Arab vs. Jew, Secular vs. Orthodox : ‘Walls’ Refuse to Fall for the Many Peoples of Jerusalem

The setting sun bathing the hills of Jerusalem gives a soft, golden glow to the sandstone buildings, creating a false aura of serenity that belies the deep division of the city’s people.

Jerusalem’s 340,000 Jews and 135,000 Arabs carry different passports, shun each other socially and are at war politically.

A wall separating the Jewish and Arab sectors was torn down when Israel captured Arab East Jerusalem 20 years ago. But the people remain as divided as Protestants and Roman Catholics in Belfast, Christians and Muslims in Beirut or Communists and non-Communists in Berlin.

“Israel has destroyed the barricades of barbed wire, mine fields and stone walls, but has built a stronger wall, a wall of hatred between the two peoples,” says Anwar Khatib, governor-general of the city when it was under Jordanian control.

The unresolved status of Jerusalem--with its unique holy sites--is the most emotionally charged single issue in the overall Arab-Israeli conflict.

The Palestinians claim Jerusalem as the capital of a Palestinian state.

The international community, including the United States, does not recognize Israel’s claim that the annexed section of Jerusalem is an integral part of Israel’s “eternal” capital.

Book of Psalms

The passion about Jerusalem dates at least to an oath in the Book of Psalms: “If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning. If I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth.”

There is another major fault line that runs through the heart of the city, the growing chasm between Orthodox and secular Jews over whether Israel, especially Jerusalem, should be governed by Jewish laws laid down in the Torah.

Non-religious Jews are fleeing the city, prompting fears among Arabs and Jews that Jerusalem may become fundamentalist.

“Jerusalem is a city of extremism. I don’t know why, but everybody becomes extremist here--Christians, Muslims and Jews,” says Ruth Heshin, head of the Jerusalem Foundation, which raises private money for city development projects.

The separation often results in near total blindness of one side to the other.

Heshin, in her 40s, recalls being invited recently for dinner at the home of a wealthy Palestinian family, an event worthy of comment because social mixing is so rare.

Food in Common

She was shocked when the Arab women started to explain their Oriental dishes, such as hummus made of chickpeas and tahini made of sesame, which have long been a staple of Israeli diets.

“The knowledge, or rather the ignorance, about what is going on two steps away on the other side of the city was amazing,” she says. “But ignorance is a two-way street. I am sure my friends know nothing about the Arabs and the idea of spending a social evening in an Arab home would be so strange to them.”

She says the Arab women were unaware of the city’s annual Jerusalem festival, which features international entertainers that this year included tightrope walker Philippe Petit, jazz trumpeter Miles Davis and the Eurythmics rock group.

But Heshin notes that she and the Palestinian women were equally familiar with the latest fashion boutiques. “They knew every dress shop in Tel Aviv.”

Faiek A. Barakat, director of the Arab Chamber of Commerce in Jerusalem and a member of the Supreme Muslim Council that oversees Islamic holy sites, says he is opposed to socializing or even mixing in school classrooms.

No Kissing in Public

“We have different social standards and traditions,” Barakat said. “For us, it is not acceptable for girls to go out with boys and start kissing and smoking in public.”

Most neighborhoods are instantly recognizable.

In Arab areas, signs are exclusively in Arabic or English, Jordanian dinars circulate in the stores, Arabic newspapers are on coffee tables and many cars and trucks are decorated with brightly colored talismans to ward off the evil eye or invoke Allah’s blessings for a safe journey.

The only neighborhood in Jerusalem where Jews and Arabs live together is Abu Tor, a hilltop village of several thousand that was divided by the border between Jordan and Israel until 1967.

Coexistence in Abu Tor is usually peaceful. Jews shop in Arab-owned stores. Most Arabs speak fluent Hebrew, often giving Jewish neighbors a friendly “Shalom, “ the Hebrew word for peace and greetings.

But most do not seek a deeper relationship and occasionally the underlying tension boils over. In February, police said, Arab teen-agers cut the tires of 30 cars parked in front of an apartment building that was occupied mostly by Jews.

Angry Rampage

In the nearby walled city, hundreds of Jews went on a rampage through the Muslim and Christian sectors, stoning windows and shouting “death to the Arabs” after the November stabbing of Eliahu Amedi, a 22-year-old Jewish seminary student.

The separateness has been reinforced by massive Israeli housing projects that have surrounded the Arab sector since 1967: Gilo to the south, Ramot to the west, East Talpiot to the east and Neve Yaakov and French Hill to the north.

Khatib, the former governor-general, says Israel expropriated 5,000 acres of land and built 150,000 housing units in the past two decades. “There are now more Jews in East Jerusalem than Arabs,” he says.

The multiple rhythms of the city, where recorded history dates back 4,000 years, can best be felt in the walled Old City.

Babel of Tongues

The narrow cobblestone streets are almost always overflowing with a kaleidoscope of people speaking a Babel of tongues: Hebrew, Arabic, English, German, French.

There are religious Jews with fur-trimmed hats, Arabs wearing white kaffiyehs, Greek Orthodox priests in black cloaks, Armenian churchmen in pointed hats, Roman Catholic friars in brown robes, Muslim clergymen wearing red turbans wrapped in white and American and European tourists in Bermuda shorts and peaked hats.

This is what the city’s durable mayor, Teddy Kollek, likes to call the mosaic of Jerusalem, a place where each community is distinctly separate but where pluralism thrives.

“We didn’t inherit a united city,” says the 76-year-old Kollek, who has been mayor for 20 years. “It was never united. If you could have gone into the Old City 100 years ago, you would have found absolutely separate quarters--Latin, Armenian, Greek, Abyssinian, Muslim and Jewish. They each kept their own tradition, there was no intermarriage.

“In the United States, you discarded separate but equal. We had no choice but to make separate and equal work.”

‘Israeli-Style Apartheid’

Khatib complains of what he calls “Israeli-style apartheid,” a policy of discrimination that has cut the city off economically from the 800,000 Palestinians in the West Bank by banning the sale of West Bank products in Israel.

At the same time, he says, Arabs are being exploited as a cheap source of labor for Israel.

Ibrahim Dakkak, a Palestinian, says: “You can feel the vibrations of the conflict wherever you go.”

Dakkak, who heads the Arab Thought Center, a privately funded think tank, proposes a settlement as uncompromising as that of Israel’s government: Israel should return most of the eastern sector of the city to Arab control. Then negotiations could be held on an equal footing about the future of the city.

“I look to the future with some awe,” Dakkak says. “I believe both parties should be wary about what is coming if the situation does not improve.”

Jerusalem has been the target of many Arab acts of terrorism, including a bomb that blew up a bus and killed six Israelis in December, 1983, and the random shooting of pedestrians by three Palestinians in April, 1984, that killed one and wounded 47.

40 Years of War

“Israelis who have lived with 40 years of war don’t have loving, kind feelings toward Palestinians,” says David Hartman, a rabbi and philosopher. “You are not going to develop nice feelings if every time you ride a bus you have to look to see if there is an explosive.”

Jerusalem police statistics culled from a handwritten log show that there were 82 politically motivated attacks in 1986--including 17 explosions, 15 fire bombs, 34 stonings and seven stabbings and shootings. They claimed four lives and wounded 85.

Many Israelis and some Arabs credit Kollek’s skills in diplomacy for reducing friction. The mayor says his guiding philosophy is “let everybody follow his own tradition and his own ways. As long as he doesn’t interfere with anybody else, it is nobody’s business, and if he does interfere, we have to step in.”

Sacred Site

For Jews, Jerusalem is the holiest of cities, site of the sacred Western Wall, which is the last remnant of the temple originally built by King Solomon in 960 BC and razed by the Romans in AD 70.

“Next year in Jerusalem,” the solemn pledge embodied in the Jewish Passover service, has made the city a magnet for Jews throughout the ages.

“I cannot describe what Jerusalem means for us any more than I could describe what the soul of the body means,” says Menachem Porush, an Orthodox rabbi and member of parliament. “This is like the soul of the body of our Jewish people.”

“We want Jerusalem and Israel to live according to the Torah. We have already been driven away from Jerusalem once because we didn’t behave ourselves properly according to the Torah,” said Porush.

The concept of a state run by rabbis on the basis of religious law is anathema to the secular, who make up about 80% of the nation’s 4.5 million Jews.

Sabbath Wars

The conflict in recent months has led to a weekly series of religious-secular confrontations, known as the Sabbath Wars, over the screenings of movies on the biblically mandated day of rest.

Orthodox Jews, who hold the balance of power in the national coalition government, have fought the mayor’s plans to build a soccer stadium, fearing that it would encourage people to ignore the Sabbath ban on driving.

Prime Minister Yitzhak Shamir, recognizing the power of the religious lobby, has refused to sign a bill authorizing the stadium, even though it would be the home for Betar Yerushalaim, a team sponsored by his own Herut Party.