Gaza is one of the most densely populated areas in the world; smaller than the Isle of White and yet home to 1.5 million Palestinians. Despite collective punishment being illegal under international law, Israel's dominance of the Air, Land and Sea has for over two years placed Gaza under debilitating siege. Refusing to allow anything, or anyone, in or out; medicines, water purification, food and building materials are in desperately short supply. As a result of the siege, unemployment runs at over 50%, with 80% of the population living below the world poverty line. According to the United Nations, Gaza is in a state of De-development. With the stated aim of quelling Hamas rocket fire, Israel's devastating “Operation Cast Lead” cost the lives of over 1,400 Palestinians, of which over 400 were children. Contrasted with just 8 Israelis killed by hostile fire, it is understandable why many Arab states label it ‘The Gaza Massacre”. A group of London based lawyers have warned there is Prima-Fascia evidence of war crimes, including the use of disproportionate force, the use of chemical weapons against a civilian population, the killing of unarmed civilians and indiscriminate fire. In the last few days, an Israeli human rights group -‘Breaking the Silence’, has collected grim testimony from over 20 IDF soldiers that corroborate these allegations, including the Israeli use of human shields. One soldier described how civilians would be made to walk in front of the soldier whilst he rested his rifle on his shoulder. Amnesty International has repeatedly warned that Gazans have no safe place to shelter, which was a major factor in why so many civilians were killed. A Gazan I met in a taxi who managed to leave two weeks ago described the place as a “Living Hell”.
My initial plan of entry was to be smuggled in by a UNRWA Aid convoy for an afternoon, but my contact informed me this would not be possible until next week at the earliest. With an Interview arranged with the UN representative in Gaza City, I decided to try my luck on the border, which depending on how the guards feel can gain a foreign passport access. Whilst waiting for the bus to Erez in Tel-Aviv, a young soldier began a conversation. Twenty-Two years old, it quickly transpired he fought in Gaza. I asked him how he felt about the operation; “It was a good thing, we fought well because we had to stop the terrorists. It was too dangerous to stay for long, so we used hit and run tactics, going into the towns for a few hours then quickly withdrawing.” I asked him if he was scared, He sheepishly grinned; “Yes I was scared, so were many. We often came under fire, we were very nervous, I did not want to die there.” Considering that large swathes of the IDF is drafted through National Service, many of its soldiers are between 18 and 22. Sending such young and inexperienced soldiers into an urban combat environment in a climate of fear perhaps explains the policy, illustrated by Breaking the Silence, of “If it moves, shoot”. I asked him if he thought enough care had been taken to protect civilians and how he responded to allegations of war crimes; “We took enough care to avoid civilian casualties, we only killed the terrorists. No war crimes were committed, the world sees things very differently to us.” I asked how he responded to the fact that over 400 of the dead were children; His face fell as he looked at the floor and did not answer.
The bus dropped me on the motorway by Erez Kibbutz, about 4km from the Gaza border. I hitched a lift with a passing car and drove down the long, empty road towards Gaza. As a resident of Southern Israel, (the area afflicted by Hamas rockets) I asked him how he felt about “Cast Lead”, his response came as a shock:
“I opposed Cast Lead, I went on every demonstration. When the Quassams were being fired, it was not this constant rain the IDF spoke of, but a handful a week, no more than 7 or 8 on average. They are a very weak weapon; they do little damage and have little power. Are they frightening? Yes. But they are not much of a threat to anyone. When the Ceasefire was signed, it fell quiet and we lived here in peace. But the IDF broke the ceasefire; they infringed the border and killed a few civilians and so they started firing the Quassams again. Then they started Cast Lead. They planned it before they even signed the Ceasefire; the documents were printed in Harretz. [An Israeli Broadsheet newspaper] The operation was not about the Rockets, its because Israel wants to continue the war with the Palestinians. Very Religious families and the Settler movement have influence over the government and want Israel to have the West Bank. 30 – 40% of Israel wanted peace with the Palestinians and to take down the settlements so they created a war and now all that is gone. They went into Gaza and destroyed everything the Gazans needed to form a state. The situation there is a catastrophe, they now have no fresh water. I cant believe the world does not speak out, what we are doing is disgusting. There are not many who think like me because the media convinces them we are under constant threat of annihilation and we must fight to survive. The media here isn’t media, its propaganda, the mainstream press are worse than Pravda [The Soviet Unions’ state run paper]”
As I made my way through the scrubland, I headed towards what I thought was the border terminal. The Border with Gaza is akin to a high security prison. A 4-meter high concrete wall surrounds Gaza, with a 500m No-Mans land on each side surrounded with razor wire fencing. Camouflaged outposts are on every hilltop, whilst watchtowers and fortified military bases line the perimeter. American supplied armoured vehicles race around, the dust trails snaking into the air.
Disorientated, I make my way onto a fresh tarmac road. Over the sound of my headphones I hear the distant crack of gunfire and see the sand a meter in front of me fly up. Every watchtower contains snipers, and I realise that I’m receiving a warning shot. My map is outdated, and I have in fact strayed onto a military road, the structure I thought was the terminal is in fact a military base. I stand still and raise my British passport into the air as in front of me the unmistakable dust cloud of the IDF races towards me. Within 30 seconds three vehicles full of soldiers surround me. As soon as they slow down I yell as loudly as I can “Ingleezi! English! Ingleezi!” The sound of safety catches click as they lower their weapons. Satisfied with my explanation of what I am doing here my passport details are taken and I’m driven to the terminal. Surrounded by boxes of ammunition and assault rifles, amongst the Hebrew radio chatter and static I can hear other units radioing my name.
I Queue with a Palestinian family at the entrance gate, the car park empty and the terminal deserted. “No Visas today” Is yelled at me as I approach. I ask if there is an authority I can contact for permission and will there be any visas issued in the future. “NO, and I hope we will never issue them” comes the snapped reply. With no explanation and my passport in hand, she suddenly leaves the booth and begins walking towards the terminal. I’m instructed to place my bag on the floor and step away from it. Keeping my hands in plain sight I wait for her return. Suddenly with no warning two armed guards flank me, their M16’s aimed straight at me. I demand to know what’s going on, only to receive the sinister reply of “You’ll find out”. I am handcuffed and led inside the terminal. My belongings taken, I am bundled through doors marked “Restricted” into a massive security checkpoint. My belongings reappear and are fed into a massive X-ray scanner. Covered at all times by armed guards, my handcuffs are removed and I am sent through a metal detector. Despite coming up negative, I am then frisked, checked with a hand detector and then instructed to step into a Perspex capsule. Instructions are barked at me through an Intercom whilst an elaborate body scanner rotates around me. After ten minuets I am led into a small room with an x-ray machine. As the heavy steel doors lock with a loud thud a man appears behind a bullet-proof screen. I am instructed to place all of my clothes into the X-ray. Another door opens and an armed guard appears and my clothes and skin are swabbed for explosives. Its at moments like this that you begin to understand how psychologically important your clothes are: its not being naked that bothered me; it was how vulnerable I suddenly felt to the rifle being levelled at my chest.
Whilst still refusing to tell me what is happening, I am led to a holding room while for two hours 3 people intricately search my belongings, swabbing them all for explosives and taking everything apart. I am then interrogated for a further three hours before being placed in a holding cell. The Palestinian man I shared with looked visibly terrified: One 21 year old I met in Ramallah spent 3 years in an Israeli prison till his father sold the family farm to raise his bail money. He showed me the scars where the Israeli guards had tortured him with a halogen light bulb and beaten him. He was eventually cleared of all charges.
After further interrogation and 8 hours after arriving at the gate I was released. The People handling me had changed from the Border Police to Military Intelligence – the Shin Bet. Informed that I would be contacted by the “Security Services” for further interrogation and made aware that I was now under surveillance, my Passport and Camera were finally returned. I was released into the night; For the 1.5 million Palestinians trapped in the worlds largest open air prison, they will not be so lucky.
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