In Israel, there is an infamous metaphor known as “mowing the grass”. Like many other terms used by the state, it is a horrific and dehumanising phrase that refers to Israel’s longstanding practice of regular, short, sharp bombardments of Gaza in order to “keep Palestinians in their place”.
It’s used openly by Israeli politicians and military figures who see Palestinian civilians either as collateral damage, or as part of the “lawn” themselves.
Nowadays, it feels a bit dated, considering how Israel’s current genocide in Gaza dwarfs the bombardments that preceded it. The grass is no longer mowed; now it’s scorched earth.
But last week, when the UK government issued a new round of settler sanctions for three individuals and four entities in the occupied West Bank, I thought not of lawns, but of weeds. These sanctions are trimming the branches instead of digging out the roots.
It’s the same thing I thought when piecemeal sanctions packages were announced last year, in February, May and October.
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Sanctioning a few individuals and entities won’t even begin to scratch the surface – not while extremist senior Israeli ministers are calling for an unprecedented expansion of illegal settlements.
National Security Minister Itamar Ben Gvir and Finance Minister Bezalel Smotrich are the grand architects of the current wave of illegal settlement expansion. Sanctions must target them to begin to affect change, not just an unhinged interviewee on the latest Louis Theroux documentary.
And even then, that would simply be the first step. More than half a century of illegal occupation will not miraculously end with a change of Israeli government.
Pervasive violence
Sanctions must target the architects because of how pervasive settlement violence is. Last month, I took a delegation of British MPs to the West Bank so they could see the day-to-day realities of occupation – from refugee camp clearances in Tulkarm in the north, all the way down to settler violence in the villages of Masafer Yatta in the south.
There are countless emotions I could recall: the shock of being spat at in Jerusalem for wearing a crucifix, the fear of being pulled over at gunpoint in Hebron, and the awe-inspiring bravery, hope and tenacity that Palestinian refugees in Tulkarm showed, even as they spoke of being displaced from the refugee camps where their families had lived since the Nakba.
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I could talk at length about all these experiences, but most chilling of all was simply the degree to which settlers and soldiers seemed to work in collaboration; the total air of impunity with which settlers swaggered around, perversely relishing the task of dispossessing indigenous people.
The first such example we witnessed was in Susiya, a Palestinian village in Masafer Yatta that was expropriated by Israel in 1986, its Palestinian residents expelled. Today, only a small community of steadfast Palestinians remain there.
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Our delegation in Susiya was surrounded by illegal Israeli settlers wearing militia-style body armour, and armed to the teeth with assault rifles and clubs. They were clearly there to intimidate. Two Israeli soldiers arrived at the scene and began laughing and joking with the settlers. It wasn’t just that they were unconcerned with what the settlers were doing; they appeared to be actively enjoying the show.
As they stood side-by-side – casually wielding their weapons, and wearing camouflage Kevlar jackets adorned with Israeli flags – it was suddenly very clear how blurred the lines of power and authority were. Distinguishing between settler violence and state violence feels like semantics in such a situation.
We saw this impunity again in Hebron, as we were having lunch with a Palestinian human rights defender on his patio, bordered by metal fences with security cameras.
Their usefulness was proven immediately, when two settlers came up to the fence and started shouting at our host: “How much is your house?” When he said it wasn’t for sale, they replied: “It doesn’t matter, we’re going to buy it anyway.” They went on to insult Islam, and said that all Arabs needed to leave.
Asked why, they simply replied: “Because God gave us this land.” Metres away, Israeli soldiers looked on listlessly.
Digging out the roots
This is by no means an exhaustive account, even for the short week or so that I was there. In Jerusalem, I saw a settler strolling around the crowded market streets, surrounded by his children, while holding his assault rifle casually, pointed down in their direction.
I contemplated how strange it was to encounter someone who clearly gains such satisfaction from provoking fear in others, and thought about what might be said from a sociological perspective about a society that produces so many people of this disposition.
These settlers are pawns in a grand political vision that repudiates morality while laying claim to it
But targeting each settler individually is not going to make any real difference. It is precisely such light-touch approaches that have enabled a settler-colonial, apartheid system to persist for more than half a century.
Settlers can act this way only because they are emboldened by the extremist rhetoric of their leaders and the actions of soldiers. It is in this collaboration that the beating heart of the settler-colonial, apartheid system lies.
Each time Ben Gvir storms Al-Aqsa compound with his settlers, each time Smotrich calls for a Palestinian village to be “erased”, it’s fuel for extremist settlers as they cultivate their burning hatred of Palestinians. These settlers are pawns in a grand political vision that repudiates morality while laying claim to it.
Instead of piecemeal sanctions, the only solution is to tackle the problem at its source; to dig out the roots, and sanction the ministers responsible for orchestrating this nightmare.
The views expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily reflect the editorial policy of Middle East Eye.
