At the Western Wall, the plaza of prayer is split by a dividing wall which segregates the sexes, though tourists and worshippers are left to mingle. But one is quickly reminded that this peaceful, irreverent co-existence is illusory. As I stroll atop the ancient ramparts, gazing over the skyline of washing lines, satellite discs and spires, a soldier, lounging in the shade on his iPhone, nonchalantly moves his gun out of the way to let me pass.
To make everyday life tenable, the keys to the church are in the possession of a Muslim family, while a position on the Israeli government is devoted to the church. One might therefore expect the festival to use art as a propaganda tool, for political expedience; I found that it was much more complex β and interesting β than this. In the security queue at Luton Airport, I met a woman travelling to Israel with her teenage daughter, who was tortoise-like beneath a giant backpack and off to join a kibbutz.
Seven weeks of fighting β Israeli bombardment of the West Bank; Palestinian rocket attacks; ground combat β left over 2, people, mostly Palestinians, dead.
Israel claimed that Gazan rocket fire into the country had increased, while Hamas urged the world to pressure Israel into lifting the blockade of the Gaza Strip. Some of the artists and musicians booked to perform in the festival were instead enlisted, and the organisers decided to cancel.
It sold out. Even within the broadest identity-groupings within the city, there are kaleidoscopic variations. These differences are encoded in the rules of language, behaviour, dress, the daily performances which constitute self-definition. All sides agree on its sanctity β there, the prophet Muhammad is said to have leapt over the Dome of the Rock for a nocturnal meeting with God; there stood the Jewish Second Temple, destroyed by the Romans in AD70 and replaced with a shrine to Jupiter, while Christians believe Mary brought Jesus to the mount as a baby β but no-one can agree on how the space should be used now.
