Nearly half of those employees live in the Gaza Strip, where the impact is compounded by the especially peculiar norms of economic life there. In the coastal enclave, Israel's grip on the economy looks more like a stranglehold. The Jewish State says it no longer occupies Gaza, having dismantled its settlements and pulled out its troops in 2005. But it continues to control the Strip's boundaries on three sides, enforcing for three years what critics describe as an economic "siege" on the 1.5 million residents after the militant Islamists of Hamas took full control there and captured the soldier Gilad Shalit.
(PHOTOS: The tunnel economy of Gaza.)
After the 2010 flotilla fiasco, Israel was persuaded to loosen up. The best measure of the extent to which it has is the count of trucks allowed to cross into Gaza carrying goods. This autumn, the number was running at 160 per day. That's double the number of a year ago but still far below the 1,000 a day that the Israeli-Palestinian Aix Group reckons would constitute "normal economic activity."
The truly telling stat, however, is how many truckloads of goods are allowed out. By all accounts, the only hope for creating a sustainable Palestinian economy lay in a huge flow of exports. Famously crowded Gaza actually has a fair number of truck farms, and long shipped more than 80% of its vegetables and fruits to Israel and the West Bank. Israel agreed to continue that arrangement after pulling out its troops, negotiating an agreement in 2005 that would permit 400 trucks each day to leave Gaza. As the World Bank's Nigel Roberts put it at the time, perhaps a bit hopefully: "I think the government of Israel understands perfectly well, securing Israel does not mean an impoverished, angry and bitter neighbor. History shows that while prosperity does not guarantee peace, rapid impoverishment guarantees violence."
How many trucks went out last year? All told, 290. That's one-percent of the quota, and all were bound for Europe, including the two trucks of strawberries that went out this week. The other 99 percent may not be what Ghassan Kanafani had in mind when he wrote "The Land of Sad Oranges," but the absence it describes brings into focus the part of this conflict that rarely makes headline but defines everyday life for the four million people under occupation. Sari Bashi, the Israeli activist who runs the Gisha advocacy group, says it also illustrates the Israeli military's determination to isolate Gaza from the West Bank, a policy of enforced separation that goes back to the 1990s, predating the statehood bid, the siege and even the terrifying violence of the Second Intifada, when crossing points frequently came under attack.
"It is not clear how preventing producers in Gaza from selling eggplants, school desks, and oranges to the West Bank enhances Israeli security," Bashi says, "but the ban is clearly harming Palestinians trying to engage in productive, dignified work."
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