Some Israeli, Palestinian fighters reconcile
JERUSALEM -- In the bleak landscape of the Palestinian-Israeli conflict, there is little talk of dialogue and reconciliation these days, only of mutual separation as each society turns away from the other, convinced there is no partner for peace.
But several dozen Israeli combat veterans and Palestinian ex-prisoners are bucking the trend. They have formed a group called Combatants for Peace, trying to build bridges between people who have taken part in the fighting.
It is an unusual partnership, different from other peace groups because its members took an active part in the violence they now are working to end. For more than a year they have been meeting regularly to share their experiences, forge trust and work together for a peaceful resolution of the conflict.
‘We knew very well how to fight with guns, but we knew nothing about waging a non-violent struggle,’ said Zohar Shapira, 36, a former fighter in the Israeli army's top commando unit, Sayeret Matkal, and a founder of the peace group.
Shapira said he began seeking Palestinian partners after signing a public letter in 2003 in which he and a group of reservists from his unit declared that they no longer would carry out occupation duties in the West Bank and Gaza Strip.
A defining moment, Shapira recalled, was when he caught himself shooting over the head of a terrified Palestinian girl in a West Bank village after she emerged from a house that had been surrounded by troops. A few weeks earlier, he said, he had rushed to the aid of an Israeli boy seriously wounded in a Palestinian suicide bombing in Jerusalem.
The senselessness of the violence hit home. ‘At that point I told myself that I would no longer cross the Green Line,’ Shapira said, referring to military service across the West Bank's boundary with Israel.
Finding Palestinian partner
But public refusal of occupation duty was a message to Israeli society, and Shapira wanted to go one step further and find a Palestinian partner.
‘I felt that I had to cross the Green Line, but this time without a rifle, in order to resolve the violent conflict,’ he said.
An Israeli acquaintance helped him contact Suleiman al-Himri, a local leader of the Palestinian Fatah movement in the West Bank city of Bethlehem who had served 4 years in jail for organizing stone-throwing demonstrations against Israeli soldiers. Al-Himri expressed an interest in meeting Israelis who had resisted service in the West Bank and Gaza Strip, and an initial meeting was held in February last year.
The encounters started small and slowly grew, and now have reached nearly 150 people from both sides. There was plenty of mutual unease at first, but as the Israelis and Palestinians told their stories, the ice was broken.
The meetings, held every several weeks, have developed a format. A Palestinian and an Israeli describe their roles in the conflict and the turning points that led them to abandon violence. Participants then break up into smaller groups, where they have thrashed out such issues as the definition of violence, terrorism and personal and collective freedom.
A transforming experience
The meetings have been a transforming experience. Bassam Aramin, 37, served 7 years in jail for being the teenage organizer of an armed cell in his village near the West Bank town of Hebron in the 1980s. Members of his group were convicted of firing shots and hurling a grenade at Israeli Border Police jeeps.
At the first meeting with the Israelis in a hotel outside the West Bank town of Beit Jala, Aramin saw Noam Chayut, 26, a former infantry officer who commanded the army's largest checkpoint in the West Bank and participated in fighting in the Jenin refugee camp and in the siege of Yasser Arafat's headquarters in Ramallah.
‘At first I didn't speak, I just looked at them, and they looked at us,’ Aramin recalled.
‘I didn't trust them. I thought they might be undercover soldiers or from the Israeli security services. I told Noam I couldn't believe he was actually an Israeli soldier. It was interesting to hear him say that he considered what he did to be terrorism and how he used to see the Palestinians as a target. Zohar said he had never met a Palestinian fighter before. I felt a bit more at ease,’ Aramin said.
Shapira said he also was wary.
‘It was scary at first to go into the West Bank without a gun. I was looking around for the army to protect me,’ he said. ‘I was wondering who these people were and whether they might be setting a trap for us. It was very tense at first, but slowly trust was built as well as friendship. It was very moving for me to have Palestinian friends. Until then, these were people I had either pitied or shot at. It was very strange.’
As members of the group unburdened themselves of their pasts and described how they had turned away from violence, conversation flowed more freely.
‘In the beginning it was very difficult to hear someone say that he had stabbed a soldier, it was frightening,’ Chayut said. ‘It was difficult to tell my story. I tried to explain that what brought me to stand at the checkpoint was that buses were being blown up in Jerusalem. In the end I could sense understanding from the other side.’
Aramin said he began seeing the Israelis in a different light. ‘When a person changes, you can identify with him, you can feel for him, that he was a victim,’ he said. ‘If a group of my enemies identifies with me and my rights, why shouldn't I hug them, strengthen them, so we can build something together?’
In a mission statement, members of the group declare that they ‘refuse to take part anymore in the mutual bloodletting’ and will seek ‘dialogue and reconciliation’ to end violence and the Israeli occupation, halt Israeli settlement activity and establish a Palestinian state alongside Israel.
1st public event
After meeting quietly for more than a year, the group held its first public event last month, in which members spoke of common goals. Reported in the media, the gathering was an attempt by the group to convey its message to a broader audience of Israelis and Palestinians.
Along with continuing meetings between former combatants, the group is planning a series of joint appearances by members from both sides and other activities to influence public opinion and pressure the Palestinian and Israeli leaderships to resume talks.
Wael Salama, 50, served more than half of an 8-year sentence after he was caught entering the West Bank from Jordan on a mission to plant a car bomb near Israeli government offices in East Jerusalem. He was released along with other Fatah prisoners after the 1993 Oslo accords on Palestinian self-rule.
Salama said he had felt a sense of relief as he told his story to the Israeli veterans, recounting details he had not even discussed with Palestinian friends.
‘It wasn't easy to remember it all,’ he said. ‘I was looking at the Israeli soldiers in the eye, I spoke from the heart, and they all listened intently.
‘We are not asking forgiveness,’ Salama added. ‘We are saying that we were part of the struggle but we will no longer use violence. A person has to look to the future, not dwell on his past. We say the past is gone and we will not return to it. We hold hands and work together.’