Force and military supremacy are also not long-term solution for Israels in its quest for a resolution to the conflict with the Palestinians. Three innocuous incidents probably helped to forge this view, all observations on everyday life here. In the first, I was walking through the Arab quarter when the sound of F16s could be heard above. I looked up and there were three planes in arrow formation.
Thirty seconds later, another three. There was an old man, moustache, but otherwise clean- shaven, grey jacket, grey hair, stocky features, finishing a cigarette. He was looking skywards. There was a hardness in his face, a resilience, a determination. He discarded his cigarette and looked me straight in the eye. There were no words, but those brown eyes showed a strong resolve - he would not be defeated by poxy F16s - he would fight on.
Impromptu document check
The second incident took place in the Old City in the Arab Quarter. Three soldiers were stopping young Palestinian males and checking IDs, radioing through to the central computer. They did not hide their scorn for their victims. One, no more than eighteen, wearing jeans and blue baseball cap sideways on, was kept an age.
He was seething and upon release, walked a few yards, then looked back. He repeated this a few times and seemed to be sizing up the individual soldier for an attack later. The next youth refused to look at the soldiers, held his head up with dignity, and waited politely until he was allowed to proceed. But when he walked away, his face was the same as the old man’s, all resolve and determination.
Daddy, what was the intifada?
The last incident happened as I was returning from the Wailing Wall through Damascus Gate. The Orthodox Heradim Jews were approaching me, their sidelocks and conspicuous black hats strangely at odds with the Arab surroundings. Some were alone and walked quickly, clearly ill at ease. Those in groups were more confident and sang Jewish songs loudly, as they passed lone Palestinians. It came across as an act of triumphalism, more akin to the Orange Day Parades in Belfast.
A small Jewish boy, no more than ten, was among them and when he passed a morose lone Palestinian youth twice his age, he turned back, laughed and made an mocking gesture before catching up with his father. Israeli troops were on hand to make sure the Palestinian did not react. He looked at me afterwards - sadness, but resolve and determination.
The Jewish boy took me back to two young Palestinian kids that morning. They had been running around the Old City with toy guns and having a great time. It will not be long before they upgrade to the real thing. And this is where the loss of hope comes in.
A few months later, my white South African tour guide of Soweto talked at length about reconciliation; it was too late for the poisoned generation of his parents, it was hard with his own generation, but his kids are mingling freely and he was overjoyed when his daughter asked him one night what apartheid was. The Middle East is several generations away from a young kid asking what an intifada is.
Paul Bradbury - Author of Hvar: An Insider's Guide to Croatia's Premier Island, and Lebanese Nuns Don't Ski
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