choosing between suicide or being murdered
Em Jerusalém, famílias palestinianas no bairro de Al-Bustan, em Silwan, destroem as próprias casas com as próprias mãos — não por vontade, mas por cálculo forçado: a alternativa é pagar dez vezes mais para que as autoridades israelitas o façam. Por detrás de cada demolição está uma ordem judicial, um projeto turístico contestado e uma comunidade de 1.500 pessoas que enfrenta o apagamento sistemático do lugar onde sempre viveu. É a aritmética da expulsão, traduzida em entulho.
- Durante o feriado de Eid al-Adha, pelo menos sete ordens de demolição chegaram ao bairro de Al-Bustan — um calendário que parece calculado para esmagar as famílias no momento em que deveriam estar reunidas.
- A escolha imposta é cruel na sua precisão: demolir a própria casa ou deixar que as autoridades o façam e cobrem o preço total, destruindo tudo o que encontrarem pelo caminho.
- Mais de cinquenta ordens foram emitidas em dois anos, e o ritmo acelera à medida que avança o projeto 'Jardins do Rei' — um parque temático construído sobre reivindicações históricas que os próprios arqueólogos israelitas contestam.
- Pelo menos cinquenta pessoas ficaram sem abrigo nas demolições mais recentes, entre elas crianças e idosos, enquanto toda a comunidade de 115 casas permanece sob ameaça de expulsão total.
- A ONU e a União Europeia já condenaram as práticas como violações do direito internacional, mas a maquinaria do desalojamento continua — as casas viram escombros, as famílias dispersam-se.
No bairro de Al-Bustan, em Silwan, Jerusalém, Mujahid Badran passou o feriado de Eid al-Adha a demolir a própria casa com martelos pneumáticos. Tem vinte e nove anos, três filhos, e fez as contas: destruir o que construiu custa um décimo do que a municipalidade cobraria para o fazer. Jalal al-Tawil enfrentou o mesmo dilema. A casa fora erguida pelo pai no lugar onde os avós tinham vivido. Para a remover, teve de arrancar uma videira de trinta e cinco anos que alimentara o bairro durante décadas. Disse que escolher entre demolir a própria casa ou deixar as autoridades fazê-lo era como "escolher entre o suicídio e ser assassinado".
Estas demolições fazem parte de uma vaga que abrange todo o bairro de Al-Bustan. Mais de cinquenta ordens foram emitidas nos últimos dois anos, e o ritmo acelera. O objetivo declarado é libertar terreno para um parque temático chamado "Jardins do Rei", integrado no projeto Cidade de David — uma iniciativa assente em reivindicações sobre a presença judaica antiga em Jerusalém que arqueólogos israelitas contestam.
As famílias recebem três dias para demolir as suas casas. A ordem chega frequentemente no primeiro dia de um feriado importante. Se recusarem, as forças israelitas demolem e cobram o custo total, levando tudo consigo. A isso somam-se as despesas legais e a urgência de encontrar outro lugar para viver. As demolições mais recentes deixaram pelo menos cinquenta pessoas sem abrigo, entre elas crianças e idosos.
Al-Bustan tem cento e quinze casas e cerca de 1.500 residentes. A comunidade inteira está ameaçada. Algumas das casas foram construídas antes de 1967, antes da ocupação israelita. As famílias guardam documentos do período do Mandato Britânico e da administração jordana. Ainda assim, a municipalidade de Jerusalém alega falta de licença. As organizações de direitos humanos documentaram há anos que os palestinianos raramente as obtêm: em 2025, apenas sete por cento das aprovações de construção na cidade foram atribuídas a residentes palestinianos, que representam quarenta por cento da população.
A ONU já classificou as demolições e expulsões em Silwan como violações do direito internacional. No final de maio, a União Europeia apelou a Israel para que pusesse fim a estas práticas. A videira foi arrancada. As casas são escombros. As famílias estão dispersas.
In the Al-Bustan neighborhood of Silwan, in Jerusalem, Palestinian families have begun tearing down their own homes with their own hands. They do this not out of choice, but because a court has ordered the structures demolished, and they have calculated that destroying what they built themselves costs roughly one-tenth of what the municipality would charge to do it. The mathematics of dispossession, rendered concrete.
Mujahid Badran, twenty-nine, works as a transport inspector and father of three. During the Eid al-Adha holiday last week—a time when families gather—he was outside his house with pneumatic hammers and a sledgehammer, methodically reducing it to rubble. "I am demolishing, with my own hands, everything I worked for," he told the Israeli newspaper Haaretz. Jalal al-Tawil faced the same calculus. His father had built the house on the site where his grandparents once lived. Among the structures he had to remove was a grapevine, thirty-five years old, that had fed the neighborhood with fruit each season. He hired a tractor to tear it out. The choice between demolishing his own home or letting Israeli authorities do it felt to him like "choosing between suicide or being murdered." If the authorities came, he said, they would ransack everything and leave chaos behind.
These two demolitions are among dozens ordered by courts for the Al-Bustan area. During the Eid holiday alone, at least seven demolition orders arrived. Over the past two years, more than fifty have been issued. The pace is accelerating. The stated purpose is to clear land for a theme park called "The King's Gardens," part of a larger development called the City of David—a project built on a historical claim about the ancient Jewish presence in Jerusalem that even Israeli archaeologists dispute.
Journalist Mahmoud Awadallah, himself from Jerusalem and with relatives facing these orders, described the mechanics to Haaretz: families receive three days to demolish their homes. The order often arrives on the first day of a major holiday. If they refuse, Israeli forces will demolish the structures and bill the families for the cost. The demolitions are expensive. They are also only one part of the financial burden. Families must also pay for legal battles over their homes and scramble to find somewhere else to live. The most recent wave of demolitions has left at least fifty people homeless, among them children and elderly residents.
The neighborhood itself—Al-Bustan—contains one hundred fifteen homes and roughly fifteen hundred residents. The entire community is under threat. Aviv Tatarsky, from the human rights organization Ir Amin, told the news site +972: "There is an entire community about to be expelled." The homes are not new structures built on a whim. Some were constructed before 1967, before Israel occupied this territory. Families possess documents from the British Mandate period, from Jordanian authorities, and from the present day. Yet the Jerusalem Municipality claims Badran's house was built without a permit. Palestinians rarely receive building permits in Jerusalem, according to human rights organizations that have documented this pattern for years. In 2025, only seven percent of construction approvals in the city went to Palestinian residents, despite Palestinians making up forty percent of the population.
In other parts of Silwan, the homes of expelled Palestinian families have been occupied by settlers. The United Nations has already described the demolitions and expulsions in Silwan as violations of international law. In late May, the European Union called on Israel to "end these practices and fulfill its obligations under international law." The machinery of displacement continues. The grapevine is gone. The houses are rubble. The families are scattered.
Notable Quotes
I am demolishing, with my own hands, everything I worked for.— Mujahid Badran, 29, transport inspector
Choosing between demolishing his own home or letting authorities do it felt like choosing between suicide or being murdered.— Jalal al-Tawil, homeowner in Silwan
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why would someone choose to demolish their own home rather than let authorities do it?
Because the cost difference is staggering—one-tenth the price. But it's not just money. If Israeli authorities demolish it, they'll tear through everything, destroy what's left, and the family still pays. At least if you do it yourself, you control what happens to your belongings, your memories.
These are old homes, though. Not recent constructions?
Some were built before 1967, before the occupation even began. Families have documents going back to the British Mandate. But the municipality says they lack permits. Palestinians almost never get permits in Jerusalem—only seven percent of approvals last year went to Palestinians, and they're forty percent of the city.
What's the stated reason for the demolitions?
A theme park called The King's Gardens, part of a larger project claiming to reveal the ancient Jewish city beneath. Even Israeli archaeologists dispute the historical basis. But the legal machinery doesn't care about that dispute.
How many people are affected?
Fifteen hundred residents in the Al-Bustan neighborhood alone. Over fifty demolition orders in two years, accelerating now. Fifty people are already homeless from the recent wave—children, elderly people with nowhere to go.
Has anyone challenged this internationally?
The UN called it a violation of international law. The EU demanded Israel stop. But the demolitions continue. The families are still choosing between impossible options.