Cohen is a security officer at the 270-Souls-Kibbutz in Magen, 100 kilometres south of Tel Aviv on the border with the Gaza strip. An ex-paratrooper, he is a prickly guy in a black t-shirt with a gun in a holster. A stone’s throw away, the Israelis have discovered a Hamas attack tunnel, he reports: at a depth of 27 metres, the height of a man, equipped with motorbikes that were probably to be used for suicide attacks. The army usually blows up such tunnels immediately. They are showing this one to foreign military so they will be believed, says Cohen. His message is that the aggression comes from the other side of the fence. He knows that half the world sees the Palestinians as victims and the Israelis as a brutal military force. “However, we even care for sick people from Gaza in our hospitals,” says Cohen. “The international media never report that.”

Instead they report more on the bloody clashes at the border. For five weeks, tens of thousands of Palestinians have been protesting each Friday on their side of the fence, spurred on by Hamas, which has ruled Gaza for eleven years and has called for a “March of Return” to the Promised Land. The people are frustrated: Israel and Egypt seal off the coastal strip, the Palestinian Authority on the West Bank continues its power struggle with Hamas by not passing on aid money; supply is poor, unemployment is high. Around 50,000 people flock to the border on 14 May, the symbolic day when the US Embassy is opened in Jerusalem. It is not a peaceful protest. Tyres burn, flying kites with incendiary devices sail towards Israeli fields and villages, men throw stones and Molotov cocktails at soldiers and try to cut through the fence. The Israeli army fears that Hamas terror squads could use the chaos to infiltrate into Israel. They answer with deadly sniper fire. According to the UN, on 14 May alone, 58 Palestinians died and more than 2000 were injured, many seriously. The number of dead since the start of the “March of Return” has risen to around 100, including many members of Hamas.

States all over the world criticise this excessive use of weapons. The United Nations Human Rights Council calls for an independent commission of enquiry. Israel immediately rejects the resolution. “It proves once again this is an organisation with an automatic anti-Israeli majority and in which hypocrisy and absurdity prevail,” said the Foreign Ministry in Jerusalem. The government and the army consider the command to shoot legitimate because Hamas is an enemy power and therefore the laws of war apply. Baruch Cohen from the Magen Kibbutz also has no doubts. “They know quite well that we will not let them through,” says the security officer in a cool voice.

It is the rationale of a country that has been threatened by Arab enemies since its founding 70 years ago and has had to wage war time and again. And where the trauma of the holocaust continues to have an impact. Israel’s right to exist is always at stake. In the north, the air force has been launching attacks on Iranian and allied Shia militia positions in Syria for weeks to prevent attacks on its own territory. When the Revolutionary Guard allegedly fired 20 rockets at a military position in the Golan Heights almost two weeks ago, the Israelis bombed around 50 targets on Syrian soil in a massive retaliatory strike. Now an escalation to open war with Tehran threatens. According to Israeli sources, Hezbollah in Lebanon, another archenemy financed by Iran, has more than 100,000 missiles that could hit large parts of the Jewish state. Despite a modern interception system, civilian casualties would be hard to avoid in the case of a coordinated attack.

Latent threat is a part of life in Israel. Guards with submachine guns and bag checks in front of public buildings like the bus station in Tel Aviv are part of everyday life. Years ago, the authorities changed the sound of sirens on ambulances because it sounded too much like a rocket alarm and panicked some people. Tel Aviv last came under fire in 2014 during the Gaza war. “You can never forget that,” says one woman, who has been living in the region for decades. “But the Second Intifada was worse. That runs deeper.”

After the break down in peace talks with the Palestinians, bombs also exploded on buses and in cafes in Tel Aviv. A total of 21 Israelis died in 2001 during a suicide attack on the Dolphinarium nightclub, today still a ruined reminder. “It was unbelievably hard for me to be on a bus,” remembers the woman. “Everyone was viewed with suspicion. The attackers came disguised as pregnant women or as ultra-orthodox Jews in long coats.” The violence only abated years later.

If Hamas had hoped for a Third Intifada, the terrorist group’s calculations have so far not paid off. Outside Gaza, there have been isolated attacks, including a deadly knife attack on an Israeli in Jerusalem. However, there has been no large uprising by all Palestinians. But there is to this day still no end to the conflict in sight. In 2008, there were renewed negotiations with the Palestinian president Mahmud Abbas on a two state solution. But since Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu took power in 2009, there has been little activity.

Today the Palestinians live between the Mediterranean Sea and the Jordan River in four different realities. Around two million are in the Gaza strip, which Israel cleared in 2005, with hundreds of Israeli settlers forced to leave against their will. 1.8 million Palestinians are Israeli citizens (20.1 per cent of the population) with all the rights, but also with experiences of discrimination. A further 330,000 live with special status in East Jerusalem. As “permanent residents” they have identity cards and access to the Israeli social systems but do not have a passport and cannot take part in parliamentary elections.

And 2.7 million Palestinians live in the West Bank, which Israel has largely occupied since 1967. The Netanyahu administration is promoting the expansion of Jewish settlements there with more and more new building permits. On a map, the West Bank resembles a patchwork quilt in three colours. Only 18 per cent is totally governed by the Palestinian Authority (PA) – Zone A. In Zone B (20 per cent of the area) the PA provides the civil administration but the areas are under the control of the Israeli army. And Zone C, around 62 per cent of the West Bank, is completely under Israeli military administration. Barrier walls in many places prevent Palestinians from entering Israeli areas. They may only pass the heavily armed checkpoints on request, for example to work in Israel. This is how the Jewish state enforces its security interests.

What it means to live under Israeli occupation can be read in the collection of essays “Olives and Ashes” published in 2017 (Kiepenheuer & Wisch). The organisation Breaking the Silence, in which former soldiers are active, invited 26 writers worldwide to the Palestinian territories to “bear witness” – including Eva Menasse, Mario Vargas Llosa and Colum McCann. They spoke of farmers whose access to fields was blocked by the wall; of restricted water supply; of arbitrariness at checkpoints; of fast roads to the settlements in the West Bank that only cars with Israeli number plates could use for security reasons –often forcing the Palestinians to take detours of several kilometres.

Suleiman Abu-Dayyeh (61), a Christian Palestinian and department head at the Friedrich-Naumann-Foundation in Jerusalem, is also familiar with the arbitrariness of Israeli officials. He comes from near Bethlehem and married an East Jerusalem woman. He was therefore able to apply for resident status in the eastern part of the Holy City. The authorities have still not made a decision, says Abu-Dayyeh. Twenty-five years later. He must therefore have his residence permit extended every year. He has been “illegal” for three months, something the Israelis tacitly tolerated – typical of the contradictions in many aspects of society. “Yes,” mocks the economist, who studied in Bonn, “the Palestinians are this free and sovereign in their own country.”

Economically, with help from the EU and other international donors, the Palestinians on the West Bank are faring better than those in Gaza. With around 150,000 residents, their capital, Ramallah, is a modern Arab city with a conspicuously large number of expensive cars. However, the majority are dissatisfied politically. “The Palestinian Authority is considered authoritarian and corrupt,” reports the Palestinian opinion pollster Khalil Shikaki. Whereas 50 per cent of those questioned in 1996 still believed the PA was on course to become a functioning democracy under Fatah Party of Mahmoud Abbas, today this figure is only 20 per cent.

There is also tension because of the direct proximity to Israeli settlements, which are protected by the army. “I would never exchange a single word with these land thieves,” says a young, educated Palestinian woman at a meeting in Ramallah. She and her husband have a house in the surrounding area where she never leaves her daughter alone. She is afraid the child could run towards the neighbouring Israeli settlement while playing. “I’m afraid they’ll shoot at my daughter.”

Bob Lang (59) considers this pure propaganda. “I know of no incident in which something happened to a Palestinian child,” says the head of the Religious Council of the Jewish settlement of Efrat, situated 15 kilometres from Jerusalem in Zone C. A green oasis of prosperity with waving palm trees, red-roofed family homes and apartment blocks as well as two shopping centres, Efrat perches on seven hills. In the surrounding valleys: Arab fields and villages. The Palestinians may only enter the hills with permission to work. The bus stops to the access roads to the villages are also off limits and are guarded by soldiers.

“Most Palestinians understand our security needs,” assures Lang in an air-conditioned conference room. There were two bomb attacks in Efrat during the second Intifada. Both attackers died and several Jews were injured. Lang is the son of a German Holocaust survivor and immigrated from New York in 1975. The father of four wears a skullcap and rimless glasses; during his speech he buries his hands in his trouser pockets and steps casually from one foot to the other. Lang is an experienced advocate of settler interests and a former spokesman for the umbrella association for Jewish settlements in the West Bank. Efrat is growing, he reports. Two years ago, the settlement had 9,500 residents, today it has 11,500, in two years it should be 15,000. Around 800 apartments are being built, almost all of which are already sold because the demand is high – in the settlements they are much cheaper than outside the West Bank. “We are hoping for more building permits,” declares Lang. “They are before the government for a decision.”

The settler describes his relations with his Palestinian neighbours as a “neutral coexistence.” He dreams of organising joint football tournaments one day. “In order to break the spiral of violence, we have to develop cooperation, also economically.” But this fails because of Palestinian President Abbas and his Palestinian Authority. Anyone selling land to the Jews or who works too closely with them risks imprisonment or even death.

Unlike the international community, Lang considers the construction of settlements in the West Bank to be legal. Efrat was built on state land. His argument: the last legal owners of the West Bank were, until 1948, the British as mandatory power in Palestine. Then the Jordanians occupied the land until Israel expelled them during the Six Day War in 1967. There had therefore never been a Palestinian state here. The Holy Land already belonged to the Jews in biblical times. “It is my homeland, my history,” says the 59-year-old. Anyone who contradicts him for too long experiences another Bob Lang. He turns red, gets louder and asks whether “Judea should become free of Jews” again. He rejects a separate state for the Palestinians. He will never leave his house voluntarily.

However, a majority of Israelis would be in favour of abandoning the West Bank settlements to achieve peace. In surveys, around 60 per cent of participants have supported a two state solution for years. “We have examined twelve possible scenarios,” reports Udi Dekel, managing director of the Institute for National Security Studies (INSS), a think tank in Tel Aviv. “The two state model has definitely proved to be the most stable scenario. Israel must start a process to keep the possibility of this solution alive.” Dekel, a former brigadier general and most recently the head of planning for the general staff, sees close cooperation with the Palestinian Authority as vital “to improve the reality together.” The PA has been working with the Israeli security forces for years to prevent acts of terrorism.

But there are large barriers to a two-state solution: the right of return for the descendants of some 800,000 Palestinians who fled or were expelled after Israel’s declaration of independence in 1948. And the Arab claim to east Jerusalem as the capital of a future Palestinian state. The Israelis see all of Jerusalem as their “everlasting and indivisible” capital. Since US President Trump announced the relocation of the American embassy, the number of Palestinians who believe in a two state solution has been falling even faster. “In 2008 it was 70 per cent,” says opinion pollster Shikaki, “today it is 45 per cent.” One of the reasons they have their doubts is that Israel is pushing forward with the expansion of settlements. Many fear for their jobs in Israel if Palestine becomes a sovereign state. A growing number, especially the under-22 generation, would rather live in a common country with equal rights, says Shikaki.

The question, however, is whether the Netanyahu government is even interested in changing the status quo. A two state solution means the abandonment of settlements. And a joint state would mean the disappearance of checkpoints and barriers at some point. As the Palestinians have a higher birth rate than the Israelis, the Jews would no longer make up the majority in the country in a few decades – a problem for the self-image of the Jewish state, according to media reports.

The settlers, the National Religious and the ultra-orthodox have great influence in Netanyahu’s coalition government. His policies have so far gone down well with voters; the Left is weak. Journalists feel bullied and poorly informed by the government. “They try to curb criticism in the media,” reports Nechama Duek, who has written for the daily newspaper Yedioth Ahronoth for 36 years. “Democracy is coming under pressure in Israel.”

Amir Fuchs, a lawyer and researcher at the Israel Democracy Institute has also observed this trend for over ten years. Anyone who calls today for a boycott of Israeli goods, for example, risks prosecution. And Prime Minister Netanyahu, who himself has been hit by corruption investigations, wants to further strengthen the government’s power. His coalition is working on a new law under which decisions by the supreme court can be relatively easily overturned by a majority of 61 votes in the Knesset. “Then there would be no more limits for the ruling parties,” fears researcher Fuchs. “Until now, the supreme court has been the most important defender of human rights in Israel.”

But there are also signs of hope. In recent years, for example, the Givat Haviva education centre in the north of Israel has invited around 8000 students in the region to joint seminars to promote understanding between Jews and Israeli Palestinians. “We are a nucleus,” says the Arab programme director, Samer Atamni. “We want to reach a new Israel through education.” The attitude of some parents is also changing. Today they visit places in Arab villages they would have avoided in the past.

There is also the absence of a wave of violence in the West Bank on “Nakba” day (Arab for catastrophe) on 15 May. There are altercations at the checkpoints but they are relatively minor. In East Jerusalem it is completely quiet with the Palestinians simply taking part in a strike, which they know will have little effect. Ahmad Muna (28) also closed his bookshop on Salah-Eddin-Street, where he usually sells political literature with a Palestinian focus and holds readings. “Today I am sad and disgusted by the brutal behaviour of the Israeli army in Gaza,” says Muna, a lean quick-thinker who learnt his English while studying in London. The Palestinians, he believes, are completely in the hands of the Jews. Muna thinks Abbas and his Palestinian Authority are weak. He is therefore in favour of a common state. “Despite everything, I am full of hope that I will someday experience this state,” emphasises the 28-year-old. “Because things can’t continue as they are today for much longer.”

And there are also young Jews such as Orr Bernstein (27). The open-faced, athletic student completed his three year military service as a paratrooper and lives on the Magen kibbutz, the home of security expert Baruch Cohen in the Gaza strip. Years ago, Hamas rockets struck here. However, there is no trace of hatred in Bernstein. His mother is in contact with women on the other side. Today, people who used to work on the kibbutz are cut off from the rest of the world there. “We all think here that we should live together in peace,” says Bernstein. However, he is doubtful about the two state solution – not least because of the settlement policy. But something has to change. “Of course, both sides are responsible for the peace process,” finds the student. “But we Israelis must do more than before.”

This article is based in large part on a study trip to Israel undertaken by the Federal Centre for Political Education between 5 and 16 May 2018.

Original text: Andreas Baumann. Translation: kc