking place, with the injustice of separation growing ever larger, accompanied by a total imbalance of power and dignity, and a disregard and erosion of Palestinian identity.
I heard how Palestinians’ access to water and electricity in the West Bank is even more limited and restricted since 7 October 2023. I heard people speak of how they cannot adequately water their land and how it is illegal for them to collect rainwater except in limited places. At the military court I met the son of a man who had been arrested simply for digging a well in order to protect his land and produce. This is a denial of people’s livelihood and there is a constant push to separate Palestinian people from their land in so many different ways as identity and dignity is diminished, and as fear and trauma increase.
The Wall of Separation
The ever-growing wall of separation, which snakes around the West Bank and East Jerusalem, ostensibly still about the security of Israel, seems ever more like a serpent of imprisonment, and is a constant physical reminder not only of the total mistrust and fear between peoples, but also of the complete imbalance of power.
I heard endless stories from Christians in Palestine (referred to as Judaea and Samaria by the Israelis, and seen by the international community as the Occupied Palestinian Territory), of how separation is ever present in their daily lives. This situation is nothing new but has been exacerbated since 7 October 2023. Palestinians are increasingly prevented from moving across checkpoints, and the granting of permits is fickle. Palestinians are frequently unable to access their places of work in Jerusalem, and I heard at first-hand how the separation of families and communities grows ever stronger. My sense of discomfort at crossing military checkpoints with relative ease when travelling with someone living in Jerusalem and driving a car with Israeli number plates, was even more profound than on previous visits.
Just one story which illustrates the separation of families was that of an older Christian father who told me of how he had recently smuggled his new daughter-in-law into East Jerusalem. He himself is a Jerusalemite having been born there. His son had recently married a Palestinian Christian in the West Bank but she had been unable to subsequently join him in Jerusalem where he is employed. However, whilst the courageous smuggling has reunited a husband and wife, the latter is now living with a sense of fear as she is undocumented (as is true of many Palestinian women in Jerusalem), and is now unable to visit her own parents in the West Bank.
This is just one story I was told among many of people being separated, restricted and humiliated by the actions of the occupying power, with an underlining of the word power. Sadly, Israeli attitude and action seem clearly directed at driving people to make the choice to leave, and unsurprisingly those who are able to move to other countries continue to do so with great frequency. It was however both heartening and humbling to hear a number of Christian young people speak of their commitment to return home after their studying abroad, often undertaking subjects which will equip them better in their support of Palestine e.g. law, medicine and agriculture.
Separation of identity
There is another insidious separation which is not simply about Palestinians being separated from Israelis, but about Palestinians being separated among themselves depending on their place of residency and birth. This has led to different levels of privilege and different layers of identity.
If you are an Arab born in Israel then you hold Israeli citizenship (although without equal privileges). Then there are Palestinians with residency in East Jerusalem, although identified as residents of Israel and not citizens. Almost at the bottom of the hierarchy of privilege are the more than 3 million Palestinians living in the West Bank, which includes Ramallah and Bethlehem. At the very bottom of the ladder of privilege are the Palestinians living in the Gaza Strip.
Separation and trauma in the application of law
In all of this, I heard about and witnessed further separation being lived out in the way that laws are applied. One set of rules is applied to Israelis and another to Palestinians, and even the use of the word ‘rules’ is questionable as what is being meted out is inconsistent and powerfully capricious. Furthermore, international law is applied selectively and always to the advantage of Israelis and the disadvantages of Palestinians.
It was shocking on my visit to the military courts to witness at first-hand what lawyers were telling me about people detained for incitement by something as small as liking a social media post. I watched part of a case of a young woman whose father had been killed by the Israelis (although I know nothing of his alleged offence). Someone posted something on social media which was about blessing him and celebrating him as a person (not whatever alleged offence he had committed). This was ‘liked’ by his daughter and was seen by the Israelis as sufficient for her to be arrested and detained for incitement. The Palestinian defence lawyer raised the issue of provocative comments posted by Israelis on social media which result in no such arrest or legal consequences. One of the Palestinian lawyers showed me a social media feed on his phone which revealed a post from a radical Jewish rabbi stating that all Palestinians should be exterminated. The military judge’s response was something akin to a shoulder shrug and a comment that such posts are irregular and uncommon unlike that of Palestinians causing incitement.
The miliary court cases are undertaken in Hebrew, with Palestinian lawyers having to translate for the defendants often after lengthy exchange which is not understood by the vulnerable defendant. Separation and a severe imbalance of power and dignity run like iron threads through the miliary judicial system with seemingly little place for mercy.
Nighttime raids, demolitions and arrests
The justification for the regular demolishing of Palestinian homes (nearly always in the region around Israeli settlements) is often the accusation that the family does not have a building permit. Yet, Israeli settlements continue to grow and new ones emerge with no condemnation by Israeli authorities.
I visited a Palestinian Muslim family whose home had been terrifyingly demolished but a new one wonderfully built by the Christian charity Holy Land Trust, based in Bethlehem. The family have documentation of land ownership going back to the Ottoman Empire but that is not recognised by the Israeli authorities. The horror of the brutal nighttime incursion, the bulldozers and the aggression of military soldiers has left deep trauma within the family, and they all now suffer with poor sleep due to fear of further demolition and attack. This story of home never feeling like home — a place of peace, nurture and security — can be told repeatedly by hundreds of Palestinians, which brings me to the whole issue of a separation which is not only physical but also emotional and psychological and deeply intertwined with those themes of land and identity.
I heard numerous stories of nighttime raids by Israeli troops entering Palestinian villages, ostensibly to seek out or arrest someone posing a security threat, who may or may not have exhibited hostility such as stone throwing against Israelis. In speaking with Western lawyers as well as Palestinian leaders in churches and charities, it would appear no coincidence that such nighttime tactics focus on villages and communities adjacent to Israeli settlements and roads. Typically, Palestinian homes are invaded by a disproportionate number of soldiers with no warning other than the threatening sound of military trucks and often bulldozers entering the area. Numerous accounts were of children and young people waking to find dogs in their homes and guns in their faces. Front doors are frequently removed by force which is terrifying and inflicts a huge financial burden on the occupants. An explanation for arrest or interrogation may or may not be given and it is made very clear who holds the power. Individuals are frequently arrested and taken away, with the abhorrent use of administrative detention being all too frequent.
While in the West Bank I had the privilege of spending time with the family of Layan Nasir, a young 24 year old woman who is a member of the local Anglican church, and who was violently arrested and is currently imprisoned under administrative detention, in appalling conditions.
Layan’s mother recounted the soldiers’ shocking entry to their family home in the early hours of the morning using intimidating language and behaviour, including holding guns to their faces. Layan was blindfolded and handcuffed before being taken away with no explanation as to the charges against her. No family members have been allowed to visit her, and in the weeks since Layan was arrested her lawyer has only been allowed to visit her once. She cannot now visit Layan as she is currently held in prison in Israel and the lawyer is not given permission to enter. Layan’s parish priest has also been denied access to visit.
This extreme application of administrative detention is used to imprison people who have not been convicted or even charged with anything, based on secret ‘evidence’ identifying the person as intending to break the law. Thus people are held without trial for indefinite periods and with no means to challenge the grounds for holding them as the latter is not disclosed. The ways in which this improper use of administrative detention is used contravenes international law, and I saw yet more of this on my brief visit to the military courts.
It is clear from the numerous accounts of nighttime raids that these not only physically separate those arrested from their communities, but that they lead to emotional separation too due to the emotional trauma which ensues. For example, parents describe the increased anger and hostile behaviour which they see in their children when they are released and return home.
As I listened to the stories of these families and young people, I reflected too on the psychological state of those Israeli soldiers, most of whom are also young. Members of the IDF (Israel Defence Force) will have had the horrors of the Hamas attacks of October 2023 impressed upon them, in addition to what has been instilled within them from their compulsory visits to Yad Vasham (the very graphic and moving museum dedicated to the victims of the holocaust). The fear and trauma present in young soldiers will undoubtedly be impacting their own behaviour and their forceful treatment of Palestinians who are seen as enemy, threat and ‘other’. Once again, I was aware of a land in which both Israelis and Palestinians are living out their trauma which is fuelling ever deeper hatred and mistrust, yet always within a context of unequal power.
Into all of this comes a further separation within communities created by fear and mistrust. I heard for the first time of the way people within Palestinian communities are bribed to become collaborators with the Israelis in return for privileges such as permits for themselves, or in response to the threat of withholding permits from family members who rely on them for employment. In order to prove themselves as collaborators, it is not uncommon for young people to name people within their villages as perpetrators, regardless of whether or not this is true. Thus, the Israelis create separation within communities through an ever growing sense of mistrust.
The right to defend
In the days that followed 7 October last year, I unashamedly added my voice to those stating that Israel has a right to defend itself, whilst also condemning Israel’s disproportionate use of force in Gaza and the unleashing of brutality on civilians, including thousands of children. Yet what came sharply into focus during my recent visit to Israel-Palestine, is the question of the right of Palestinians to defend themselves too. Whilst Christian leader after leader who I spoke with, decried the use of violence in the West Bank in the Palestinian struggle for dignity, justice and equality, I was also left wondering how easy it is for those who watch from afar to decry the use of violence by Palestinians (whether it be children throwing stones or adults using weapons), whilst not condemning and expressing outrage at the powerlessness of Palestinians who are not being protected by the Israeli military, whilst illegal settlers are protected and advantaged. Furthermore, in those areas where the Palestinian Authorities have limited civil power, this too is often sadly abused and misused within a bigger picture of hopelessness and oppression.
If your identity is denied and you are not recognised as having your own state, and the land where you live is not seen as belonging to you, and no one is protecting you and you have no power, then where is your right to defend yourself? Of course, the issue of responsibility must always be kept in the frame alongside rights, but responsibility must be lived by Israel, not least the military.
A separation from justice itself
So, I am left internally confronted by another issue of separation and power which is about me, the Church and the International community. Yes, the situation is complex but our failure to use our verbal and political power is something of which I personally repent. I abhor the ugly face of antisemitism and the abhorrent attacks on people and property not only in Israel but across communities in the UK, which have been about antisemitism as well as islamophobia. In the current situation I will go on speaking out for the release of the Israeli hostages while condemning the brutality of Hamas, yet I am also clear that the injustice being experienced by Palestinians not only in the horrific war in Gaza but also in the Occupied Palestinian Territory of the West Bank and East Jerusalem, must be called out and robustly challenged. This is not antisemitic. Speaking out in strong condemnation of unjust Israeli leadership, action, policy, and the misuse of unequal power in no way contradicts support of, and friendship and relationship with Jewish people, whether locally, in Westminster or further afield.
When international law is being contravened, used selectively, and explicitly ignored, a mere wagging of the political finger is not enough. I fail to see how a government can say that Israeli settlements in the West Bank are illegal and wrong while standing back and wringing hands as those settlements continue to expand, and at the same time support the trade and behaviour of Israel and the settlements. Likewise, how can we supply Israel with weapons whilst saying we adhere to the Geneva Convention, yet watch international law being used selectively, not least in military courts, including the misuse of administrative detention?
I believe that as the UK and other countries stand by, and in different ways support the Israeli government and military forces, both implicitly and explicitly, whilst they wield power on a totally unequal footing with the Palestinians, we are guilty of separating ourselves not only from uncomfortable politics but from justice itself.
The future in the light of the present
So, what of the future? One of the things that struck me so powerfully during my visit was the absence of vision for the future as people shared stories from the past and present. Indeed, I was curious as to why people rarely verbalised anything about their hopes for the future. I voiced my question with different leaders, including Rabbi Michael Marmur, the Associate Professor of Jewish Theology at the Hebrew Union College in Jerusalem.
What I began to comprehend is that surviving the present, not least in the aftermath of 7 October and the continuing horror of the war in Gaza, is all-consuming for so many people. Even in conversation with Christian leaders and communities who would usually speak of hope, there was a palpable sense of a struggle to contemplate what an earthly good future might look like, not least amid a sense of being abandoned by international leaders, and indeed the majority of the worldwide Church. A Christian pastor in Bethlehem commented that he no longer used the word ‘hope’ except to reference Easter, but that his main focus was on survival.
Whilst I am glad that an intifada (civil uprising) has not broken out in recent months, I am surprised this has not happened. I raised this when speaking with one of the international lawyers from the organisation ‘Military Watch’, and his response left much food for thought. His assessment is that across Palestinian villages and refugee camps, people’s energy is taken up by survival from day to day. For example, making use of water and electricity when it is available takes time and energy; the fear of indiscriminate nighttime raids and the trauma created by previous raids, including arrests and home demolition, leaves little room inside people’s heads for strategising; and the level of trust within communities is low. For example, people are not sure who to trust and who might be collaborators, which means that plans for resistance cannot be shaped with any confidence. People’s already limited power is brought even lower not only by what is physical and tangible, but also by what is psychological and perceived.
In terms of how peace and equity is achieved, there is no easy answer, and I suspect it will take decades and several generations. Following my visit I do not believe this is possible until there is new leadership and metaphorically level ground with a round table. I believe that some dismantling needs to take place: A physical dismantling of Israeli settlements; a dismantling of international agreements around trade and weapons; and a dismantling of some theological ideologies relating to Zionism. In all of this I absolutely condemn anything that is antisemitic and racist, whether anti-Jewish or anti-Palestinian. Indeed I am not willing to speak of being pro-Palestinian, because as some wise Christian Palestinians said to me ‘If you are pro one group, it implies you are anti another group’. What matters is that there is a framework within which all people are afforded equal dignity and power, and in which the drum of rights does not need to be banged because all people are enabled to take equal responsibility for shaping a good and peaceful future in which the identity of different people is recognised and protected on an equal footing.
Apartheid
Finally, those words of separation, power and identity bring me to that uncomfortable word ‘apartheid’. In 1994 while at theological college and just prior to my ordination as a deacon in the Church of England, I undertook a placement in an Anglican Church in the Cape in South Africa at the time when Desmond Tutu was Archbishop. It was a painful privilege in those weeks leading up to the first democratic elections to be immersed in the stories and experiences of different people of different colours. These stories were shot through with shocking experiences of separation between black, white and so-called coloured people over so many years. Every aspect of life involved separation whether it be the use of public toilets, education, walking on the beach, employment and even where people sat during church services, The privilege and power held by white people was contrasted with those of people of a different colour whose freedom and access to certain spaces, life experiences and opportunities was restricted and forbidden.
Just as it was hard to recite Psalm 121 when in Palestine, the same was true amid the beautiful mountains of South Africa.
Whilst the situation in Palestine-Israel has many differences compared to the apartheid years in South Africa, the resonances are strong. The UN International Convention on the Suppression and Punishment of the Crime of Apartheid (1973) defines apartheid as ‘inhuman acts committed for the purpose of establishing and maintaining domination by one racial group of persons over any other racial group of persons and systematically oppressing them.’
In the past I have been wary of using the word apartheid to describe the situation in Palestine-Israel, but having seen even more starkly how life is now in the Occupied Palestinian Territory, I wish to stand alongside other individuals and groups, not least Christians, in boldly naming apartheid.
In both Ramallah and Bethlehem, Christians spoke of being weary of people from the UK visiting the Holy Land to walk in the footsteps of Christ but yet not really doing so in terms of following Christ in word and deed when faced with the injustices of the land. Likewise, there was a weariness with people visiting to raise awareness or fact-find. What local people yearn for are visitors who will listen and speak out, not least for their Christian brothers and sisters. There was a vocalising of the Church’s need to repent and act.
And now…
I have returned to England with an even deeper sense of lament, and in the words of the Psalmist I continue to cry out ‘How long O Lord’ (e.g. Psalm 13:1) yet as a Christian, I also hold fast to hope. This is not about vague optimism because at present I don’t feel optimistic. Instead, it is a hope rooted in those words ‘and yet’ (which are again heard in the Psalms) which point to God’s continual presence even in the mess, pain and struggle, and subsequently revealed in Jesus Christ’s coming to earth.
During my time in Jerusalem it was good to visit once more the Church of the Holy Sepulchre which encompasses the sites of Christ’s death, burial and resurrection, pointing for Christians to the truth that despair, darkness and even death, will never have the final word. I am called to join in with God’s work of transformation and reconciliation, and this means standing with others in bringing into the light the struggle and trauma of unjust separation and abuse of power which denies the equal dignity and precious identity of every person created in the image of God.
Rt Revd Rachel Treweek, Bishop of Gloucester
July 2024
