An Israeli soldier describes running a West Bank checkpoint.
Excerpt:
The true nature of the soldier’s mission usually dawns upon him
shortly after he arrives on the scene. He might be told, as I was in one
of my first shifts, to close a checkpoint for some reason or other. A
Palestinian child comes by and asks to pass on his way home from school.
When the child discovers the checkpoint is closed and he cannot get
home, he begins to cry. Recalling the freedom and responsibility to
exercise his clear-headed judgment, the soldier decides to let the child
through. A while later, ten crying children come by. They all heard
about a new way to pass through the checkpoint even when it is
officially closed.
At this point, facing the crying children,
the soldier realizes he made a mistake—not because these children are
dangerous, but because he cannot afford to be fooled by ten-year-olds,
or by anyone, for that matter. There cannot be an efficient way to pass
through his checkpoint. Any such way may be used against him, against
his mission. He cannot tell harmless ten-year-olds from ten-year-olds
who were sent to trick him. Everyone should know that at his checkpoint
it is up to him and him alone to decide what will be their fate.
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