Patriotic Gore

I cross Allenby Bridge and find myself in Occupied Palestine. The Star of David flutters proudly in the wind and gun-toting Israeli conscripts swagger arrogantly, barely able to manage the weight of their weapons. All along the highway to Ramallah, I see 12-metre high concrete walls and electrified barbed wire fences. A once-proud people are being subjected to deliberate exclusion and isolation in their own homeland. These ugly walls are setting up ghettoes reminiscent of 19th century Europe. And apartheid South Africa. The South African ambassador and I recall that the regimes of Apartheid South Africa and Israel have enjoyed American support. However, while one was a strategic Cold War partner, the other is an integral part of US domestic policy, with a very wide local support base. The merits of the Palestinian case would have to be advocated very robustly to effect a change, a daunting task after 9/11. Ramallah is a small town whose smartest building is the mausoleum of Yasser Arafat, his temporary resting place till his mortal remains find comfort in the soil of Jerusalem as the capital of an independent Palestinian state. Unemployment hovers around 40 per cent here. All economic activity is controlled from Israel. I wonder aloud if India can help set up small and medium enterprises. My guides point out that no equipment or machinery can be imported into Ramallah without Israeli approval, which is almost impossible to obtain.