Palestinian Residents Face Uncertain Future as Israeli Authorities Push for Evictions in East Jerusalem Neighborhoods
Zohair Rajabi, a 55-year-old Palestinian resident of Batn al-Hawa, a predominantly Palestinian neighborhood in East Jerusalem, stands on the balcony of his family's home, looking out at the Dome of the Rock. The sight is one he has gazed upon for over 20 years, but today it serves as a poignant reminder of the uncertain future that awaits him and his fellow residents.
Rajabi, who has lived in Batn al-Hawa his entire life, knows that his days there are almost certainly numbered. The neighborhood has long been a target of right-wing Israeli organizations seeking to consolidate control over parts of Jerusalem seized after the 1967 war. One such group is Ateret Cohanim, which describes itself as "the leading urban land reclamation organization in Jerusalem." The group argues that much of Batn al-Hawa lies on the site of a village constructed by a philanthropic trust under Ottoman rule in the late 19th century to house poor Yemeni Jews.
Lawyers acting for the trust have successfully argued in Israeli courts that its prior ownership of the properties in Batn al-Hawa should take precedence over any later purchases made by current inhabitants or their parents or grandparents. A 1970 law gives Jewish people the right to reclaim property in East Jerusalem, which has been used to justify the recent spate of evictions.
Daniel Luria, a spokesperson for Ateret Cohanim, claims that the organization is independent of the trust but has ties with it. He likened the resistance from residents to "Custer's last stand," suggesting that they are fighting an unwinnable battle against the tide of Israeli policy.
However, Rajabi and his fellow residents are not deterred. They believe that the recent spate of evictions is largely due to the war in Gaza, which has created an atmosphere where such actions can be pushed through with ease. The war has also fueled anti-Palestinian sentiment among some Israeli politicians and settlers, who see Palestinians as a threat to Jewish control over Jerusalem.
Rajabi's own family is facing eviction, along with 34 other families numbering around 175 people. The prospect of leaving behind their homes, schools, and community is devastating for many of them, particularly the teenagers among the residents. As one of Rajabi's daughters, Dahreen, said, "Every stone here is a memory for me. I am very worried that we will be split up as a family and I will be away from my friends."
The push for evictions in East Jerusalem neighborhoods has been met with resistance from NGOs like Ir Amim, which claims that the actions are part of a broader effort to maintain a Jewish majority in the city and expand settlements. The Israeli government's most right-wing coalition, which includes extremist ministers deeply committed to this project, has been accused of using such policies to further its agenda.
As tensions escalate, Rajabi and his fellow residents face an uncertain future, with their homes under threat from the very organizations that claim to be working for them. The fate of Batn al-Hawa hangs in the balance, serving as a microcosm of the larger conflict over Jerusalem's identity and control.
Zohair Rajabi, a 55-year-old Palestinian resident of Batn al-Hawa, a predominantly Palestinian neighborhood in East Jerusalem, stands on the balcony of his family's home, looking out at the Dome of the Rock. The sight is one he has gazed upon for over 20 years, but today it serves as a poignant reminder of the uncertain future that awaits him and his fellow residents.
Rajabi, who has lived in Batn al-Hawa his entire life, knows that his days there are almost certainly numbered. The neighborhood has long been a target of right-wing Israeli organizations seeking to consolidate control over parts of Jerusalem seized after the 1967 war. One such group is Ateret Cohanim, which describes itself as "the leading urban land reclamation organization in Jerusalem." The group argues that much of Batn al-Hawa lies on the site of a village constructed by a philanthropic trust under Ottoman rule in the late 19th century to house poor Yemeni Jews.
Lawyers acting for the trust have successfully argued in Israeli courts that its prior ownership of the properties in Batn al-Hawa should take precedence over any later purchases made by current inhabitants or their parents or grandparents. A 1970 law gives Jewish people the right to reclaim property in East Jerusalem, which has been used to justify the recent spate of evictions.
Daniel Luria, a spokesperson for Ateret Cohanim, claims that the organization is independent of the trust but has ties with it. He likened the resistance from residents to "Custer's last stand," suggesting that they are fighting an unwinnable battle against the tide of Israeli policy.
However, Rajabi and his fellow residents are not deterred. They believe that the recent spate of evictions is largely due to the war in Gaza, which has created an atmosphere where such actions can be pushed through with ease. The war has also fueled anti-Palestinian sentiment among some Israeli politicians and settlers, who see Palestinians as a threat to Jewish control over Jerusalem.
Rajabi's own family is facing eviction, along with 34 other families numbering around 175 people. The prospect of leaving behind their homes, schools, and community is devastating for many of them, particularly the teenagers among the residents. As one of Rajabi's daughters, Dahreen, said, "Every stone here is a memory for me. I am very worried that we will be split up as a family and I will be away from my friends."
The push for evictions in East Jerusalem neighborhoods has been met with resistance from NGOs like Ir Amim, which claims that the actions are part of a broader effort to maintain a Jewish majority in the city and expand settlements. The Israeli government's most right-wing coalition, which includes extremist ministers deeply committed to this project, has been accused of using such policies to further its agenda.
As tensions escalate, Rajabi and his fellow residents face an uncertain future, with their homes under threat from the very organizations that claim to be working for them. The fate of Batn al-Hawa hangs in the balance, serving as a microcosm of the larger conflict over Jerusalem's identity and control.