process, claiming it would be unfair to adjudicate disputes when many claimants had left the country as refugees—as it happened, refugees whom Israel barred from coming back. That left the rest of the West Bank’s land without accurate registration of ownership.
After the Elon Moreh setback, Albeck oversaw a two-pronged legal offensive by a branch of the military government, the Custodian for Governmental and Abandoned Property. Officials reviewed ownership records, and used aerial photos of the West Bank to map what land was being farmed. Albeck took advantage of the fact that many Palestinian families had lost their Ottoman deeds, and she interpreted the land laws in a much harsher manner than had the British or Jordanians. Any property that was not clearly registered and did not meet the rules for cultivation—as Albeck read them—could be declared state land. Before the state proclaimed its ownership of a particular area, Albeck sometimes checked it herself on foot. Between 1979 and 1992, the Custodian designated 350 square miles—nearly one-sixth of the West Bank—as state land. The municipal boundaries of settlements were expanded to include most of that land.
If a Palestinian wanted to dispute the state’s claim and assert ownership, he had to come before a military appeals committee—and the burden of proof was on him, not the state. Few appeals succeeded. Albeck explained that Israel was simply fulfilling its obligation under international law to safeguard government property. In cases of doubt, she wrote, an occupying power was obligated to protect and manage land that might belong to the state, unless and until private ownership was proven. She did not see international law as an impediment to turning state-owned land over to the Housing Ministry or to the Settlement Division of the World Zionist Organization for Jewish settlement. If she had opposed settlement, she later said, she could not have done her job. “In all my days, I’ve never seen anything holy about the Green Line. I haven’t found it in the Bible,” she told an interviewer in 2004, shortly before her death.
A secret correspondence revealed after Albeck’s death sheds light on her approach to the law. In September 1990, Albeck received a letter from Moshe Glick, a lawyer representing the Fund for Redemption of the Land, a company set up by settlers to buy land from Palestinians. Glick said that the company had bought land near the Palestinian village of Bilin. However, it had not registered the purchase, as legally required for transfer of ownership. Doing so would reveal the names of the Palestinian sellers, endangering their lives. Another Palestinian who’d sold land to Jews had recently been murdered. Glick therefore suggested that Albeck arrange to have the land declared state property, and the Custodian for Governmental Property would allocate it to the Fund for Redemption of the Land. Albeck proceeded to do so. Dozens of Palestinian families from Bilin appealed the designation of their land as state property; a few even managed to prove their ownership. In 1992, with the process completed, Albeck reminded military authorities that the “state land” really belonged to the Fund for Redemption of the Land, but that this should be kept secret.
It’s true that Palestinian society regarded selling land to Jews as treason. It’s also true that fraud is rife in the sales that do take place. And it is terribly unlikely that dozens of Bilin families actually agreed to sell their land. Albeck accepted that the land could be sold, meaning that it was privately owned. Then, to help the purported purchasers avoid any legal scrutiny of the transaction, she arranged for the same property to be declared state land. Everything was done according to law. But the law existed to serve the cause of settlement, not the cause of justice.
And sometimes settlements simply stole privately owned Palestinian land, without pretense of purchase.
After the Elon Moreh setback, Albeck oversaw a two-pronged legal offensive by a branch of the military government, the Custodian for Governmental and Abandoned Property. Officials reviewed ownership records, and used aerial photos of the West Bank to map what land was being farmed. Albeck took advantage of the fact that many Palestinian families had lost their Ottoman deeds, and she interpreted the land laws in a much harsher manner than had the British or Jordanians. Any property that was not clearly registered and did not meet the rules for cultivation—as Albeck read them—could be declared state land. Before the state proclaimed its ownership of a particular area, Albeck sometimes checked it herself on foot. Between 1979 and 1992, the Custodian designated 350 square miles—nearly one-sixth of the West Bank—as state land. The municipal boundaries of settlements were expanded to include most of that land.
If a Palestinian wanted to dispute the state’s claim and assert ownership, he had to come before a military appeals committee—and the burden of proof was on him, not the state. Few appeals succeeded. Albeck explained that Israel was simply fulfilling its obligation under international law to safeguard government property. In cases of doubt, she wrote, an occupying power was obligated to protect and manage land that might belong to the state, unless and until private ownership was proven. She did not see international law as an impediment to turning state-owned land over to the Housing Ministry or to the Settlement Division of the World Zionist Organization for Jewish settlement. If she had opposed settlement, she later said, she could not have done her job. “In all my days, I’ve never seen anything holy about the Green Line. I haven’t found it in the Bible,” she told an interviewer in 2004, shortly before her death.
A secret correspondence revealed after Albeck’s death sheds light on her approach to the law. In September 1990, Albeck received a letter from Moshe Glick, a lawyer representing the Fund for Redemption of the Land, a company set up by settlers to buy land from Palestinians. Glick said that the company had bought land near the Palestinian village of Bilin. However, it had not registered the purchase, as legally required for transfer of ownership. Doing so would reveal the names of the Palestinian sellers, endangering their lives. Another Palestinian who’d sold land to Jews had recently been murdered. Glick therefore suggested that Albeck arrange to have the land declared state property, and the Custodian for Governmental Property would allocate it to the Fund for Redemption of the Land. Albeck proceeded to do so. Dozens of Palestinian families from Bilin appealed the designation of their land as state property; a few even managed to prove their ownership. In 1992, with the process completed, Albeck reminded military authorities that the “state land” really belonged to the Fund for Redemption of the Land, but that this should be kept secret.
It’s true that Palestinian society regarded selling land to Jews as treason. It’s also true that fraud is rife in the sales that do take place. And it is terribly unlikely that dozens of Bilin families actually agreed to sell their land. Albeck accepted that the land could be sold, meaning that it was privately owned. Then, to help the purported purchasers avoid any legal scrutiny of the transaction, she arranged for the same property to be declared state land. Everything was done according to law. But the law existed to serve the cause of settlement, not the cause of justice.
And sometimes settlements simply stole privately owned Palestinian land, without pretense of purchase.
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