It would be an understatement to say that the past two months in Israel have been exciting. As a student studying abroad at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, I’ve had a front-row seat for numerous historic events. Even so, the status quo remains the same, and many would argue that in spite of all the excitement, little will change.
Oct.18, Gilad Shalit, an Israeli Defense Forces soldier held by Hamas for more than five years, was exchanged for more than 1,000 Palestinian prisoners.
In September, protestors attacked Israel’s embassy in Cairo causing Israel to withdraw its ambassador, Israel’s embassy in Jordan was evacuated and diplomatic relations with Turkey deteriorated.
Yet on one of the most significant days so far, on which Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and Palestinian Authority President Mahmoud Abbas spoke to the United Nations, the atmosphere in Jerusalem was surprisingly quiet.
On that day, Sept. 23, I went into the Old City to observe the moods of the four-quarters. As I approached Damascus Gate, one of seven entrances into the Old City, I saw a group of Palestinians surrounding a young boy holding the black, white, green and red Palestinian flag. The relative calm of the demonstration was striking to me. Though gatherings later that night in the West Bank drew thousands in support of Abbas’ declaration that the Palestinian Authority receive recognition from the United Nations, this gathering was just a small affair. It seems like every time I go downtown or into the Old City there’s a large public event; this demonstration was only creating ripples.
As I entered the Muslim quarter, I started to notice more discernable changes to the regularly bustling quarter. First, I was one of the only non-locals walking through the alleyways filled with shops selling every item imaginable, from tapestries to scarves, spices to kitchen supplies, hookahs to crosses. I could actually walk, without having to weave through tourist groups. More obviously, there were soldiers regularly stationed along the way. Radios were turned to news stations in the smooth but urgent voices of Arab broadcasters, and I couldn’t shake off this feeling of tension, like I was being watched.
After eating creamy choummus and drinking sweet mint tea, I left the Old City. Not unlike Yom Kippur, in which the streets were devoid of cars and nothing was open, the surrounding area seemed to be emptying. A group of Israeli soldiers were unloading from a bus and donning riot gear, but there were no apparent gatherings.
Back at the Hebrew University dorms, we gathered to watch the speeches on a laptop, streamed from the theater of the United Nations General Assembly.
At the United Nations, each leader spoke to a specific constituency. Abbas, otherwise known as Abu Mazen, spoke in Arabic, appealing to the thousands watching his speech projected on screens in the West Bank. Recognition of Palestinian Statehood would require a 2/3 majority vote from the General Assembly, or alternatively, nine of 15 votes from the Security Council and no vetoes from permanent members.
Netanyahu gave a broad and historical overview of the Jewish people’s connection to Israel. He also delineated critical security issues, emphasizing the small size of Israel. It seemed to me like he was speaking to American Jews, especially.
“Netanyahu made a good speech as the UN is his home territory. He was an Ambassador there, he’s a good speaker and his command of English is first-class…Abbas didn’t even try to speak in another language,” said Meron Medzini, senior lecturer at Hebrew University in an interview. “However, he had a message that he brought with him, ‘Here is the letter I handed to the Secretary General…’ And that brought the house down,”
Medzini argued that neither were revolutionary speeches.
During the speeches, our group, composed of Jews and Christians, from Israel, Ireland, Australia, Canada and the United States, watched with limited surprise. “Neither speech had anything that in any way was unexpected,” said Sara Stephens, a third-year student from Dublin.
Seeking alternate opinions, I asked the Palestinians in my Hebrew-language intensive class what they thought.
“The speeches don’t matter and nothing will change,” said Shadi Freij, an 18-year-old native of Jerusalem. “Even if Palestine became a country, a vote wouldn’t change anything,”
Nadine Kahwaji, another student, echoed Freji’s sentiments. “[Abbas’] speech was good but nothing will change, and I’m sure about the American veto.”
All five Palestinian students I talked with were pessimistic and even apathetic towards Abbas’ efforts at the United Nations.
It’s been a month since the speeches at the United Nations, yet little is different from before. The so-called “Quartet,” comprised of the United States, the European Union, the UN, and Russia, is still trying to get Israel and the Palestinian Authority to re-start negotiations. A United Nations committee has been formed to examine the Palestinian Statehood bid; it remains in deliberations.
“An agreement would take a totally different Israeli coalition…and the longer it takes, I am less sure that the two state solution will work, but the alternative is worse,” Medzini said, when asked about the domestic political situation needed for the revival of peace-talks.
In an interview, Bashir Bashir of the Van Leer Jerusalem Institute and a research fellow at Hebrew University agreed. “I don’t see much hope with this current government,” he said.
There are numerous headaches to be dealt with: the border, land-swaps, settlement construction, the “Jewish State” definition, the right of return, the status of Jerusalem and more. If starting negotiations with interim agreements seems difficult, imagine finishing with the core agreements.
It is surreal that as the world watches the drama and stagnation that characterize this crisis, life here goes on. I still get in political debates with taxi drivers, elbow my way onto the new light-rail train and barter at the Shuk (market), with both Israelis and Palestinians. In spite of what it looks like in the newspaper or on television, people of all stripes do live here, together.
“Everyone wants peace,” Hanna Baddour, an 18-year old from Jerusalem, told me. I hope that Israeli and Palestinian political leaders can reach an agreement to make life here more secure, permanent and peaceful.
Judging from the last two months, the outlook is grim.
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