The protests in Israel against the judicial overhaul are gathering momentum; every week, they grow larger and not just in the big cities - Tel Aviv, Jerusalem and Haifa - but in towns and villages all over the country. They were first held on Saturday evenings (after the Jewish sabbath ends), but now they’re intensifying with crowds gathering mid-week, at noon, in the commercial heart of Tel Aviv.
I’m a freelancer and usually work from home so even though I’m quite busy, I can take time off periodically to demonstrate. Some in Israel, who oppose our taking to the streets, have remarked that people like me are ‘spoiled anarchists’.
It’s truly laughable.
Not only am I anything but spoiled (I’ve worked my entire life and could have had a much easier existence, had I not chosen to move to Israel) the idea that I have nothing better to do with my time than to take to the streets twice weekly is absurd.
But there you are.
I guess it’s evidence of the deep fault lines in the country these days.
A ‘Day of Disruption’ is called on 1st March and I’m prepared.
At 11am, I put on comfy shoes, ensure my phone is charged, pack a big bottle of water (it’s a hot day) and some fruit, pick up my flag and head out the door to Kaplan Street (the centre of the action).
As I walk from one end of the street to the other (heading towards the commercial district, the train station and the highways) it’s clear this is going to be quite a protest.
The sidewalks are filling up and the heat is rising. I take a swig of my water. By the time I’ve arrived at the overhead bridge where the ‘HaShalom’ railway station is, I can see just how many people are here.
And it’s being taken seriously by the media too. It’s being live streamed on national TV - so millions of people around the country (and the world) are watching us in real time. I’d say the mood is less confrontative than violent. We are taking advantage of our right to protest, to speak our minds, to convey our dismay at what we see are attempts to crush democracy and dissent and shackle our courts.
So many people have shown up that the main streets are now overflowing. And then - suddenly - I see police on horseback arriving and many reinforcements behind them, on the ground.
They are trying to move us on and we don’t want to comply. Sure, there are blocked roads, but isn’t that par for the course on a ‘Day of Disruption?’ The whole point of the protest is to disrupt - and motorists were given plenty of advance warning to avoid this area.
I feel rising tension. It’s hot and sticky and suddenly the air is charged. Then, out of nowhere, I see horses charging towards protestors and hear an enormous ‘bang’ about 100 metres from me (yes, really that close). People are screaming, yelling, running for cover. It transpires that a cop has thrown a stun grenade into the crowd (without permission) and it’s hit someone on the side of his face - his ear.
Then I see a protester with his flag being thrown to the ground by four or five officers, who quickly cuff him and bundle him into a van with blacked-out windows. Along with a few others, I press ‘record’ on my phone because this needs to be filmed. Everywhere I look I now see uniforms - more and more bodies are being brought in to deal with us. Protestors are trying to get close to the van where arrestees are being taken but the police are cordoning it off. Shouts of ‘Shame’ fill the air.
And then there is a surge of police activity - linking arms, they rush towards us, semi-deliberately I’d say, ostensibly to move us away from the van but…well, from where I’m standing, it looks like they’re out for a confrontation. Another woman is dragged away and I move my camera in her direction.
Before I know it, a cop charges towards me and I’m on the ground, my phone flying out of my hand. I land on my left shoulder - hard.
A guy next to me runs to me, asking if I’m ok. A woman tries to pick me up. A third protestor scrabbles around on the ground, trying to retrieve my phone.
They pull me up, gently, but pain is coursing down my arm. Quickly afterwards, I’m treated at a first-aid station and given water. I’m sure nothing is broken - I’m more shocked than anything else.
A woman next to me has a bloody arm and I notice a young guy has a cut on his face.
And, of course, there’s the unfortunate protester who was hit by a stun grenade (I will find out later that part of his ear was torn off and had to be stitched back on by surgeons at nearby Ichilov hospital). Apparently, he will lose some hearing in the ear.
It’s 3pm and I’m exhausted, bruised and overwhelmed. I can’t get a bus or cab home because the roads are clogged up, so I begin trudging north on foot, now feeling very dehydrated. The phone rings and it's good friends of mine. They’ve been watching on tv and tell me to come over for some TLC.
An hour later, I’m sitting in their living room with a cup of tea, trying to make sense of everything I just witnessed.
“This is only going to get worse” says one, to his husband and me. And the two of us nod our heads in agreement. It’s surely going to get worse.
To be continued…