HAR ADAR, The West Bank — International leaders frequently present Israeli settlements as being the primary obstacle to a Palestinian state. The settlements will be a pivotal point of contention as the U.S. begins drafting a new Middle East peace plan.
Most Palestinians oppose settlements, seeing them as Israel’s intent to permanently occupy land it captured from Jordan in the 1967 Six-Day War. As recently as last December, the U.N. Security Council declared the settlements illegal, and the U.N. and the World Bank have cited how Israeli occupation of the West Bank annually costs the Palestinian economy billions of dollars. Nevertheless, more than 40,000 Palestinians work in Israeli settlements, which constitute 4 percent of the West Bank.
Some 300 Palestinians work in the settlement of Har Adar, one small part of a close economic relationship between Palestinians and Israelis that is worth approximately $5 billion in annual business, according to the Israeli Chamber of Commerce. Straddling the border between Israel and the West Bank, the community leans secular and center-left, unlike most settlements.
Work in the settlements pays significantly more than the average Palestinian wage of 1,068 Israeli shekels, or $298 per month. On Sept. 26, however, a Palestinian worker shot and killed two Israeli guards and a border policeman at the entrance to Har Adar. The assailant, a 37-year-old father of four from the village next door, had worked in Har Adar for a decade, cleaning homes for numerous families.
Prior to Sept. 26, Har Adar, which was founded in 1982, had never experienced a terror attack. Its residents, many whom are close with the Palestinians they employ, remain in shock. Since the attack, Palestinians have been forbidden from entering Har Adar. Neither residents nor Palestinians know if and when they will return.
The aftermath of that day illustrates the delicate relationship between two peoples who both call this land home.
‘Punishment Only Causes More Anger, Hatred’
From his home in the Palestinian village of Katana, Muhammad Shamasnah can see Har Adar’s picturesque red-roofed homes, perched atop a hill overlooking Jerusalem. Shamasnah, a 48-year-old father of four, has worked in Har Adar since he was 15, doing construction, renovations, gardening and art. His son Najab also works in Har Adar.
On Sept. 26, Najab was standing in a line of Palestinians at the settlement’s entrance when the attacker, standing in front of him, began shooting. Najab hasn’t worked a day since the attack, a significant economic loss for his family. Najab was earning about $1,700 a month, nearly six times the average Palestinian wage.
Unlike his son, Muhammad has a permit to work throughout Israel. Getting to his new job takes up to four hours each way, thanks to long lines at Israeli checkpoints. His commute to Har Adar took 15 minutes.
Muhammad longs for a Palestinian state, yet he doesn’t see the people he works for as enemies, or even settlers. “They treat us like family,” he says. “When I’m in my friend’s houses in Har Adar, I feel like I’m in my own home. This is coexistence. It gives me hope.”
In the 33 years he’s worked in Har Adar, Muhammad says he’s never felt any hatred. “I’m against the occupation,” he says, “but we live together, and we’re all human beings at the end of the day.” He recalls how on the day of the attack, after police rounded up Palestinian workers and took their permits, residents took care of them. “They just suffered their worst day, yet they were worried about us, asking us how we feel, giving us water and cookies.”
Police took Najab’s work permit and his permit to escort his mother to an Israeli hospital where she receives cancer treatment. Now only Muhammad can take her. On those days he can’t work. He now supports his wife and his son’s family — all told, 10 live under one roof.
Muhammad acknowledges Israel’s authority to impose travel restrictions but is critical of the Israeli government placing Palestinian villages surrounding Har Adar on lockdown during searches for suspects.
“Punishment only causes more anger, hatred, and terror,” says Muhammad. Still, he doesn’t blame the attacker. “It’s the occupation. It’s the lack of peace. It’s more complicated than that.”
Nevertheless, he hopes to return to the settlement. “When a person needs to make a living, it doesn’t matter where it is.”
‘I Won’t Want My Son Being There When He’s Here’
Anat Knafo is a member of Yesh Atid, a centrist political party that backs the two-state solution. A 54-year-old mother of four, the Jewish Israeli grew up in Jerusalem. In 2005, she moved her family to Har Adar, not because of ideology, but “for peace and quiet.” Speaking in her backyard, it’s silent, save for the leaves of her lemon and fig trees rustling in the wind.
Since 2005, Knafo has employed a Palestinian house cleaner named Ibrahim. Over the years, she says she found Ibrahim clients so he could stop working in the harsh conditions of construction. When Ibrahim’s wife gave birth recently, she visited them in the hospital.
“He was such a big part of our lives, and we were a part of his,” she says. She uses the past tense because she’s not sure if Ibrahim will ever work for her again.
On the morning of Sept. 26, Knafo got a call from her 11-year-old son Moshe. “Mom!” he screamed. “There’s a terrorist in Har Adar!”
“It’s the Israeli mother’s worst nightmare,” she says. The killer had worked for the family of Moshe’s friend. “What about Ibrahim?” Moshe asked. “Will he continue working for us?”
“It’s too soon to say,” Anat told her son.
Before the attack, Anat let Moshe roam freely. Now she barely lets him leave the house, except to go to school. She used to leave the keys for Ibrahim to let himself into the house. Moshe was often home alone with Ibrahim while he cleaned.
“Now I don’t know if he’ll come back, and if he does come back, I won’t want my son being there when he’s here,” says Anat. “It’s really sad, not just for us and our community, but for the people who live in these villages. Because of the actions of this one man (the Sept. 26 attacker), everyone is paying for it.”
Anat believes it’s important for Palestinians to work in Har Adar, “so they can see that we’re good people.” Some of her friends have already let Ibrahim go. “His salary is already down,” she laments, throwing up her hands. “I still don’t know what to do. I think we’ll have him work here, but only when no one’s home.”
Before the attack, Anat had hope for peace. Now, she says, “My hope is destroyed. Because if someone we all trusted could suddenly switch and kill us, then anyone can.”
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Terror Attack Disrupts an Israeli Settlement’s Dealings With Palestinians originally appeared on usnews.com
