Where will they live? It is very difficult.
Abaixo das muralhas da Cidade Velha de Jerusalém, famílias palestinianas em al-Bustan, no bairro de Silwan, derrubam as suas próprias casas — não por vontade, mas por cálculo forçado. As autoridades israelitas pretendem construir um parque de temática bíblica, o Jardim do Rei, e a aritmética cruel do sistema deixa aos residentes uma escolha que não é escolha: pagar fortunas em custas judiciais e demolições oficiais, ou empunhar eles próprios a marreta. É uma forma de despossessão que transforma as vítimas em instrumentos da sua própria apagamento, inscrevendo no tempo uma das tensões mais duradouras da história contemporânea.
- Mujahid Badran, pai de três filhos, passou os primeiros dias do Eid al-Adha a demolir a casa que construiu em 2019 — porque era a opção financeiramente menos devastadora.
- A polícia israelita chegou ao local insatisfeita com o ritmo dos trabalhos e ameaçou concluir a demolição por conta própria, forçando Badran a recuar para proteger as casas vizinhas.
- As famílias deslocadas não têm habitação alternativa assegurada, e os filhos nascidos nestas casas enfrentam um futuro sem destino definido.
- O projeto Jardim do Rei representa a fase mais recente de uma campanha prolongada de pressão sobre os residentes palestinianos de al-Bustan, apresentada como iniciativa cultural mas vivida como expulsão.
- O mecanismo em curso é inédito na sua perversidade: o sistema legal torna os próprios residentes agentes da destruição das suas casas, pois é a opção mais barata disponível.
No vale íngreme abaixo das muralhas da Cidade Velha de Jerusalém, o bairro de al-Bustan, em Silwan, está a ser demolido — em parte pelas próprias mãos dos seus habitantes. As autoridades israelitas ordenaram a saída dos residentes para dar lugar ao Jardim do Rei, um parque de temática bíblica. Mas a lógica financeira do processo impõe uma escolha perversa: quem resiste paga fortunas em honorários jurídicos e custas de demolição oficial; quem cede destrói a própria casa e poupa.
Mujahid Badran, 29 anos e pai de três filhos, passou os primeiros dias de um dos feriados mais sagrados do islão a derrubar os 75 metros quadrados que construiu em 2019. Já tinha gasto dezenas de milhares de euros em processos judiciais. A auto-demolição era, pelo menos, uma forma de evitar mais despesas. Mas a polícia israelita apareceu no local, insatisfeita com o ritmo dos trabalhos. Badran parou — não queria que as vibrações danificassem as casas dos vizinhos — e deixou as autoridades concluir o que ele havia começado.
O que o pesava, porém, eram os filhos. Os mais novos nasceram naquela casa. Não há habitação alternativa à espera. Não há plano. "Onde vão viver?" perguntou. "É muito difícil."
Al-Bustan está há anos no centro de uma campanha de pressão sobre os palestinianos desta zona de Jerusalém Oriental. O Jardim do Rei é apresentado como um projeto cultural enraizado na narrativa bíblica, mas para quem ali vive é deslocação com linguagem de património. O que torna este momento singular é o mecanismo: os residentes não são simplesmente expulsos — são transformados em agentes da sua própria despossessão, porque demolir com as próprias mãos é, simplesmente, o que podem pagar.
In a steep ravine below the Old City walls of Jerusalem, the sound of machinery has filled the air for weeks. Bulldozers and demolition equipment have been working the narrow valley that holds the neighborhood of al-Bustan, part of Silwan in East Jerusalem. The residents here have received orders to leave. The reason: the King's Garden, a biblical-themed park that Israeli authorities plan to build on the land. But there is a cruel arithmetic at work. Those forced to go have discovered that demolishing their own homes costs far less than fighting the orders in court and paying for an official demolition.
Mujahid Badran, twenty-nine years old and father of three, spent the first days of Eid al-Adha—one of Islam's holiest celebrations—tearing down the house he had built in 2019. It was a seventy-five-square-meter structure. With help from family members, a sledgehammer, and two pneumatic drills, he began the work himself. The math was brutal: he had already spent tens of thousands of euros on legal fees, court costs, and fines. Self-demolition meant at least avoiding the additional expense of having Israeli authorities do it for him.
But even that choice came with pressure. Last week, Israeli police arrived at the site. They were not satisfied with the pace of the work. "They told me: either you finish this, or we will," Badran explained to the Israeli newspaper Haaretz. He stopped. He did not want the vibrations and debris from the demolition to damage the homes of his neighbors. So he stepped back and let the police finish what he had started.
The weight of what was happening settled on him as he thought about his children. The oldest is old enough to understand. The younger two were born in this house, grew up in these streets. "Where will they live?" he asked. "It is very difficult." There was no alternative housing waiting. No plan for where families like his would go. Just the demolition, the emptying out, and then the park.
The al-Bustan zone has been the focus of an aggressive campaign to remove Palestinian residents from this part of East Jerusalem. Families have been under pressure for years. The King's Garden project represents the latest phase of that pressure. It is presented as a cultural and historical initiative, rooted in biblical narratives about the land. But for the people living there, it is displacement dressed in the language of heritage.
What makes this moment distinct is the mechanism: residents are not simply being evicted. They are being given a choice that is not really a choice. Pay enormous sums to fight in court, or demolish your own home and save money. It is a system that turns residents into agents of their own dispossession. Badran and others like him are not passive victims of demolition. They are active participants in the erasure of their own homes, because that is the cheapest option available to them.
The children born in these houses will grow up elsewhere, if housing can be found. The neighborhood will be transformed. And the machinery in the ravine will continue its work, whether wielded by residents themselves or by the authorities who arrive when residents cannot or will not finish the job.
Citações Notáveis
They told me: either you finish this, or we will. I did not want to risk the neighboring homes, so I let them finish.— Mujahid Badran, Palestinian resident of Silwan
Where will they live? The oldest is aware of everything. They were born and grew up here. It is very difficult.— Mujahid Badran, on his children's future after losing their home
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Why would someone choose to demolish their own home? That seems to require a kind of surrender most people would resist.
Because the alternative is worse. If you refuse, the state demolishes it anyway—and you pay for that demolition. You also pay the legal fees, the court costs, the fines. Self-demolition is the cheapest path through an impossible situation.
So it's a financial trap disguised as a choice.
Exactly. Badran had already spent tens of thousands of euros. At a certain point, you're not choosing demolition—you're choosing which way to lose everything.
And the children. He mentioned his children specifically.
Yes. They were born in that house. They have no other home. There's no relocation plan, no alternative housing. The demolition happens, and then what? That's the part no one answers.
Is this unique to this neighborhood, or is it happening elsewhere in East Jerusalem?
Al-Bustan has been under particular pressure for years, but the pattern repeats across East Jerusalem. It's a slow, grinding process of displacement. The King's Garden is just the latest project that requires the land to be empty.
And the park itself—is it actually being built, or is this about clearing the land?
The park is real. It's framed as a cultural project, rooted in biblical history. But for the people living there, the cultural narrative is secondary to the fact that their homes are being demolished.