We again encountered the same problem regarding appointments for magnetic cards. Several people told us that they had been unable to obtain appointments through the coordination system. Some of those present were people we had seen on our previous visit, who had been told to return on Monday or Wednesday to arrange an appointment.

There were approximately 15 people waiting. Shlomit tried to persuade the soldier at the service window to allow them in. I remained in the car at first because I was still feeling very weak after having had coronavirus. However, when Shlomit jokingly remarked that they would probably arrest her, I joined her in the hall.

The situation was not particularly serious, but within five minutes three heavily armed soldiers arrived and promptly informed us that we were not permitted to be in the area. As we have done many times over the past 25 years, we explained that we had regularly visited the DCO and that our presence there was not forbidden.

The soldiers asked us to come outside so that they could question us. To their credit, they brought out chairs for us to sit on. The interaction gave me the impression of a “good cop, bad cop” routine. The lieutenant was polite and courteous. One soldier remained largely silent but conveyed an antagonistic attitude, while the third stood aside throughout most of the conversation.

When we explained that Palestinians often pay around 170 shekels for assistance with the magnetic card process and an additional 100 to 200 shekels merely to secure an appointment, the soldiers appeared genuinely surprised. We believe they were unaware of this practice. As is my custom, I recorded the conversation.

The lieutenant immediately contacted his superiors after objecting to the recording and attempting to convince us that it was prohibited. Evidently he was informed that there was no legal basis for such a claim, and the matter was not raised again. The soldiers also stated that we were in a closed military area, but when we asked to see the relevant military order, they were unable to produce one. We were also told that the police had been called, although no police ever arrived.

Two Palestinians explained to the soldiers how they had repeatedly failed to coordinate appointments through the army system. The soldiers largely ignored these complaints.

Meanwhile, Shlomit collected the phone numbers of two of the people waiting. Later, they told her that they had remained until 4:30 p.m. and were then sent away without receiving assistance.

During the time we were present, very few people passed through the magnetic card offices, and we did not see any of those who had been waiting allowed inside. One man exiting the offices later claimed that only a single Palestinian was waiting there.

Although the conversation ultimately ended on a fairly friendly note, the incident seems indicative of the current atmosphere. Almost immediately we were told that we were not permitted in the area, that we were not allowed to record, and that the police had been called. None of these claims was ultimately pursued.

I cannot say there was an atmosphere of overt menace. The soldiers remained polite throughout, particularly the lieutenant. Nevertheless, one is left wondering whether these actions were intended to discourage our presence, intimidate us, or simply keep us “in our place.”

What remains most troubling is the treatment of the Palestinians waiting for service. Many had already made previous visits and still appeared unable to secure appointments. Despite the courteous tone adopted by the soldiers, there was little evidence of any serious effort to assist those waiting. The experience left the impression that the system continues to toy with Palestinians’ lives and livelihoods in a manner reminiscent of a cat playing with a mouse.