Behind the barrier

When Ariel Sharon replaced Mr. Barak in March 2001, he inherited the project but had little enthusiasm for it. Right-wing Israelis, particularly settlers living in the West Bank, were worried the barrier would entrench the Green Line as the border.

But a steady barrage of suicide bombings - 42 from March 2001 to March 2002 - and strong public support for the barrier - shifted the tide. Settlers didn't want to pit themselves against the general public and fell in line behind the barrier. However, they planned to make changes.

In April 2002, the government tapped the Ministry of Defense to oversee the project, and in August the first bulldozers bit into the earth.

What are they building is not strictly a fence, the word Israelis prefer, and only five miles of the completed 87-mile northern section is a wall, the term Palestinians use. Every few miles, there will be gates to allow farmers access to their lands. If a farmer like Ramsi couldn't get through his gate and decided to cross illegally, he would face a formidable challenge.

He would have to scale a 6-foot-high pyramid of coiled razor wire; clamber through an 8-foot ditch; cross an army patrol path, then climb a 10-foot-high fence, avoiding its intrusion-detection sensors. Around Qalqilya, concrete walls stand 26-feet high.

Once on the other side, he would land in a sea of sand meant to capture his footprints. Then, the remaining hurdles: a patrol road wide enough for a tank, another sand trap, another razor-wire pyramid, surveillance cameras, and, every few miles, a manned sniper tower.

Officials describe the barrier as an interim security measure meant to stand until conditions are sufficiently peaceful. Palestinians and Israelis alike question who would spend $2 million per half mile on a temporary fixture. Netzah Mashiah, director of the Seamline Project Administration in charge of the barrier, told Ha'aretz newspaper in May that "politicians found a formula, but I believe the fence will be the border." Settlers thought so too. Loathe to be on the "wrong" side of the barrier, they began lobbying to be on its western flank.

As mustard-yellow earth graders began leveling hills for the northern section, Palestinians watched the barrier swerve east of the Green Line, ever deeper into the West Bank's most fertile land. The 5,000-strong settlement of Alfe Menashe, just east of Qalqilya, was going to be east of the fence until its leader Eliezer Hasdai took action. Now, the barrier does a double loop, enclosing Qalqilya to the north, snaking in some 4 miles to embrace Alfe Menashe along with a substantial amount of Palestinian land.

Then it curves back out toward the Green Line, shutting the Palestinian town of Habla off from Israel and from Qalqilya, its economic hub.

Mr. Hasdai told Israeli journalist Meron Rappaport that "we've moved the Green Line." Americans will now have to decide whether politics or security concerns prompted that move, and indeed, much of the barrier's path.

White House spokesman Scott McClellan said Tuesday that no decision has been made "at this stage" about the State Department's suggestion to dock the $9 billion in loan guarantees the US is extending Israel this year.

Under the loan guarantee agreement, the US is committed to cutting the equivalent of any money Israel derives from the guarantees and then invests in the Palestinian territories for purposes other than security.

Some observers think there's little ambiguity. "It is clear to everyone that [the barrier route] is a political line behind which there is a political outlook," David Levy, head of the settlers' Jordan Valley Council, told Ha'aretz in May.

No one yet knows what the completed barrier will look like. The Ministry of Defense planners are still mulling its final route. Even so, environmental groups, among others, have assembled maps based on government statements, media leaks, information from contractors, settler maps produced with defense ministry support, and land confiscation orders.

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