Israeli soldiers prevent Palestinians from crossing the Beit Iba checkpoint in the West Bank city of Nablus. (Rami Swidan, Maan Images)

"One day I saw an elderly Palestinian. Really old. With a long white beard, his face all wrinkles, carrying two shopping bags, passing by a small religious Jewish boy, probably a first-grader, six to seven years old, maximum nine. The child came up, looked at the Arab in the eye - mind you, this is a street that both Jews and Arabs are allowed to use - and said to him: 'You filthy Arab!' spat in his face and ran off. Far away, he climbed some roof and threw stones at him. I was shocked."

This is just one excerpt from a catalogue of testimonies from Israeli soldiers who have recently come forward and spoken out for the first time about the mind-numbing situation they find themselves in while on duty in the Palestinian occupied territories. Many of the accounts make for macabre reading.

The soldier in the testimony above goes on to say that when he approached the child's parents to tell them what their son had done, he was rebuked by the parents for siding with a Palestinian and told that their son had acted legitimately. Time and again, the collected testimonies bear witness to crimes of hate and racism carried out by either Israeli soldiers or by the Jewish "settlers" within the occupied territories on unarmed Palestinian civilians, including women and children.

After finishing high school, most Israeli teenagers are expected to serve in the Israel Defense Forces (IDF). Boys will serve a minimum of three years, while girls are required to put in two years' service. Young, impressionable and taught by a hawkish society that it is their divine duty to protect the State of Israel, these young people become the front line in the streets, commanding absolute power over Arab residents and often abusing that power with impunity.

Armed with US-issued M16s, they patrol the streets of Palestine day and night, free to question, detain and humiliate Arab civilians at will. To the Palestinians, these "Lords of the Flies" have become a daily symbol of the oppression of the occupation, and they are simultaneously hated and feared throughout the West Bank and East Jerusalem.

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In 2004, Yehuda Shaul was a commanding sergeant in Bethlehem. He was from a right-wing Jewish family and was brought up to believe that his duty was to serve Israel. However, the systematic abuse of innocent Palestinians started to get to him psychologically during his three years of service. He began to doubt his superiors, began to question his role in the occupation.

About three months before his discharge, Yehuda spoke with his comrades privately - and quietly, for questioning the cause was considered treasonous. He discovered that they too felt overcome with guilt about participating in physical acts of abuse, acts that often constituted war crimes.

"We all knew that something was wrong here," says Yehuda. They pledged to do something about it as soon as they were discharged.

Their first photo exhibition in Tel Aviv in 2004 was met with disbelief, grief and outrage by the Israeli public. The exhibition, "Bringing Hebron to Tel Aviv", was only intended as a light introduction to the scenes the soldiers had witnessed. They had displayed what they considered to be the least provocative photographs and testimonies from their tour of duty in the southern Palestinian province. The real horrors they kept concealed.

"We had done some very bad stuff," admits Yehuda contritely. "We had very bad pictures. People would puke if they saw them." Nevertheless, the effect was astounding to a sheltered society that had little or no first-hand knowledge of the human-rights violations taking place every day in their back yard. "People just stood there in front of these black-and-white photographs and gaped with their mouths open," recalls Yehuda. "They had no idea what was going on."

Evolving from the publicity surrounding the exhibition, Yehuda and his fellow ex-soldiers founded Breaking the Silence, a non-governmental organization dedicated to bringing the truth home. Over the past three years, the three full-time staff and 15 volunteers of Breaking the Silence have interviewed, videotaped and catalogued testimonies from more than 450 soldiers. The interviewees are anonymous, of course, their statements forbidden under military-secrets acts. Soldiers could be court-martialed or jailed for speaking out. But many of them do.

Many testify to cleanse their souls of guilt: "I want to talk about an incident that took place during a funeral at the Abu Sneina cemetery ... There were dozens of mourners, even more, I think ... The [IDF] officer approached the funeral and wanted to disperse it ... He had a look of hatred in his eyes ... He even cursed, cocked his weapon and approached an 80-year-old man who could hardly move and pointed his gun in his face ... I'm still mad at myself for not saying anything. I simply lowered my eyes and didn't know what to do with myself."

Other soldiers bear witness to the feelings of superiority that their status and their weapons give them. Posted at checkpoints and faced with long queues of Palestinians trying to go to school, to market, to hospital or to work, many uniformed young men and women start to show off in front of each other.

The peer pressure is immense, with younger or weaker soldiers desperate to prove their mettle in front of their officers. Many soldiers openly admit that they look upon the Palestinians as something less than human, "like animals". The few words of Arabic they do employ to speak to villagers are restricted to phrases such as "Waqif! Ta'al jib al-hawiyya!" ("Stop! Give me your ID card!"), "Stand back!" or simply "Go away!"

There are few incidents more gut-wrenching than the sight of an elderly man or a woman being forced to lie flat on the ground with their hands clasped behind their head, as kids young enough to be their grandchildren spit on them, laugh at them, and poke them with their feet and their rifles. Yet this is a daily reality for the displaced and maltreated Palestinians. Even political leaders face abuse at roadblocks when traveling between townships.

To read the full article please visit the Asia Times.