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For almost five months, I didn’t participate
in the weekly demonstrations against the Wall in the Palestinian village of Bil’in. Friday
is often a day of meetings for me—AIC Board of Directors, coalition against the
occupation, etc.—and, as a result, I have difficulties in keeping the promise I
made to myself: I will be in the Bil’in demonstration
at least one Friday each month. And this is much less
than the commitment made by my friends Uri and Rachel Avnery
of Gush Shalom, who never skip the Friday demonstration.
This week, I canceled all my
meetings and appointments in order to take my place in the weekly
demonstration, which marked the second anniversary of this important
mobilization against the Apartheid Wall in the Occupied Palestinian
Territories. Together
with two hundred other Israelis and a few hundred Palestinians, including a
delegation coming from the southern West Bank, we marched, once again, in the
village, and from the village to the fence, opposite the huge and ugly buildings
of the Matityahu settlement, a new suburb of what may
become the biggest settlement in the occupied West Bank—Modi’in
Ilit.
While marching between Rachel Avnery and Knesset member, Jamal Zahalka,
under an early-spring sun, I had time to reflect on these two years of
demonstrations in that small, central West Bank
village. My first thought was disappointment: except for Jamal and two or three
other activists, there was no one from my political generation, no activist
(except one) from Yesh Gvul,
from among the founders of Ta’ayush (except two), or from
the too-many NGO’s dealing with the Palestinian-Israeli issue.
This thought, however, was
immediately replaced by a better one: the great majority of the demonstrators
were young, very young even. Young and with a fighting spirit, confirmed by
hours of non-violent confrontations with the border police, who tried without
success to disperse the demonstrators away from the fence, using a
water-cannon, tear gas and stun-grenades. One needs much more courage to remain
peaceful under the blows of the angry policemen, than to be ready to be beaten
while attacking them.
I also have a great admiration for
these young Israeli and Palestinian activists because of their ability to keep
on a struggle for 24 months, or, better, for 105 Fridays, with a determination
and stubbornness that is too often lacking in our mobilizations, where we
usually prefer a "single action" strategy to lasting and continuous
mobilization. Only the Women in Black have done better: they have been
demonstrating, also every Friday without interruption, for the last 20 years,
or, if we prefer, for the last 1040 Fridays.
The Guardian correspondent in Jerusalem asked me during
the demonstration, "Why is Bil’in so emblematic?"
First, because of this
stubbornness. But also because it is a rare example of a true
Palestinian-Israeli joint struggle, based on real, and not patronizing or fake,
cooperation, with trust and even friendship among the young women and men who
are leading that struggle. For months and months, they have not only planned,
organized and demonstrated together, but also been beaten together and arrested
together.
Today, despite the demonstrations,
the fence has been built on the lands of Bil’in, and from every side we cannot
avoid seeing its aggressivity and ugliness. But we
will continue to come and demonstrate at Bil’in, not
anymore in order to try to stop the building of this apartheid wall-and-fence,
but to salute the spirit of resistance that has been sparked in this small village
and is today inspiring hundreds of new young activists, Palestinians and
Israelis alike. A resistance based on a combination of three principles for
action: perseverance, joint struggle and direct non-violent confrontation.
Paraphrasing Ernesto Che Guevarra,
our new slogan should be:
"Two, three, many Bil’ins shall bloom all over the Occupied Palestinian
Territories!"
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