Overcoming Fear while Under Arrest

By Joe Carr

November 5, 2004

The Kiryat Arba Police station is somewhat attractive, built with pretty white Jerusalem stone. The police kept us outside, but it was a beautiful evening and it gave me access to all the stray cats. A small and ragged kitty cautiously approached once I finally convinced her I meant no harm. As soon as she allowed me to pet her she realized I only meant to love, and stuck by me to the end.

The CPT team here has been systematically monitoring the Beit Romano Checkpoint in the Old City of Al Khalil (Hebron) where we live. For two hours each day, we write down how many Palestinians pass by, how many are detained, and for how long, sorting them by age and gender. 75-year-old Kiwi Christina Gibbs and I were out on this day, and a particularly zealous soldier decided he would try and harass us into leaving. He demanded the notebooks and snatched them out of our hands; he even pushed me against the wall and violated strict gender rules by frisking Christina’s pockets. He accused us of monitoring soldier movements for terrorists and got the police to come arrest us.

Throughout the six hours we were held, I tried to remain spiritually centered and not anxious about what would happen next. I reminded myself that if we work for peace and justice, we “will be handed over to the courts and beaten” but that, “when you are arrested, don’t worry about what to say in your defense, because you will be given the right words at the right time…it will not be you doing the talking, but the spirit speaking through you” (Mathew 11:16-20). I wanted my captors to see that I loved them and meant them no physical harm, but that I did wish to challenge the system they serve. Maintaining this balance is as difficult as petting a stray cat. 

There was an extraordinary cast of characters at the police station. My first police interrogator was your classic tough guy, who backed me up against the wall, his face inches from mine as he questioned me. Baby-faced soldiers would pass by, smile, and say “what’s up?”, confused about why I was there but afraid to talk to me. One quite jovial police officer was from Texas, “Occupied territory,” he said, “why aren’t you there defending Mexican rights?” We told him about CPT’s project on the Arizona-Mexico border and briefly discussed the evils of colonialism. Our final police investigator was an older, timid, Libyan Jew who was kind of sweet and had terrible English. It took him 10 minutes just to tell me I didn’t have to answer his questions and that anything I said could be used against me. He let us write our own statements in English, which Israeli authorities rarely allow. Eventually he released us, but not before serving us coffee and chatting with us about his life story.

As I said goodbye to my feline friend, I reflected on our process of showing the police we meant no harm. The each character represented a different stage, from mean to curious to friendly to love. I only hope that Palestinians and Israelis can one day get past their fear, and learn to share affection.

-- Joe Carr - joecarr@riseup.net