The Occupied: Daily life in the West Bank

Electronic Intifada – Published 9 May 2016

New Lines Magazine – Published 21 October 2020

A small group of boys on bicycles cheered and laughed as they rode through the narrow streets of the ancient quarter in the Palestinian city of Hebron. As they neared a checkpoint, their fun came to an abrupt halt: Israeli soldiers rushed toward them, assault rifles raised. The children tried to pedal away, but one boy was caught and detained—wrongfully—and his bicycle confiscated.

Encounters like these are commonplace in the occupied West Bank, where Palestinian civilians—including children—are frequently targeted by Israeli occupation forces as part of a broader campaign of intimidation. Daily life is defined by restricted movement, a lack of access to justice, and the denial of basic human rights. All Palestinians there live under Israeli military law, which allows authorities to police their actions both between and within towns, creating a relentless, oppressive presence that defines daily existence.

By contrast, Israeli settlers living in the same areas—despite the fact that their presence is considered illegal under international law—are governed by Israeli civilian law and enjoy full protections and freedoms.

“There is no law enforcement on the Israeli settlers or soldiers,” explains Issa Amro, a leading Palestinian human rights defender and nonviolent activist. “As a Palestinian, I am under Israeli military law, and my Israeli settler neighbours are under Israeli civilian law. We are under different laws even though we live in the same neighbourhood.”

This stark division of legal rights along ethnic lines is further manifested by the Separation Wall—also known as the West Bank barrier or the apartheid wall—built by Israel in 2000. The barrier divides land, separates families and communities, and physically entrenches inequality.

Checkpoints, watchtowers, razor wire, and tear gas have become the backdrop to everyday life for Palestinians. Even nonviolent forms of protest are often met with force and arrest.

During a visit to Hebron, I met a teenager named Ahmad Azza, a gentle, softly spoken young man and a member of the Youth Against Settlements centre in Tel Rumeida. Sitting on a plastic chair just outside the group’s modest community hub, he told me about his recent arrest. In November 2015, he was attending a peaceful gathering when Israeli soldiers accused him of carrying a knife and fleeing the scene. He was just sixteen years old.

“They said I tried to stab a soldier. But I didn’t have anything. I didn’t even run,” he said. “They took me and kept me for a week. My family didn’t know what was happening.”

Ahmad was detained for seven days. The knife in question, recovered at the scene, bore no traces of his DNA—only that of the Israeli soldier who had allegedly disarmed him. The test results proved Ahmad’s innocence. And yet, he was held until those results were confirmed. No apology was issued, and no disciplinary action was taken against the soldier who had falsely accused him.

His story is just one of many. The use of fabricated charges, particularly against young Palestinians, is a common tactic used to suppress dissent and undermine civil society actors. That Ahmad was released at all is considered unusual; that his innocence was proven by DNA is extraordinary. It drew international attention not as a sign of justice served, but as an exception in a system built to criminalize Palestinian presence.

Issa Amro knows this reality firsthand. Born and raised in Hebron, he has made nonviolent resistance his life’s work. He co-founded Youth Against Settlements (YAS) to educate and empower young Palestinians to resist the occupation peacefully.

Inspired by the legacies of Martin Luther King Jr., Gandhi, and Nelson Mandela, Amro remains committed to a vision of resistance rooted in dignity.

“Nonviolence is the best tool because it strengthens civil society and gives everyone a role—children, women, elders, and youth. Through peaceful action, you gain international support and you neutralize the violence of the oppressor.”

Despite his philosophy of peace, Amro faces frequent harassment, arrests, and violence from both Israeli soldiers and settlers. His work is a threat to the status quo, and so the cost of his advocacy is high.

In Hebron, and throughout the West Bank, the occupation is not an abstraction. It is experienced in the sudden arrival of soldiers at a playground, in the arrest of a boy with a bicycle, in the quiet resolve of young people like Ahmad, and in the unwavering commitment of activists like Issa Amro who continue to believe—despite everything—in the power of nonviolence to bring about change.