Asphalt Doesn't Lie

The cracks and depressions affecting newly opened streets cannot be seen as mere engineering flaws or isolated technical accidents. This naive interpretation is suitable for quick reports, but not for a serious reading of the Palestinian reality. What is happening in the asphalt layer is merely a material manifestation of deeper collapses in the structure of management, the decision-making system, and the philosophy of "achievement," which has now come to be measured by openings rather than sustainability.

In natural societies, streets are supposed to be among the most stable elements of infrastructure, as they result from planning, soil studies, load calculations, and implementation supervision. However, in the Palestinian case, the new street seems like a short-lived experimental project, designed to last until the official photo opportunity, and then left to face its reality alone. The cracking here is not surprising; it is a logical outcome of a distorted priority arrangement.

The fundamental flaw lies not in the weakness of the asphalt, but in the fragility of the mind behind it. We live by the logic of "results before process," where planning is condensed into a document, oversight into a signature, and accountability into subsequent silence. Just as streets are built on untreated soil, public policies are constructed on untested assumptions, and projects are launched without an institutional framework capable of sustaining them after the opening.

The Palestinian elite, across all sectors, knows this very well, yet often treats it as a normalized matter. The sinking of the street resembles a decline in quality standards, a drop in public trust, and a slow erosion of the very concept of the state. Each crack is a small certificate of failure, but when it recurs, it becomes a pattern, and when the pattern becomes acceptable, we are facing a structural crisis, not a project crisis.

Much is said about the occupation, which is undoubtedly a decisive factor, but it does not solely explain why the same mistakes keep repeating, or why strict oversight systems are not built even in available spaces. The occupation constrains; the occupation has been destroyed, but it does not impose mediocrity in our performance. What role does the occupation play in the sinking of the sidewalk or the street that was opened and celebrated? Does the occupation prevent learning from failure?! And does it inhibit transparent internal accountability? The real problem is that the discourse of "the Palestinian exception" has shifted from a description of reality to a permanent justification for suspending standards.

The new streets that sink quickly produce a psychological impact no less dangerous than their material effect. A citizen who sees public funds collapsing beneath their feet gradually loses faith in the idea of planning, in the feasibility of reform, and in the sincerity of official discourse. Over time, they no longer demand quality; instead, they settle for what exists and coexist with mediocrity as if it were destiny. Here precisely begins a silent collapse: when the community's relationship with the idea of possible improvement breaks down.
The worst part is that the cracking does not call for a radical review, but rather a new "patching up." Excavations are redone, new asphalt is poured, and the cycle closes without real accountability: who planned? Who implemented? Who supervised? And what will change in the next project? This behavior does not fix a road; it deepens the management crisis and entrenches a culture of impunity.

Ultimately, the street is a political and social text written in asphalt. It can either express the mind of a state thinking about the future or reflect an authority that excels only in managing the moment. In the Palestinian case, the cracks clearly indicate that the problem is not in the road but in the way it's approached.

Unless "achievement" is redefined as a capacity for endurance rather than just a moment of opening, our new streets will remain old since their first day, and the Palestinian reality will continue to reproduce itself: a shiny surface, a fragile foundation, and cracks that do not require experts to read, but rather courage to acknowledge their significance.