Restrictions on Movement

Israeli military block roads, collectively punishing residents of three Palestinian West Bank communities, Sept.-Oct. 2018

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The locked gate at the entrance to the village of Kafr a-Dik. Photo by Abdulkarim Sadi , B'Tselem, 3 Oct. 2018

Imposing restrictions on the movement of Palestinian West Bank residents is one of the main tools Israel uses in enforcing its regime of occupation and control over the Palestinian population. In addition to the permanent restrictions in place, the military also employs travel restrictions in order to collectively punish villages, and sometimes entire regions, following instances of throwing stones or Molotov cocktails at roads.

Early on in the Second Intifada (which began in September 2000), the military installed gates and placed concrete blocks at the entrances to most West Bank villages. Now, almost 20 years later, these gates and blocks remain in place and can readily be used by the military to block access to Palestinian communities whenever it is decided to employ collective pressure against local residents. Even when the gates are open, their virtually permanent presence serves as a constant reminder that the freedom of movement of Palestinians is entirely subject to arbitrary Israeli decisions. 

In September and October, the military blocked the entrances to three communities: Kafr a-Dik, west of Salfit (11 days); ‘Azzun, east of Qalqiliyah (24 days); and al-Jalazun Refugee Camp, north of Ramallah (20 days).

Blocking roads in response to instances of throwing stones or Molotov cocktails is unlawful and constitutes collective punishment of people whose only “crime” is that they happen to live nearby. The roadblocks severely disrupt the residents’ lives, impairing their ability to make a living, get to school, farm their land, receive medical treatment, or simply maintain a reasonable daily routine. The closure of roads as collective punishment deprives thousands of Palestinians of the right to freedom of movement and constitutes arbitrary use and abuse of military force. There is absolutely no moral or legal justification for inflicting this harm.

Below we detail the restrictions imposed on each village, including some of the testimonies collected by three of B’Tselem’s field researchers: 

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Entrance to the al-Jalazun refugee camp blocked by the military. Photo: Iyad Hadad, B'Tselem, 2 Oct. 2018

Southern entrance to al-Jalazun Refugee Camp blocked for 20 days: 23 September to 12 October 

Al-Jalazun Refugee Camp, to the north of Ramallah, has a population of about 14,000. Early on the morning of Sunday, 23 September 2018, soldiers placed concrete blocks at the southern entrance to the camp, closing it off. This entrance leads to Route 466, which connects the north of the West Bank and al-Jalazun R.C. to Ramallah. The military alleged that youths had thrown a hand grenade and Molotov cocktails at the settlement of Beit El. 

The closure of the road forces residents of the camp, as well as some 60,000-80,000 Palestinians from nearby villages, to take an alternate route via the village of Surda, increasing journey times and costs. In accordance with an order from the Palestinian Authority, the taxi companies absorb these extra costs for their passengers. The alternate route is narrow road, just five meters wide. It cannot handle the extra volume of traffic, leading to traffic jams and delays of an hour or more, disrupting the lives of tens of thousands of people, damaging their livelihood and affecting all areas of their lives.

In testimonies taken by B’Tselem field researcher Iyad Hadad on 4 October 2018, residents described the how the roadblock affects their lives:

Khitam Nakhleh, 34, a resident of al-Jalazun R.C., is a mother of three. She works as a secretary at Khalil a-Rahman School in al-Birah. In her testimony, she stated:

It’s been more than ten days now that the military has been keeping the al-Jalazun R.C.-Ramallah road closed with concrete blocks. I rely on public transportation and it’s now very hard for me to get anywhere. To get to Ramallah we have to take a detour via the Dahiyat a-Tarbiyah wa-Ta’alim neighborhood, and then on through Surda to al-Birah.

It’s a very narrow road, but because of the roadblock all traffic to and from the north of the West Bank now takes this route. This causes terrible traffic jams, particularly at rush hour when people leave for work, between 7:30 and 8:00 A.M., and again when they return home, between 3:00 and 4:00 P.M.

I get to work half an hour to an hour late every day. I’ve started leaving home earlier, at 6:00 o’clock instead of at 7:00. What I find hardest is that because of the roadblock I also arrive half an hour to an hour late to pick up my baby from her caretaker. 

The military is causing us distress and disrupting our daily routine. This isn’t the first time they’ve blocked the road and it certainly won’t be the last. Every time they give a different reason for it: once they said it was because people had shot at settlers, another time it was because of clashes between soldiers and residents of the camp, and another time it was because people were working on the fence they’re building to protect the settlers. Sometimes they even block the entrance to the alternate route near the a-Dahiyah neighborhood, and then we have to walk long distances. I’ve often gotten stuck on the way home due to clashes or to the firing of teargas or even live ammunition at young demonstrators. 

The situation is tough. Sometimes drivers take dirt roads that are in disrepair, and that makes us feel nauseous and dizzy. God help us, is all I can say.

 

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Concrete wall Israel built along the western border of the Beit El settlement, near Jalazun R.C. Photo by B'Tselem, 27 Feb. 2018

Nasser Delashah, 48, a resident of Jifna, is a married father of four. He’s works as the dispatcher in a taxi station in Ramallah. In his testimony, he described the closure of the entrance to the refugee camp:

At about 8:00 o’clock every morning I take public transportation to get to work in Ramallah. Then, around 4:00 or 5:00 P.M. I return home. Normally, the driver takes the Jalazun R.C.- Beit El-Ramallah road, a distance of about seven kilometers. The journey only takes 10 minutes and costs NIS 4 [approx. 1.10].

About ten days ago, soldiers blocked the road with concrete blocks, so we’re forced to take a detour. We use the Surda road, which is paved but very narrow and in poor condition. Sometimes we have to take a second detour on top of this, and go via Dahiyat a-Tarbiyah neighborhood. That extends the journey by another five kilometers. Luckily, we don’t have to pay more, because the Palestinian Ministry of Transport has ordered to keep the prices fixed because people can’t handle the added cost. 

The biggest problem is the traffic jams along the detours. It’s stressful and people get mad, honk their horns, and shout. Sometimes drivers start to fight with each other. When the traffic is at a standstill, many drivers switch off their engines. That means that there’s no air-conditioning and people start to suffer from the heat. Taxi drivers often have to use dirt roads so that their passengers can get where they need to go. They drive over hills or across fields, and then the passengers feel sick. Pregnant women and young children take it particularly badly.


Instead of 10 minutes, the journey takes half an hour, and sometimes even an hour. That means that every day we’re delayed for half an hour to an hour in each direction. It disrupts our lives. This isn’t the first time they’ve blocked off roads. They’ve done it many times before. The last time was at the end of last year, and the roadblock continued into this year. That time they claimed that it was because they wanted to build a fence to protect the settlers of Beit El.

We used to be able to bypass the closure via the dirt roads close to the neighborhood of Dahiyat al-Yasmin. But about a month ago the military placed barbed wire there, blocking access to these roads. By doing that, they’re preventing people from reaching their homes or places of work more easily. 

The military deliberately makes things hard for us at every turn. They disrupt our routine and unsettle us. The restrictions are getting worse every day, and we’re being pushed into a reality that’s like living in a prison or a cage.

‘Awad Sharakah, 58, a resident of al-Jalazun R.C., is a married father of eight. He works as a taxi driver. In his testimony, he stated:

As a taxi driver, I can tell you that the roadblock has cost me about one-third of my income. Because the alternate route is longer and there are a lot of traffic jams, there’s less work. The long detour I take adds around five kilometers to the journey, so that a journey that used to take 10 minutes now takes between half an hour and an hour. Instead of five round-trips day, I do about three now. So instead of getting NIS 250-300 [approx. USD 68-81.50] a day, I only get NIS 150-200 [approx. USD 40.75-54]. After paying for diesel and other costs, I’m left with something like NIS 100 [approx. USD 27] at the end of the day.

How can I provide for a family of 10 with that kind of income? Most of my children are still in school or higher education, and we need at least NIS 200 [approx. USD 54] a day. We’re badly off financially as it is, and to avoid bankruptcy I had to double my work hours.

If the roadblock continues, things will get worse. I’m very worried and I don’t know how I’m going to be able to pay all my expenses or provide for me family. It makes me nervous and tense, and sometimes because I’m so frustrated I get mad at my wife when she asks me for money to buy something and I don’t have enough.

To top it all off, I also have to cope with angry passengers, particularly when we get stuck in traffic jams in the Dahiyat a-Tarbiyah neighborhood. The road is barely five meters wide there. Everyone gets very stressed and they complain a lot. Obviously everyone wants to get to their destination on time. Drivers start to try to pass one another and the chaos only gets worse. They turn onto dirt paths, and then lots of vehicles get stuck or break down because the paths are so poorly paved. 

We have to go through this hell every day, and no one cares. All that Israel cares about is looking after the settlers’ safety and keeping them happy. What are we to them? We count for nothing. Where else in the world does anything like this happen? Does it make sense that the world sees this and remains silent? There’s no mercy, no compassion!

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The locked gate at the entrance to the village of Kafr a-Dik. Photo by Abdulkarim Sadi , B'Tselem, 3 Oct. 2018

Main entrance to the village of Kafr a-Dik blocked for 24 days: 10 September to 3 October 

The village of Kafr a-Dik (population: approx. 6,500), is situated to the west of the city of Salfit. On Monday, 10 September 2018, soldiers closed the gate that had been installed during the Second Intifada at the northwest entrance, the main entrance to the village. As in previous closures, the grounds cited for closing the gate was alleged stone-throwing at Israeli cars on Route 446. The closure of the gate forced residents to take an alternate route, a narrow bumpy road that runs through the village of Bruqin, adding nine kilometers to their journey. The roadblock made it more difficult for residents to reach their farmland and their places of work or study. It also meant paying more for taxis, the only public transportation available in the village.

In testimonies taken by B’Tselem field researcher Abdulkarim Sadi on 3 October 2018, two Kafr a-Dik residents described how their lives were disrupted by the roadblock: 

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Mahmoud Turk. Photo by Abdulkarim Sadi, B'Tselem, 3 Oct. 2018


Mahmoud Turk, 53, a married father of eight, owns a taxi station. He described the adverse effects of the roadblock: 

During the three weeks the gate was closed, we had a lot less work, because of the prices. For example, the trip from Kafr a-Dik to Deir Ballut normally costs 25 shekels [approx. USD 6.80]. Because of the roadblock and the longer route we had to take, the fare went up to 40 shekels [approx. USD 10.90]. We had the same problem with fares from Kafr a-Dik to the villages to the west of Salfit and the west of Ramallah. A driver who used to make 100-120 shekels [approx. USD 27-32.70], a day now only makes 70-80 shekels [approx. USD 19-21.80]. In addition, the road via Bruqin, which is the alternate route, is in very poor repair and that damages our taxis. And this is all because of the policy of collective punishment imposed on us.

‘Abdallah Dib, 60, a married father of three, owns a furniture factory. In his testimony, he said:

I have ten people working in my carpentry shop. We produce first-rate furniture, working in accordance with strict standards. Mainly, we export what we make to furniture marketing companies in Israel. It’s been more than three weeks since the military blocked the gate at the western entrance to the village, and it’s been a real problem transporting our goods. This road serves as our main traffic artery. We use it to transport equipment, raw materials, and the completed furniture. Now we’re forced to take a long detour, travelling via Bruqin on poor roads in order to reach Route 505 (the Trans-Samaria Highway). Since the gate was closed, the Israeli vehicles that deliver equipment and raw materials to the carpentry shop, which is located close to the village entrance, can’t reach us because they don’t use the alternative Palestinian roads. So we’ve started loading the furniture onto our own vehicles and taking the detour to meet the Israeli vehicles at a spot outside the village, close to the settlements of Alei Zahav and Peduel. Obviously, this means additional costs and wastes precious time. If the military will keep the gate closed, it’ll take a real toll on the business. 

We’re also very concerned about the upcoming olive harvest. If the military won’t open the gate, we won’t be able to reach our lands by car.

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Closed gate at the entrance to 'Azzun. Photo by Abdulkarim Sadi, B'Tselem, 20 Sept. 2018

Main entrance to ‘Azzun blocked for 11 days: 12 September to 22 September

The village of ‘Azzun (population: approx. 10,000), is situated west of the city of Qalqiliyah, close to Route 55, which links Nablus and Qalqiliyah. Early on in the Second Intifada, the military installed a metal gate at the main entrance to the village, as it did in most of the villages in the West Bank. Ever since, the military has the military has several times imposed collective punishment on the village by closing the gate, following instances of throwing stones or Molotov cocktails at the road. On the evening of Wednesday, 12 September 2018, military forces raided the village of ‘Azzun, alleging that local youths had thrown a Molotov cocktail at Israeli cars on Route 55. Clashes between the soldiers and village youths ensued. At about 9:30 P.M. the soldiers left the village. They closed the gate at the main entrance, leaving behind one jeep and some soldiers.

Blocking access to the main road adversely affects not only the residents of ‘Azzun, but also the residents of the Palestinian communities south of the village, including Kafr Thulth, Sanniriya, Bidya, ‘Izbat al-Ashqar, and numerous other villages. Every time the road is blocked, the residents of all these communities are also forced to take detours. Likewise, ambulances are forced to take the detour, unless a military jeep is stationed at the entrance to the village, in which case the soldiers allow the ambulance to go through the gate.  

In testimonies taken by B’Tselem field researcher Abdulkarim Sadi on 20 September 2018, local residents described the effects of the roadblock:

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‘Adel Shbeitah's car repair shop. Photo by Abdulkarim Sadi, B'Tselem, 20 Sept. 2018

‘Adel Shbeitah, 51, a married father of seven, lives in ‘Azzun where he owns a car repair shop. In his testimony, he related:

My repair shop is near the main entrance to the village. The military closed the gate on the night of 12 September and we’ve been suffering from the roadblock ever since because our customers can’t get into the village. As the owner of a car repair shop, I’m completely dependent on customers who come from elsewhere – both Palestinians and Israelis. Today is the eighth day in a row that not a single customer has come here. That means financial harm to me, my family, and also my employees.
The military is imposing collective punishment against us that restricts our movement and harms us financially. Before the gate was closed, I’d bring it about NIS 500 [approx. USD 135] a day. The gate’s already been closed for eight days, and the losses keeps mounting up.

Jamil Sari, 51, a married father of two, lives in Khirbet Sir. A restaurant-owner, he said:

My restaurant is located by the main road, and most of my customers come from the Nablus area and other parts of the West Bank. They include merchants, businesspeople, and other residents. I depend on them.
Since the gate was closed over a week ago, customers from the Nablus area can’t get here anymore. They aren’t familiar with the alternative route. A few days ago, a family from Nablus made a reservation, but they ended up cancelling when they realized that the entrance was blocked. They preferred to turn around and go back home rather than deal with an unfamiliar detour. 

Our earnings have been cut in half because of the roadblock. This is collective punishment imposed on the residents of ‘Azzun and the neighboring villages.

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Jamil Sari at his restaurant. Photo by Abdulkarim Sadi, B'Tselem, 20 Sept. 2018

Maamun Khaled, 22, lives in Jayus. A single man, he works for a taxi station. In his testimony, he stated:

Our taxi station is located across from the main gate to ‘Azzun. We have ten taxis. We have fares inside the village and also drive people to various destination in the surrounding area. In addition, we have Palestinian clients from Israel and clients from the Nablus and Ramallah areas. But now they can’t get to us because the gate is closed.

Our drivers have to take alternate routes, for example going west via ‘Izbat a-Tabib. This makes the journey about five kilometers longer and also more expensive. Before the roadblock, a journey from ‘Azzun to Kafr Laqif would cost NIS 15 [approx. USD 4.10], but now its costs NIS 25 [approx. USD 6.80]. That hurts our customers. Sometimes the military installs a flying, unplanned, checkpoint at the entrance to ‘Izbat a-Tabib. That delays cars leaving the village through the western entrance and causes traffic jams. If the roadblock continues, we’ll suffer heavy losses.

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Over the past decade, settlement outposts and “agricultural farms” have become one of Israel's primary methods for taking over land in the West Bank and driving Palestinian communities out. Unlike the bureaucratic process involved in establishing an official settlement, which is legal under Israeli law, ‘pirate’ outposts can be set up quickly, with relatively few resources and laborers. Taking control of farmland via setting up outposts also allows the state to evade direct responsibility for land seizure and shrug off the violent, illegal acts by settlers involved in the process, while effectively supporting them in various ways. By using these settlers as proxies, the state frames the establishment of outposts as an issue of law enforcement rather than policy.These outposts are set up quickly in key areas of the West Bank. They establish facts on the ground by invading private Palestinian land with herds of sheep and cattle, goading residents into confrontations and assaulting them. In some cases, the outposts are established without formal approval from the Israeli authorities, and in others, they are set up in cooperation with the authorities, relying on agreements concerning land allocation for agricultural needs, such as grazing and farming. Even in cases where land has been allocated by the state, the settlers often go beyond the allotted territory, expanding the territory under their control.The military often cooperates with these settlers by not demolishing structures built by them and by sending troops to guard them, who then often actively join in efforts to expel the Palestinian residents. Since 7 October 2023, this activity has greatly increased in both scope and frequency, with settlers ramping up violence and the military actively involved. This recent spike has so far driven at least 19 Palestinian communities from their homes and placed many more under serious threat.The Mitzpe Yehuda/Tzon Kedar outpost was established in September 2019 in Bariyet a-Sawahrah a-Sharqiyah, arid pastureland east of the town of the same name in al-Quds District. The outpost consists of several structures, including a café, and hosts events and weddings; a flock of sheep has also been brought there.This area had long been used by farmers from a-Sawahrah a-Sharqiyah to grow crops and graze flocks. Some of the land is privately owned by residents of the town. Some farmers live in shacks they built on their lands to tend to their flocks and cultivate the land, while maintaining homes in the town. Additionally, for decades, Bedouins from the al-Hazalin tribe—who relocated to the area after being expelled from the Negev by Israel in the 1950s—have lived in the area. There they established the al-Muntar community, which comprises several residential clusters. Immediately after the outpost was set up there was a significant increase in harassment suffered by Palestinian residents. Settlers began invading their lands and damaging fences and crops, sometimes escorted by soldiers. Settlers also prevented some residents from reaching land they farmed and pastureland they used by threatening them at gunpoint. The restriction of available pastureland has forced shepherds who cannot afford to buy feed to sell most of their sheep. After 7 October 2023, settlers blocked the road leading from the town to the residents’ farmland and pastureland by putting up a dirt pile and concrete blocks, escorted by soldiers. This also blocked Palestinians from the town who live on their farmland and residents of al-Muntar from reaching the town for various services. At the same time, the settlers intensified their harassment of the farmers, threatening to hurt them if they did not leave the area, and preventing them from accessing pastureland or repairing their water wells. Settlers also broke into a resident’s home in the dead of night, set a neighboring house on fire, cut water pipes and vandalized fences. Some residents were forced to abandon their homes in the agricultural area out of fear for their lives, and farmers from the town stopped cultivating their lands. The residents repeatedly called the police and even filed complaints, to no avail. The police arrested one of the residents, who was released only two weeks later. The deliberate creation of such friction clearly demonstrates the motivation behind establishing outpost farms as settlers expand their control over these lands. The targeted harassment of Palestinian farmers by settlers from outposts creates a false show of symmetry between the settlers and the farmers, which the military then uses to justify removing Palestinians from their lands, often using force, under the pretext of security constraints. When such incidents recur, farmers’ access to their own lands is barred, preventing them from cultivating their fields and making a living from them. With the military’s backing, settlers exploit the situation they have created to take final control over Palestinian-owned lands. In February 2023, the Israeli government announced its intention to legalize the Tzon Kedar Farm and nine other outposts. A year later, in February 2024, the head of the Central Command signed an order regarding the jurisdiction of a new settlement named Mishmar Yehuda, among other things advancing the legalization of Tzon Qedar. The jurisdiction is apparently based on state land declared there and on land allegedly purchased by settlers from Palestinian landowners in 1992. This action completes Israel’s takeover of the land, which began with the outpost’s establishment, formalizing the residents’ loss of access to lands that served them until the outpost was built. Testimonies that B’Tselem field researcher ‘Amer ‘Aruri collected from several Palestinians who own pastureland in Bariyet a-Sawahrah a-Sharqiyah illustrate the impact of the outpost on their lives and the harassment they face from settlers and the military.On 9 May 2024, ​ ​J.S. (31) said:I am married without children and work in agriculture. I own land in the pastureland of a-Sawahrah, east of the town. Before the establishment of Tzon Kedar, I lived in a-Sawahrah a-Sharqiyah and could easily reach my land. We felt safe here.Since the outpost was built, I started hearing from family members who lived on the land that settlers were attacking shepherds and not letting them reach pasture and farmland. This land has been ours for many generations. My father, my grandfathers and their grandfathers lived in this area and grazed huge flocks in these open spaces. I spent a lot of time here as a child with the family, with the sheep out in the pasture, and there was nothing to fear. The place was safe.Because it’s become so hard to access our land, I moved here with my wife a year ago. The settlers have reduced our grazing areas, which once spanned hundreds of dunams. Now we only have access to about ten dunams [~2.5 acres] right next to my house and my cousin N.S.’s house. Whenever we do try to reach the grazing areas near the outpost, the settlers threaten to shoot us with their rifles.The settlers also show up at our homes here, accompanied by soldiers. Once, a settler arrived with a map and said he’d bought the land my house and my cousin’s house are on. He also claimed that until recently, there were no structures here, even though my family had a trailer here, donated by an international organization 25 years ago. The settlers also cut the fence around our cultivated land and let their sheep roam there. They ate the crops we put so much work into.A week after 7 October 2023, while I was driving home, a settler blocked the road and told me I wasn’t allowed to reach the area by car. Later, the settlers and the army blocked the road to the town with a dirt mound and dug a trench next to it.One night after the war broke out, while my wife and I were asleep, three settlers suddenly knocked down our door and burst in. My wife started screaming and calling for help. The settlers told us we had to leave the area. One of them threatened me and said, “If you come near us, I’ll shoot you.” He said it was our final warning and that we had to leave.That night, my cousin’s house suddenly caught fire. It’s made of cement blocks and tin. I called in relatives from a-Sawahrah a-Sharqiyah, who arrived half an hour later and helped me put out the fire, but part of the house was destroyed. Thank God my cousin and his family weren’t home that night. Since the war began, his wife and children have been sleeping in town because they’re afraid of the settlers and their attacks on Palestinian communities across the West Bank, so that night he wasn’t there.Since the war began, I’ve filed three complaints against the settlers and the army, for cutting off our access to the town and for the invasion of my home, but nothing has come of it. Our complaints don’t lead to any action against the settlers.Today, 9 May 2024, we tried to repair a water cistern near our homes. We hired four workers for the job. But then an armed settler arrived and threatened us that if we didn’t stop the work, he would be back in an hour, shoot anyone working on the cistern and blow it up. The workers got scared and left, and the repairs stopped. Someone once cut the pipes leading water out of the cistern, and we suspect it was the settlers.N.S. (35), a father of four and cousin of ​ ​J.S., a resident of a-Sawahrah a-Sharqiyah, related on 9 May 2024:I am a farmer. My extended family owns about 500 dunams [~124 acres] in the pastureland of a-Sawahrah a-Sharqiyah. My ancestors grew grains in this area and our family has been cultivating it since ancient times. I farm the same lands. My extended family has always had flocks of sheep that graze here.Since the settlers built their outpost a few years ago, our situation has deteriorated. Until then, we raised 500 sheep here and had access to all the grazing areas without interference. Now, to reach most of our land I have to go past the outpost, but the settlers don’t let me past and threaten to shoot me. That has reduced my grazing land from hundreds of dunams to about ten [~2.5 acres].Since 7 October 2023, the situation has got much worse. A week after the war started, I went shopping in town. When I got back at 5:30 A.M., I found part of my house burned down.I thank God that at the beginning of the war, I moved my family to our house in town because I feared the settlers would harm them. Otherwise, a disaster would have happened to us. No one but the settlers has an interest in burning our house. They are the ones trying to pressure us into leaving the area.Two weeks after the war began, the settlers and the army blocked the road leading from town to the pastureland with a dirt mound and dug a trench around it. We tried several times to unblock the road, but security guards from the nearby settlement of Qedar came and told us we were not allowed to open it. They threatened to confiscate our vehicle if we didn’t stop.The settlers continued to chase after the shepherds in the pastureland, armed with rifles. One time, they threatened to shoot me if I didn’t move my sheep away from the area by the outpost.All this has severely undermined our ability to make a living off of shepherding, and we’ve been forced to sell most of our flock. From a flock of 500 sheep, only 60 remain. Not only do the settlers prevent us from reaching our grazing land, but they also let their sheep–I estimate they have about 200–roam freely on our cultivated lands.On the tenth day of the last Ramadan, at 3:00 A.M., soldiers came to my house in six military vehicles and arrested me. They took me to the Russian Compound detention center in Jerusalem and accused me of multiple charges, all of which I denied.I told the interrogator that the only Jews I know are the two settlers who have been attacking me, threatening my life, and releasing their sheep onto my family’s farmland, while barring me from grazing my sheep and going near their outpost.I was held in the detention center for 14 days, in a cell with 15 other people. The cell had a toilet and six concrete bunks, so most of the detainees slept on the floor. There were no blankets. All we got to eat, twice a day, was an egg, four sausages and a slice of bread. That’s what we got even for the pre-fast meal, suhur, and the meal for breaking the fast, iftar. At night, we weren’t allowed to turn off the lights, which made it very hard to sleep.The guards stormed into the cell several times a day and beat all of us for no reason. Usually, the worst beatings occurred at night, after we went to sleep. I suffered many injuries to my head and chest from the beatings, but we didn’t get any medical treatment. People who had been detained in the past told me that before 7 October 2023, prison was different. After two weeks, I was released and went home.We get water from the town through plastic pipes, and we have a 500-liter tank. It takes a week to fill because the water pressure is weak. Three days ago, someone sabotaged our water pipes and cut them. I believe it was settlers from the outpost. This has happened more than once since October. The war has increased the settlers’ appetite for our lands, as well as their efforts to drive us out of the pastureland.Today, 9 May 2024, I hired four workers from the town to repair the water cistern by my house. At 9:30 A.M., while we were cleaning the cistern, a settler arrived with a gun and told me we had an hour to leave the place, or else he would shoot at and blow up the cistern. The workers got scared and refused to continue working after that. M.S. (34), a father of four and resident of the town of a-Sawahrah a-Sharqiyah, said on 9 May 2024:I’m a farmer and started raising sheep about three years ago. I work on the farmland of my grandfather and father in the pastureland of a-Sawahrah a-Sharqiyah. My late grandfather had a quarry in the area, which operated with an Israeli license, but stopped functioning about 30 years ago.My grandfather and father used to grow grains and raise sheep, and could access their lands freely back then. You could plant, sow and graze sheep everywhere. We used the crops for personal consumption and sold some of it to buy feed for the sheep some of the year. But since the outpost was established about 500 meters from our home, the lands we use for grazing and farming have shrunk from hundreds of dunams to 12 dunams [~3 acres]. That is because the settlers do not allow my family past the outpost to reach the grazing land.In the past, we leased some of our land to another resident of a-Sawahrah a-Sharqiyah, who cultivated it. But after the outpost was established, he got too scared and left. The settlers took advantage of the fact that the land was uncultivated, and three years ago, they cut the barbed wire fence, invaded our land and plowed it. My family has roots here going back hundreds of years, and I wasn’t ready to give up. I decided to come back and work the land along with my brothers and cousins, because I feared the settlers would take over my ancestral land. We fixed the barbed wire fence that they destroyed, plowed the land and planted seeds.The first time, after the settlers invaded and plowed our land, more than 50 members of our family came and worked the land. At first, the settlers were afraid to come near us, so we managed to work and plant. But later on, masked settlers started coming to our land and cursing everyone who was working there.On 29 April 2023, the settlers cut the barbed wire fence around our land and uprooted the iron stakes marking its boundaries. We repaired the fence, drove the iron stakes back in and re-marked the boundaries.After 7 October 2023, the settlers started trying even harder to grab our land, especially because the Israeli government gave them a green light to attack Palestinian communities in the West Bank without being held accountable.More than once, settlers have stood in my path and threatened me. They told me that if I stayed in the area, it would soon cost me my life. They said they were losing patience with me and my family, because our land and homes are the closest to their outpost.Once, after the war began, settlers attacked the home of one of my relatives. They broke into his house at night, while he was there with his wife, and threatened to kill him. That same night, another relative’s house was set on fire.About seven months ago, while we were out at a family celebration, the settlers used the opportunity to unleash dogs into a sheep pen we shared with some relatives. The dogs attacked the sheep and killed ten of them.In another incident three months ago, I was working on our land and had a five-year-old boy from our family with me. Two settlers arrived, one of whom I recognized and the other was wearing a mask and army pants and had an M-16 rifle. One of them asked me what we were doing on the land of Eretz Israel. I told him he was trespassing, that this was private land and that he wasn’t allowed to be there. He told me that in war there are no rules. I took out my phone and told the settler that if he didn’t leave, I would call the police. The settler warned me not to walk the sheep near the outpost and said I wasn’t allowed to leave my house at night. He threatened to kill me.Twelve days ago, the settlers cut the barbed wire fence around our land and brought in their flocks of sheep. I called the police, and they came and told the settlers they weren’t allowed to enter any fenced-off land.The settlers repeatedly sabotage the pipes through which the a-Sawahrah municipality supplies us with water. The last time was on Thursday, 16 May 2024. We got up in the morning and found the pipes cut and damaged. Obviously, nothing like this ever happened to us before the outpost was built.The residents of a-Sawahrah a-Sharqiyah used to have hundreds of dunams available for grazing. Now, we all have to share a few dozen dunams because the settlers chase shepherds in the area. Of what’s left, about 12 dunams [~3 acres] belong to my family.With less grazing land, no money to buy feed and fewer crops for the sheep to eat after the settlers cut the fences and brought their sheep into our land, I had to cut my flock down from 150 to 50.

4 September 2024

שער הכניסה ל"חוות מגד הארץ". צילום: דרור אטקס, כרם נבות, 11.5.22

Settler Violence = State Violence

Meged Ha’aretz Farm: Settler takeover of Shufah and Kafa lands with military assistance

Over the past decade, settlement outposts and “agricultural farms” have become one of Israel’s primary methods for taking over land in the West Bank and driving Palestinian communities out. Unlike the bureaucratic process involved in establishing an official settlement, ‘pirate’ outposts can be set up quickly, with relatively few resources and laborers. Taking control of farmland via setting up outposts also allows the state to evade direct responsibility for land seizure and shrug off the violent, illegal acts by settlers involved in the process, while effectively supporting them in various ways. By using these settlers as proxies, the state frames the establishment of outposts as an issue of law enforcement rather than policy.These outposts are set up quickly in key areas of the West Bank. They establish facts on the ground by invading private Palestinian land with herds of sheep and cattle, goading residents into confrontations and assaulting them. In some cases, the outposts are established without formal approval from the Israeli authorities, and in others, they are set up in cooperation with the authorities, relying on agreements concerning land allocation for agricultural needs, such as grazing and farming. Even in cases where land has been allocated by the state, the settlers often go beyond the allotted territory, expanding the territory under their control.The military often cooperates with these settlers by not demolishing structures built by them and by sending troops to guard them, who then often actively join in efforts to expel the Palestinian residents. Since 7 October 2023, this activity has greatly increased in both scope and frequency, with settlers ramping up violence and the military actively involved. This recent spike has so far driven at least 19 Palestinian communities from their homes and placed many more under serious threat.One of these outposts is Meged Ha’aretz, which was founded in 2018 in the Tulkarm district, west of the settlement of Avnei Hefetz, northwest of the village of Shufah—which, with the establishment of Avnei Hefetz, had already lost a significant portion of its land —and east of the village of Kafa. About ten residential buildings, agricultural structures, greenhouses, and a pen for around 200 sheep have been built, and plots have been prepared for growing organic agricultural produce sold at the outpost. Various workshops are also held there. Since the establishment of the outpost, there has been a significant increase in the harassment of farmers whose agricultural plots are located a few hundred meters from the outpost and the settlement fence. Settlers have harassed farmers working on their lands, provoked them, and deliberately created friction. Hundreds of olive trees have been vandalized, and agricultural structures, water tanks, and property were damaged. Equipment and livestock have been stolen, graffiti sprayed and greenhouses set on fire. Another tactic settlers from the outpost used to intimidate and take control of the land has been firing shots into the air to frighten Palestinian shepherds and prevent them from grazing their sheep and cattle in the area. As a result of settler violence and restricted access to grazing areas, some farmers were forced to sell their herds, as the cost of feeding livestock with purchased fodder was unaffordable.Since 7 October 2023, army-supported settler harassment has intensified, and farmers from the villages of Shufah and Kafa have been practically barred from working their lands and grazing their livestock. They were unable to pick their olives during the 2023 harvest. During the plowing season in March and April 2024, Palestinian landowners contacted the Israeli DCO to coordinate their entry into the area. Nevertheless, when they arrived at their plots, settlers and soldiers prevented them from working their land. The soldiers fired in the air, detained the farmers, took them to a military base in the settlement of Avnei Hefetz, and held them there for several hours before releasing them without any charges or allegations.It is important to emphasize that while Palestinians’ access to their own lands has been restricted, the military allows settlers to move free and do as they please in the area. The settlers destroyed an agricultural structure after vandalizing it several times, among other harm they have caused.The deliberate creation of such friction clearly demonstrates the motivation behind establishing outpost farms as settlers expand their control over these lands. The targeted harassment of Palestinian farmers by settlers from outposts creates a false show of symmetry between the settlers and the farmers, which the military then uses to justify removing Palestinians from their lands, often using force, under the pretext of security constraints. When such incidents recur, farmers’ access to their own lands is barred, preventing them from cultivating their fields and making a living from them. With the military’s backing, settlers exploit the situation they have created to take final control over Palestinian-owned lands.It is important to emphasize that while Palestinians’ access to their own lands has been restricted, the military allows settlers to move free and do as they please in the area. The settlers destroyed an agricultural structure after vandalizing it several times, among other harm they have caused.The deliberate creation of such friction clearly demonstrates the motivation behind establishing outpost farms as settlers expand their control over these lands. The targeted harassment of Palestinian farmers by settlers from outposts creates a false show of symmetry between the settlers and the farmers, which the military then uses to justify removing Palestinians from their lands, often using force, under the pretext of security constraints. When such incidents recur, farmers’ access to their own lands is barred, preventing them from cultivating their fields and making a living from them. With the military’s backing, settlers exploit the situation they have created to take final control over Palestinian-owned lands.Testimonies collected by B’Tselem from several residents of the villages of Shufah and Kafa illustrate the detrimental impact the outpost has on farmers’ access to their lands, as well as the mistreatment they face from settlers and soldiers.B’Tselem field researcher Abdulkarim Sadi collected the following testimonies.Tahsin Hamed (72), a father of six and resident of Shufah, gave his testimony to B’Tselem on 12 May 2024:My brothers—Jamal, Mu’in, Ahmad and Ibrahim—and I inherited 500 dunams of land about 400-500 meters from the security fence of the settlement of Avnei Hefetz, which was built on land that belongs to people from our village. We personally own an olive grove and grow seasonal crops as well.In 2018, a settler took over a hill in the area of Manzalet Bir-Salem, located about 700-800 meters northwest of the settlement of Avnei Hefetz. He moved there with his family and set up tents and sheep pens. I think he has around 200 sheep.That’s when our problems began. The settler started grazing his sheep in our olive grove, and they ate the branches of the olive trees and the seasonal crops we used to plant every year. Together with other settlers, he also damaged young olive trees we planted and the branches of mature trees. Since he set up his outpost, hundreds of our olive trees and olive seedlings have been destroyed. We planted new seedlings several times, but the settlers destroyed them again and again.Also, whenever my family and I go to our land to work, the settler calls the soldiers in the area, who come and order us to leave under false pretexts, claiming we are trespassing on the land the settler stole, even though we don’t leave our own plot. Instead of protecting us, the soldiers drive us out. They help the settler take over our land, too.We used to have a small agricultural structure made of stone and cinder blocks with a tin roof on our plot. It was built decades ago and was a place to rest and store tools. There was also a small chicken coop nearby, where I kept six hens whose eggs I ate on days I was working.The settlers have damaged the structure several times. They vandalized the water container we use for drinking, cooking and watering the plants around the structure, and broke the wooden door. The last time this happened was about a month ago, during Ramadan. Since the war in Gaza began, the Israeli army has banned me and my brothers from entering our land under security pretexts. Each time we’ve tried to go, soldiers have told us we’re forbidden from being there and expelled us. The settlers have taken advantage of this and have completely destroyed the structure and damaged everything inside it. Even during the last olive harvest, in October and November 2023, the army stopped us all from picking our olives. They drove us away every time we tried to reach our groves. As a result, the entire crop—which would make about 300 jars of olive oil—went to waste. In previous years, we sold most of the crop and kept a small portion for personal use.Last Ramadan, which started at the end of March and ended in April, the Palestinian DCO informed us that the Israeli DCO had designated three days for us to access our land to plow and treat the weeds. My brothers, our sons and I—13 people from our family altogether—arrived early in the morning on the first designated day with donkeys, pesticide and other agricultural equipment. Just 10 minutes later, Israeli soldiers stationed in the Avnei Hefetz settlement arrived and fired live shots in the air. Then guards from the settlement, other settlers and more soldiers arrived. They handcuffed us all and covered our eyes with black garbage bags.A military vehicle arrived. They loaded us onto it and took us to a military camp within Avnei Hefetz. They confiscated our ID cards and phones and held us there without any interrogation or questioning. They only swore at us. I tried to explain to the soldiers that we went to our land after coordinating with the Israeli DCO, and that we were authorized to work there for three days, but no one would listen.They kept us there with our hands tied and eyes covered for eight hours—from 7:30 A.M. to 3:30 P.M.—and then took us to the Einav checkpoint, where they released us. We took the plastic bags off our eyes and took of the remaining zip ties, and found all the belongings they took from us lying on a concrete block at the checkpoint.We got home exhausted and felt we’d been wronged. The settlers and soldiers want to drive us off our land and take control of it.On 8 December 2019, Hamed told B’Tselem how settlers harassed him and his brother on their land:This afternoon I was on the 12 plot of land that belongs to me and my brothers, west of the outpost near the Avnei Hefetz settlement. My brother Ibrahim was plowing his plot, which is next to mine. I was about to join him when suddenly, I heard shouting in Hebrew coming from his plot. I realized settlers were harassing my brother and quickly went there. It’s about 200 meters away. When I got there, I saw a settler holding the donkey’s bridle to prevent my brother from plowing. The settler was shouting and demanding that my brother leave the area. I took the bridle from the settler and yelled at him. I asked why he was doing this. The settler said the land belongs to Jews. I replied that this land has belonged to our family for hundreds of years. I managed to get the settler away from the donkey.He called for another settler to come, and we got into a fight over ownership of the land. The settler kept provoking me and telling me to hit him, but I held back so he wouldn’t have an excuse to call more settlers and soldiers, who could force us to leave. This went on for about two hours. In the end, the two settlers left after they didn’t manage to provoke us into reacting. My brother Ibrahim then continued to plow his land.This is our land, which we inherited from our grandparents, and we will continue to work it. We will plow the land, take care of it and protect it from the settlers’ herds. It’s clear to me that the settlers’ acts of provocation and aggression are just the beginning. They want to drive us off the land so they can take control of it.A.I. (21), a resident of Kafa, gave his testimony to B’Tselem on 20 July 2024:My family and I make our living from farming. We own farland and greenhouses east of Kafa, in an area called al-Maruj a-Sharqiya [1] (“the eastern fields”. There, we have greenhouses that cover 3 dunams, where we grow cucumbers, tomatoes and other vegetables.A few years ago, a settler set up a farm on a hill called al-Masyad and took over the land I mentioned, which belongs to my grandfather, and covers almost 9 dunams. Since then, accessing our land has become risky, because the settler and his friends provoke and threaten us.For example, one night in the spring of 2018, a group of settlers set fire to our greenhouses. That same year, they attacked me and my brother Haitham with sticks and branches while we were inside our greenhouse. There were more than 15 of them, most under the age of 18, but they were accompanied by the settler who built the farm. My brother and I managed to escape, but they uprooted tomato seedlings we planted.In 2021, they tried to set the greenhouses on fire several times, always at night. Thanks to our vigilance, we put out the fire each time before it spread to all the greenhouses.In March 2024, while I was installing wooden boards on the roofs of the greenhouses, a group of about 12 settlers arrived, some of them carrying sticks and others guns. They forced me to come down from the roof, threatened me and then drove me out of the land. I had to leave to avoid being attacked.I’m currently preparing the land for planting. Most days, on our way to the greenhouses, there are shots in the air above us coming from the direction of the farm. They try to scare us off coming to our land, growing things on it and benefiting from it.The soldiers guarding the outpost help the settlers. They detain us, check our ID cards and phones, and look to see whether we’ve photographed the outpost or the settlers, trying to deter us from coming. Their goal is to drive us owners away so the settlers can take over the land.U.I. (25), a resident of Kafa, gave his testimony to B’Tselem on 20 July 2024:I’ve been working in agriculture since 2017. I have greenhouses on 3 dunams and another 2 dunams of field crops and vegetables. These plots are east of Kafa, in an area called al-Maruj a-Sharqiya, about 700-800 meters from the outpost. Ever since a settler built an outpost west of the Avnei Hefetz settlement, we’ve been facing problems, and accessing my land has become dangerous. After 7 October 2023, the harassment increased, especially from late December 2023 to late February 2024. Whenever we tried to reach the land, the soldiers guarding the outpost would block us. We had to sneak in to work the land. One morning, I arrived at the greenhouses to plant tomato seedlings. I saw about 20 settlers on my land, and soldiers who were with them wouldn’t let me pass. I waited until noon, and when I finally reached the greenhouses, I found they’d slashed the plastic coverings with knives and stones. They also damaged the tomato seedlings—4,600 seedlings I bought from a nursery the day before. Besides that, the settlers from the outpost shoot over our heads when we’re on the land and in the greenhouses to scare us. The last time was just a few days ago, on 16 July 2024—the bullet came within a few centimeters of my head, and I was lucky not to be hit. They do all of this to force us to abandon our land so they can take control of it more easily. W.A. (36), a father of three and resident of Kafa, gave his testimony to B’Tselem on 20 July 2024:I’m a farmer. My family and I have farmland east of Kafa, in an area called al-Aqayib a-Sharqiya. In June 2017, across from our land, in the area of al-Akran, an outpost was built. It lies west of the Avnei Hefetz settlement. Until 2018, we also raised cattle and sheep. We had 50 cows and 70 sheep, and would graze them on 100 dunams of pastureland that served the village for decades. But then a settler built that outpost, which is basically a farm; he set up trailers, built sheep pens, and barred my family from grazing our cattle there. On several occasions, he fired shots into the air above our heads and our herds to scare us. We were afraid he might kill the livestock or even us, and we realized there was no one to protect us or hold him accountable. We had to stop grazing and, since we can’t afford feed, we had no choice but to sell our herd at the end of 2018, a year after the settler arrived.In 2021, while we were planting black-eyed pea seedlings in our field, a group of settlers showed up. That original settler drew an imaginary line with his hand and said we and other farmers were not allowed to cross it, threatening that anyone who did would be risking their life. The line he drew was more than 700 meters from his outpost. He also often flies a drone over us when we work our land.We live in constant tension and fear because of his violent behavior—the shots in the air, the drone and the threats. We’re very worried he might harm us and are concerned about our livelihood and future.

27 August 2024