In the West Bank, the recent international recognition of a Palestinian state is being met with a mix of hope and deep-seated concern. While many Palestinians welcome this move as a crucial step towards self-determination, the shadow of Israeli occupation and the escalating push for annexation loom large over their daily lives.
The harsh realities of life under Israeli control are vividly illustrated by the story of Abdel Aziz Majarmeh. Standing beside his 13-year-old son, Islam, Abdel Aziz witnessed the tragic moment Israeli forces fatally shot the young boy near the entrance to Jenin refugee camp. “My son fell to the ground, and then I heard the sound of a shot,” Abdel Aziz recounted, his voice thick with grief. “An army jeep came up and five or six soldiers pointed their weapons at me, telling me to leave. I didn’t even know my son was martyred. I started dragging him away.” Abdel Aziz had gone to the camp, occupied by Israeli forces since January, to collect family documents.
He expressed a profound sense of powerlessness, stating, “There is no one for me to complain to. They control everything. The Palestinian Authority can’t even protect itself – it only implements the decisions of the Jews.” As a Palestinian, Abdel Aziz feels resigned to his lack of control; as a father, he is tormented by the unanswered question: “Why pick on a 13-year-old boy? I’m standing right next to him. Shoot me. Why are you shooting children? I’m here, shoot me.”
Israel’s army stated that its forces fired to neutralize a threat from individuals who approached them in a closed military area and that the incident is under review. The army declined to specify the nature of the threat posed by the teenager.
Jenin, along with the neighbouring city of Tulkarem, was placed under the full control of the Palestinian Authority three decades ago as part of the Oslo Peace Accords, intended as the foundation for future Palestinian statehood. However, Israel maintains that these areas have become havens for terrorism. Since January, Israeli forces have maintained a presence, razing significant portions of the camps in both cities and demolishing buildings elsewhere.
The mayor of Jenin, Mohammed Jarrar, guided me through the camp entrance where Islam was shot. While military vehicles were absent, a large earth berm now obstructs the road, and residents report that Israeli snipers continue to monitor the area from surrounding buildings. Mayor Jarrar estimates that approximately 40% of Jenin is now a military zone for Israeli forces, with about a quarter of its residents displaced.
“It was clear from the beginning this was a major political plan, not a security operation,” Jarrar stated. “This Israeli government wants to annex the West Bank and, in preparation for that, it wants to prevent any [armed] opposition to its plan.” Israel has also imposed a prolonged economic siege on the Palestinian Authority, withholding crucial tax revenues needed for essential services like paying teachers and police.
Despite these challenges, Mayor Jarrar believes that international recognition of a Palestinian state, even by countries like the UK and France who are recent proponents, holds significant value. “It confirms the fact that the Palestinian people possess a state, even if it is under occupation,” he said. “I know that this recognition will lead to [greater] occupation of the West Bank. But even so, I believe recognition is more important, because it will shape the future of the Palestinian people, and the international community will be called on to defend their rights.”
Meanwhile, on hillsides near Nablus, Ayman Soufan and his grandchildren witness the daily escalation of Israeli settlement activity. A new outpost, consisting of simple shelters and sheds, appeared near his home, a stark reminder of the growing Israeli presence. “This outpost they set up here is to push us out of our house. Every day a settler comes, bangs on the house, shouting ‘leave, leave!’,” Ayman recounted. “They throw their garbage at our doorstep. I call the authorities and they say, ‘We’ll send the army’. But the army never comes. The settlers are the army, they are the police, they are everything.”
Ayman’s family has lived in their home, built after the 1967 occupation, for years. He recalls the trauma of 2003 when settlers set fire to the house, leading to his father’s death from a heart attack, and the subsequent torching of his home multiple times. “Who is supposed to protect me?” Ayman questioned. “The Palestinian police? They can’t even prevent this happening in the cities, how will they come here? Here, my security is in the hands of the people who occupy me.” He sees international recognition as a positive step, even if immediate changes on the ground remain elusive.
The narrative in the West Bank is one of resilience amidst occupation. Abdel Aziz Majarmeh, reflecting on the situation, expressed a defiant hope: “Palestine was never theirs and will never be theirs. Sooner or later, today, tomorrow, in a year or two, they will leave this country. And Palestine will be liberated.” The ongoing conflict and the push for annexation by Israeli factions highlight the widening gap between Israel and its Western allies, who continue to advocate for a two-state solution, even as the situation on the ground evolves.