Some things are invisible until pointed out. Take the water tanks peppering the West Bank landscape; large black cylinders towering heavily on buildings and homes. 'That's how you tell between Palestinian villages and Israeli settlements,' a friend points out from the bus.
'The Palestinian homes need water tanks because of restricted water supply from Israel, whereas the settlements don't.' I realise that in all my years living in Israel, travelling these roads, staring at the scenery, I had never noticed the water tanks.
On our next drive to Jerusalem I would point out the water tanks to my mum, who hadn't noticed them either. Why should she? They don't impact Israelis directly, and mean nothing for our daily lives. But to our Palestinian neighbours, the water tanks are integral for survival.
The situation highlights alarming discrimination. According to a 1995 interim water-sharing agreement, Israel is the sole provider of water to Palestine and sells it to them at full price. Palestinians are prevented from maintaining or developing their water infrastructure, including digging wells on their own land.
According to the World Health Organisation the minimum per capita per day water consumption is 100 litres. In the West Bank, Btselem — the Israeli information centre for human rights in the Occupied Territories — provides that the average water consumption for domestic, commercial and industrial use is approximately 79 litres a day. At times, water will be further restricted or cut off.
Compare this with average domestic, commercial and industrial water consumption in Israel, which is 287 liters per person, per day. In settlements, the average water consumption is 369 litres per person per day. We don't need the UN to tell us that access to clean water is a fundamental human right, thus the water situation in Palestine reveals a cruel privileging of one group over another.
As our bus pulls in to the dusty station, I can't get the images of the water tanks out of my mind. I see them everywhere. Later, we drive around with a friend who says she often shares her rationed water with her neighbours. 'For me the water we get is enough, but it's just me living there. My neighbours have children. They need the water to cook, to clean, bathe ... how can you have a family live on that?'
Among the Palestinian villages, enclaves of settlements stand out. Despite their proximity to their Palestinian counterparts, the settlements' red roofs are free from the black blemish of water tanks. They look innocuous, even pleasing. Private homes surrounded by greenery, looking out to scenic views.
"What drives Israelis to settlements is something more basic than ideology: an affordable home."
The settler population is roughly composed of four groups: ultra-Orthodox (approximately 30 per cent), ideological settlers (approximately 30 per cent), quality of life settlers (approximately 30 per cent) and mixed (approximately 10 per cent). These numbers tell a story; for many living in settlements, ideology isn't the driving factor. The Israeli government gives settlers tax benefits, cheap housing and commodities. In other words, what drives Israelis to settlements is something more basic than ideology: an affordable home.
Israel invests more in building housing units in the settlements than inside Israel. A Peace Now 2013 report on the settlements shows that from 2008 to 2013, 17 per cent of the Housing Ministry's housing budget (which is between NIS 350–750 million (AUD $126–270 million) a year), 17 per cent went to the settlements, despite settlers constituting only 4 per cent of the population. That money goes towards construction, discounts on land prices, and preferred mortgage rates. Haaretz columnist Shaul Arieli cites statistics from the Central Bureau of Statistics which show that 'during Netanyahu's 2009-2013 term the number of Israelis living in the West Bank (not including East Jerusalem) grew at an annual rate of 5 per cent — an additional 69,000 people over five years. This rate is almost double the rate for Israel proper.'
For many people, not least Palestinians, settlements are daily reminders of the Israeli government's refusal to commit to the two-state solution. In February 2017, Israel passed the Regularisation Law, which allows Israel to retroactively expropriate private Palestinian land in the West Bank where Israeli outposts or settlements have been built. This is, essentially, land theft.
Driving in my friend's car she points out Psagot, one of those settlements standing on private Palestinian land that is to be expropriated. Across the green hillside from Psagot is Al-Bireh, the Palestinian city where Israel tried to ban the building of a soccer stadium. As the cold winter sun begins to set, our host stretches her arm: 'These are all private Palestinian lands, but Palestinians can't build anything.' There isn't a single person out in the cold street. Meanwhile, the lights go on in Psagot, colouring the homes a warm shade.
Na'ama Carlin holds a PhD in Sociology. A dual Israeli-Australian citizen, she writes about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, ethics, identity, and violence. Follow her @derridalicious
The author would like to acknowledge and thank Ahmed Bishtawi for his assistance in writing this article.
Pictured: A home in al-Bireh contrasted with the settlement of Psagot in the background. Note the water tanks.