The Politicization of Emergency in Jerusalem: From Regional War to Everyday Practices of Pressure

In the context of the current regional war, internal measures in Jerusalem are being transformed into part of a broader politicization of emergency. As Buzan, Waever, and de Wilde argue, securitization is the process through which an issue is moved beyond the ordinary rules of political practice by presenting it as an existential threat that justifies recourse to exceptional[1] measures. Accordingly, this war does not remain a passing security event; rather, it extends far beyond that through a governing framework within which the city is reorganized, its movement is regulated, and the boundaries of what is permitted and prohibited are redefined. In Jerusalem, this is reflected in daily field measures that weigh heavily on the lives of Jerusalemites under the pretext of necessity, with their effects quickly becoming visible in livelihoods, services, and social conditions. All of this intersects with the sensitivity of the scene in and around Al-Aqsa Mosque, as a key testing ground for exceptional policies, making the temporary liable to evolve into an easily entrenched daily routine

Regional war does not reach Jerusalem through missiles alone; rather, it is transmitted through a series of security and administrative decisions that, in turn, redefine the external event as a potential internal threat, thereby activating a state of emergency to expand the instruments of control, including closures, checkpoints, inspections, and restrictions on movement and assembly.

At the field level, the state of emergency can be traced through a number of key instruments, beginning with closure and the reengineering of movement toward the Old City and Jerusalem. Israel has imposed what amounts to a curfew on the Old City and Jerusalem through the intensification of checkpoints, inspections, and restrictions on gatherings under the guise of preventive measures, extending to the prohibition of entry into the Old City for non-residents and the ban on opening shops within it. These measures cannot be read merely as preventive steps, as the pattern of response to every security incident reveals a tendency to turn states of emergency into a ready-made justification for broader closures, thereby producing economic, social, and educational gaps and gradually entrenching the idea that the exception is the rule.

Economically, these instruments have an immediate impact on livelihoods and services, and with their continuation, this impact gradually becomes cumulative, reshaping the daily lives of Jerusalemites. Systematic closure leads to the suffocation of everyday life and a decline in customer movement within the Old City, particularly with restrictions on entry. The ability of workers to reach their jobs is also diminished, resulting in daily losses that, in one way or another, erode sources of income, especially for those who depend on daily wages or on religious seasons such as the month of Ramadan, during which customer activity usually increases, particularly after the Taraweeh prayers. The Old City contains around 1,400 commercial shops, of which approximately 17 percent have permanently closed, while 462 shops rely entirely on tourism, which has sharply declined due to security restrictions and the absence of visitors. UN estimates following 7 October also showed that 90 percent of shop owners in the Old City depend on tourism, and that closures and security fears led to the shutdown of around 90 percent of shops, affecting no fewer than 500 families.

In terms of services, these restrictions become instruments that obstruct access to healthcare and the completion of official procedures, while also increasing transportation costs and the time lost at checkpoints. This places additional pressure on Jerusalemites and compels them to reorder their priorities. At the same time, the shift to distance learning across schools in Al-Aqsa and Jerusalem turns education into a technological privilege. Learning thus becomes contingent on access to the internet, appropriate devices, and a suitable home environment, deepening inequality among students and weakening both academic performance and educational discipline, particularly among economically vulnerable families. Over time, the educational gap itself becomes a cumulative effect, marked by mounting learning loss, increased risks of dropout, and the transformation of schooling into a domestic burden that is difficult to manage under broader conditions of pressure.

Socially, this pressure generates a persistent sense of uncertainty about the immediate future and weakens social ties, visits, and communal life in favor of an existence confined to narrow circles. Because the center of gravity lies in the Old City and the surroundings of Al-Aqsa, the impact does not remain merely economic or service-related; rather, it assumes a symbolic and political dimension as well: reducing presence in the space and redefining the right of access as a privilege contingent upon emergency measures. As the situation persists, the temporary becomes liable to consolidation as a daily protocol, and emergency shifts from a contingent response into a mode of governance that reproduces the city through the logic of exception.

While the state of emergency affects the city as a whole, its most acute expression is found in Al-Aqsa Mosque, as the enduring testing ground for exceptional measures. From the very first hours of the escalation, the mosque was closed, worshippers were evacuated, and presence within its courtyards was prohibited. This was accompanied by the suspension of the ‘Isha and Taraweeh prayers, while the restrictions were further expanded to include Friday prayers as the closure continued for consecutive days. At the same time, security forces were heavily deployed at the gates of Al-Aqsa Mosque and the entrances to the Old City, turning access to the site from a natural right into movement conditioned by emergency protocols. This logic was also reflected in the work of the Islamic Waqf, through restrictions on the access of some employees and the obstruction of logistical arrangements related to administering the mosque and receiving worshippers, thereby adding an administrative dimension of control that goes beyond closure as a merely temporary security measure.

Returning to the Twelve-Day War with Iran in 2025, the comparison shows that the mechanism and basic logic of the measures were, to some extent, similar: the closure of commercial shops, the temporary closure of Al-Aqsa Mosque, and restrictions on entry into the Old City, which at the time were limited to residents and certain narrowly defined categories, while a small number of Jerusalemites were still allowed to enter. The current closure, however, appears to be more severe in its impact, given the sensitivity of its timing, the continued closure of Al-Aqsa up to the present moment, and the total and comprehensive ban on entry. Thus, with the recurrence of both the event and the closure, the current situation is shifting from a contingent response into a recurrent mode of governance that contributes to entrenching restrictions and normalizing the exception within the city.

Within this context, what is taking place today cannot be read in isolation from the legislative context that preceded the closure by only a few days. Efforts were advanced toward a draft law known as the “Protection of Holy Sites Law,” or the Western Wall Plaza bill. This trajectory is not confined to regulating prayer arrangements at the Western Wall; rather, it reveals a broader tendency toward redefining the legal and administrative reference framework governing holy sites in Jerusalem. It also entails redefining the administrative authority responsible for managing these holy sites, in ways that effectively affect the powers of the Islamic Waqf as well as the arrangements governing access to and presence within the mosque and its surroundings. In this sense, the closure of Al-Aqsa does not appear merely as a contingent security response, but as part of a broader political and legislative environment aimed at expanding the instruments of control and reshaping the rules governing the administration of the site and access to it.

If this situation continues, it will have clear implications in both the short and long term. In the short term, the persistence of closures and restrictions produces a direct impact that can be observed quickly. Economic strangulation deepens through the decline in customer activity, religious tourism, and the ability to reach workplaces, resulting in daily losses for merchants and small business owners, as well as rising transportation costs and time lost in transit. Access to essential services—schools, universities, medical appointments, and official transactions—also deteriorates, while the vulnerability of families that depend on daily income or unstable work increases. This is accompanied by mounting social and psychological pressure, driven by a constant sense of uncertainty, and by growing tension in the public sphere as a result of repeated friction at checkpoints and around inspection points. In the vicinity of Al-Aqsa in particular, short-term effects are manifested in the fluctuation of entry and exit rules and the tightening of movement within the Old City, reinforcing the sense that the area is being governed through the logic of preventive exception.

In the long term, however, the most serious consequence lies not merely in the continuation of losses, but in the entrenchment of a model of governance based on exception. Economically, this may lead to a further weakening of the Palestinian economy in Jerusalem through the closure of shops, the relocation of businesses outside the Old City, changing patterns of consumption, and increased reliance on debt or aid, all of which undermine the capacity for resilience. Socially and in terms of services, the disruption of movement evolves into a restructuring of relationships and social ties: visits are reduced, participation in public space declines, and civic life contracts in favor of a fragmented and inward-looking existence. Politically and in terms of rights, the legitimacy of the instruments of control themselves expands: what was once temporary becomes a ready-made protocol, and the scope of prohibition and restriction widens, as though these were normal tools of urban governance. In and around Al-Aqsa, the principle of governing the site under emergency conditions becomes entrenched as a permanent standard, turning every round of tension into an opportunity to recalibrate the rules of access and presence, rather than merely a contingent response.

This trajectory should not be read as a merely contingent security event, but rather as a deliberate political process that operates through emergency measures in order to consolidate control over the site and the boundaries of sovereignty imposed upon it. The ability to close Al-Aqsa Mosque and reopen it through a unilateral decision, and at a time determined by the occupation, is not simply a precautionary measure; it is an expression of control over the site and a demonstration of authority over the conditions of access to and presence within it. The significance of this becomes even more evident when restrictions on Al-Aqsa coexist with the continuation of normal life in other parts of the city, revealing the selective application of emergency measures while other spaces are administered according to ordinary logic, including activities associated with the feast of Purim.

This trajectory is thus read as a deliberate political process that operates through emergency measures in order to consolidate control over the site and the boundaries of sovereignty imposed upon it. The ability to close Al-Aqsa Mosque and reopen it by unilateral decision, and at a time determined by the occupation, reflects not only a precautionary measure, but also the authority to determine who may enter and who is excluded, and how religious and sovereign space in Jerusalem is to be administered. The significance of this becomes even clearer when emergency measures are not applied uniformly across the city’s religious sphere. While restrictions are imposed on Al-Aqsa and on access to it, adjacent Jewish religious manifestations continue at the same time, whether through activities associated with the feast of Purim or through the opening of the Western Wall Plaza for Jewish prayer. This reveals that emergency does not function as a comprehensive and neutral condition, but rather as a selective instrument for reorganizing space and reordering the hierarchy of presence within it

[1]  Barry Buzan, Ole Wæver, and Jaap de Wilde, Security: A New Framework for Analysis (Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 1998), 23–25.