Children sit next to a policeman’s equipment near the entrance to the Western Wall. Click the image to view an audio slideshow of Phil Sussman's photographs of Israel in war and peace. |
What began as an exotic summer job — shooting for the Israel-based photo agency Flash 90 — ended up being a crash course in combat journalism. Two weeks after the end of my junior year at Boston University, I took a 12-hour flight from Tampa, Florida, to Jerusalem, where, for about $30 a month I moved into an apartment that provided a bed and not much else. My camera and a supply of fresh batteries would get me through the summer.
Flash 90 was situated in a small office of a local newspaper in the center of Jerusalem. The Western Wall was a 20-minute walk away, and almost every suicide-bombing landmark in the city was nearly a stone’s throw from my building. It didn’t take long to gain experience in the field. On my third day at work, my boss arranged for an Arab freelance photographer to escort me to the West Bank — into the Palestinian territories. That evening, while riding through the town of Abu Dis, we came across a group of Palestinian children playing soccer in front of the highly controversial wall segregating the territories. There I was, an American photographer in the West Bank, surrounded by Palestinian children begging to have their picture taken. I didn’t think it could get any better.
Later in the week, I returned to the West Bank, this time to photograph a protest in the town of Bilin, outside of Ramallah. The demonstration pitted 70 to 80 Palestinians against a string of barbed wire, three Israeli armored vehicles, and several border-patrol units. Most of the photojournalists had staged themselves on a nearby hill, equipped with bulletproof armor and helmets, while I, new to conflict photography, was plain-clothed and camouflaged among the protestors.
As the confrontation escalated, I found myself amid a barrage of smoke grenades intended for the rock-hurling protesters. With minor cuts and bruises, I escaped to the relative safety of the Agence France Press photo office in Ramallah, where I edited photos to the sound of nearby machine-gun fire. I seemed to be the only one in the office who was concerned.
Over time, I became accustomed to life in Israel: almost daily bomb scares, bus-station metal detectors, and ubiquitous soldiers. And yet I discovered the unique, under-publicized aspects of Israeli life as well: I took trips to see the beauty of the country, ate local food, and witnessed numerous protests by Palestinians and Israelis in Jerusalem’s old city, sometimes dodging fruit and even large rocks.
This way of life temporarily receded when, on June 25, an Israeli soldier was kidnapped from an army outpost on the Gaza border. The next day I traveled to the town of Mefalsim, outside of Gaza, to photograph an infantry and artillery staging area — exhilarated by the idea of shooting a scene that the whole world was watching unfold. While editing the day’s photos, I was unaware that the soldiers in my pictures would be involved in a full-scale invasion just hours later.
