When Israel claimed women were sexually assaulted on a mass scale on October 7, the world exploded. Almost the entirety of Israel’s genocidal war was based on these and other allegations, many unsubstantiated. We all remember the infamous’40 beheaded babies” story, do we not?

This article is not about Israeli allegations per se, neither will it only focus on violations against Palestinian women. This is about a world that is immediately up in arms when one side merely alleges atrocities while it turns a blind eye to actual documented violations against the “other”.

In Gaza, it is painfully clear that we indeed, are ‘the other’. How else can anyone explain the muted cries of women being stripped, raped, starved and murdered practically in real time, on our phone screens, documented in UN reports and described in horrific detail in eyewitness testimonies? There is no other explanation than that Palestinians are what Arundhati Roy calls “Children of a lesser God”. We are the victims of deep-rooted colonialism, one whose geographic demarcations may have vanished but whose insidious, dehumanizing mentality still prevails and manifests in the ugliest of manners.

For nearly six months, Palestinians have endured unspeakable atrocities at the hands of Israel’s occupying army. Today, the Gaza Strip has been reduced to an emaciated shell of what it once was. As Gaza is being systematically decimated and ethnically cleansed, the world, for the most part, looks on. Barring sympathetic supporters and a few well-intended but timid political actors, nothing has been done to stop the carnage. Palestinians once believed there was no way the world would allow Israel to erase Gaza off the map, no way it could see a live-streamed genocide and do nothing. But that is exactly what is happening.

Then, when we thought things could not get any worse, something unfathomable emerged from the deathtrap of Gaza. When this happened, we were certain it would be the turning point in this hellish nightmare. Well-documented reports, corroborated by the UN and eyewitnesses on the ground, told of harrowing stories of sexual assault against Palestinian women in Gaza.

We were paralysed with horror when we heard of women being raped by Israeli soldiers in northern Gaza, assaulted and stripped in front of their families. What’s worse, we all know that in times like these, the undocumented atrocities will far outnumber those documented. Who knows what horrors will unfold once the dust settles in Gaza; no doubt they will be so horrific, our entire nation will be traumatized for years to come.

The real question here is not how Israel’s soldiers perpetrated such gross violations. I think by now we can all agree that this depraved military establishment and its political echelon to boot, has dehumanized and vilified Palestinians so much and for so long, they will justify just about anything. No, the question is more about the moral compass of the rest of the world. While alliances and political interests are always part of the equation, even when the issue pertains to basic human rights, nothing can better explain the blatant hypocrisy, double standards and loss of collective humanity than the deafening silence today.

Our women have not only been killed, starved and displaced, they have been exposed to the very violations that sparked global outrage and a genocidal war against an entire population under occupation, unprecedented in modern history. This is not only unacceptable, it is an indelible stain on humanity. Sexual violence is a crime so heinous it is imperative to condemn and prevent, no matter the perpetrator or the victim. That must always be the baseline in any argument.

Palestinians will never get past this genocide; it is not something you can come back from. However, be assured, this is not only about the Palestinians. The world’s women, the majority of so-called feminists who have remained disgustingly silent, must know this: when you do not stand up for women, all women, no one will stand up for you in your time of need.

I once heard that anger is not a real emotion, but a cover for other feelings such as sadness, disappointment or fear. You need to peel back that outer layer to understand what is really going on inside.

Strange how this has lately resurfaced for me, but I think I know why. Lately, I and surely, millions of other Palestinians, have been filled with a blinding rage -- at Israel, at the United States, and at the world overall. This is a rage that is all-encompassing, the depth of which is palpable at the cellular level, permeating every molecule and every atom of our being. The genocide in the Gaza Strip has grated our emotions raw and we are left stinging and burning from our head to our toes.

Our anger is like a huge magnetosphere and we are all trapped inside, but its walls are translucent and we can see the source of our rage mocking us from beyond. We Palestinians are angry because we are so disappointed and we are angry because we are disillusioned and we are angry because we are drowning in sorrow.

Our disappointment lies in the fact that the world has failed us in the worst possible way and has allowed the unspeakable to be committed against us. Genocide is the ‘mother of all crimes’ and, contrary to the promises, the conventions and the historical lessons the world was supposed to learn, it has been committed over and over again. The Palestinian genocide, however, is unique in at least one way: it is live-streamed, which means no one can claim ignorance and everyone has a responsibility in stopping it. Hence, our disappointment is not limited to countries, Arab or otherwise, or to international and human rights organizations. It has spread to everyone in our orbit; acquaintances and people we thought were friends, but whose silence towards our slaughter is a deafening betrayal. Our sense of disappointment has discolored every relationship it touches because every relationship for us is a dichotomy: you are either with or against genocide and either support Palestine in word and deed, or not.

Our anger is a thin veil concealing our disillusion with the international community and its institutions, supposedly established to protect people in situations precisely like ours. We have confirmed what we knew all along, that these organizations were constructed for some and not all, for colonial powers and not those who suffer beneath them. Even when the highest court in the land rules in our favor, the Global North ensures that its ruling will not be implemented to save us, the oppressed, indigenous brown people whose lives apparently do not matter.

And finally, our anger is a survival mechanism to shield us from our own grief. Our sorrow over the murdered men, women and children, defenseless, homeless, starving and shivering in the cold, is so deep, so immense, we ourselves cannot fathom it. If we dare peek behind this anger and truly feel a fraction of the aching in our hearts, it will paralyze us for sure, because no people can endure the magnitude and scale of such suffering and not lose their minds.

We Palestinians know we cannot let go and that a new day is near. We know we must hold on just a little bit longer, because Palestine depends on it. We are no strangers to oppression, suffering and sacrifice and we know the price of our freedom has and continues to be painfully high. Still, we also know that a life without shackles and the yoke of oppression around our weary necks is the only life worth living.

This may be the hardest article I’ve written so far, for obvious reasons. As the genocide in Gaza grinds on into its fourth month, with winter in full force, the situation is so dire it has been described as hell on earth. To date, some 27,000 Palestinians have been murdered by Israel, nearly 70% of them women and children. Another 70,000 have been wounded and at least 1.9 million people have been displaced. With only 2.3 million in the Gaza Strip to start with, this computes to 1% of its population being exterminated, and in less than four months.

However, in the midst of these horrific times, let us allow ourselves a sliver of hope. The ICJ ruling, announced on January 26, prompted mixed feelings among Palestinians who naturally, wanted to hear a clear and firm demand on Israel to stop its onslaught. However, even without the express demand for a ceasefire, the ICJ offered something to the Palestinians for which they have been demanding for many years: their suffering, their plight and the brutal oppression they live under, was finally acknowledged by the highest court in the world. More importantly, Israel is being called out for its crimes, displayed in real time for all to see. For this, we will be eternally grateful to South Africa and its exceptional legal team for bringing this case of genocide to the ICJ and forcing the world to look straight down the barrel of Israel’s cruel intentions.

Of course, for the Palestinians, we did not need an international court to tell us that Israel is committing a genocide, but it was cathartic to hear this acknowledged on a global platform. While we are aware that the actual charge of genocide perhaps needs years to prove, it only takes hearing the ruling and the case argued by South Africa to surmise that Israel is as good as convicted.

This is not insignificant, and we will cling to any shred of hope we can find in this unjust world. Having said that, this is no time to rest. If anything, it is time to push even harder because now, we have ICJ rulings in our favor and legal backing to claims we already knew were legitimate.

However, while this may have offered us some ray of light in the darkness in which we are all engulfed, the fact of the matter is that things continue to worsen on the ground in Gaza. This genocide is so heinous, not only in the brutality of the Israeli bombs and denial of basic aid to the people of Gaza, but in the fact that its people are suffering from multiple and simultaneous injustices. That is, those who are being starved are the same people who have been displaced and the same people who have been injured and cannot receive medical attention. They are the same people who have lost their homes and family members and the same people who are under the rubble. One atrocity does not cancel out another in Gaza and that is what makes this genocide so unimaginable.

We have reached a point where it is unnecessary to describe the horrors of life in Gaza because frankly, in the past four months, everyone has seen them. It is not a matter of the world not knowing. This may have been the case in other genocides and atrocities, but not this one. It really boils down to two things: The dehumanization of the Palestinians and Israel’s impunity for its crimes, the latter being a direct result of the former.

Shame on the world for accepting Israel’s vile propaganda, hook, line and sinker. Shame on the “western world” in particular, who we will never forgive. Shame on them all for aiding and abetting the slaughter of our people, their displacement, starvation and annihilation. This will not go unnoticed in the annals of history, which will paint each and every accomplice in the criminal light it deserves.

But these despicable powers do not know the lion-hearts of the Palestinians and their fierce loyalty to Palestine. They will never be able to kill us all and my hope is that this thought haunts them day and night.

A sign held up in one of the many protests around the world reads: “Killing the flowers will not delay spring”. Our Spring is coming, without a doubt.

When you think of Palestine, “permaculture” is not the first association that comes to mind, but it is a concept with striking relevance. Not far from Bethlehem, tucked away in the valley below Shepherd’s Field, is a little community called Bustan Qaraaqa (Tortoise Garden). Given the difficulty of access to services and resources in the Occupied Palestinian Territories, this experimental project takes its departure from the idea that, through community farming and sustainable living, we can find creative ways to use the things around us to fill our needs. In a context where you are cut off from large portions of your land and prohibited from consistent access to water, self-sufficiency and permaculture (permanent culture) make sense as guiding ideals.

Bustan Qaraaqa is part of the wave of grassroots activism around the world, which identifies a connection between politics and lifestyle, between developing a healthy relationship with the environment and social empowerment. Living simply and sustainably can become a method of getting beyond a dependency on party politics, delinking oneself from the interest-driven system of money and power that dominates official political programs. Bustan Qaraaqa identifies itself as part of a Green Intifada, a grassroots democratic movement based on an ethic of caring for the environment and community. Founded in 2008 by four young British ecologists, the project works closely with the community to promote creative ways to use water efficiently, both in the household and for irrigation, and an array of composting techniques which serve the dual purpose of increasing soil fertility and dealing with waste management. In addition, they have a tree nursery, reuse waste in green building, and will soon be embarking on fish farming.

When sitting on the porch at Bustan Qaraaqa, the conversation often returns to that most precious of resources: water. It is hard to imagine living in a situation where you turn on the tap and find that nothing, not a drop, emerges. But that is the reality in many parts of the West Bank, where water is often, without warning, redirected to the nearby Jewish settlements. In these conditions, this group is trying to find ways to create resilience and self-reliance. Pursuing constructive ways to cope with the difficulties of living under occupation, the guesthouse attached to the farm serves the secondary function of educating young people who are travelling through about the hardships of life under occupation, the injustices that are too rarely reported.

For example - Israelis and Palestinians share two interrelated water systems, but while a significant amount of this water is located within the territory of the West Bank, the majority of it is used by Israelis. Three aquifers are located on the border between Israel and the OPT. Israel uses 95% of the water in the western aquifer, 67% of that in the north, and though the eastern one is located entirely in the West Bank, 40% of its water is used by Israel and settlers (See Passia and Palestine Monitor for detailed fact sheets). According to the World Health Organization, the minimum amount of water intake per person per day should not be below 100 litres. But in the West Bank, only 16% of the population has access to this amount. Settlers, meanwhile, have access to about 600 litres a day. The problem with water in this region is not a lack of resources; there is enough to go around. The problem is inequitable distribution.

In addition to limited access to clean water, the classification of land within the West Bank makes building infrastructure, wells, and waste management systems, a highly laborious and bureaucratic process. The distinctions between Areas A, B and C is an affront to the newcomer’s imagination. The outsider might assume that Palestinians have control over the land on their side of the Green Line. But in reality, the West Bank is divided into areas in which the Palestinian Authority can and cannot operate. The PA has full administrative authority only over Area A, which is generally made up of urban areas and population centers. Meanwhile, over 60% of land in the OPT is classified as Area C, land on which the PA is not allowed to build or do maintenance. This essentially turns the West Bank into an archipelago of separated and isolated islands, which are unable to make use of the space and resources outside their strictly defined perimeters. Without that land, it is impossible to deal adequately with waste and sewage, or to build the structures required to provide consistent access to resources. Palestinians are, then, essentially barred from the freedom to construct a healthy, safe, and sustainable relationship with their environment – in the usual ways.

But the unusual ideas advocated by Bustan Qaraaqa may supply an alternative. While their compost toilet and the mulch created out of household trash may seem far fetched, this community is offering a model, an ethic, and a spirit, that is not atypical in this region. And though external funders and big donors try to promote grand projects and bring in well-paid private contractors, the Bustan exemplifies the ethos that emerges time and time again in Palestine: in ensuring the permanence of Palestinian culture on this land, the way forward must be one of community-based empowerment, which preserves a healthy relationship with the environment, and a fundamental hope in people, not politics.

Leah H is a Writer for the Media and Information Department at the Palestinian Initiative for the Promotion of Global Dialogue and Democracy (MIFTAH). She can be contacted at mid@miftah.org.

For the past two days, in the halls of Birzeit University, against the backdrop of the hills of Ramallah, students from around the world have convened to discuss strategies to hold Israel accountable. On this campus, which was the site of many of the early moments of the first intifada, the conference, run by Right to Education is giving hope that a new uprising, a non-violent, energetic, tenacious campaign, is gaining momentum.

In 2004, the International Court of Justice declared the building of the separation wall between Israel and the Occupied Palestinian Territories (OPT) illegal. Construction, however, continued unabated. A year later, members of Palestinian civil society put out a call for Boycott, Divest and Sanction (BDS), to hold Israel accountable until it complies with international law. The movement has been endorsed by over 170 Palestinian parties, organizations, and trade unions, and is essentially a call from the civil society of Palestine to the civil society of the world to join in solidarity, to stand up in our capacity as citizens and consumers, as individuals and communities, against the violations of the rights of Palestinians.

Indeed, Israel continues to break many international laws and surprise the public with its ongoing aggression: the building of settlements in the OPT is a breach of the Fourth Geneva Convention; the Goldstone Report declared that Israel’s operations in Gaza during Operation Cast Lead amounted to war crimes; the International Committee of the Red Cross has condemned the siege of Gaza; and many around the world have been shocked at the violence Israel displayed against the members aboard the humanitarian Freedom Flotilla. Amidst all these declarations of discontent, which nevertheless fail to amount to any concrete action, Palestinian civil society activists are saying: Enough is enough. Israel must be held accountable.

When one considers the word “accountability,” a host of connotations emerges, such as accounting, counting, numbering and enumerating. Despite the fact that, until the present BDS campaign, little has been done to keep Israel accountable, there are many other kinds of counting and accounting going on in this conflict. Finances and budgets, and all the accoutrements of economic plans, are significant actors in this drama. The website WhoProfits.org aims to expose how Israeli and international companies benefit from the occupation, from the construction of infrastructure, through control of the population and economic exploitation. It investigates the position of the settlements and the economic benefits they provide. BDS is a way of engaging with the economics of the occupation, a non-violent way to expose and punish all those who benefit from the abuse of human rights.

A central aspect of the BDS message is that, in a world as interconnected and integrated as ours is, this conflict is not simply local, isolated to an argument between Israelis and Palestinians. With our global economy and webs of commerce and technology, many of us are complicit in the crimes that are perpetrated against Palestinians. It is therefore, the responsibility of individuals and communities globally to examine the ways in which their actions facilitate this conflict. BDS is thus an attempt to hold, not only Israel, but the international community accountable as well.

But advocates for BDS have an even more penetrating point to make: It is not only the explicit cases of profiting from private contracts and construction that are important to expose. It is crucial to examine ways in which the entire structure of aid and development in the OPT also works subtly to facilitate the occupation. Activists articulate frustration with the fact that the international community treats the situation here as if it were the effect of a natural disaster. “Palestine was not hit by a tsunami” one presenter at the Right to Education conference said. We don’t need food; we need rights. Because of legal and physical restrictions on trade – how the delays at the borders make exports inefficient and uncompetitive, for example - a huge portion of the Palestinian economy comes from foreign aid. But what are the effects of this economy of aid? What are the webs of accountability to which it gives rise?

In offices both governmental and non-governmental across the OPT, thousands of employees are forced to attend constantly to counting costs, drafting grant proposals, applying for funding. One NGO worker said recently that the non-profit sector is a surprisingly close mirror of the private sector and is fundamentally based on a market model: You must evaluate your projects, quantify your results and demonstrate to your foreign funders that your organization is effective and efficient and worthy investment. In this competitive system, amidst all the pressures to perpetuate their own existence, many organizations are forced to focus on tasks that are not in line with their original priorities. In a survey done by the Palestine Economic Policy Research Institute, 67% of Palestinians who were polled thought that foreign aid is given not according to the needs of Palestinians, but according to the political interests of the donors. While they agree that aid is beneficial in easing living conditions, a majority nevertheless believe that international aid helps reinforce the occupation, rather than supports Palestinian interests (see http://www.ndc.ps/uploads/File/Researches/Tracking%20External%20Donor%20Funding.pdf). USAID, for example, has been particularly troublesome on this front, in its participation in funding the occupation. Reports in May revealed that the agency is helping in the construction of an “apartheid road,” which will provide Palestinians with a separate road system to connect Palestinian cities, and thereby give settlers in the West Bank exclusive access to the main roads. Essentially, the road system will limit Palestinians' freedom of movement, isolating them to select enclaves, while increasing and easing the travel of settlers, making the settlements more attractive places to which to move (see Jonathan Cook’s article, http://electronicintifada.net/v2/article11267.shtm). Far from holding Israel accountable, therefore, or even ensuring that aid efforts and NGOs are

accountable to Palestinians, it is international donors who are pulling the strings, giving or withholding at their own whims, and meanwhile demanding that Palestinians and aid workers on the ground be held accountable to the desires expressed, and decisions made, in Brussels and New York.

It is in this context that members of the BDS campaign are trying to shift the priorities of the struggle. It is incumbent upon the international community to recognize its levels of complicity, the fact that it cannot buy off its obligations with gestures of benevolence and charity. Efforts are fruitless unless they involve keeping Israel accountable. It is time to hear the message and to join the call of Palestinian civil society. It is time to offer, not aid, but solidarity.

Leah H is a Writer for the Media and Information Department at the Palestinian Initiative for the Promotion of Global Dialogue and Democracy (MIFTAH). She can be contacted at mid@miftah.org.

I finally saw the olive trees. I had been in Ramallah for over a week, but had been so preoccupied with adjusting to a new environment and finding my way around, I had not even noticed all the twisted trunks and the thin grey-green leaves that filled the city. Until, one day, when I was walking home, an olive fell on my head. At first I reacted with displeasure, as we often do when impersonal forces set out to cause us embarrassment. But when I looked up to find the source of this annoyance, I was suddenly struck with the beauty. Above me was a web of branches and leaves that embodied the life source of this region. And as I began to look around, to look out over the hill upon which Ramallah is set, I realized that the horizon was full of these silent compatriots, whose branches have long been a symbol of peace.

It is well known that olive trees are precious in Palestine. They signify nourishment and wealth, the silkiness of oil, the richness of harvest. Olive trees mature slowly and live for thousands of years. On the Mount of Olives in Jerusalem, in the Garden of Gethsemene, there are trees said to have been there when, 2,000 years ago, a man, considered by many to be at least a prophet if not the son of God, prayed that he might be released from his task of dying for the sins of the world. Olive trees have been the quiet witnesses to some of humanity's most beautiful moments and most devastating catastrophes. They are most at home in the sun and soil between the Mediterranean and the Red Sea, and number among the inhabitants of this land, which has been loved and contested for as long as history has been written.

In the wonderful documentary film, Budrus, the importance of olive trees to the Palestinian cause and identity becomes palpable. This film has been making its way around the world, and showed last week both in Ramallah and in the Jerusalem Film Festival. I had seen the film in New York at the Tribeca Film Festival, in an audience that included Michael Moore, and it has gained much acclaim, winning awards in San Francisco and Berlin, and receiving special mention in New York, Madrid and Dubai. Budrus tells the story of a village of the same name in the West Bank, which organized and rose up in non-violent opposition when bulldozers began tearing out its olive trees to make way for the Separation Wall. This wall is particularly contentious in that it does not follow the line that is recognized as dividing Israel and the West Bank, but is, instead, built within Palestinian territory, often cutting farmers off from their farmland and olive groves. The film emphasizes the link between olive trees and Palestinian identity when the camera rests on an old woman who says of the trees, “They are like our children!" And as one watches the trees being ripped out of the ground, one is struck with the feeling of having one’s heart torn from one’s chest.

In the village of Budrus, Ayed Morrar helped organize protests against the building of the wall, bringing together a diverse ensemble of stakeholders, including Fatah, Hamas, Israelis and international supporters. His daughter is particularly inspiring as she makes the cause her own and helps organize the participation of the women. The film does an excellent job in showing the hopefulness of this non-violent, popular movement. It also reminds the viewers, however, that the story of Budrus is not unique. Non-violent protest is a marginal, but longtime part of the history of the conflict here. Villages all over, from Bil’in, Jeyyous, Ni’lin, and many more, have become known, at least locally, for their long-term efforts at resistance.

Around the same time I noticed the olive trees, I learned about the concept of "Sumud". In Arabic, this is a word that implies steadfastness. Sumud has been a motto of the Palestinian struggle since 1967. It has represented the quiet willingness to persevere, to not be moved, when all the pressures of the world are trying to force you out of your home and off your land. The concept of Sumud has been interwoven with the symbol of the olive tree, to express the courage to hold one’s ground, and stay strong and rooted. Sumud has also been represented by the image of a peasant mother and child - a mother whose love will not subside, even in the face of hardship and frustration.

Sumud has been a pillar of Palestinian resistance for decades. The first intifada saw many efforts at such non-violent actions, including marches, hunger strikes and civil disobedience. Given this history, it is frustrating when the media characterizes these struggles as nascent and experimental. Nick Kristof’s recent article in the NY Times is particularly disappointing on this point (July 9, 2010). While seemingly supportive of Palestinian grassroots efforts, he reiterates a mischaracterization of the situation by claiming that the root of the failure of these efforts lies on the side of the Palestinians who often begin the stone-throwing, thus compromising their claim to non-violence. Many participants in protests here, however, attest to the fact that tear gas canisters are launched into the crowds of demonstrators without provocation, and the display of force between the Palestinian demonstrators and Israeli soldiers is regularly disproportionate. To chide David for flinging a hopeless stone at Goliath seems to misplace the critique.

Samah Sabawi, on the other hand, writes a beautiful article in the Palestinian Chronicle, where she notes that while people toss around the question of why there is no Palestinian Gandhi, they overlook the extensive tradition of Sumud, non-violence, and the thousands of Palestinian activists and civilians held in Israeli jails and living in refugee camps (http://palestinechronicle.com/view_article_details.php?id=15969). Both individually and collectively, Palestinians have long responded to the occupation through non-violent measures. Protests against the wall, actions against the fences erected between farmers and their land, graffiti, music and marches, have all been among the many attempts to expose and reject the injustices imposed by Israel. Currently, every Friday, Palestinians, Israelis and internationals protest in the east Jerusalem neighborhood of Sheikh Jarrah where Palestinian families who have been evicted by Jewish settlers have set up tents in front of their homes, insisting that they will not be moved. The BDS movement, to boycott, divest and sanction Israel, which arose out of Palestinian civil society, is also a crucially important force, which has great potential and deserves international attention.

The most poignant moment in Budrus is when Ayad’s daughter jumps in front of a bulldozer as it is uprooting an olive tree. This incredible act of courage fortunately halts the progress of the bulldozer. But this act reminds us that non-violence requires great risk and unfathomable perseverance. As Sabawi writes, one of the key ingredients for non-violent resistance to work is the attention and support of the international community. Non-violence can only be successful through the external solidarity it garners. In as much as the media feeds on stories and blood and violence, it fails the many who are spending their lives in this steadfast perseverance. Because non-violence rests on the concept of making oneself vulnerable, giving up defenses to expose the violence being threatened by the opposition, it requires the willingness of outside actors to step in and demand accountability from the dominating power. It seems, then, that instead of critiquing the methods of the local organizers or the boys who throw stones, or waiting around for the emergence of a Palestinian Gandhi, the better question may be: What role are you playing in contributing to the peace efforts in this region?

Leah H is a Writer for the Media and Information Department at the Palestinian Initiative for the Promotion of Global Dialogue and Democracy (MIFTAH). She can be contacted at mid@miftah.org.

To keep some out. To fence others in. To police movement, instill fear, uncertainty, and instability. Palestine is a land cross-hashed with separation barriers, walls, fences and checkpoints. For many people, these structures make one either an exile or a prisoner, barred from returning or unable to leave. But in addition to the policing of movement, these mechanisms correspond to a policing of information, a control of what truths are able to travel beyond the borders of these territories, to reach the world outside.

Crossing borders always leads to new experiences. But one of the first things I noticed upon arriving in the West Bank is the very particular and peculiar transition that takes place when the border one is traversing is Israeli. Before I passed through Allenby Bridge, which provides entrance from Jordan into Israel, I thought I had an idea of the situation here. But until you come face to face with a machine gun-carrying-19-year old, the frightening nature and intense stranglehold of the occupation is hard to imagine. Without the experience, it is hard to understand how, despite complete innocence, one can be made to feel like a criminal, what it feels like to be interrogated, held for hours, and finally cast outside in the darkness of the night. And the experience of a foreigner is nothing compared to the harassment of those with Palestinian documents.

Once you are finally able to cross that border, however, something odd begins to happen. The reality of the situation becomes so obvious, that it is suddenly difficult to remember that there was ever a time when one didn’t grasp the severity of the occupation. It becomes hard to believe that others might not be fully aware of what goes on within Israel’s borders, under its control of Gaza the West Bank and east Jerusalem. But this creates a dilemma, a kind of information gap. For those on the outside, it is almost impossible to wrap one’s head around the fact that this level of oppression can still exist in the modern world. Meanwhile, those on the inside are perplexed at how others don’t seem to understand.

In a world as technologically advanced and information-saturated as ours seems to be, the lack of accurate representations of the conflict in Israel and Palestine in mainstream western media is astounding. As much as the borders and walls around Palestinians lands hinder people’s movement, they also seem to hinder the spread of reliable information. The blockade of goods into Gaza mirrors a kind of blockade on the speech and perspective of Palestinians, a silencing of their voices. Unless one knows where to look and actively seeks out the right websites and news sources, one is otherwise barraged with faulty information and mischaracterizations, which shape public opinion internationally, and become yet further mechanisms of domination.

A recent poll, commissioned by the Israel Project, shows that 56% of Americans think the American government should support Israel, and only 7% think it should support Palestine. This is related to the fact that most Americans think Palestinians are the ones stalling the peace process. At a ration of 2 to 1, Americans think that Palestinian “incitement” is a worse obstacle to peace than settlement-building in Jerusalem.

The claim that Palestinians are engaging in incitement through their media and school curricula, however, is itself, in large part, an Israeli media creation – yet another warping of the perspective that makes it into the public arena.

Palestinian Media Watch is an organization that aims to expose the use of extremist language in Palestinian media, which glorifies terrorism and creates a culture of hostility towards Israel. The organization claims to work in the interest of peace, and its materials are cited by a wide variety of institutions. It is a central informational link on the website of the Israeli foreign ministry and its founder, Itamar Marcus, has testified before the American congress and participated in a conference with US Secretary of State Hillary Clinton.

While PMW is received as an objective and unbiased resource, however, what goes unnoticed is that it is actually connected to right-wing Israeli funders, and Marcus himself lives in a West Bank settlement. This is highly ironic. For while PMW spreads the message globally that Palestinians are engaging in vicious incitement, the almost unanimous opinion within the borders of the West Bank is that the main obstacle to the peace process is precisely the issue of settlements, like the one in which Marcus resides. Despite the fact that the Middle East Peace Quartet and the international community have declared the building of settlements illegal, Israel persists in the establishment of these communities.

Continued construction of settlements not only undermines trust. It is also, day by day, destroying the possibility of a two-state solution. This is another fact that seems to be inadequately captured in international media. Many abroad see the situation here as the same as ever, just another year in a never-ending struggle. But for a large number of people on the ground, there is a sense of real urgency. With each new settlement, more Palestinian land is illegally claimed, land which may never be returned.

As the walls and fences enclose Palestinian villages and cut them off from their land, they sever the world from the critical voices and perspectives that must be heard. For a moment, it seemed like the Turkish Freedom Flotilla fiasco might penetrate the blockade on public opinion. But as Al Jazeera reported, information was once again confiscated and altered, with only two minutes of film released out of hours of footage, and the world largely buying into the incredible Israeli story of fanatic humanitarians. Like the contrived arguments of PMW, the physical and informational controls that Israel exerts are working against the possibility of peace, and creating barriers between Palestine and the rest of the world that must be rejected.

In the past, the international community rose up and challenged regimes of apartheid. It is unconscionable that in the present, through its inaction and unwillingness to demand accountability from Israel, the international community (in the shadow of the United States) is implicitly supporting the system of separation and segregation here, and is complicit with an ongoing system of apartheid. At some point, the walls will fall, and the barriers will be broken through. The question is whether or not the US and international community can shake off their blindness and be a part of a peaceful solution before it is too late.

Leah H is a Writer for the Media and Information Department at the Palestinian Initiative for the Promotion of Global Dialogue and Democracy (MIFTAH). She can be contacted at mid@miftah.org.