An Intifadeh Of the Soul

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But it is, after all, a Jewish state. A stranger proffers hard-line Israeli logic: "Look, wars have consequences. This is a violent and dislocating century that has created millions of refugees all over the world. There are more than 200 million Arabs in the Middle East and North Africa, occupying 5 million sq. mi. There are 3.8 million Israeli Jews on a tiny sliver of land. The Arabs have tried in war after war to destroy Israel. The Jews have prevailed. What do you expect from them? Besides, what law of history says that a people aspiring to be a nation will have a state? Look at the Kurds, the Armenians, the Basques, the Ibos."

Jahshan answers, "The Crusaders and the Turks were here for a long time, and then they left. Israel is only 42 years old. They can kill us all and send us anywhere. Do you think we will forget? Honor! People die for honor! He who does not have land does not have honor."

BUTCH AND SUNDANCE

The village of Kafr Ni'ma lies in the hills west of Ramallah, a high village with an ancient terracing of stones. The people there grow figs, olives, almonds, grapes, plums. On a hill opposite, across the valley, one sees the bright white cubes and rectangles of a Jewish settlement -- a bedroom community for people who work in Jerusalem. The settlements on the West Bank are usually erected on the high ground for defense, and sit upon the landscape like moon stations.

A green-eyed 16-year-old named Farid, who wants to become a doctor when he grows up, is sitting in the back seat of the car, explaining how to stone Israeli soldiers. "You stay behind walls, follow the soldiers, throw and then dodge out of sight. Always know where you are, and have a way to escape in mind."

It is his duty to throw stones, Farid believes. "Sooner or later you will die, so there is nothing to be afraid of. They took our land, they killed our brothers, they arrested my friends. Our life is not so good that we can regret losing it."

Palestinian flags flutter everywhere in the village. The walls are coated with spray-painted slogans. The army will arrive soon and order the villagers at gunpoint to take down the flags and paint out the slogans. When the army leaves, the flags and slogans reappear.

Nassim and Mahmoud, leaders of the popular committees that run the village, sit smoking in a large bare room. Nassim, 31, is tall, thin, with calm dark eyes, though his crossed leg jumps in spasms when he speaks. Mahmoud is a short, blondish tough guy. They are Butch and Sundance, outlaws of the intifadeh.

The popular committees formed during the uprising have assumed much of the social, economic and political authority of running the territories. There are food committees, education committees, health committees, and public-safety committees, which guard the villages against Israeli settlers.

The surrounding hills are filled with caves, where the Palestinian activists often hide. One moonlit night, some months after our talk, a young collaborator led Israeli soldiers to the bush that concealed the cave where Mahmoud had set up a cozy apartment, with mattress and blanket, a lantern and jars of olives. Mahmoud is now in an Israeli jail.

THE EXECUTIONER