Louder than bombs

"I went to see some of the conservation projects that an organisation called Riwaq is doing in these outlying villages," says Howard, who studied architectural history at university. "My key moment was going to a hilltop village with a beautiful Byzantine-era tomb which they’d restored. Situated where it was, you could see very clearly on the opposite hill an Israeli settlement. What was so crushing, apart from all the obvious human things, was that the settlements are so hideous: they look like parts of Hendon or one of the suburbs of Swindon. I couldn’t believe the destruction of the cultural heritage."

Behind the newspaper headlines of sieges and suicide bombers, a more subtle campaign has been going on. At stake are the symbols of Palestinian culture: the buildings, the records, the books and the history that surround the people. The more these are destroyed by Israeli bombs and the more the tops of the hills are sliced off to lay sturdy foundations for the settlements, the more Palestinian identity is undermined.

For that reason, the least politically contentious organisation at work in the area is arguably the most effective. Riwaq is a non-governmental, non-profit body concerned with architectural preservation in Palestine. And who could object to that? Not even the Israelis pay it much attention.

"Conserving the cultural heritage is a deeply long-term aspiration for Riwaq," says Howard. "Even though their work is very quiet and uncontroversial, in its own sweet, small way, it’s a brilliant method of looking at the long-term future."

The director’s trip was part of his research for the staging of When the Bulbul Stopped Singing, a one-man play adapted by David Greig from the diary of lawyer and human rights campaigner Raja Shehadeh. It was written during the siege of Ramallah in the spring of 2002 when the Israeli army unexpectedly moved in on the West Bank city, keeping the population captive in their own homes for a month.

Published soon after the event as When the Birds Stopped Singing, the book is the thoughtful account of an educated liberal who is as dismissive of the failings of his own political leaders as he is of the brutal expansionism of Sharon’s government. At turns despairing, frightened, optimistic and galvanised, he is, above all, full of rage about the injustice of it all.

IN CONTRAST TO the usual images of teenagers throwing stones at enemy tanks, the picture we get of Shehadeh is of a man who listens to classical music, admires the flowers and misses going for long walks when the curfew is imposed. His is the righteous anger of a civilised man who, like his whole community, is treated like a terrorist and confined to his own home. "The experience you will read about here is not that of a hero who took risks," he writes. "It is that of a Palestinian who has always wanted to be able to continue to live his life as an ordinary citizen in Palestine."

As Howard sees it, his task is not to express his own opinions, which he describes as "soft-left liberal" - but to give voice to the experiences of Shehadeh. He points out that although London’s Royal Court Theatre has done extensive work on a Palestinian theme from a British point of view, only the Traverse has given the stage to a Palestinian writer.

"We agreed that as far as possible we would keep our own politics out of it," says Howard. "Raja’s voice is crucial because of the way he writes about Palestinians as well as Israelis. He represents the ordinary man who is the voice of reason. Of course, it’s very political material and there’s no use pretending it isn’t. It’s the mother of all tribal sectarian conflicts and it’s hard to articulate it without taking sides. I’m not interested in my opinions on it, but I am really interested in the one Raja represents."

That’s not to say Howard is short of opinions. When pressed for his own perspective, he argues that the Arab-Israeli conflict stems from the British involvement in the region and that we should take responsibility for it.

"Ever since the Balfour Declaration of 1917 when we supported the idea of an Israeli state and colluded with the then Zionist movement to create this fiction that there was no indigenous Arab population, Britain’s hands have been dirty," he says. "It even makes the American behaviour there look unimportant - and we’re paying the price. Without the House of Saud and the Israeli state, we would not have al-Qaeda."

His certainty in this is only strengthened by the testimony of his late father, who was stationed in Palestine in the Parachute Regiment at the end of the Second World War. Though politically an old school Tory, Howard Senior came to believe the British had got it wrong. "While being very supportive of the state of Israel, he did say, in the last few years of his life, that he doubted what we’d done there and what he’d been part of," says Howard.

It might seem futile to imagine a theatre production can make any difference to a conflict that has raged relentlessly for so many decades, but you could argue that to present the human face behind the black-and-white headlines is something the Middle East sorely needs. That’s certainly the opinion of Robbie Gringras, a British-born writer and actor who has lived in Israel for eight years. His one-man show, The Situation Comedy, which plays at the Pleasance, is the first Israeli attempt to address the matter of suicide bombing.

"I think I’ve found a way that the art can go one better," says Gringras, a physical theatre practitioner who is directed by Peta Lilly. "Every news story ends in absolute tragedy and this one doesn’t. A straight documentary report of a suicide bombing is enough to make one break down in tears - and a show has to be more than that."

He says suicide bombings tend not to be talked about in Israel once the headlines have faded. A piece of theatre gives people who believe in the "dream of what Israel was supposed to be" a chance to think a little more deeply about what is euphemistically known as ‘the situation’. "Suicide bombings are news for a day and a half, then anyone who’s had anything to do with it shuts up and it’s not talked about," he says. "There are various groups that work with survivors of suicide bombers who now come to the show and bring people to see it to try to open up the discourse."

His show combines comedy with harrowing reality in the story of a man who turns up 35 days late for a job interview after coming into the path of a Palestinian suicide bomber. "The main tragedy of the show is that it’s about a man who is in love with the idea of Israel as it should have been and is struggling to come to terms with how much pain there is," he says.

THE PLAY grew out of a number of true stories, such as the doctor who ran to the scene of an explosion and gave the kiss of life to the first victim he found, only to discover that it was the suicide bomber himself. Then there was the bomber who tried to get on a bus but was pushed back by the other passengers, fell and knocked his head on the pavement, whereupon, after the passengers had gone to his aid, he came round and blew himself up.

"The absurdity is so close to the atrocity that you don’t know where to turn," says Gringras, who believes it’s time for both sides to take responsibility for their actions. "On the one hand that story is horrific, but on the other hand I could hear Benny Hill. I’m not laughing at the situation but I’m laughing in it. In the end, the story is about love: a guy who loves Israel and is trying to hold on to it, he loves his daughter and in some ways he loves the man who might have killed her."

The Situation Comedy, like When the Bulbul Stopped Singing, should help a British audience get a better sense of the complexities of life in the region. For Philip Howard, staging Shehadeh’s diary is a chance to broaden people’s grasp of the complexities of Middle Eastern politics. "If there’s one thing I wanted this project to contribute to the Traverse audience’s understanding, it is that Palestinians are not just about Hamas," he says.

"The image we have is of militants firing their guns looking so like the IRA in their black helmets. I want people to know about Ramallah, which is this wonderful city where they have a municipal law about not building in concrete so every building is faced with limestone. The civilisation is so complex and interesting."

When the Bulbul Stopped Singing, Traverse Theatre (0131-228 1404), until August 28. The Situation Comedy, Pleasance Beside (0131-556 6550), until August 30