West Bank Palestinians Rely on Israel for Essentials, Fear Collective Punishment

The body of 13-year-old Ghassan Gharib is carried on shoulders after he was shot dead by Israeli forces near Ramallah this July (AFP)
The body of 13-year-old Ghassan Gharib is carried on shoulders after he was shot dead by Israeli forces near Ramallah this July (AFP)
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West Bank Palestinians Rely on Israel for Essentials, Fear Collective Punishment

The body of 13-year-old Ghassan Gharib is carried on shoulders after he was shot dead by Israeli forces near Ramallah this July (AFP)
The body of 13-year-old Ghassan Gharib is carried on shoulders after he was shot dead by Israeli forces near Ramallah this July (AFP)

Palestinians in the West Bank, unlike those in Gaza, do not want an open war between Israel and Hezbollah. They know from past experiences that such a conflict would bring significant political and economic costs, impacting their daily lives and essential needs.

If they become prisoners in their own land, Israel would have no hesitation in harming or detaining them.

In a possible war between Israel and Hezbollah, Israel would likely isolate itself and close its borders, cutting off the Palestinians in the West Bank to prevent another front. This would mean restricted movement, halted travel, and a stop to the flow of goods to the West Bank.

Israel would also cut off electricity, water, and fuel to Palestinians, reserving these resources for itself during the crisis.

While Israel might manage such a situation, the Palestinian Authority, already in financial and security turmoil, would struggle severely. Israel is preparing for extreme scenarios, including prolonged blackouts, infrastructure damage, and shortages of basic supplies, which would also affect the Palestinians.

Life Support Cut

Recent remarks by Shaul Goldstein, head of Israel’s state-owned electricity company, about a potential power grid collapse if war breaks out with Hezbollah, have alarmed not only Israelis but also Palestinians in the West Bank who buy electricity from Israel.

“We are not in a good situation, and we are not prepared for a real war. We are living in a fantasy,” said Goldstein.

“We cannot promise electricity if there is a war in the north. After 72 hours without electricity, it will be impossible to live here. We are not prepared for a real war,” he added.

This issue extends to water and fuel as well.

Even before any potential conflict this summer, Palestinians are already experiencing water shortages. The Israeli national water company “Mekorot” has reduced water supplies to the West Bank, a punitive measure Palestinians have grown accustomed to.

Official figures show that the average daily water consumption per person in Israel, including the settlements, is 247 liters. This is nearly three times the average for a Palestinian in the West Bank, which is 82.4 liters. In Palestinian communities without a water network, it falls to just 26 liters.

Stockpiling Essentials

Many Palestinians in the West Bank already face severe water shortages, receiving running water for less than 10 days a month, while the rest goes to Israelis.

Statistics show that Israelis consume ten times more water than Palestinians in the West Bank. This disparity is expected to grow even further this year.

With the threat of a potential war, Palestinians understand they could be left without water, electricity, medicine, or fuel. This fear has led many to start stockpiling essentials like flour, canned goods, and bottled water.

“I didn’t want to wait any longer. I bought some flour, canned goods, and water,” said Saeed Abu Sherkh.

“Once war starts, panic will set in. Prices will skyrocket, and supplies will disappear. We might face the same harsh conditions Gazans experienced,” he told Asharq Al-Awsat.

Gaza has suffered severe shortages of electricity, water, medicine, and basic supplies, reaching a point of famine.

Abu Sherkh, like many of his friends, prefers to be prepared. He has stocked up on flour, canned goods, bottled water, and even gasoline or diesel.

A recent test occurred when Iranian drones and rockets targeted Israel, making it difficult to access grocery stores. People rushed to buy essential food, while fuel stations ran out for several days, serving as a “simulation” for a real war.

Abdul Azim Awad does not want to face another such test.

“One hour after the Iranian drones hit, I couldn’t find many food items. I couldn't get fuel for days. I feared the war had actually started. I wasn’t prepared,” he told Asharq Al-Awsat.

Despite this, Awad hopes not to endure another, more severe experience and does not want to see another war.

“We’re tired of war. The situation is tough. Businesses are suffering, the economy is collapsing. There are no salaries, and workers can’t go to Israel. Traders are complaining. Another long war with Lebanon would mean real devastation here. I think it would be catastrophic,” he added.



Yazidis Fear Returning to Homeland, 10 Years after Massacre

Yazidi women raise banners during a demonstration demanding their rights and the release of those kidnapped by ISIS militants, in Mosul, Iraq, June 3, 2024. REUTERS/Khalid Al-Mousily
Yazidi women raise banners during a demonstration demanding their rights and the release of those kidnapped by ISIS militants, in Mosul, Iraq, June 3, 2024. REUTERS/Khalid Al-Mousily
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Yazidis Fear Returning to Homeland, 10 Years after Massacre

Yazidi women raise banners during a demonstration demanding their rights and the release of those kidnapped by ISIS militants, in Mosul, Iraq, June 3, 2024. REUTERS/Khalid Al-Mousily
Yazidi women raise banners during a demonstration demanding their rights and the release of those kidnapped by ISIS militants, in Mosul, Iraq, June 3, 2024. REUTERS/Khalid Al-Mousily

Fahad Qassim was just 11 years old when ISIS militants overran his Yazidi community in the Sinjar region of northern Iraq in August 2014, taking him captive.

The attack was the start of what became the systematic slaughter, enslavement, and rape of thousands of Yazidis, shocking the world and displacing most of the 550,000-strong ancient religious minority. Thousands of people were rounded up and killed during the initial assault, which began in the early hours of Aug. 3.
Many more are believed to have died in captivity. Survivors fled up the slopes of Mount Sinjar, where some were trapped for many weeks by an ISIS siege.
The assault on the Yazidis - an ancient religious minority in eastern Syria and northwest Iraq - was part of ISIS' effort to establish a so-called “caliphate.”

At one stage, the group held a third of Iraq and neighboring Syria before being pushed back and collapsing in 2019.

Now 21, Qassim lives in a small apartment on the edge of a refugee camp in the Kurdistan region of Iraq, far from his hometown.

He was trained as a child soldier and fought in grinding battles before being liberated as ISIS collapsed in Syria's Baghuz in 2019, but only after losing the bottom half of his leg to an airstrike by the US-led forces.

"I don't plan for any future in Iraq," he said, waiting for news on a visa application to a Western country.

"Those who go back say they fear the same thing that happened in 2014 will happen again."

Qassim's reluctance to return is shared by many. A decade after what has been recognized as a genocide by many governments and UN agencies, Sinjar district remains largely destroyed.

The old city of Sinjar is a confused heap of grey and brown stone, while villages like Kojo, where hundreds were killed, are crumbling ghost towns.
Limited services, poor electricity and water supply, and what locals say is inadequate government compensation for rebuilding have made resettlement challenging.

POWER STRUGGLE
The security situation further complicates matters. A mosaic of armed groups that fought to free Sinjar have remained in this strategic corner of Iraq, holding de facto power on the ground.
This is despite the 2020 Sinjar Agreement that called for such groups to leave and for the appointment of a mayor with a police force composed of locals.
And from the skies above, frequent Turkish drone strikes target fighters aligned with the Kurdistan Workers Party (PKK). Civilians are among those killed in these attacks, adding to the sense of insecurity.

Akhtin Intiqam, a 25-year-old commander in the PKK-aligned Sinjar Protection Units (YBS), one of the armed factions in the area, defends their continued presence:

"We are in control of this area and we are responsible for protecting Sinjar from all external attacks," she said.

Speaking in a room adorned with pictures of fallen comrades, numbering more than 150, Intiqam views the Sinjar Agreement with suspicion.
"We will fight with all our power against anyone who tries to implement this plan. It will never succeed," she said.

GOVERNMENT EFFORTS
As the stalemate continues, Sinjar remains underdeveloped. Families who do return receive a one-time payment of about $3,000 from the government.

Meanwhile, more than 200,000 Yazidis remain in Kurdistan, many living in shabby tent settlements. The Iraqi government is pushing to break up these camps, insisting it's time for people to go home.

"You can't blame people for having lost hope. The scale of the damage and displacement is very big and for many years extremely little was done to address it," said Khalaf Sinjari, the Iraqi prime minister's advisor for Yazidi affairs.

This government, he said, was taking Sinjar seriously.

It plans to spend hundreds of millions of dollars – including all previously unspent budgets since 2014 - on development and infrastructure, including for paying compensation, building two new hospitals and a university and linking Sinjar to the country’s water network for the first time. "There is hope to bring back life," said Sinjari, himself a member of the Yazidi community.

However, the presence of an estimated 50,000 ISIS fighters and their families across the border in Syria in detention centers and camps stokes fears of history repeating itself.

Efforts by some Iraqi lawmakers to pass a general amnesty law that could see the freeing of many ISIS prisoners from Iraqi jails only add to these concerns. And the Yazidi struggle for justice is stalled, with the government this year ending a UN mission that sought to help bring ISIS fighters to trial for international crimes, citing a lack of cooperation between it and the mission.
Despite the challenges, some Yazidis are choosing to return. Farhad Barakat Ali, a Yazidi activist and journalist who was displaced by ISIS, made the decision to go back several years ago.
"I'm not encouraging everyone to return to Sinjar, but I am also not encouraging them to stay at the IDP camps either," he said from his home in Sinjar city, in the stifling heat of a power cut.