“At the moment of executing my mission, it will not be purely to kill Israelis. The killing is not my ultimate goal, though it is part of the equation. My act will carry a message beyond those responsible and the world at large that the ugliest thing is for a human being to be forced to live without freedom.”
Like Yunis, Abu Fatah, his commander, is an educated man – a second year university student in international law. He delivered a brief history of Israeli-Palestinian conflict that culminated in the first Intifada starting in 1987, the Middle East peace process and the second Intifada, which began in September 2000.
He railed against Israeli settlements, political detentions and restrictions on the movements of hundreds of thousands of Palestinians within and between the territories.
After “self-restraint” during the first year of the latest Intifada, he explained, the al-Aqsa Martyrs Brigade – a branch of the Fatah organization of Yasser Arafat, the Palestinian leader – decided to follow the example of the more radical Islamic group, Hamas, and launch suicide attacks. It has no shortage of volunteers.
A specialist unit is responsible for selecting candidates. Anyone under eighteen is rejected, so are married men with children and anyone without a sibling who may be a family’s sole breadwinner.
Those who excel militarily and show steely composure in stressful situations are most likely to be chosen. The young men must be reasonably religious, convinced of the meaning of “martyrdom and jihad (holy war)”. They should also be of a build and shape that will enable them to move easily among Israelis – disguised if necessary in skullcap and wig, with ringlets down the side of the face – as they wait for the moment to strike.
The commander observes candidates over several days as they go about their routine business in public and at home. If the assessment is positive, he informs them of their selection.
An intense twenty-day period of religious study and discussion ensues between the commander and each candidate. Verses from the Koran about a martyr’s attainment of paradise are recited constantly.
The candidate is reminded of the good fortune that awaits him in the presence of prophets and saints, of the unimaginable beauty of the houri, or beautiful young woman, who will welcome him and of the chance he will have to intercede on behalf of seventy loved ones on doomsday. Not least, he is told of the service he will perform for his fellow countrymen with his sacrifice.
“Of course I am deeply saddened when I have to use a suicide attacker. I am very emotional and at times I cry when I say goodbye to them,” the commander said softly. “These men were not found on the streets. These are educated men who under normal circumstances would have the potential of being constructive members of society. If they did not have to carry out such a mission, they could have become a doctor, a lawyer or a teacher.”
Once the bomber’s preparations are complete, he is collected by another member of the unit who accompanies him on the final journey to his target. It is only just before the assault that he is told the details of his operation, whether he will be a bomber or will attack with grenades and guns until he is shot dead.
Ten to fifteen minutes before being dropped at the target, the bomber straps on a hand-tailored vest filled with about ten kilos of explosive and five kilos of nails and metal. He is then given his final instructions about the precise point at which he should detonate himself.
“The less he knows the better for the martyr, since he will not have much time to think of the target nor to experience doubts,” the commander said. A separate unit has the job of finding potential targets for suicide attacks.
Asked whether the recent killings of innocent young civilians by suicide bombers in cafés and restaurants could be condoned, Abu Fatah’s tone hardened. “Do you think when an Israeli tank shells a house it considers whether there are children at home?” he snapped. “There are ugly consequences for both sides in a war.”
Ahmad, the second suicide attacker, has no reservations. A twenty seven-year-old student from the Gaza Strip, he carries the deeds and keys to the family house in Jaffa from which his grandmother was driven when the modern state of Israel was established as a Jewish homeland in 1948.
“My grandmother represented the history of the Palestinian people,” said the quietly-spoken Ahmad, one of eight children who lives with his mother.
“She spoke to us of Jaffa, its grape vines and the seaside. She instilled in us a love for the home we did not know and over many tears recounted old stories of life once upon a time in Palestine.” Ahmad said he fell in love with Jaffa through his grandmother’s tales and longed for the day when he would have a chance to visit the old place. Instead, he grew up in a small concrete house allotted to the family by the United Nations.
He was twelve when the first Intifada began and his anger at what he regarded as the humiliation of his family under occupation eventually made him determined to fight for “dignity”.
“I did not join Fatah to kill. My aim in joining was to try and provide security, if only to my immediate family. Were it not for the occupation, I would not have become a Fatah member in the first place. I let go of my dreams of Jaffa and of ever reclaiming my grandmother’s house. I was never a person who sought to annihilate the Israelis.
“I gave them the land that originally belonged to me but instead of accepting it graciously I found them still seeking to deprive me of the right to live freely and peacefully in my tiny few square metres.”
The failure of the peace process meant “having to live in an area where most of us were denied the ability to move freely,” he said.
“How can I live in a state without sovereignty where I am forced to show an identity card at an Israeli checkpoint for permission to move? They control our electricity and our water supply and our lives, and people still ask why we are rising up.”
A band of fighters gathering around him as he spoke nodded in agreement. “I am committed to carry out a martyr’s mission to show my rejection of being forced to live under this oppression,” he said to cries of “Allah hu akbar (God is greatest).”
“My aim is to prohibit settlers from enjoying their lives here. My aim is to force Israeli checkpoints out of my territory. If they leave in peace, I have no intention of following them into their areas. But if they remain here then I shall use the methods at my disposal to force them out.
“I and many others like me are now prepared and waiting to carry out spectacular attacks against the enemy. We are not afraid and will not cease until they withdraw totally from our areas. You can call us terrorists all you like; but we have faith that justice is on our side and that victory will be ours.”
Religion was a constant topic of conversation throughout the time I spent with the cell. They also watched videos of past “martyrs”, analyzing operations carried out. Casualties were described purely in terms of numbers, without reference to the gender or age of the victims. There was little room here for sentimentality.
They recited the names of all the groups, previous attackers and talked about the “courage” of Mohammed Farhat, nineteen, who infiltrated the Israeli settlement of Gush Katif earlier this month, killing five Israelis before he was gunned down.
A few hours before his attack, he called his mother from his mobile phone to ask her advice. His mother, Um Nidal, told me that she had replied: “Take care, my son, remember God, repeat the verses, pay attention to everything you see, concentrate on the task ahead, pick your moment. May God bless you with success and may you be granted the martyrdom you deserve.
“Be strong, my boy, in this, your first major battle, and remember Allah in every move that you make. Do not hesitate, my boy, and strike as harshly as you can against the enemy.” She then asked