We describe the minute details of cable copper extraction through burning, and the persistence of the phenomenon despite local harms and frustrations, and our development of a sustainable and economically viable alternative to burning, in the form of a mechanical cable grinding facility. We describe the successful piloting of this facility, through initial subsidy for free grinding in tandem with a community policing mechanism, in which community volunteers would report burns as they occurred, and a response team would rapidly approach the burners to interview them and offer them vouchers for free grinding of their materials. Alongside the indicators of the success of this pilot intervention, we also report on the political barriers we encountered in institutionalising and expanding it for the longer term.

This chapter opens with a community meeting in the West Line about the e-waste issue as an example of how multiple social locations and perspectives of different community actors can be selectively narrowed in public forums and community interfaces with outside actors. In this case, the meeting foregrounded e-waste’s pollution harms and dumping narratives while eclipsing its economic/livelihood dimension. This episode leads us to a review of the complexity, challenges, and importance of representative community engagement in development projects, and how shortcuts to “participatory” development can overlook social heterogeneity, bolstering the visibility and power of certain segments within a diverse and at times contentious community. We describe the social and political divisions within the West Line villages, and our effort to generate a broadly endorsed development proposal with this community through a novel Delphi-like method. We describe the iterative procedure we adopted and how it enabled convergence on a development trajectory that proved broadly consensual, namely a social and environmental upgrading of the e-waste industry that would preserve livelihoods while reducing its harms. We reflect on the irony of the apparent success of this outside intervention in broadening and facilitating a community participation process.

We review the emergence of the West Line hub that has processed most of Israel’s e-waste for over two decades against the background of the global phenomena of e-waste policies and hubs often characterised as simply dumping grounds at the receiving end of flows of contaminating processes and materials to less regulated settings (the Pollution Haven Hypothesis, PHH). Its emergence was facilitated by factors common to the occupied West Bank as a whole (de-development, lower labor costs, dominance of the informal sector, a porous border and spatial fragmentation), and others especially important in the West Line area. These include the disruption of work opportunities in Israel alongside a rise in the amounts and value of e-waste; proximity to Israeli urban centers and distance from Palestinian ones; the historical presence of a scrap trade; a population comprised of a handful of extended families facilitating trust-based economies, on the one hand, while overcoming stigma and opposition on the other; and availability of areas of governance vacuum allowing dumping and burning. The PHH’s crudely global account of e-waste hub emergence must be refined to include the context-specific presence and operation of hubs as forceful economic agents, not simply passive recipients of waste dumping.

Our focus in this chapter is the burn sites themselves. We describe the toxic substances released, the massive environmental and health problems these present, the importance of including remediation of these sites as an integral part of e-waste policies, and our piloting of such remediation. While such toxic sites figure centrally in the scientific literature on e-waste and iconic portrayals of e-waste hubs, figuring implicitly or explicitly as a key motivator for EPR policies that would redirect waste away from e-waste hubs, they figure very little in e-waste policies themselves. Thus, such policies risk giving e-waste hubs the worst of two worlds: relocating the sources of their livelihood away to central capital-heavy recycling facilities without removing the contamination that would continue to harm their landscapes and health for decades to come. We describe the details of our pilot cleanup of one such site, our development of a framework for scaling this up to remediate the most serious sites in the West Line, and how this scaleup fell afoul of disputes of principle regarding national sovereignty and more mundane tensions between central and local authorities within the Palestinian Authority.

This chapter describes the global and local ramifications of the emergence, dominance, and policy derivatives of an e-waste dumping paradigm focused on the transfer of contaminants from the Global North to helpless “digital dumpsites”: peripheral locations suffering grievous environmental and health impacts. Though derived with only a thin linkage to realities in these locations, these caricatured portrayals resonate strongly in the Global North, and undergird key platforms of e-waste regulation, the Ban Amendment to the Basel Convention and Extended Producer Responsibility (EPR) policies now a hegemonic model for e-waste collection and recycling. Ironically, this paradigm bypasses the informal sector, its vital livelihood contributions to these places and central role within the scrap value chain, and redirects resources, attention, and agency away from dynamics and actors key to systemic reform and local sustainability. Thus, EPR’s forwarding-looking and formalizing agenda can leave the places it aspires to save with the worst of both worlds: deprived of livelihoods and saddled with the legacy of past contamination. We describe this global paradigm’s local resonances in the ironically convergent thrusts of emerging Israeli EPR legislation, local and national NGO voices in Israel and Palestine, and the sovereignty aspirations of a distant Palestinian Authority.

We build on Chapter three’s description of e-waste hubs as vital economic actors, rather than simply dumping sites, and Chapter four’s account of a consensual development vision for the West Line hub, to argue for the pragmatic and ethical necessity and advantages of centering e-waste hubs in e-waste policies. Existing EPR e-waste policies, generated in the Global North and adopted globally, usually ignore informal actors and dynamics, or propose formalizing them in a way that redirects attention and resources away from the value chains and sites that have historically collected and recycled most of the world’s e-waste. A hub-centered policy would boost the effectiveness and coherence of e-waste policies by accounting for and building on their entrepreneurial agility and expertise, decentralising decisions and interventions to actors with nuanced local knowledge, greater accountability, and long-term stakes in policies that not only propose solutions in the center but grapple with existing capacities and toxic legacies in the periphery. We briefly describe the interlocked arms of the West Line model for such restructuring elaborated in the following three chapters: curbing destructive practices through local enforcement; remediating past damage; and preserving livelihoods though environmental upgrading of the recycling processes.

This chapter details the West Line e-waste economy as an example of global destruction networks operating globally as an under-examined shadow of the more familiar and visible phases of the economy. It traces the highly effective collection pathways developed by Palestinian entrepreneurs to locate and funnel end-of-life materials from Israeli households, institutions, and scrapyards to the West Line, along with lesser inputs from Palestinian areas. We describe the navigation of borders, including through mediation of Israeli settlers, as a cascading flow of scrap arrives to the West Line, for resale, repair, and processing, with valuable metals extracted for export back to Israel, and low value remnants disposed. This informal economic value chain employs a complex hierarchy of a thousand workers, operating in an ecosystem of interlocked dynamic niches of specialization and synergy, ranging from multi-million dollar metal traders to children picking through ash for pieces of copper, producing one of the largest Palestinian exports to Israel. At the same time, similar to other hubs globally, these vibrant economic contributions in a context of scarce opportunity are in increasingly tense relations with the wide-ranging severe environmental and health impacts of the crude extraction and disposal practices employed and international scrutiny.

This chapter describes the cross border geopolitical terrain within which we advocated Israeli and Palestinian authorities on behalf of the hub-driven path to reform described in previous chapters. The impressive entrepreneurial accomplishments of the West-Line’s informal recycling industry, and our arguments for its social and environmental upgrading came up against the harsh constraints of regional politics and policies. On the Israeli side, an increasingly tense and militarized response to waste smuggling and burning meshed with a narrow vision of Israeli e-waste management policies modeled on the internationally dominant EPR system. This impulse converged, ironically, with the stance of the Palestinian Authority. Here, officials regarded waste flows as a joint manifestation of Israeli dumping and the criminality of marginal individual Palestinians. The Authority’s battle for symbolic expressions of sovereignty in a context where it possesses almost none of its substance, formally allows the recycling of only that small fraction of e-waste that is indigenously Palestinian—a convenient fiction that blocks formal commercial recycling. For example, the foremost example of a Palestinian company performing large scale clean recycling on a commercial basis is not showcased as a way forward, but faces constant friction from both Israeli and Palestinian institutional and regulatory barriers.

The preface describes how a chance story about black rain interfering with the traditional drinking water collection from village rooftops, led us to a massive but little-known Palestinian e-waste hub in the southern West Bank, employing a thousand people who work to collect, refurbish, and recycle a large portion of Israeli e-waste, creating livelihoods in a setting of few options after prolonged Israeli occupation of the West Bank. We describe our efforts to learn with and from these communities about the dynamics and scale of the informal e-waste value chain, and its serious environmental and health consequences, and to forge and test a vision for development that would preserve this precious source of livelihood while eliminating its crippling harms. We overview the intertwined stories we tell in the book about our years of community-based research and advocacy, and their lessons for different audiences.

This chapter captures the current state-of-play of the West Line hub in a continually turbulent region, speculating on how things might and should go in the future – both in the West Line and in other e-waste hubs that share many dynamics and predicaments. The future of the West Line and its long-standing e-waste industry teeter in the balance, buffeted by geopolitical currents. The West Line waste flows and burning emerged from the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and have embodied it for decades, in a way that is increasingly salient in the recent years of a right-wing coalition government, and intensified conflict after October 7, 2023. The politics of waste is now explicit, with Palestinian municipal rubbish collection trucks blocked by military checkpoints, and Israelis calling for a creeping “green” annexation of Area C and whittling away of Palestinian authority in Areas A and B as the only way to prevent the “chemical terrorism” of waste burning. While these regional politics, which have so frustratingly frozen our promising hub-driven efforts, are surely sui generis, the underlying challenges are instructive globally for the interfaces between the e-waste hubs, environmental NGOs, and national e-waste policies, and this chapter closes in teasing out these broader lessons.

Forms of violence and the literary avenues for expressing them constitute allegorical worlds that place them on the fringes of literature. Such worlds submerged under the normative conception of world assert their existence through violent bonds and alliances. Against the predominantly secular and centrist underpinnings in the world literature debate, the chapter construes worlds through malleable, multiple, and contra-normative temporal coordinates. World-making through violence, as Yasmina Khadra’s The Attack, Kae Bahar’s Letters from a Kurd, and Ahmed Saadawi’s Frankenstein in Baghdad show, unfolds deep within such temporalities where vernacular renditions of divine and organized vengeance have an insurgent mode. Contesting secular notions of the sublime as something to be revealed to the subject at the end of reason, the insurgent sublime manifests as an intrasecular force invoked on a whim at the limit of reason. This intrasecular sublime is salient to Sinan Antoon’s The Corpse Washer and Omar Robert Hamilton’s The City Always Wins, wherein death and dead bodies become breeding sites of violent alliances. Death in the two novels enables a thanatopolitical resistance where acts of naming, washing, resurrecting, and ennobling the dead lend themselves to a critique of necropolitical technologies that manufacture death as though it were a commodity.

This chapter sets out to explore the potential decolonial politics at stake in two recent novels by Edna O’Brien and Colum McCann. These novels, set outside Ireland (in Palestine and Israel in the case of McCann and Nigeria in the case of O’Brien), raise uncomfortable questions about interculturality, empathy, and the notion of care. My central consideration is whether these well-meaning narratives of the fallout from violence and conflict in turn produce a form of epistemic violence which belies the poetics of care they strive so hard to foreground. Ultimately, I contend that notwithstanding these authors’ evident wish to foster empathy, their novels potentially function as aesthetic smokescreens, dissimulating structural inequalities on a local, national, and global scale, and indulging in a depoliticized form of interculturality which impedes a robust criticism of coloniality.

Chapter 5 explores how Harriet Martineau’s travel narrative Eastern Life, Present and Past and Dante Gabriel Rossetti’s poem “The Burden of Nineveh” organize time through ruins from the eastern Mediterranean. Eastern Life, which was criticized for its unorthodox historicization of Christianity, imagines how ruins themselves experience human empires across centuries. The temporal form of the ruin, Martineau shows, is a capacious present in which the revolutions of human religions and empires become insignificant. Rossetti’s poem, which focuses on ancient Assyrian relics arriving at the British Museum, similarly surrenders human duration to the ruin’s own temporality. For Rossetti, the museum’s attempts to redefine the ruin within its own linear historicism necessarily fail because the ruin has already proven its endurance through many changing imperial narratives. Both Rossetti’s and Martineau’s texts depict ruin as a temporal form that outlasts any empire’s claims to significance, challenging the centrality of human experience in time.

Chapter 6 returns to William Thackeray’s Mediterranean travel writing to show how his humor fails to challenge the dominant heritage discourse in Jerusalem. Although Thackeray derides other Mediterranean sites for inauthenticity, he cannot profane Jerusalem, which means he cannot return it to human (and imperial) use, either by word play or physical contact. Anthony Trollope takes up this problem in his novel The Bertrams, in which he reconceives some places, like Alexandria, for modern use. These sites are wiped of their significance to British heritage discourse as ancient lands and rendered available for modernization. Jerusalem, though, proves too sacred, and thus too integral to British cultural heritage, to be colonized in the same way. Some holy sites thus endure as historical relics while others are rewritten as a “middle” East.