Four centuries ago, on the same hill in Jerusalem, the people of Abu Cibna held their place. Ishak Abu Cibna holds Ottoman, British, Jordanian, and Israeli documents that confirm his family’s long-standing ownership of these lands. Yet despite this history and the legal records, Ishak has become homeless. A cloudy sunset settles over the Sheikh Jarrah neighborhood, and from a sofa in the occupied part of East Jerusalem he watches as Israeli police recently destroyed his house. He speaks with quiet defiance: “We live without laws.” He adds, “Since the war began, Israelis have sought a state of emergency to do as they please.” Muhammad al-Sabbagh shares this sentiment.
In a single-room home that serves as bedroom, kitchen, and dining space, Al Sabbagh holds his breath each time he calls relatives. They are in Gaza and have not answered for a month. He remains in the neighborhood where he grew up, determined to stay, dialing cousins through every channel. “No answer,” he says again and again. “Things are calmer here,” Sheikh Jarrah tells El Periódico de Catalunya of the Prensa Ibérica group, “but Palestinians in East Jerusalem continue to suffer.” Crimes of occupation are reported, and the world seems not to be watching them now. The deaths of their brothers in the occupied West Bank and in besieged Gaza are counted in the hundreds and thousands, shadowing them as they move through the heart of their homeland.
Israel’s aggressive campaign against Palestinian life is catching up. Palestinians in East Jerusalem face mass arrests just as their counterparts in the West Bank do. Their bodies bear the marks of Israeli security force action. Three young lives were lost last week. Homes like Ishak Abu Cibna’s are being demolished, and residents are sometimes forced out. Walls are torn down. People flee their own neighborhoods to avoid heavy penalties imposed by the Jerusalem municipality when demolition is carried out. “After demolishing my house, they now demand 40,000 shekels as a sanction,” complains Abu Cibna, who previously worked as a civil servant before the war and now works in the tourism industry as a taxi driver.
No building permit
“How will I pay for this without a job and without a home?” he asks. One morning, after dropping his children at school, Israeli police knocked on his door. It took him a few minutes to unpack his belongings and stir his still-sleeping wife. Judicial measures taken a week earlier did not change the outcome. For twelve years, they shared a roof. For four centuries, the land has belonged to the family. Three little children were living there. The goal appeared only to be a home built without permission. “What options do we have if we lack the funds to buy one?” he wonders.
The construction of Palestinian buildings in East Jerusalem follows a broader trend seen in Area C of the West Bank between 2009 and 2018. Only about two percent of permit requests are approved, according to Peace Now. In the first quarter of 2023, nearly 300 buildings were demolished or confiscated, displacing 413 people. Those numbers mark a rise compared with the same period in 2022, when the West Bank and East Jerusalem saw the highest destruction since 2016. While attention often centers on Gaza’s destroyed neighborhoods, the ground stringently advances in East Jerusalem, with the potential to redraw daily life for its residents and complicate their legal and human standing.
“A prison”
“Our lives are now like a prison,” Al Sabbagh declares. Since the conflict began, freedom of movement for Palestinians has been severely restricted. “Israeli authorities also block young men from praying on Fridays at the holy sites; entry to the Al-Aqsa Mosque in the Old City is often denied,” he complains to this outlet. “Police throw plastic projectiles, tear gas, and dirty water at Masjid al-Aqsa as hundreds gather at the gates on Fridays.” Palestinians in East Jerusalem endure similar hardships when they express support for citizens of Gaza, who have faced devastating losses. “We worry constantly,” confesses the 73-year-old man.
Seven years ago, Abu Cibna was attacked by settlers, deemed a casualty of oppression by the Israeli Government. “They pulled me from a taxi and broke my hand and foot, simply because I am Arab,” he recalls. In the spring air of Jerusalem, it remains hard to accept that his home no longer exists. “A month ago, I had a job and a home; now I have nothing.” The threats from Israel loom large, and Palestinians in East Jerusalem know they are not alone in facing oppression, including violence from settlers, soldiers, and police. They see resistance as essential, recognizing that their suffering may not have a clear horizon. “This is not about Hamas or any single group’s agenda: if pressure persists, the pressure can explode,” Sabbagh concludes.