Drop Words not Weapons

From: Benjamin
Date: October 5, 2009 12:12:53 AM EDT
To: Meredith
Subject: Re: yjhr article

Hey Meredith,

Sorry it took me a little while to get in touch. Anyway, about the Israel article: I started thinking about it after you guys mentioned in Egypt that you'd like something from an Israeli perspective. I spent parts of the rest of the summer working with Israeli children who have lost a family member to terrorism, talked with the mostly right-wing Israelis who are part of that organization, and visited Sderot, so there's a lot I can talk about. My discomfort comes from the fact that I can't really write two sentences sympathetic to the Israeli cause without qualifying them with a list of the reasons the Palestinians have to be more upset. If I sit down to write an article about human rights in the Middle East, I'm not going to be talking about Israel's problems. That said, I don't think we're going to get anywhere in the region unless we understand that the Israelis, like Palestinians, are not generating their hatred out of nowhere, and so I think there's merit in presenting the Israeli side.

Basically, I'm confused about what kind of article would be most appropriate and honest. There's the option of working in both points of view by talking about my experience in the West Bank. Or I could just talk about Israel, but I'm not sure what exactly we'd consider an issue of human rights, and I'd need to figure out how to write an article about Israeli concerns without suggesting that they're the victims. In general, it seems like focusing more on my specific experiences and less on a wider-angle political piece would be helpful.

If you've got any thoughts on what would be right for the magazine, I'd love to hear them.

Best, Ben


Look forward to what Ben ultimately comes up with in the next issue of The Yale Journal of Human Rights to be released this November.

The Boyz of Camp Breakerz

Law & Order: Gaza

Not all of the havoc, destruction, and the humanitarian crisis in general that plagues Gaza is directly caused by Israelis and the Arab- Israeli conflict. And not all Gaza (or, for that matter, Palestinian) institutions have completely gone to bust either. Despite the odds against them (the daily strain of war and lack of basic human needs like water, enough food, and adequate shelter; just to name a few), The Palestinian Center for Human Rights (PCHR), a Palestinian NGO based in Gaza City, continues to document and monitor domestically- born abuse.

Contributed by Shahla Naimi
Trumbull College, Yale 2012

Press Releases
Ref: 93/2009
Date: 26 July 2009
Time: 09:00 GMT

Decision to Impose Traditional Robes and Veils on Female Lawyers in Gaza Is Illegal

Chief Justice of the High Court of Justice, Head of the Higher Justice Council in Gaza gas issued a new decision concerning the clothing of lawyers. PCHR believes that this decision constitutes a violation of the law and an unjustified intervention into lawyers' affairs. It also undermines personal freedoms and women's rights through forcing female lawyers to wear traditional robes known as "Jilbab" and veils (Hijabs).



The decision was issued on 9 July 2009 by Counselor 'Abdul Ra'ouf al-Halabi, Chief Justice of the Higher Court of Justice and Head of the Higher Justice Council, and it will enter into force on 1 September 2009. The decision orders male lawyers to wear a special uniform when appearing before courts, which includes: A vesture of black cloth known as the robe; a dark tuxedo; a while shirt; and a black necktie. According to the decision, female lawyers have to wear black cloth known as the robe; a dark suit (Jilbab, tuxedo or coat); and a scarf covering the hair.

According to the decision, male and female lawyers must wear such clothing when appearing before all regular courts.

PCHR believes that although it was based on the provisions of the Palestinian Basic Law of 2003, the Lawyers' Clothing Statute of 1930 and what it calls "common righteous norms, as mentioned in its preamble, the decision violates the constitution and the law and undermines women's rights and personal freedoms ensured by the constitution for the following reasons:


1. The Lawyers' Clothing Statute of 1930 is the legal instrument in effect concerning the clothing of lawyers, which is specifically prescribed and not open for any interpretation or what is called "common righteous norms," which is a loose clause that has ideological implications not included in the law at all.

2. The clothing of lawyers is united for both women and men without any discrimination; it includes according to the Lawyers' Clothing Statute of 1930: A vesture of black cloth; a dark suit; and white top and tie.

3. Accordingly, assigning a special uniform for female lawyers violates the Lawyers' Clothing Statute of 1930, constitutes a form of discrimination against women and undermines personal freedoms ensured by the constitution.

4. According to the Lawyers' Clothing Statute of 1930, lawyers have the right to plead without wearing the specified clothing in offices of judges and arbitrators, before district courts or before courts of investigations of suspicious deaths. So, imposing special clothing on lawyers when appearing before all regular courts violates the Statute.

5. Deciding the clothing of lawyers is not of the authority of Chief Justice of the High Court of Justice or judges, as article 26 of Professional Lawyers Act #3 of 1999 prescribes that a lawyer must appear when pleading before a court in the clothing decided by the Bar Association's bylaw. Accordingly, the clothing of lawyers is of the authority of the Bar Association. So, the decision by the Chief Justice of the High Court of Justice/ Head of the Higher Justice Council in Gaza constitutes an illegal and unjustified intervention of the Bar Association's affairs.

6. PCHR reminds that the Higher Justice Council in Gaza is unconstitutional, a fact emphasized by human rights organizations since 2007. The Council was established by the Government in Gaza in violation of the constitution, and its mandate derogates from the authorities of the Higher Judicial Council, which had been already established in accordance with the constitution.

7. Imposing a special uniform on female and male lawyers in the Gaza Strip reinforces the state of fragmentation, which means that two kinds of clothing for lawyers, one in the West Bank and the other one in Gaza, even though the unification of the Bar Association in the West Bank and the Gaza Strip has been an important national achievement in the past years.


Click here to see the same announcement on the PCHR website, its original source.

The Magic School Bus

by Shahla Naimi
Trumbull College, Yale 2012

I went out to dinner with Americans and Palestinians Thursday night at a restaurant 20 minutes north of Nablus to celebrate the arrival of a new bus bringing children from refugee camps to a small school in Nablus.

The bus does not allow kids to eat inside, but has trays for food and drinks. Some of the kids are illiterate and the vast majority do not know English, but there is a “STOP” button should a child need to exit the bus. Yet, the kids wait for the bus in the hot sun for hours, excited at the chance to go to school.



We, the local Palestinian and American teachers and staff members of the school, did not bother to hide our enthusiasm as we traveled outside of the city for dinner, taking the same bus that carried our new students. We hardly ever leave the city, and never before with Palestinians. But we left. And we had a wonderful dinner, laughing and bonding.

By the time we finished dinner it was 9 PM: it was finally dark enough for the driver to turn on the neon blue lights that line the bus’ inner rows – something we were all eagerly awaiting. It did not disappoint and, for a few minutes, we all sang and danced (hunched over) in the tiny (and not very tall) bus to the roaring sound of the radio. Jamila*, an extremely well- educated Palestinian woman in her 30s, forgot her nervousness, about the 3 times her mother and father called telling her to come home, and she sang along with the music. She sang. He sang. We all sang together right until we approached an Israeli military checkpoint.

And then we stood and clapped. We smiled and continued louder than before, expressing happiness as almost an act of defiance against the restrictions.

We passed 3 checkpoints during our drive.

Two soldiers at the first smiled and clapped. The second set of soldiers looked confused, not registering why this bus of Americans and Palestinians were so happy. The third set simply looked irate, wanting to wave us by as soon as possible to get rid of us. But we continued for that half hour dancing and singing, not caring what the world thought.

Yes, most of the women did not strip loose their coverings and shake it in the aisle, but they did shake their shoulders and widen their smiles. We respected one another while letting loose a little bit, something we all desperately knew the others needed.

Humans have innate rights to basic food and shelter, security and the pursuit of happiness. And they have the right to fulfill the pursuit: to latch onto it at 9 PM at night in the dead of the night in a city where there are no lights illuminating the road, where the young sports teacher remembers who killed his father.

And, in all that happiness, there was the moment when that sports teacher, Ibrahim*, became quiet. Here was this young, lanky, 25-year- old sports teacher, who lines his 5-year- old kids up in a line holding hands and leads them to a room where they can be together and have juice, sitting in a bus with cheering Palestinians and Americans. And for what reason? For what reason but to refuse to give up their right to happiness despite the occupation of their homes? Ibrahim stood and danced, he sang and clapped- but he did not forget that only last year that clapping, smiling soldier killed his father in his home.

He did not forget, and so he remembered what his kids go home to and the dangers they face. But what can he do for them but to tell them he is there- there to throw a soft ball at them and teach them how to catch it? What can he do when he knows what he goes home to – a home without a father?

Happiness is here. It is evident with every car horn celebrating a wedding or young mother having her first child. But still, the occupation remains. The reminder is everywhere and it always pops up; always creeps into the bus and reminds this young man that although a soldier may smile and clap he is there for a reason. Why, the young man wonders, does he himself have to go through the checkpoint in the first place? Why does he no longer have a father?


*All names have been changed.

Palestinians on the Plane?

by Mahdi Sabbagh

As I enter the gate area in order to board, I am welcomed by the El Al Airlines’ lady standing in front of the entrance. She looks at my boarding pass and Israeli passport and tells me to go towards another lady standing in front of a different line. “It’s for standard security check” she says politely. “I already went through airport security” I respond.

She laughs and says: “This is Israeli security, it’s much better!”. I laugh along and proceed to hand the other lady my papers. The lady smiles and asks: “Where did you fly from?” I reply: “New York. It’s written on the plane ticket you’re holding” “And your final destination is Tel Aviv” “Yes.” She pauses, smiles again, and asks: “Where do you live in Israel?” “I live in Jerusalem”. She pauses again, continues “Where in Jerusalem?” I respond “Beit Hanina, in East Jerusalem”. She flips through my passport, asks me to wait on the side, takes my papers and walks to an area sealed off from the main sitting lounge with movable dividers.

The gate area fills up as more and more people check in and sit around in the waiting area. The lady comes back with my passport and asks me to follow her into the small room. She tells me that they are going to quickly scan my bags. I sit on a chair awkwardly positioned between a table and one of the dividing walls, start reading the wallpaper* magazine I had just bought, waiting for them to finish up. Three El Al staff come towards me and state that they will take my bags and jacket for a security check while one of them will give me a body search. No one had mentioned a body search when I was first told to proceed to the backroom but I play along regardless, and move into a tiny cubicle. The security man starts searching me, my arms, back, legs. He then asks me to take my shirt, shoes and belt off. He runs the cold plastic beeper around my waste and pants. The fake metallic buttons on my jeans make his machine beep. The security man gives it another try but the beeping persists. He tells me to wait, goes outside and comes back with his supervisor: “His trousers are causing a beeping, I think it’s ok”. The supervisor’s dark piercing eyes glare at me and says:

“Well, if it’s beeping, make him take his jeans off!”

The supervisor exits. The security man hesitates, but says: “I am sorry but I’m going to have to ask you to take your pants off.”

I recall friends going through similar experiences in the Tel Aviv airport but I never imagined myself in such a situation and not even in Israel or the Occupied Territories… I was still in Heathrow Airport, London! I stood still not really knowing how to respond to such a command. Should I accept the situation and comply? Is ‘please, take your pants off’ equivalent to ‘can I have your boarding pass please’ in the context of an airport security check? I start unbuttoning my pants and stop at the first button. Tense, light headed and realizing the absurdness of the situation, I look at the security man and say “This is unbelievable, are you seriously asking me to pull my pants down?” He responds very calmly: “This is just my job.” I reply: “But of course this is your job, I don’t see you asking every passenger to do the same.” He doesn’t respond. I bring myself together and think of the flight I have to catch in 30 minutes now. I focus on the systematic physical movement of unbuttoning my jeans; pulling them down for a few seconds and then pulling them back up. The operation goes by in no time. I collect my cloths and proceed into the room where my bags were being scanned. First glimpse towards my bags I realize that they had also gone through a similar experience. When I was told ‘a quick scan’ I expected someone to put my bags through an x-ray machine but instead, a lady was going through every compartment of my bag, taking out clothes, books, drawing pencils, electronics, and what have you, and dumping them into a large container. She had emptied my bag completely while I was being strip-searched.

As I approach to ask what the purpose of this procedure was, I notice the other security lady playing with my Ipod. She sees me and quickly places it down on the pile of things. The supervisor appears again with my coat and informs me that I cannot carry it with me on the plane. He says I have to leave it in my suitcase that I check in New York when I first departed. Curious about why one was not allowed to take a jacket onto an airplane I ask for an explanation. He stares at me, turns around and leaves. After a minute he comes back with my laptop stating that I also have to leave my laptop, camera and cellphone in the checked-in suitcase. I fly internationally very often and am usually aware of the typical procedures, but for a moment I wondered if there was a new law preventing me from taking anything but my clothes? Surely not. There was no way I was going to leave my laptop behind!

“I am sorry but I will not leave my laptop here. My suitecase isn’t even in the terminal yet because of the delay.”

“I’m sorry that’s how it works.”

I try to stay patient knowing that nothing I say will change the stubborn Israeli security supervisor.

“I don’t see you asking any other passenger to leave their electronics or coats behind. I don’t understand why I am going through this procedure and why I can’t keep my computer with me.”

“These are the laws, either you leave it with us and we put it in your suitcase when it arrives or you don’t get on the plane.”Several arguments later, (with the supervisor, the person who turned my bag upside down, and the person who stripped me) we do not reach an argument and the lady sitting at the entrance to the gate calls on the last passengers to board.

My flight leaves in 2 minutes. Do I do what feels right, which is to question the legality of their actions, whether this is just or ethical? Do I confront them individually? Do I ask to see a higher supervisor? Do I leave my belongings in Heathrow airport and board the plane?

I decide to end the humiliation and tell them that I would rather stay behind and catch a later flight with another airline than accept their unjust conditions and leave my belongings with them. With this decision, the questioning ends, they grab my belongings, dump them into my bag, hand it to me and send me off to the terminal. As the supervisor walks me to the exit I decide to give him a piece of my mind: “This system is unbelievably unjust. I am an Israeli citizen going back home! Out of all the Israelis going on that plane, you pick the only Arab one and make him miss his flight!” He doesn’t reply and escorts me to the exit.

I find myself walking away from the gate, towards the terminal, the ‘Departures’ screens with “Tel Aviv Flight Closing” shinning in bright red.

I walk slowly but steadily, no destination in mind. Walking as far away from the El Al staff as possible was the only thing on my mind. As I approach the main terminal, a bitter taste in my mouth, I try to assess what had just happened and realize that I put myself off that plane; that out of basic principle I had decided to end the nightmare and walk away. I had succeeded in that I was able to make a decision for my own and there was nothing they could do about it. Why did they pick me out of the line of people? Are the three staff seeing sense in what they had done? Do they truly think that pulling down my pants, checking the songs on my Ipod and asking me to leave my coat behind contribute to the ‘security’ of the airplane? I decide to keep the thinking for later and to try to catch the next flight.The British Airways staff tell me the ‘misunderstanding with El Al Airways’ was not their fault but mine because I had chosen not to depart and that there’s not much they can do but put me on stand-by for the next British Airways flight to Tel Aviv, in 12 hours!

I felt humiliated and terribly alone. There was no one I could turn to and nothing I could do in order to deal with the situation. What was I supposed to tell the British lady sitting at the counter: “I decided to get off the plane because I’d rather keep the little dignity that was left in me” “I can’t afford to leave half of my belonging behind”. “They wouldn’t let me on the plane because I am Palestinian?”

NOT Another Brick in the Wall

Roger Waters, former member of Pink Floyd, is leading a campaign to bring down the infamous wall that divides Israel and Palestine. He told the Associated Press that he would give a concert if the wall is torn down. Waters did something similar when the Berlin Wall fell in 1989, giving a concert at the site in 1990.


Check out Pink Floyd's "Another Brink in the Wall" after the jump