For most Israelis disengagement from Gaza is the clear, realistic decision. But for those who live there it symbolizes the beginning of the end of the Zionist endeavor. By Rochelle Furstenberg

 Whether it takes place in 2005 or is postponed in the hopes of a negotiated peace, for the Jews of Gush Katif, the largest group of settlements in the Gaza Strip, the vote brought them one step closer to losing their homes.December 9. Emotions are running high in the palm-tree- and sand-dune-lined towns of Gush Katif. In October 2004, a Knesset majority approved a unilateral disengagement plan—a multistage withdrawal from the Gaza Strip and northern Samaria.

“Why call it disengagement?” asks Danielle Weiss, former head of the Council for Judea and Samaria. “Why not call it by its real name, expulsion—like the Christians threw the Jews out of Spain.” For many settlers from the close-knit communities, it’s a painful uprooting; for others, it symbolizes the end of Zionism.

Despite the turmoil felt by those who live here, Gush Katif looks idyllic. Hothouses for vegetables and flowers extend as far as the eye can see. Of the 1,500 families that live in Gaza, 400 engage in hothouse agriculture. Neve Dekalim is the largest settlement and the Gush’s educational and administrative center. With its green lawns, red-roofed homes and children sauntering between school and the community center for club activities, Neve Dekalim could be any Israeli suburb.

“We’re not only fighting for our own houses,” says Orit Friedman, a music therapist who has lived in Neve Dekalim for 22 years. “If we leave, we’ll break the morale of the whole Jewish people. We’ll weaken our hold on the country.”

“Just as President Bush can’t give up in Iraq, Israel can’t leave Gaza,” says Koby Borenstein, a leader of the antidisengagment campaign. “The Palestinians will feel that terror works. They’ll continue shelling Sderot and other towns. It will enhance global terror.”

“This disengagement is not only about disengagement from Gaza, but about disengagement from the whole land of Israel…and all Jewish history,” says Rabbi Yigal Kaminetzky, spiritual leader of Gush Katif, where he has lived for 25 years.

In contrast to what many people think, Gaza, a strip of land northeast of the Sinai Peninsula that borders on the Mediterranean,is part of the land promised in the Bible to the Israelites and was conquered during Joshua’s time. Jews have history in Gaza—Samson fought the Philistines here; during Roman rule and after the destruction of Jerusalem, Gaza became a pilgrimage site; and later, Shabbetai Zevi declared himself the messiah in a Gaza synagogue. Despite centuries of exile, a small Jewish community remained in Gaza. Because of the area’s strategic position between Africa and Asia, it was constantly being fought over and changing hands. With the Six-Day War in 1967, Gaza came under Israeli control and since then Jews have moved here both for ideological and quality-of-life reasons and because of government benefits aimed at retaining a Jewish stronghold in the area. Today, about 8,000 Jews live in an area that is the center of the Palestinian Authority government and home to over a million Arabs.

Tamar Meir, a woman in her midforties with a traditional scarf around her head, does fund-raising for nonprofit organizations. Her family moved to Neve Dekalim 13 years ago because of its education facilities. “There’s a wonderful community here, and it was affordable,” she says. “But no one would live here if they didn’t agree with the ideology. You have to have a lot of faith.” Meir was once shot at while driving but escaped injury.

Stories of near misses abound, and one cannot help but think that the much used word “miracles” is not exaggerated. Since the beginning of the intifada in 2000, more than 4,700 shells have fallen in Gush Katif. Snipers have shot people on the roads and, consequently, many houses leading to Neve Dekalim have been leveled. “The children talk about it in a very matter-of-fact way,” says Talya Edri, a special-needs kindergarten teacher. “They take their cues from their parents.”

Moshe Chamiel, director of Educational Psychological Services for Gush Katif, sees the intifada as an emergency that’s become “normal.” He feels that the community’s common ideals contribute to its psychological strength. “We deal with the anxieties, children’s fears in the night and, at the same time, create a routine,” he explains.

“The people here are heroes,” says Friedman. “They know how to express positive energies. When someone’s shelled, everyone comes to help, clean up the destruction, bring food.”

Friedman’s sister, Chana Becht, was shot while driving home to Kfar Darom, another Gaza settlement. She became paralyzed from the waist down. “After my sister was shot, I was afraid to go on the roads,” says Friedman. “But I learned courage from her. They rebuilt their home to accommodate her situation. And she just had a baby. We’re not making arrangements to leave Gush Katif. The most practical thing we can do at the moment is fight being uprooted.”

It is precisely the stories of attacks, and the manpower it takes to keep residents safe, that have proven to many Israelis that the situation in Gaza is indefensible.

“Why do they want to live there under such dangerous conditions?” asks Sonia Cohen, a left-wing Jerusalem retiree. “And why should our soldiers be endangered protecting them? A small group of citizens is imposing their views on the rest of us.”

“I am convinced from the bottom of my heart..that disengagement will strengthen Israel, help it to hold onto areas vital to our existence…mitigate the hate, break our isolation and bring peace with the Palestinians and our neighbors,” said Prime Minister Ariel Sharon in a Knesset speech before last October’s vote. “Without power we can’t exist in this area, but we can’t exist by power alone.”

The Disengagement Law, which must pass a second and third vote, explains that in light of the present situation—with the Palestinians unable to be a partner to negotiations—Israel must act unilaterally to improve its security, political, demographic and economic situation. The country must readjust its borders and relocate militarily, even as it retains the right to send soldiers into Gaza if there is a threatening situation. It also retains rights over the airspace and the sea, as well as a bumper zone between Egypt and the Gaza Strip. The law also goes extensively into the creation of mechanisms to help the evacuees, including compensation.

Gush Katif settlers fought vigorously against the ruling. Last summer, they built a human chain throughout the country. Music played from the backs of trucks and young men in blue-and-orange T-shirts carried protest signs.

Yonatan Bassi, from the religious Kibbutz Sdeh Eliahu, is director of the government’s disengagement committee and does not take lightly the pain of the evacuation from homes and farms.

“These people are part of us,” says Bassi, a former director general of the Department of Agriculture. “We must help them. We must embrace them.”

SELA (the Hebrew acronym for Helping Evacuees from Gaza), part of the disengagement committee, is the government administration working on compensation and resettlement and providing for social needs.

Once the Disengagement Law was passed, many residents discussed compensation and the terms of evacuation with lawyers. According to Bassi, at least 2,000 settlers have inquired about early relocation.

Much has also been reported about Gush Katif residents holding out for more money. Some settlers and their lawyers have claimed that the money being offered isn’t sufficient to move homes and businesses, particularly to a place within the borders of Israel proper; the average settler would receive around $200,000 to $300,000 for giving up his home, which includes $30,000 for moving to “preferred areas” like the Negev or the Galil.

“It is not fair to represent these people as Shylocks,” says Haim Altman, Bassi’s assistant. “They are good people in a bad situation…. We are trying to find creative solutions for them. Many want to move as a community. This would make the social and educational transitions easier. There are neighborhoods being built near Ashkelon and villages in the Negev and Galil that could be expanded. It would take too long to build a new settlement.”

“I think that when the Knesset law passes the second and third vote, more people will come forward,” says Bassi, who explains that the goal is to have as few people remaining by the day of evacuation. In a lecture to a kibbutz group reported in the dailyMa’ariv, Bassi explained that the Israel Defense Forces will close off the Gaza Strip in June and evacuations will begin in July and August. People will move to caravans until their new homes are ready. Afterward, the Army will evacuate the settlers from northern Samaria.

The time frame, however, creates many problems. Yehudit Zweig, from the agricultural settlement of Ganei Tal, points out that a hasty departure can ruin them. “We raise geraniums in hothouses and send them to Spain and England,” she says. “If we don’t supply the merchandise next year, we’ll lose clients and have to start over again.”

There’s great concern about the possibility of settler resistance and civil strife. And much has been reported in the media about former chief rabbi Avraham Shapira prohibiting soldiers from removing people from Gaza—though other rabbis, including Shlomo Riskin of Efrat, have ruled that encouraging soldiers to disobey orders is dangerous to Israeli democracy and solidarity.

Orit Friedman lived through the Yamit evacuation, where the approach was to avoid conflict with soldiers. She is hurt by accusations in the press that they will fight the soldiers. “I will not discuss the day of evacuation, since I hope it will not take place,” Friedman says. “But the soldiers are our brothers and all our actions emerge from our sense of the brotherhood of the Jewish people.”

In addition to the fear of losing their homes and livelihood, many Gush Katif residents feel betrayed by the government. “We followed Sharon, and look what he’s doing to us,” says Moshe Weiss, a contractor. “It’s as if you wake up one morning and discover that everything you believed in was a bluff.”

Koby Borenstein feels that a referendum would mitigate settler alienation, but Sharon has rejected the idea. At the same time, many would prefer a negotiated peace agreement with the Palestinians, so withdrawal will not be interpreted as surrender, as it was in Lebanon.

With the death of Palestinian Authority president Yasser Arafat, Sharon might be forced to recognize there is a partner for negotiations, particularly if Mahmoud Abbas becomes Palestinian president in the upcoming PA election. Paradoxically, this might be the miracle the settlers of Gush Katif are waiting for. Negotiations can take a long time and might put off evacuation indefinitely.

And what if they must evacuate? Moshe Chamiel admits that it can be catastrophic for many, undermining their identity and beliefs.

“But they must be helped to see it isn’t the end of their lives,” he says. “They can channel their positive energies into further ideals for the Jewish people.”