Audio interviews with and pictures of ISM activists Leila and Chris
ab | 02.08.2003 23:37 | Culture | Globalisation | Repression | London | Sheffield
Leila Sansour is currently touring through Britian with her latest film "Jeremy Hardy v. the Israeli Army". Her film got shown in Glasgow, Edinburgh, Sheffield and London last week and at many cities she answered questions after the film.
ISM activists also organised ISM Orientation days with training to nonviolent Resistance of Occupation.
Here are interviews and pictures with Leila Sansour and Chris, both committed and passionate activists for the International Solidarity Movement.
More information:
International Solidarity Movement, Electronic Intifada
ISM activists also organised ISM Orientation days with training to nonviolent Resistance of Occupation.
Here are interviews and pictures with Leila Sansour and Chris, both committed and passionate activists for the International Solidarity Movement.
More information:
International Solidarity Movement, Electronic Intifada
Interview about the film
- mp3 1.4M
Interview about ISM
- mp3 4.0M
Leila Sansour, filmdirector, and Chris, both ISM activists
Leila and Chris after the film show in Edinburgh Filmhouse
Jeremy Hardy writes in The Guardian, Tuesday April 15, 2003
Four days in hell
Last April, I had occasion to be evacuated from Bethlehem by the British Consulate. It wasn't the first evacuation I had experienced that week - an Israeli tank muzzle outside your hotel bedroom window is an excellent purgative.
The invasion of the city began two nights earlier, on Easter Monday. As it progressed, the various consulates decided to remove as many of their nationals as were prepared to leave, and I was one. We were trapped in the hotel and the consul told me if we didn't leave now, it might be weeks before he could get another car into Bethlehem.
So I was relieved when two Range Rovers pulled up. I was further relieved not to be an American. The US consulate sent the CIA in armoured limousines, and their agents had helmets, flak jackets and guns. Our man had driving gloves. And travel sweets.
I had arrived on Good Friday to make a documentary about the International Solidarity Movement. I was on the plane when Ariel Sharon announced his intention to reoccupy the entire West Bank. Leila Sansour, the producer, had said I would not be put in any danger. The look on her face when she met me at the Bethlehem checkpoint told me she knew it had been a rash promise.
The idea was that I should join the ISM and take part in its usual activities. But with tanks at the edge of the city, our options were limited. On previous trips, actions had involved demonstrations but also practical help.
The presence of internationals affords locals some protection. Activists ride in Red Crescent ambulances. They help farmers who try to labour in the shadow of Israeli settlements and their violent occupants. They remove roadblocks so that people can go about their business. They run playgroups. They bear witness.
And they take a fair amount of verbal and physical abuse from settlers, police and soldiers. The group I was with was the first to sustain bullet wounds, as we marched cheerfully to Beit Jala that Easter Monday. Since then, other ISM activists have been shot - most recently, Tom Hurndall on Friday. And last month, Rachel Corrie was crushed to death by a Caterpillar bulldozer.
Fortunately, none of us was killed last year, although several were injured. An Australian friend is still carrying bits of a bullet in her stomach. And if you have ever heard that stuff about nervous soldiers panicking under pressure, I particularly urge you to see this film.
You will never see a soldier under less pressure than the man who decided to open up on us. You will see Kunle and Lillian, our designated negotiators, walk forward with arms outstretched to approach the armoured personnel carrier. Kunle was hit in three places.
That night, we knew the Israelis were going to take the city. Most activists volunteered to stay in the refugee camps, which, I firmly believe, prevented a massacre. The rest of us did media work in the hotel and, on Wednesday night, some of us took the chance to escape with our consulates. My premature departure made one thing certain: I would have to go back to Palestine to finish the film.
...
Despite being besieged in the camps, the residents were able to move about. We visited Dheisha, a camp that had seen its fair share of suffering (including the shooting of a young stonethrower the previous week), but still seemed to have some kind of life.
We stayed the night with a Palestinian family. I began with perhaps the most stupid question I could have mustered: "Have you ever been to England?" Palestinian women have a way of looking at you that says: "Are you uniquely stupid, or is it a male thing?" But I think I redeemed myself when the baby took a shine to me. Apparently they sometimes ask after Mr Jeremy.
...
In fact, it was hard through all of this not to feel quite useless - which is why I was glad that, back in Jerusalem, I was able to join in with a successful action. I was also heartened that it was organised by Israelis, the Ta'ayush peace group, who booked a convoy of coaches to take medical supplies into the West Bank town of Salfit.
...
This is my favourite part of the film, probably because we did something helpful and practical that involved a direct challenge to the military occupation. Having said that, I am gratingly chirpy at this point in the film. Perhaps, being a middle-aged man on a coach trip, I was impelled to make a daft joke every few seconds. That is tangential to the wider issues, obviously, but I want to make clear that I'm aware of it before anyone sees the film.
...
My four days were up, so I headed home. I had no idea what the film would look like but, having seen it, I'm proud. Not of myself - except as an intriguing study in bewilderment - but of Leila, and of the activists the film shamelessly champions. I'm sure no broadcaster will touch it. I just hope it doesn't spawn the idea for a series called I'm a Celebrity - Evacuate Me.
Four days in hell
Last April, I had occasion to be evacuated from Bethlehem by the British Consulate. It wasn't the first evacuation I had experienced that week - an Israeli tank muzzle outside your hotel bedroom window is an excellent purgative.
The invasion of the city began two nights earlier, on Easter Monday. As it progressed, the various consulates decided to remove as many of their nationals as were prepared to leave, and I was one. We were trapped in the hotel and the consul told me if we didn't leave now, it might be weeks before he could get another car into Bethlehem.
So I was relieved when two Range Rovers pulled up. I was further relieved not to be an American. The US consulate sent the CIA in armoured limousines, and their agents had helmets, flak jackets and guns. Our man had driving gloves. And travel sweets.
I had arrived on Good Friday to make a documentary about the International Solidarity Movement. I was on the plane when Ariel Sharon announced his intention to reoccupy the entire West Bank. Leila Sansour, the producer, had said I would not be put in any danger. The look on her face when she met me at the Bethlehem checkpoint told me she knew it had been a rash promise.
The idea was that I should join the ISM and take part in its usual activities. But with tanks at the edge of the city, our options were limited. On previous trips, actions had involved demonstrations but also practical help.
The presence of internationals affords locals some protection. Activists ride in Red Crescent ambulances. They help farmers who try to labour in the shadow of Israeli settlements and their violent occupants. They remove roadblocks so that people can go about their business. They run playgroups. They bear witness.
And they take a fair amount of verbal and physical abuse from settlers, police and soldiers. The group I was with was the first to sustain bullet wounds, as we marched cheerfully to Beit Jala that Easter Monday. Since then, other ISM activists have been shot - most recently, Tom Hurndall on Friday. And last month, Rachel Corrie was crushed to death by a Caterpillar bulldozer.
Fortunately, none of us was killed last year, although several were injured. An Australian friend is still carrying bits of a bullet in her stomach. And if you have ever heard that stuff about nervous soldiers panicking under pressure, I particularly urge you to see this film.
You will never see a soldier under less pressure than the man who decided to open up on us. You will see Kunle and Lillian, our designated negotiators, walk forward with arms outstretched to approach the armoured personnel carrier. Kunle was hit in three places.
That night, we knew the Israelis were going to take the city. Most activists volunteered to stay in the refugee camps, which, I firmly believe, prevented a massacre. The rest of us did media work in the hotel and, on Wednesday night, some of us took the chance to escape with our consulates. My premature departure made one thing certain: I would have to go back to Palestine to finish the film.
...
Despite being besieged in the camps, the residents were able to move about. We visited Dheisha, a camp that had seen its fair share of suffering (including the shooting of a young stonethrower the previous week), but still seemed to have some kind of life.
We stayed the night with a Palestinian family. I began with perhaps the most stupid question I could have mustered: "Have you ever been to England?" Palestinian women have a way of looking at you that says: "Are you uniquely stupid, or is it a male thing?" But I think I redeemed myself when the baby took a shine to me. Apparently they sometimes ask after Mr Jeremy.
...
In fact, it was hard through all of this not to feel quite useless - which is why I was glad that, back in Jerusalem, I was able to join in with a successful action. I was also heartened that it was organised by Israelis, the Ta'ayush peace group, who booked a convoy of coaches to take medical supplies into the West Bank town of Salfit.
...
This is my favourite part of the film, probably because we did something helpful and practical that involved a direct challenge to the military occupation. Having said that, I am gratingly chirpy at this point in the film. Perhaps, being a middle-aged man on a coach trip, I was impelled to make a daft joke every few seconds. That is tangential to the wider issues, obviously, but I want to make clear that I'm aware of it before anyone sees the film.
...
My four days were up, so I headed home. I had no idea what the film would look like but, having seen it, I'm proud. Not of myself - except as an intriguing study in bewilderment - but of Leila, and of the activists the film shamelessly champions. I'm sure no broadcaster will touch it. I just hope it doesn't spawn the idea for a series called I'm a Celebrity - Evacuate Me.
ab
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