Last week I was interrogated by Israeli Immigration; 3 hours in the morning between 7am and 10am at Fiumicino Airport in Rome and 2 and three quarter hours in the afternoon at Tel Aviv’s Ben Gurion Airport. After they discovered I had spent some time in the occupied Palestinian Territories, my laptop and camera were confiscated for “security reasons” and I was asked to strip to my briefs while a young woman in uniform padded me down. This in itself is nothing out of the ordinary. Especially if you’re Arab, Persian, or from a country where the dominant religion is Islam. If you’re a media-worker or lone traveller without a Jewish name, or someone with stamps in your passport from other Middle Eastern nations, it’s also standard to find yourself in the interrogation queue – that’s all normal. What was unusual about last weekend’s “security procedure” however, was that many of its principal actors conducted their incessant questioning dressed in costumes for Purim, a Jewish holiday kind of like Halloween.
While more and more travellers were ushered into the interrogation suite, staring at their shoes, the floor and somewhat wistfully at the Coca-Cola vending machine, Israeli security personnel shimmied by in lurid get-ups of the worst kind. Remember that suburban fancy dress hire place that smelt of mold but somehow managed to stay in business? The kind that had rows and rows of clothes racks sprouting unwashed nylons, bodysuits stained at the armpits and glass cabinets proudly showcasing face-masks, tiaras and leg warmers all sparkling with unnecessary sequins? Well, there’s obviously a franchise in Tel Aviv.
At Ben Gurion Airport, it was Fred Flintstone who ultimately called me into a room staffed by two incredibly serious looking women who unimaginatively had decided to dress up like Israeli Security. They sat unsmiling in their navy, public servant uniforms while Tinkerbell waltzed in and out, fluttering papers and occasionally offering me the stern glare of someone who doesn’t believe in fairies.
This was my fourth interrogation. The questioning is always carefully worded, unmistakably racist and above all, irritating. After the initial opener designed to ascertain the intention of your visit, probing quickly transcends to poorly concealed racial profiling. Within fifteen minutes, having justified my overnight stay in Dubai and brief trip to Jordan, I was asked whether I knew anyone from the middle east who was not Israeli living in Australia. This was followed by the copying down of Arab names listed in my cell phone and questions about my email and Facebook accounts. For the first time ever I wished that I had had Joe Hockey, Australia’s shadow Treasurer and son to a Palestinian father and Armenian mother, amongst my contacts. Once I had been “Googled” and it was clear that I had previously spent time in the occupied West Bank working on various media projects, questioning was escalated, my belongings were confiscated, my person was searched and my laptop and camera equipment scrutinised.
Contrary to common assumption, there is no way of entering occupied East Jerusalem, the West Bank or Gaza without entering Israel. The occupied Palestinian Territories are just that, occupied territories. They are not considered sovereign states, they are ever-diminishing pieces of land, home to an exhausted yet resilient indigenous Arab people, controlled by the occupier. There is no Palestinian Authority administered border control, no special stamp or visa that marks your visit. There are no Palestinian public servants or soldiers serving at checkpoints. All checkpoints regardless of whether they are located at the divide between Israel and the West Bank or within the Palestinian Territory itself – arbitrarily separating Palestinian village from village, are controlled by the Israeli Military. Even foreign workers based in non-governmental organisations stationed inside the occupied Territories have to apply to Israel for a visa enabling them to stay.
When it comes to a state like Israel, I understand the need for tight security. However the fact remains that there is nothing remotely illegal about visiting the occupied Palestinian Territories nor is there anything unlawful in maintaining friendships with people of an Arab background be they Australian, American, Egyptian, Syrian or God forbid, Palestinian. Beyond initial amusement and disbelief, it must be said that the surreal dress-code worn by some Israeli security officials did absolutely nothing to make the experience any less upsetting or intrusive. In fact, in many ways this pretense of festivity, simply served to highlight just how everyday and standardised this form of invasive scrutiny has become.