The bulldozers are back in East Jerusalem, and this time they are moving with a speed that has caught even veteran observers off guard. Sources on the ground confirm that the pace of demolitions has accelerated sharply in recent weeks, with entire neighbourhoods reduced to rubble in what Palestinian officials are calling a “systematic campaign of ethnic cleansing.”
Documents obtained by this newsroom detail a co-ordinated push by Israeli authorities to demolish Palestinian-owned structures, many of them homes, under the guise of building without permits. But the numbers tell a different story. In 2023 alone, over a thousand structures were demolished across the West Bank and East Jerusalem, a figure that has already been surpassed in the first quarter of this year.
“They want us out,” one resident said, speaking on condition of anonymity. “They want to make life impossible so we leave. But where do we go?” The man, whose home in the Silwan neighbourhood was demolished last week, now lives in a tent with his wife and three children.
The demolitions are concentrated in areas where Israeli settlement expansion has been most aggressive. In Sheikh Jarrah, families who have lived there for generations face eviction orders. In Beit Hanina, a historic village now engulfed by the Jerusalem municipality, demolition warnings are a daily reality. The pattern is clear: take Palestinian land, build Israeli homes.
International condemnation has been swift but toothless. The United Nations has called the demolitions “a violation of international law,” but no action has been taken. The European Union issued a statement expressing “deep concern,” but trade agreements remain intact. The United States, Israel’s closest ally, has offered nothing more than mild rebukes.
“The international community is complicit,” said a human rights lawyer who has worked on these cases for two decades. “They watch, they condemn, they do nothing. And the bulldozers keep moving.”
The financial undercurrent is impossible to ignore. Demolitions are not cheap. Each operation requires police, border police, bulldozers, and legal staff. Sources estimate that the Israeli government has spent millions of shekels on these operations in East Jerusalem since January. Where does this money come from? The answer points to the same place: the Ministry of Defence budget, approved by the Knesset, funded by Israeli taxpayers and American aid.
Meanwhile, Palestinian fury is palpable. Clashes have erupted in several neighbourhoods. Young men throw stones; Israeli forces respond with rubber bullets and tear gas. The casualty figures are climbing. But the bulldozers do not stop.
A former Israeli official, who asked not to be named, conceded that the policy is deliberate. “There is a strategy here. It is to reduce the Palestinian presence in East Jerusalem to the absolute minimum. The goal is to prevent any possibility of a future Palestinian capital in the city.”
If that is the goal, it is working. The demographics of East Jerusalem are shifting. Palestinian families are leaving, unable to endure the pressure. Israeli settlers are moving in, often into newly built apartments on sites where Palestinian homes once stood.
This is not a story about planning violations. It is a story about power. The power to erase homes, to evict families, to change the face of a city. And the money behind it is as clear as the rubble.
One question remains: will anyone stop them?
