Migron, West Bank // Yehudit Genud hardly
feels she is on the frontier of Israel’s settlement project, although the huddle
of mobile homes on a wind-swept West Bank hilltop she calls home is
controversial even by Israeli standards.
Despite the size and isolation of Migron, a settlement of about
45 religious families on a ridge next to the Palestinian city of Ramallah, Mrs
Genud’s job as a social worker in West Jerusalem is a 25-minute drive away on a
well-paved road.
Mrs Genud, 28, pregnant with her first
child, points out that Migron has parks, children’s playgrounds, a kindergarten,
a daycare centre and a synagogue, all paid for by the government – even if the
buildings are enclosed by a razor-wire fence, and her husband, Roni, has to put
in overtime as the settlement’s security guard.
From her trailer, she also has panoramic views not only of
Ramallah but of the many communities hugging the slopes that gently fall away to
the Jordan Valley.
Long-established Palestinian villages are instantly identifiable
by their homes’ flat roofs and the prominence of the tall minarets of the local
mosques. Interspersed among them, however, are a growing number of much newer,
fortified communities of luxury villas topped by distinctive red-tiled roofs.
These are the Jewish settlements that now form an almost complete
ring around Palestinian East Jerusalem, cutting it off from the rest of the West
Bank and destroying any hope that the city will one day become the capital of a
Palestinian state.
“These settlements are supposed to be the nail in the coffin of
any future peace agreement with the Palestinians,” said Dror Etkes, a veteran
observer of the settlements who works for the Israeli human rights group Yesh
Din. “Their purpose is to make a Palestinian state unviable.”
The majority of the half a million settlers in the West Bank and
East Jerusalem, according to Mr Etkes, are “economic opportunists”, drawn to
life in the occupied territories less by ideological or religious convictions
than economic incentives. The homes, municipal services and schools there are
heavily subsidised by the government.
In addition, the settlements – though illegal under international
law – are integrated into Israel through a sophisticated system of roads that
make it easy for the settlers to forget they are in occupied territory
surrounded by Palestinians.
But Migron, with its supposed links to the Biblical site where
King Saul based himself during his fight against the Philistines, attracts a
different kind of inhabitant.
“This place is holy to the Jewish people and we have a duty to be
here,” Mrs Genud said. “The whole land of Israel belongs to us and we should not
be afraid to live wherever we want to. The Arabs must accept that.”
Unlike the 150 or so official settlements dotted across the West
Bank, Migron is an example of what the Israeli government refers to as an
“illegal outpost”, often an unauthorised outgrowth from one of the main
settlements. Today there are more than 100 such outposts, housing several
thousand extremist settlers.
Mrs Genud, however, argues that Israel’s
refusal to turn Migron into an authorised settlement, as it has done with many
other established outposts, reflects pressure from Washington.
Back in 2003, Israel committed itself to dismantling the more
recent outposts under the terms of the Road Map, a US-sponsored plan for
reviving the peace process and creating a Palestinian state. Two years later the
cabinet approved the removal of 24 outposts, although barely any progress has
been made on dismantling them. Israel confirmed its pledge again in January when
George W Bush, the US president, visited.
Established six years ago by a group from the nearby settlement
of Ofra, Migron is now the largest of the outposts. Two residents – Itai Halevi,
the community’s rabbi, and Itai Harel, the son of Israel Harel, a well-known
settler leader – have demonstrated their confidence in Migron’s future by each
building permanent homes.
“We are connected to the water grid, we have phone lines from the
national company Bezeq, we have been hooked up by the electricity company and
have street lighting,” Mrs Genud said. “We also have a kindergarten paid for by
the state and a group of soldiers stationed here to protect us. How can we be
‘illegal’?”
Daniella Wiess, a leader of the most
extreme wing of the settlers, agreed. Like the inhabitants of Migron, she said
the outpost was first suggested by Ariel Sharon when he was housing minister in
the 1990s. It was also among the first outposts to be set up after he became
prime minister in 2002.
An official report published in 2005 found that more than US$4
million (Dh14.7m) was invested in Migron in its first years, with the money
channelled through at least six different ministries.
There is good reason for official complicity in such outposts as
Migron. “This place is very strategic,” Mrs Genud said. It looks down on Route
60, once the main road serving Palestinians between Jerusalem and Jenin in the
northern West Bank.
Today, even those Palestinians who can get a permit to travel the
road find regular sections obstructed by checkpoints or closed for the
protection of neighbouring settlements.
“We can also see all the Arabs from here and keep an eye on what
they are doing,” she said referring to her Palestinian neighbours. “And in
addition, we can see the other settlements and check on their safety.”
But despite its significance to the settlement drive, Migron is
under threat. Last week, the Israeli government agreed that the outpost must be
destroyed, although it was tight-lipped about when. Few are expecting such a
reversal to happen soon. The government’s decision was largely foisted upon it
by a series of unforeseen events.
In 2006, several West Bank Palestinians, backed by Israeli peace
groups, petitioned Israel’s supreme court claiming that Migron had been built on
their private land.
Over the past four decades, Israel has declared nearly two-thirds
of the West Bank as “state land”, seizing it on a variety of pretexts and
transferring much of it to the jurisdiction of settler councils. According to
the figures of the Israeli group Peace Now, the settlers are in direct control
of more than 40 per cent of the West Bank.
Land belonging to Palestinians who hold the title deeds, however,
has been harder to confiscate. As a result, a dubious industry of front
companies both inside Israel and in the occupied territories has been spawned to
transfer private Palestinian land to the settlers.
One such company appears to be behind the sale of the land on
which Migron was built. A police investigation has revealed that one of the
Palestinian owners, Abdel Latif Hassan Sumarin, signed over his power of
attorney to an Israeli real estate company in 2004, even though he died in the
United States in 1961.
During the court hearings, Israel has been dragging its feet.
According to its own figures, there are a dozen outposts built entirely or
partially on private Palestinian land – and the true number may be higher still.
The settlers believe that the decision to destroy Migron, if
carried out, would set a dangerous precedent. “They are very afraid that this
will become simply the first of many settlements to fall,” Mr Etkes said.
Last week, faced with another hearing before the court, the
government finally conceded on Migron – but only after striking a deal with the
main settlement lobby group, the Yesha council. Israel promised that the outpost
would go, but not before new homes had been built for Migron’s settlers and they
had been relocated en masse to a newly created – and authorised – settlement.
According to reports in the local media, Migron’s families may be moved only a
few hundred metres from their current location to an area of the West Bank
designated as “state land”.
“The settlers know that preparation of an alternative site could
take years,” said Yariv Oppenheimer, the head of Peace Now, fearful that this
was simply a delaying tactic.
Others believe that relocating Migron may, in fact, set back the
struggle against the settlements. There is already talk of moving the settlers
to the jurisdiction of a neighbouring settlement, Adam.
“The danger is that Migron will be destroyed only to be
resurrected in ‘legalised’ form by the government as a new settlement close by
Adam,” Mr Etkes said.
Such a suspicion is confirmed by the main settler council, Yesha,
which issued a statement last week: “We believe it is possible to find a
solution for the outposts that will strengthen the settlements.”
Nonetheless, the residents of Migron, backed by hardline settler
groups, are talking and acting tough for the time being.
In a show of defiance, they moved another mobile home into the
outpost last week. For several months the residents have also been erecting a
large stone building close by the outpost that will become a winery.
The settlers’ rabbinical council denounced the threatened loss of
the outpost, as did settler leader Gershon Masika, who warned of a bloody
confrontation to save it.
Mrs Genud is not sure what she will do if
the crunch comes and she has to give up her home and life in Migron. “All of
this land is Jewish,” she said. “It would be a big mistake if we give up what is
rightfully ours.”
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