The overwhelming impression (on a short and rather limited visit) is a profound sense of dysfunctional stasis.
The economy is in tatters. Only a handful of goods (about 3 dozen) are allowed in by Israel, under strictly limited conditions. Almost everything else—car parts, shoes, cigarettes, livestock, chocolate bars, stationary, bathroom fittings, you name it, for 1.5 million people—comes in through the tunnels. The tunnels, coupled with UN emergency relief, prevents serious malnutrition, effectively providing a sort of safety net for what is in effect a massive case of collective punishment.
As for Hamas, it is certainly deterred from attacking Israel, but is firmly entrenched in power. It does face lively internal debates between Islamist softliners (who believe that Gazans should be largely free to choose more religious or secular lifestyles as a matter of personal choice) and hardliners (who believe that, having won power, the movement should now use that power to assertively transform society). It certainly isn't Iran or Saudi Arabia (yet).
Hamas militants chafe at Israeli deterrent threats, but the movement also feels it has a strong hand in negotiations for the release of prisoners/Shalit.
There are some dangers of the movement being corrupted by the attractions of wealth and power, but to date I've seen little evidence that this has happened in a major way, and certainly not on the scale that it once afflicted Fateh here.
There are also small groups of al-Qaida wannabes, and the danger that disaffected Hamas elements, unhappy with the movement's lack of Islamist radicalism, will join hardline jihadist splinters. On the other hand, Hamas clearly views this as a threat, and responds to the danger with quite forceful suppression of such groups. For much the same reason, we also have a little contingent of Hamas guards outside where I'm staying.
Finally, having come here for years, I am struck by the strikingly inverse correlation between the sophistication of the Israeli side of the Erez crossing point and the state of the "peace process." In the mid-1990s, not long after the establishment of the Palestinian Authority and when political optimism was high, there was almost no crossing at all. (Indeed, my confused taxi driver once turned into an IDF military post by mistake, surprising several sleepy sentries who compensated by pointing rifles at us and shouting in alarm). As the peace process encountered difficulties, a trailer-like portacabin was installed... then, as things grew worse, a few potted plants and signposts. Then it became a slightly larger (but still temporary-looking) structure, at a time when it was becoming harder and harder to enter and exit. Now, it is something akin to a glassy airport terminal.. except that it stands almost empty, since almost no one can use it.
This time, while I was waiting for my preclearance to be cleared (the Israeli end can also be a testament to universality of bureaucracy), I noticed that the handle of the border police officer's exit stamp itself was adorned with a Winnie-the-Pooh sticker. Far from being out of place, this somehow seemed as appropriate as any other recent analysis I knew of the peace process. To quote E. E. Milne:
"I don't see much sense in that," said Rabbit.
"No," said Pooh humbly, "there isn't. But there was going to be when I began it. It's just that something happened to it along the way."
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