By Sheridan Gunderson

It has many names. In Hebrew: “separation wall.” In Arabic: “wall of Apartheid.” In the media: “West Bank barrier,” “security fence,” “Apartheid wall,” or simply, “The Wall.” Whatever you call it, upon completion, it will encircle the West Bank stretching 708 kilometers (440 miles).[1]

Grey concrete slabs eight meters high and three meters thick snake around the landscape, annexing Palestinians from their farmland, communities, and places of work. About 80 percent of Palestinians separated from their land by the wall have not received permits from Israeli authorities to cultivate their fields.[2]

In 2007, the section of the wall in the Palestinian town of Bethlehem attracted the attention of the England-based street artist and political activist known as “Banksy.” He and other graffiti artists transplanted an annual, London-based pop-up art display known as “Santa’s Ghetto” to Bethlehem where Banksy painted four stencils on the wall. Some of the art born out of this project can still be seen today. While other pieces have been painted over, the site remains what could be the world’s largest fluid art installation. Over the course of just a few months in 2021, new art constantly appeared.

The art is cynical, yet hopeful. It depicts the trauma and tragedy of the Palestinians behind the wall through sneering humor and clever, thought-provoking images. It is uncomfortable, dark, and haunting. The symbol of peace carrying an olive branch, sporting a flak jacket, with a target on its chest, for example.

Before the COVID-19 pandemic, tourists, artists, and activists regularly made pilgrimage to the wall to take selfies and buy postcards. But the art isn’t appreciated by everyone. Some locals living the reality of life behind the wall believe such art could make people feel positively towards it. According to one resident from the wall-split town of Abu Dis, “It’s not the graffiti that matters to me. It is the wall that has been affecting my life ever since it was constructed… What can graffiti do about our situation over here? Our rights in this country are gone. No one cares. My family owned a shop in Abu Dis, but we had to rent another in [al’Izariyya] because of the wall.”[3]

Others see it differently. George Hasbun is a Bethlehem restauranteur who has made his own use of the wall by promoting his restaurant menu and souvenir shop on the wall itself. His advertisment reads , “Lifeless and Concrete Stands the Wall—But the Wall Gallery Shines with Soul.”[4] He explains, “Customers come to our restaurant as a way of challenging the wall. They liked the idea of putting a menu on the wall and using humor to defeat it… We put up a screen to show the World Cup. Many local people came to watch the games. Perhaps we will do that again and show something else on the wall.”[5]

When you live behind a wall, you can only see the side you’re on. The revolving door of resistance art plastered on the looming concrete canvas cannot be seen by those living on the other side. But then again, the art is not for them. It’s for the people living behind the wall. There reside the hopeful, disenchanted, activists, scholars, storytellers, day laborers, mothers, fathers, siblings, and infants perched on the laps of their octogenarian grandparents. There are the artists who take to the wall to express themselves and give language through art to the tension around them. They are the mouthpiece for those in their community muted by frustration; those without a platform. This art is for them—a small act of cunning defiance. But it’s also for us, to call attention to injustice, segregation, and illegality on display in the form of towering concrete. 

About the Author

Sheridan Gunderson earned a master’s degree from the University of Oxford where she studied the economic impacts of British khat trade regulation in East Africa. She has conducted ethnographic fieldwork in Maua, Kenya, and continues to examine topics at the intersection of cultural anthropology and international affairs.

Endnotes

1. “Barrier Update: Seven Years after the Advisory Opinion of the International Court of Justice on the Barrier,” The United Nations Office for Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs in the occupied Palestinian territory, July 11, 2011, https://www.ochaopt.org/content/barrier-update-seven-years-after-advisory-opinion-international-court-justice-barrier.

2. “Economic and Social Repercussions of the Israeli Occupation–ESCWA Report,” Question of Palestine, May 2, 2009, https://www.un.org/unispal/document/auto-insert-176979/.

3. Craig Larkin, “Jerusalem’s Separation Wall and Global Message Board: Graffiti, Murals, and the Art of Sumud,” The Arab Studies Journal 22, no. 1, Spring 2014, pp.134–169.

4. Ibid.

5. Ibid.

6. Sam Jones, “Spray Can Prankster Tackles Israel’s Security Barrier,” The Guardian, August 5, 2005, https://www.theguardian.com/world/2005/aug/05/israel.artsnews.

7. David Makovsky, “How to Build a Fence,” Foreign Affairs, January 28, 2009, https://www.foreignaffairs.com/articles/israel/2004-03-01/how-build-fence.

8. “The Humanitarian Impact of the West Bank Barrier on Palestinian Communities,” The United Nations Office for Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs and the United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestine Refugees in the occupied Palestinian territory, March 2005, https://unispal.un.org/UNISPAL.NSF/0/32943465E443DEFE8525700C0066B181.