Ma’ale Adumim: Annexation and the Architecture of Apartheid

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Ma’ale Adumim (Photo: Tess Scheflan/

Today we came away stunned, shocked and almost numb from our trip to East Jerusalem with Jeff Halper of the Israeli Committee Against House Demolitions. And when I say we, I mean my family—my wife and two children, 19 and 21. We have spent the last 10 days trying to get into Gaza from Egypt; demonstrating against the Gaza siege and joining demonstrations in Israel at the Erez crossing and protesting the evictions in the Sheikh-Jarrah area of East Jerusalem. But nothing and I mean nothing prepared me for today and our trip through East Jerusalem and to Ma’ale Adumim, a city a few kilometers away. It was not the Palestinians we met, although each had heart breaking stories. Rather it was our seeing first hand the deliberateness of the Israeli annexation project and its seeming inevitability. If you want to be made almost speechless stand at the edge of East Jerusalem and look out at a vast construction project on someone else’s land. Look out at the commission of a monstrous crime, open and notorious. As one of my children asked, “Why have the countries of the world done nothing to stop this?” I said, “It’s worse, the U.S. and others have aided and abetted this crime.”

Today we traveled with Jeff through East Jerusalem and to what some, at least in the media in the U.S,. refer to as the settlement of Ma’ale Adumin. It is not a settlement, but a new city of 50,000 Israeli Jews, soon to be expanded to 70,000. Ma’ale Adumim, built on a hilltop, will ultimately be, or is already, part of the expansion of East Jerusalem into a wider municipality that is called by some the “Jerusalem envelope.” Before we drove through the valley to get to Ma’ale Adumim, Jeff showed us a bit of East Jerusalem. He pointed out the Israeli Ministry of Interior, the police headquarters and the courts, all now in East Jerusalem; all a means of asserting Israeli control over the area and its Palestinian inhabitants. Then we went close to the 25 foot high concrete separation wall which will ultimately lock out Palestinians from Israel, Jerusalem and many cities, towns and settlements in the occupied territories. On a knoll above that particular piece of wall we saw a prison and an interrogation center for Shabak, the Israeli internal security agency.

Jeff then drove us to a viewing site at the edge of East Jerusalem where we overlooked what is called by Israel area E1. It was a valley with roads criss-crossing it, a few houses and trees and on the distant other side, there it was, Ma’ale Adumim. While I had heard of area E1, I never understood what was meant. I think I understand it now. It is, at least the valley area I was looking at, the road system and land that will link Ma’ale Adumim to East Jerusalem and other settlements. Area E1 will also cut off Palestinians traveling north and south; they will be forced to make circuitous routes from one Palestinian area to another. And remember all of this land is in occupied territory including all of East Jerusalem. Israel’s actions are in flagrant violation of the Geneva Conventions.

As we drove toward Ma’ale Adumim Jeff took us to what are known as Areas A, B and C. Area A is where there is full Palestinian control; B is where there is joint Palestinian and Israeli control; and C is where there is full Israeli control. It is in the C area of East Jerusalem where many of the house demolitions are occurring—another story for later. We also went to the Shuafat refugee camp in East Jerusalem where some 35,000 Palestinians live in poverty with no municipal services. We drove past small sheet metal shacks of Jumalat Bedouins who, like many Palestinians, are facing eviction. We saw field after field of olive tree stumps, 100 year old trees that once belonged to the Bedouins that had been cut down by the Israelis—insuring that Bedouins could not stay in or near East Jerusalem. We passed an almost completed road with a high metal wall separating two concrete strips; one side was for Palestinians and the other Israelis. Finally, we began our drive up to the city on the hill, Ma’ale Adumim.

treelinedstreetmaaleadumimAn uprooted Palestinian olive tree now stands in the center of a traffic circle in the Israeli settlement of Ma’ale Adumim. (Photo: Interfaith Peace Builders)

What first strikes one is the color. The city is green and lush. There is grass everywhere and palm trees lining cleanly paved concrete roads. This is all in an area where water is almost non-existent and many Palestinians have no water. In the center of each of the roundabouts on the way up is an olive tree, but not just an ordinary olive tree, but a wide squat one that is perhaps 400 or even 500 years old, likely an olive tree likely taken from Palestinian land. At the entrance to the city is one of the more incongruous and Orwellian monuments to erect in this stolen city: a huge white metal sculpture of two doves with wings unfolded sheltering a globe and inscribed on its base with the word—and it seems like a nasty joke—“Peace.” Peace, apparently defined, as the dismembering of the Palestinian people. As we continued our ride up we pass a suburban shopping mall with some big box stores, stores that are part of international chains that hopefully will become targets of the BDS movement.

We finally stop at the end of a street that could come out of any middle class suburb in America: neat houses and apartments with small yards. Ma’ale Adumim is called a dormitory community or as we would say, a bedroom community. Its residents work in Jerusalem. They live here rather than in Jerusalem because of price (half that of Jerusalem) and lower taxes, not because of religious ideology. It is a secular community that can shop at the mall and will be able to drive to work in a few minutes on segregated roads. We went to a lookout over the E1 area and toward Jerusalem. As we looked down the hill we saw a construction site for a huge swimming pool—a swimming pool in this parched land where only the select have water. Across the valley we saw the building of the architecture of apartheid: the segregated roads and separation walls. I could have been standing in a white only town in South Africa, but I was standing in an Israeli Jewish only town in the occupied territories.

Michael Ratner is a human rights attorney and the President of the Center for Constitutional Rights.

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