REPORTER: Elizabeth Tadic
In East Jerusalem, the residents of Abu Dis struggle to negotiate Israel's unfinished security barrier.
WOMAN, (Translation): It's all for nothing. May God save us. All we have is God.
This scramble is now the easiest way to markets, schools and hospitals, most of which are on the Israeli side.
MOHAMMED DUNEEN, (Translation): Move a little, let me climb up.
Mohammed Duneen is returning from the hospital with his young son. His usual route was blocked by an Israeli army checkpoint.
MOHAMMED DUNEEN, (Translation): Come on, let's go, come on.
When the barrier's finished, residents will have to go via another checkpoint about 3km away. But without the proper ID card, many will be unable to cross. Just 30m down the road a delegation of military attaches from around the world is on a study tour of the barrier. Their host is Asher Ben Artzi, chief superintendent of Israeli police.
ASHER BEN ARTZI, POLICE CHIEF SUPERINTENDENT: Gentlemen, please pay attention. This land is Jerusalem and beyond the wall it's Abu Dis, but this is Jerusalem, until the line of the wall.
Access to this section of Jerusalem will be strictly controlled, as Foreign Ministry spokesman Yitzhak Eldan explains.
YITZHAK ELDAN, FOREIGN MINISTRY SPOKESMAN: So in 7km there will be three gates so that Palestinians will be able to move from one side to the other. Then there will be a control of people who are entering, to prevent terrorists, will not pass through the gates.
To drive home the point, a chilling exhibit has been deposited next to the barrier.
YITZHAK ELDAN: And here you see the bus, which exploded two days ago, by Palestinian terrorists who infiltrated themselves from the part where there was no fence. So that's a problem and we need to complete this fence as soon as possible.
The bus seems to hold a morbid fascination for visitors.
ASHER BEN ARTZI: Suicide bomb is crazy, of course. Typical Palestinian terrorists. He doesn't care.
YITZHAK ELDAN: The Israelis need walls to stop this happening and this is the only guarantee for the future, to build walls of peace and of cooperation.
Israel's wall of peace and cooperation stretches far beyond Abu Dis. The green line marks the armistice line of 1949. The barrier stretches far beyond that, well into the occupied territories. Construction began two years ago and it twists and turns its way around Israeli settlements. About one-quarter of the barrier has already been built. When completed, it will run for approximately 700km.
I'm heading north from Jerusalem to see where the barrier goes through the Palestinian village of Mas Ha. Outside the village, the Israeli army check our IDs before we are allowed to proceed. Just around the corner lives the Amer family. Once part of the Mas Ha, their house is now totally enclosed by the security barrier.
On one side is an 8m-high concrete wall that extends for 40m, cutting them off from their village. On the other three sides is a fence that separates them from the Israeli settlement of Elkana. When the Israeli army came to build the barrier, 46-year-old Hani Amer was told in no uncertain terms that his house was in the way.
HANI AMER, (Translation): I told them there's no need to relocate my house and put the wall there, nor build the wall on the town side, but to build it between me and the settlement. They said the settlers living here wouldn't agree.
Hani says the settlers didn't want the concrete wall near their houses because it would reduce their property values. That's why it was built between his house and his village.
The only concession to Hani's family being totally isolated was a small gate inserted near the wall, but access is heavily restricted.
HANI AMER, (Translation): No-one was allowed to visit us. Not a relative, a brother, a father or a friend. No-one. They told us "You're not allowed to go out except twice a day".
Hani's limited access to his land, now on the other side of the barrier, means he's had to sell his sheep and his chicken farm. Now he relies on casual work.
HANI AMER, (Translation): I have a part-time job a few days a week. It's hard now, I can't always get to work. Sometimes I get there on time, sometimes not at all. I was told that at the end of the month, "You can't work here any more, look for another job".
With no guaranteed income, Hani is forced to rely on the generosity of the villagers to keep his family going. Food is brought to the gate by this young girl, but she's not allowed to enter.
HANI’S WIFE, (Translation): When I look at the wall, I feel the world has ended. It's tragic for me and for my children. They are deprived of going out to playgrounds. They go to school at a certain time and must return at a certain time. It's caused them problems too. That's all, lucky me.
HANI’S SON, (Translation): We stay here all the time. We see nobody and nobody sees us, like in a jail. The wall grabbed the land and grabbed us with it.
The villagers of Mas Ha say they've lost an estimated 97% of their land when the barrier was built. That's caused enormous anger in the village, and this march is to protest that the only access to the land - called a farmers' gate - remains permanently closed.
The villagers are joined by young Israeli activists. They're part of a small but determined minority of Israelis who want the fence torn down. Suddenly, the army shoots into the crowd. One of the activists is hit in the leg and seriously wounded.
ISRAELI ACTIVISTS, (Translation): Call an ambulance now. Get an ambulance. Son of a bitch. See what you've done, ambulance now.
Dogs, go home. Go home. Refuse. Who are you shooting at? Is this security? Shooting at us? Sons of bitches. Murderers, that's what you are.
Are you protecting us? Is that it? Sons of bitches, protecting us, pieces of shit. I hope your children become murderers.
The shooting doesn't deter the activists. Rather, it fires them up even more. The nearby Jewish settlement of Elkana is just a stone's throw from the demonstration, and it's not long before the storming of the fence becomes a hot topic amongst these young students.
STUDENT 1, (Translation): What do you think of those who tried demolishing it?
STUDENT 2, (Translation): That they're out to cause trouble That they really should be detained. That the way the army reacted was very good. Otherwise they would have demolished the fence.
STUDENT 3, (Translation): I don't think the fence is safer for us. It doesn't make us any safer, the fence, that is.
STUDENT 1, (Translation): Why?
STUDENT 3, (Translation): Because it's useless. The Government thinks it's better. They don't live here, they don't know.
STUDENT 1, (Translation): Is it dangerous here?
STUDENT 3, (Translation): No. We have good relations with the neighbouring village. So the fence is useless, it doesn't help us at all. They'll be more eager to come. But there's the fence. But they do it. They wouldn't mind climbing over it. If I want to buy a sheep, it's cheap to buy one from them. In the city, it's really expensive.
STUDENT 4, (Translation): Without the army and the fence, my parents wouldn't let me go out at night. Now they feel safer letting me go out at night.
STUDENT 2, (Translation): We need the fence so nothing happens in the future.
About 30 kilometres from Elkana is a Palestinian city of Qalqiliya. Here the wall runs around the entire city, cutting it off from other Palestinian villages, creating one of many ghettos. This used to be a thriving city, but 4,000 residents have reportedly moved out in search of work. The locals say unemployment is around 65%.
HASSAN HUSSEIN-EL’HAROUF, (Translation): They make it hard so we don't make money. So we get sick of it and leave. But no, we die standing and never kneel. We are staying here, in spite of them.
Hassan Hussein-El'harouf runs a nursery in Qalqiliya. He once employed 40 workers but he's had to lay off half his staff.
HASSAN HUSSEIN-EL’HAROUF, (Translation): They stopped us from selling to Gaza. Because the delivery vehicle has to go through Israel. There are always incursions on the West Bank. The people can hardly afford bread, let alone plants.
Because of the barrier, Hassan Hussain does a lot of driving. Part of his nursery is next to his house,
but the majority now lies on the other side of the wall.
HASSAN HUSSEIN-EL’HAROUF, (Translation): I started to leave my house at 5.30 in the morning to pick up my workers from their home, as you saw, just to lift their morale. I don't want to be sleeping at home while they have to wait at the checkpoints and gates.
It used to take his staff two minutes to get to work, now they have to get through this checkpoint at the farmers' gate and they're never sure when or if they'll reach their destination. The gate is open three times a day for about an hour, and sometimes not at all for what Israel calls "security reasons". Hassan quickly checks on his workers and makes his way back to the checkpoint before it closes for the morning.
SOLDIER, (Translation): What are they filming?
HASSAN HUSSEIN, (Translation): I've lost 40 hectares.
SOLDIER, Translation): You've lost land.
HASSAN HUSSEIN, (Translation): All this is my land 40 hectares, a nursery.
SOLDIER, Translation): But you still own it, right? It's still yours?
HASSAN HUSSEIN, (Translation): I still own it, but it's a problem. The workers used to walk that way, just 2 minutes, and now we have all this.
Hassan is now going back home to pick up his son and other children to drive them to school. He says the barrier is affecting his son.
HASSAN HUSSEIN-EL’HAROUF, (Translation): Because our house is so close to the wall, whenever they think of searches, they come to us. He was asleep, I asked them if I could wake him up. They refused, they wouldn’t even let me in the room. Imagine, a child is sleeping with his parents and his brothers and wakes up to armed Israeli soldiers by his side. A child of seven or eight. This boy, what he saw… or this situation, will he forgive Israel for it? I’m telling you, no. It's them who want him to be a martyr, not me. Wherever we go, the wall is in our faces, here, they’re students. These students, the wall is in their faces. It's a problem. My son, for example, who knows the Jews took his land. Can I guarantee what my son might do? Can I guarantee how he will avenge his father? I can assure you, if there's 5% who are suicide bombers, as they claim, next year there will be 60%.
After talking with Hassan, I went to take more footage of the barrier and came across Fatimi el'Baz. She's worked this land for over half a century and says the war has ruined her once-fertile garden.
FATIMI el’BAZ, (Translation): This is my land, right up to there. Look how the water and snails have ruined this land. Look how the plants are dying, I can hardly believe they are ripening. May you be struck with blindness.
Fatimi once relied on her crops to survive. Now she depends on food aid from the international relief agencies, as do about 90% of families here.
FATIMI, (Translation): Every month they give us some rice, flour, chickpeas, things we never ate before, now we have to eat.
A couple of months after their last protest, the Israeli activists who'd earlier attacked the security fence are at it again. They're heading towards the West Bank for what they hope will be a bigger and better protest in solidarity with the Palestinians. But the Israeli police are several steps ahead of them.
EYAL BEN-GAL, ISRAELI POLICE, (Translation): Shalom, good morning to you all. My name is Eyal Ben-Gal. You can't get into this area. My orders say it's a closed military zone. Look at it, please, that's why you were sent back.
The bus is escorted back down the highway towards Tel Aviv, where the activists make their point outside the Ministry of Defence.
LIAD, ACTIVIST: The wall is being built under the auspices of security and defence, and we want to say that the wall has nothing to do with defence, nor with security, that's why we chose this location.
Amid the protest, one elderly demonstrator stands out. This is Zvi Ginsberg. He is defending the barrier.
ZVI GINSBERG: I came here about, I think it was 1 o'clock when they start arrive here. I was sure they're going to support me. They say, "No, against it entirely."
Every time there's a suicide bombing, Ginsberg comes out to protest. He believes the fence, or 'gader' in Hebrew, is being built far too slowly.
ZVI GINSBERG: If there would be a gader three years ago, hundreds of Jewish people that were killed would be alive. The gader is the most important thing today for the state of Israel.
Ginsberg is certainly pro-barrier. In fact, he even helped build part of it, as these pictures on his placard show. But I soon learn he's not, as the demonstrator said, a radical rightist. In fact, he's opposed to Israel's occupation of Palestinian land and he says the fence should have been built along the green line and not in the occupied territories.
ZVI GINSBERG: If they would build it on the green line, believe me, there would be no protest, not in Hague, not in United Nation, not in Israel and these guys wouldn't demonstrate.
Zvi invites me back to his house to meet his wife, Ruth.
RUTH GINSBERG: He protests for all sorts of things. He lives every minute - there's not a television program where he doesn't sit here and watch the program and he writes little notes and then he writes to the commentators and to the politicians about all sorts of things.
ZVI GINSBERG: And I get answers.
RUTH: Sometimes he gets answers.
ZVI GINSBERG: They don't agree with me but they answer me.
RUTH: Sometimes he gets answers, but that's what keeps him going.
NEWS BULLETIN: When there is a Jewish state that fights back against these terrorists and is building a fence, for God's sake, a fence to keep out these killers, from blowing up... That's what I am demonstrating. The Hague and the European Court is taking us to dock. I mean have they learned nothing from history?
REPORTER: Do you support the wall?
RUTH GINSBERG: Definitely. Only it's going much too slowly.
ZVI GINSBERG: What?
RUTH GINSBERG: The building of the wall. The building of the wall over there, a gader, a gader! The fence. In parts it's a wall, you just saw here. In parts it's a wall and in parts it's a fence.
ZVI GINSBERG: We'll take it off, like he said, like Netanyahu said. It will be peace. There's no reason to keep that. The wall is no reason to keep the fence.
Whilst Zvi doesn't see the barrier staying forever, he's typical of many Israelis who put the security of Israel above all else.
ZVI GINSBERG: For security, not for peace, I don't believe in the word 'peace'.
But back in Mas Ha, security has ruined Hani Amer's life. And he's dreaming of a world without barriers.
HANI AMER, (Translation): I think the time of walls has long gone. Not only the Germans expected the Berlin Wall to be the last wall, but the whole world expected that the era of blocks and walls separating people has also gone. They should build relationships and bridges to enhance cooperation and love amongst people instead of building a wall.
In East Jerusalem, the residents of Abu Dis struggle to negotiate Israel's unfinished security barrier.
WOMAN, (Translation): It's all for nothing. May God save us. All we have is God.
This scramble is now the easiest way to markets, schools and hospitals, most of which are on the Israeli side.
MOHAMMED DUNEEN, (Translation): Move a little, let me climb up.
Mohammed Duneen is returning from the hospital with his young son. His usual route was blocked by an Israeli army checkpoint.
MOHAMMED DUNEEN, (Translation): Come on, let's go, come on.
When the barrier's finished, residents will have to go via another checkpoint about 3km away. But without the proper ID card, many will be unable to cross. Just 30m down the road a delegation of military attaches from around the world is on a study tour of the barrier. Their host is Asher Ben Artzi, chief superintendent of Israeli police.
ASHER BEN ARTZI, POLICE CHIEF SUPERINTENDENT: Gentlemen, please pay attention. This land is Jerusalem and beyond the wall it's Abu Dis, but this is Jerusalem, until the line of the wall.
Access to this section of Jerusalem will be strictly controlled, as Foreign Ministry spokesman Yitzhak Eldan explains.
YITZHAK ELDAN, FOREIGN MINISTRY SPOKESMAN: So in 7km there will be three gates so that Palestinians will be able to move from one side to the other. Then there will be a control of people who are entering, to prevent terrorists, will not pass through the gates.
To drive home the point, a chilling exhibit has been deposited next to the barrier.
YITZHAK ELDAN: And here you see the bus, which exploded two days ago, by Palestinian terrorists who infiltrated themselves from the part where there was no fence. So that's a problem and we need to complete this fence as soon as possible.
The bus seems to hold a morbid fascination for visitors.
ASHER BEN ARTZI: Suicide bomb is crazy, of course. Typical Palestinian terrorists. He doesn't care.
YITZHAK ELDAN: The Israelis need walls to stop this happening and this is the only guarantee for the future, to build walls of peace and of cooperation.
Israel's wall of peace and cooperation stretches far beyond Abu Dis. The green line marks the armistice line of 1949. The barrier stretches far beyond that, well into the occupied territories. Construction began two years ago and it twists and turns its way around Israeli settlements. About one-quarter of the barrier has already been built. When completed, it will run for approximately 700km.
I'm heading north from Jerusalem to see where the barrier goes through the Palestinian village of Mas Ha. Outside the village, the Israeli army check our IDs before we are allowed to proceed. Just around the corner lives the Amer family. Once part of the Mas Ha, their house is now totally enclosed by the security barrier.
On one side is an 8m-high concrete wall that extends for 40m, cutting them off from their village. On the other three sides is a fence that separates them from the Israeli settlement of Elkana. When the Israeli army came to build the barrier, 46-year-old Hani Amer was told in no uncertain terms that his house was in the way.
HANI AMER, (Translation): I told them there's no need to relocate my house and put the wall there, nor build the wall on the town side, but to build it between me and the settlement. They said the settlers living here wouldn't agree.
Hani says the settlers didn't want the concrete wall near their houses because it would reduce their property values. That's why it was built between his house and his village.
The only concession to Hani's family being totally isolated was a small gate inserted near the wall, but access is heavily restricted.
HANI AMER, (Translation): No-one was allowed to visit us. Not a relative, a brother, a father or a friend. No-one. They told us "You're not allowed to go out except twice a day".
Hani's limited access to his land, now on the other side of the barrier, means he's had to sell his sheep and his chicken farm. Now he relies on casual work.
HANI AMER, (Translation): I have a part-time job a few days a week. It's hard now, I can't always get to work. Sometimes I get there on time, sometimes not at all. I was told that at the end of the month, "You can't work here any more, look for another job".
With no guaranteed income, Hani is forced to rely on the generosity of the villagers to keep his family going. Food is brought to the gate by this young girl, but she's not allowed to enter.
HANI’S WIFE, (Translation): When I look at the wall, I feel the world has ended. It's tragic for me and for my children. They are deprived of going out to playgrounds. They go to school at a certain time and must return at a certain time. It's caused them problems too. That's all, lucky me.
HANI’S SON, (Translation): We stay here all the time. We see nobody and nobody sees us, like in a jail. The wall grabbed the land and grabbed us with it.
The villagers of Mas Ha say they've lost an estimated 97% of their land when the barrier was built. That's caused enormous anger in the village, and this march is to protest that the only access to the land - called a farmers' gate - remains permanently closed.
The villagers are joined by young Israeli activists. They're part of a small but determined minority of Israelis who want the fence torn down. Suddenly, the army shoots into the crowd. One of the activists is hit in the leg and seriously wounded.
ISRAELI ACTIVISTS, (Translation): Call an ambulance now. Get an ambulance. Son of a bitch. See what you've done, ambulance now.
Dogs, go home. Go home. Refuse. Who are you shooting at? Is this security? Shooting at us? Sons of bitches. Murderers, that's what you are.
Are you protecting us? Is that it? Sons of bitches, protecting us, pieces of shit. I hope your children become murderers.
The shooting doesn't deter the activists. Rather, it fires them up even more. The nearby Jewish settlement of Elkana is just a stone's throw from the demonstration, and it's not long before the storming of the fence becomes a hot topic amongst these young students.
STUDENT 1, (Translation): What do you think of those who tried demolishing it?
STUDENT 2, (Translation): That they're out to cause trouble That they really should be detained. That the way the army reacted was very good. Otherwise they would have demolished the fence.
STUDENT 3, (Translation): I don't think the fence is safer for us. It doesn't make us any safer, the fence, that is.
STUDENT 1, (Translation): Why?
STUDENT 3, (Translation): Because it's useless. The Government thinks it's better. They don't live here, they don't know.
STUDENT 1, (Translation): Is it dangerous here?
STUDENT 3, (Translation): No. We have good relations with the neighbouring village. So the fence is useless, it doesn't help us at all. They'll be more eager to come. But there's the fence. But they do it. They wouldn't mind climbing over it. If I want to buy a sheep, it's cheap to buy one from them. In the city, it's really expensive.
STUDENT 4, (Translation): Without the army and the fence, my parents wouldn't let me go out at night. Now they feel safer letting me go out at night.
STUDENT 2, (Translation): We need the fence so nothing happens in the future.
About 30 kilometres from Elkana is a Palestinian city of Qalqiliya. Here the wall runs around the entire city, cutting it off from other Palestinian villages, creating one of many ghettos. This used to be a thriving city, but 4,000 residents have reportedly moved out in search of work. The locals say unemployment is around 65%.
HASSAN HUSSEIN-EL’HAROUF, (Translation): They make it hard so we don't make money. So we get sick of it and leave. But no, we die standing and never kneel. We are staying here, in spite of them.
Hassan Hussein-El'harouf runs a nursery in Qalqiliya. He once employed 40 workers but he's had to lay off half his staff.
HASSAN HUSSEIN-EL’HAROUF, (Translation): They stopped us from selling to Gaza. Because the delivery vehicle has to go through Israel. There are always incursions on the West Bank. The people can hardly afford bread, let alone plants.
Because of the barrier, Hassan Hussain does a lot of driving. Part of his nursery is next to his house,
but the majority now lies on the other side of the wall.
HASSAN HUSSEIN-EL’HAROUF, (Translation): I started to leave my house at 5.30 in the morning to pick up my workers from their home, as you saw, just to lift their morale. I don't want to be sleeping at home while they have to wait at the checkpoints and gates.
It used to take his staff two minutes to get to work, now they have to get through this checkpoint at the farmers' gate and they're never sure when or if they'll reach their destination. The gate is open three times a day for about an hour, and sometimes not at all for what Israel calls "security reasons". Hassan quickly checks on his workers and makes his way back to the checkpoint before it closes for the morning.
SOLDIER, (Translation): What are they filming?
HASSAN HUSSEIN, (Translation): I've lost 40 hectares.
SOLDIER, Translation): You've lost land.
HASSAN HUSSEIN, (Translation): All this is my land 40 hectares, a nursery.
SOLDIER, Translation): But you still own it, right? It's still yours?
HASSAN HUSSEIN, (Translation): I still own it, but it's a problem. The workers used to walk that way, just 2 minutes, and now we have all this.
Hassan is now going back home to pick up his son and other children to drive them to school. He says the barrier is affecting his son.
HASSAN HUSSEIN-EL’HAROUF, (Translation): Because our house is so close to the wall, whenever they think of searches, they come to us. He was asleep, I asked them if I could wake him up. They refused, they wouldn’t even let me in the room. Imagine, a child is sleeping with his parents and his brothers and wakes up to armed Israeli soldiers by his side. A child of seven or eight. This boy, what he saw… or this situation, will he forgive Israel for it? I’m telling you, no. It's them who want him to be a martyr, not me. Wherever we go, the wall is in our faces, here, they’re students. These students, the wall is in their faces. It's a problem. My son, for example, who knows the Jews took his land. Can I guarantee what my son might do? Can I guarantee how he will avenge his father? I can assure you, if there's 5% who are suicide bombers, as they claim, next year there will be 60%.
After talking with Hassan, I went to take more footage of the barrier and came across Fatimi el'Baz. She's worked this land for over half a century and says the war has ruined her once-fertile garden.
FATIMI el’BAZ, (Translation): This is my land, right up to there. Look how the water and snails have ruined this land. Look how the plants are dying, I can hardly believe they are ripening. May you be struck with blindness.
Fatimi once relied on her crops to survive. Now she depends on food aid from the international relief agencies, as do about 90% of families here.
FATIMI, (Translation): Every month they give us some rice, flour, chickpeas, things we never ate before, now we have to eat.
A couple of months after their last protest, the Israeli activists who'd earlier attacked the security fence are at it again. They're heading towards the West Bank for what they hope will be a bigger and better protest in solidarity with the Palestinians. But the Israeli police are several steps ahead of them.
EYAL BEN-GAL, ISRAELI POLICE, (Translation): Shalom, good morning to you all. My name is Eyal Ben-Gal. You can't get into this area. My orders say it's a closed military zone. Look at it, please, that's why you were sent back.
The bus is escorted back down the highway towards Tel Aviv, where the activists make their point outside the Ministry of Defence.
LIAD, ACTIVIST: The wall is being built under the auspices of security and defence, and we want to say that the wall has nothing to do with defence, nor with security, that's why we chose this location.
Amid the protest, one elderly demonstrator stands out. This is Zvi Ginsberg. He is defending the barrier.
ZVI GINSBERG: I came here about, I think it was 1 o'clock when they start arrive here. I was sure they're going to support me. They say, "No, against it entirely."
Every time there's a suicide bombing, Ginsberg comes out to protest. He believes the fence, or 'gader' in Hebrew, is being built far too slowly.
ZVI GINSBERG: If there would be a gader three years ago, hundreds of Jewish people that were killed would be alive. The gader is the most important thing today for the state of Israel.
Ginsberg is certainly pro-barrier. In fact, he even helped build part of it, as these pictures on his placard show. But I soon learn he's not, as the demonstrator said, a radical rightist. In fact, he's opposed to Israel's occupation of Palestinian land and he says the fence should have been built along the green line and not in the occupied territories.
ZVI GINSBERG: If they would build it on the green line, believe me, there would be no protest, not in Hague, not in United Nation, not in Israel and these guys wouldn't demonstrate.
Zvi invites me back to his house to meet his wife, Ruth.
RUTH GINSBERG: He protests for all sorts of things. He lives every minute - there's not a television program where he doesn't sit here and watch the program and he writes little notes and then he writes to the commentators and to the politicians about all sorts of things.
ZVI GINSBERG: And I get answers.
RUTH: Sometimes he gets answers.
ZVI GINSBERG: They don't agree with me but they answer me.
RUTH: Sometimes he gets answers, but that's what keeps him going.
NEWS BULLETIN: When there is a Jewish state that fights back against these terrorists and is building a fence, for God's sake, a fence to keep out these killers, from blowing up... That's what I am demonstrating. The Hague and the European Court is taking us to dock. I mean have they learned nothing from history?
REPORTER: Do you support the wall?
RUTH GINSBERG: Definitely. Only it's going much too slowly.
ZVI GINSBERG: What?
RUTH GINSBERG: The building of the wall. The building of the wall over there, a gader, a gader! The fence. In parts it's a wall, you just saw here. In parts it's a wall and in parts it's a fence.
ZVI GINSBERG: We'll take it off, like he said, like Netanyahu said. It will be peace. There's no reason to keep that. The wall is no reason to keep the fence.
Whilst Zvi doesn't see the barrier staying forever, he's typical of many Israelis who put the security of Israel above all else.
ZVI GINSBERG: For security, not for peace, I don't believe in the word 'peace'.
But back in Mas Ha, security has ruined Hani Amer's life. And he's dreaming of a world without barriers.
HANI AMER, (Translation): I think the time of walls has long gone. Not only the Germans expected the Berlin Wall to be the last wall, but the whole world expected that the era of blocks and walls separating people has also gone. They should build relationships and bridges to enhance cooperation and love amongst people instead of building a wall.