There Was Nothing Here Before

Avant il n'y avait rien

VERDICT: Yvann Yagchi’s documentary 'There Was Nothing Here Before' is as an angry yet tender letter to a lost friend, amid a brave quest to discover the filmmaker’s family history in the occupied territories.

In his warm documentary There Was Nothing Here Before, Swiss-Palestinian filmmaker Yvann Yagchi mourns an old friendship with a Swiss-Israeli friend who, as a Zionist, moved to one of the disputed settlements in the Occupied West Bank. It is one of the first films screened in a European film festival that tackles the Arab-Israeli conflict after the start of the Gaza war in October 2023. Amid a slew of limitations directed at peaceful, non-militant, pro-Palestinian voices in Europe and the West in general, the film and the questions it poses give voice to Palestinians seeking co-existence with Israel. It is a much-needed voice, as the hostilities still have no end in sight. As Yagchi tells his friend, “to remain silent is to be an accomplice.”

Born in Switzerland, the director is the son of Palestinian immigrants, while his friend (who remains nameless in the film; see below) was adopted by a Jewish Swiss family. Despite their different backgrounds, the two boys grew up together, and ran wild and free as teenagers — until the latter decided to adopt religious Zionism and immigrate to Israel.

The film opens with Yagchi on a bus with several Israeli residents of a Yishuv, a Jewish settlement in Israel, where his boyhood friend is currently living. The initial plan for the documentary, as he shares in the first twenty minutes, was to examine the complications between two friends: a Palestinian and an Israeli settler.

That is why Yagchi is in Israel. Lending him “nice Arab” vibes, his Swiss passport and French language skills help him navigate the society inside the settlement where his friend lives. He spends time with his friend’s family, celebrates Passover with them, learns about Jewish traditions, and plays table tennis with the kids.

But despite passing for a nice Arab, he finds several aspects about this closed community that stand out. First, it is monitored 24-7 and heavily secured. But it is the sight of the deprived, impoverished Palestinian villages surrounding it that brings out the Palestinian in Yagchi. The shots taken by cinematographers Gabriel Sandru and Lukas Gut tell a lot, emphasizing the differences between the American suburb-style Israeli settlements and the destroyed Palestinian villages and refugee camps, which are separated from each other by a wall.

But what provokes Yagchi the most is his friend’s evident apathy towards the status of Arabs and Palestinians, who are only allowed into the settlement as workers after rigorous security checks. A falling out between the two friends occurs, along with the Covid pandemic. The friend is never named, nor do we see his face, which is blurred and unrecognizable throughout the film. And at a certain point he decides to jump ship and stop working on the documentary. Here Yagchi is transparent: not only has his friendship been dealt a low blow, but his whole documentary project is threatened. This vulnerability gives the film a very sincere tone throughout its 70-minute runtime, as he mourns a wrecked friendship, but also shows the findings of his research to his former friend.

And because there are no better problems solvers than documentary filmmakers, Yagchi makes the best out of a bad situation. The complications that arise, and Yagchi’s imaginative solutions, make this a fine piece of documentary work.

The second half of the film is dedicated to Yagchi’s journey to discover his family history in pre-1948 Palestine. His great-grandfather Khalil was a famous writer, journalist, and activist who took a leading role in demanding an independent Palestinian state. Yagchi travels to Israel where his house stood; it is now a hotel owned by an Israeli couple who arrived in 1949 after his grandfather was displaced. Yagchi even finds the books that were looted from his ancestor’s library in the National Library of Israel. They are now marked AP (abandoned property).

Yagchi’s mentioning of his grandfather’s story, the acquisition of his house, the looting of his books, and the erasing of his memory from the national memory of contemporary Israel, are followed by footage of how Palestinians in the West Bank and Jerusalem are mistreated and displaced, and how villagers can easily be abused by settlers, all to signal a warning. Despite the heaviness of the topic, Yagchi’s humour surfaces in an animated reenactment he makes, showing his grandfather as an old man in a tarbush playing backgammon and puffing shisha.

A deep sadness and resentment can be heard in Yagchi’s final voiceover appeal to his friend: “Do you have the right under the pretext of searching for your identity to disregard mine?”

Director: Yvann Yagchi
Screenplay: Yvann Yagchi, Aurora Franco Vögeli
Producer: Brigitte Hofer, Cornelia Seitler

Cinemato­graphy: Gabriel Sandru, Lukas Gut
Editing: Selin Dettwiler, Christof Schertenleib, Christine Hoffet, Olivia Frey
Sound Editing: Massimo Del Gaudio
Sound Design: Massimo Del Gaudio
Re-Recording Mix: Jacques Kieffer
Music: Séverine Vaëna
Animation: Geena Gasser, Anja Sidler
Production companies: maximage, SRF Schweizer Radio und Fernsehen, SRG SSR
World Sales: Paul Thiltges Distributions

In Arabic, French, English
71 min.