Settler Violence = State Violence
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. The Wadi Qalt (al-Ka’abneh) community—which consists of 15 families that number 80 members, including 40 minors—has resided in the area of Wadi Qalt, also known as Al-'Ara'reh-al-Hathrurah, since 1983. Over the years, the residents have primarily lived off shepherding. The community, which is part of the al-Ka’abneh tribe, was originally displaced from the Negev after the establishment of the State of Israel, initially moved to the Hebron area and from there to Wadi Qalt, east of Jerusalem. Since settling there, the residents have been forcibly displaced twice: following the establishment of the Kfar Adumim settlement, and again following the establishment of the Mitzpe Yeriho settlement. In 2018, the Lechatchila outpost was established within the municipal area of the settlements of Mitzpe Yeriho and Ma’ale Adumim, about 150 meters east of the Wadi al-Qalt community. The outpost is home to a yeshiva for ultra-Orthodox youth who have dropped out of other institutions. The yeshiva is financed by the Jewish National Fund (JNF) and combines studies with agricultural work and shepherding. The outpost also hosts social events. B’Tselem has learned that the Settlement Division of the World Zionist Organization—which was allocated the land by the Government Property Administrator in the Civil Administration—signed a contract with the outpost’s residents, allocating land for grazing flocks and planting in an area northeast of the outpost. These allocation agreements permit use of the land for grazing flocks, but to the best of B’Tselem’s knowledge, the agreements and the planning status do not allow for construction. Therefore, the buildings at the farm are likely illegal, and in any case, the allocation contract does not include the Bedouin community’s land.In 2022, another outpost was established west of the community, which is now hemmed in by an outpost to the east, an outpost to the west, Route 1 to the south, and the Wadi Qalt Nature Reserve to the north. This, combined with settler violence, has greatly diminished the grazing areas available to the community.Community members say that since the Lechathila outpost was built, they have been harassed on an unprecedented scale. They report incidents of shepherds being attacked while tending their flocks, and invasions of the community. According to community residents, during such invasions, settlers arriving from the direction of the outpost have assaulted people, thrown stones at them, and threatened them. Despite the recurrence of such incidents, when the residents appealed to the Israel Police, it did nothing to stop the attacks and harassment while detaining community members, including minors.The deliberate creation of this “friction” clearly demonstrates the motivation behind establishing outpost farms and the way in which the settlers are solidifying their hold on the land. 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, often using force, under the pretext of security constraints. When such incidents recur, farmers’ access to the land they use to graze flocks is barred, greatly damaging their ability to live off shepherding. The harassment of the community members is not limited to the attempt to drive of grazing land, but also includes restricting their freedom of movement. Even before the war, the Civil Administration and the military closed an electric gate they installed on the road leading to the community, preventing residents from entering and exiting via the access road across from the settlement’s entrance. Settlers also began to conduct patrols in the area. During the war, the military also blocked the winding mountain road towards Jericho, making it even more difficult for residents to travel to and from the community and reach the city, where they receive services. Recently, the checkpoint on the access road was reopened during daylight hours, but the military continues to close it every night. Even so, the exit towards Jericho remains blocked at all times, and the road cannot fully serve the community’s residents.Since the war broke out, settler attacks on the community have intensified, including several nighttime invasions in which some of the assailants wore uniforms or face masks and arrived from the direction of the outpost. They entered homes, threatened residents, demanded they leave their homes, and caused harm to property. Settlers also repeatedly damaged the community’s water infrastructure, which belongs to Israeli water company Mekorot. In December 2023, the frequency of attacks decreased following intervention by the Civil Administration under pressure from humanitarian organizations. However, settlers have continued to prevent access to grazing lands, severely impacting residents’ livelihoods. As a result, most shepherds were forced to sell the majority of their sheep, as they could not afford to purchase feed. Some had to take up manual labor jobs, abandoning their traditional way of life.B’Tselem collected testimonies from several members of the community, who described the outpost’s effect on the lives of Palestinians who live and graze flocks nearby, and their harassment by settlers and soldiers. B’Tselem field researcher ‘Amer ‘Aruri collected testimonies from two community members:Tayel Ka’abneh (41), a father of six, testified on 13 May 2024:I have six children. My eldest son, Muhammad, 23, is already married. My community used to live where the settlement of Mitzpe Yeriho was established, but was expelled in 1983. From there, the community moved to where it is now, and I was born there that year. Since the outpost was established five years ago, we’ve been suffering from attacks by settlers who come from the shepherding outpost.In May and June 2023, there were several attacks in a row by settlers who came from the direction of the outpost. In one case, settlers came in with their sheep and set them to graze in the middle of the community. The residents chased away the sheep, but then the settlers called for reinforcement and more settlers arrived from the direction of the outpost, some of them carrying sticks and clubs, and some masked. They attacked me and some of my family members, including my 14-year-old son, my 16-year-old nephew, and my 60-year-old cousin Muhammad Ibrahim.We called the police, but the officers who arrived arrested us. We were handcuffed and taken to the police station in the settlement of Ma’ale Adumim, where they left us handcuffed and blindfolded on a bench for 24 hours. They interrogated us and accused us of attacking soldiers, even though the confrontation was with settlers. My son and nephew were released without bail, but my cousin and I each had to pay a bail of 1,500 shekels [~$410 USD].After 7 October 2023, a large excavator from the Civil Administration, accompanied by soldiers, blocked the road leading to some of our community’s homes with dirt mounds. Due to the closure of this and other roads that were blocked even before the war, we have to drive on a much longer, rough bypass road every time we want to get to Jericho. Before that, we could reach the main Jericho-Jerusalem road within 5 minutes.About 20 to 30 days after 7 October 2023, I remember hearing movement outside at night. When I went to check, I saw some settlers advancing towards my house. I was scared, so I told the women and children to run to the house of relatives, which is higher up. I ran to the main road with two of my sons. The settlers destroyed four solar panels I got with the help of the European Union, and a 4x4 meter shed where I store fodder. Then I saw them go back towards the outpost. Our family was the only one attacked that night.Since 7 October 2023, the attacks have increased. Settlers started coming to our community almost every day, some wearing uniforms. They raided homes, shone flashlights on sleeping people, roamed between our homes, and even told us we had to leave or else they would force us to. On 27 November 2023, late at night, four settlers showed up at my house wearing masks and accused me of stealing water from the Mekorot water company. I told them it wasn’t true, that I receive water legally, and that the Palestinian Authority has been paying the water bills for all the Bedouin settlements in the area for years. They demanded to see receipts, and then one of them said they already ordered us to leave and that we have two options: to leave voluntarily with their financial help, or to be expelled by force. I told them I won’t leave this place.The settlers also tried to steal 20 of my sheep. They came to our land and began to lead part of my flock towards the outpost. We called the police, who arrived and returned the sheep. About 40 days after 7 October 2023, we discovered that the Mekorot water pipes that supply the community were slashed. They belong to an Israeli company. We were left without water for several days. No one other than the settlers has any interest in doing this. It’s happened a few more times since. They want to harass us in every way possible, in order to drive us out of the area and take it over.At the beginning of the war, when the settlers’ attacks began to intensify, some of my brothers considered leaving the community. One of them even started dismantling his structures, but in the end, he was persuaded to stay. In December 2023, after humanitarian organizations pressured the Civil Administration, the attacks stopped. Settlers also prevent us from accessing grazing areas. If we get close to the outpost with our sheep, they come out and throw stones at us. The situation worsened when another outpost was established approximately two kilometers west of here, about a year ago. For example, two days ago, settlers who came from the direction of the western outpost attacked my brother Muhammad’s sheep, which were grazing near the community, and threw stones at them. They broke the legs of one sheep.Until the establishment of Mitzpe Yeriho and the outpost, we had enough available grazing lands, and we had to buy fodder to feed the sheep for only five months a year. But due to the establishment of the outposts, the settlers’ pressure, and the reduction of grazing lands, we’re now forced to buy fodder throughout the year at a cost of 1,200 shekels [~$330 USD] per month. We can’t afford that, so I had to reduce my herd from 120 to 20 heads. Most of the community’s residents have gradually sold off most of their sheep. Many have also started working manual labor jobs in the Mishor Adumim industrial area, in factories by the Dead Sea, and in Palestinian date plantations.We don’t know what the future holds for us—the presence of the settlements and outposts threatens the existence of our community. I think the settlers’ goal is to displace us. Muhammad Ka’abneh (51), a father of seven, said on 13 May 2024:My two sons, Jihad (28) and Musa (24), who are both married and have three children each, live near me. I work on a date plantation in Jericho. Until 7 October, Jihad worked in the Mishor Adumim settlement and Musa in the Dead Sea area, but at the beginning of the war, their work permits were revoked.On 21 June 2020, settlers who arrived from the direction of the outpost entered our community and one of them hit sheep with an iron rod. When I approached him, he hit me on the head with the rod and ran off with the other settlers. I was taken to a hospital in Jericho for treatment.Since the war in Gaza began, the Israeli army has closed an electric gate that prevents us from reaching the Jerusalem-Jericho road, forcing us to travel via a rough dirt road, making the drive significantly longer.In recent years, two outposts have been established here, threatening the safety and lives of the community residents: the Lechathila farm was established about five years ago to the east of our community, and about a year ago, another outpost was built to the west. Since the war broke out in October 2023, settlers—some in uniform, some masked— started invading the community between 1:00 and 3:00 A.M. while people were sleeping. This became a regular occurrence; the last time was on 29 November 2023. They stayed in the community for hours, some of the time entering homes and shining lights on the faces of people who were sleeping. Some of the time they just stood chatting and laughing among themselves, right next to our homes. Once, one of the settlers who came from the direction of the outpost told me that it would be better for us to leave our home now, because the next time they would burn it down and destroy it, and force us to leave.On 29 November 2023, at around 3:00 A.M., I woke up in a panic when six people dressed in military uniforms entered my home and flashed a light in my face. They were masked, demanded my ID, and one of them asked how long I had been living here. I told him that my grandfather and father had lived here for decades; he said that according to his records, I had only lived here for ten years and asked why I wasn’t leaving. I told him that I didn’t want to leave, and he asked how much money would convince me to. I said I didn’t want money and that I have nowhere else to go; he suggested I leave for Jordan or Qatar. I believe they were settlers from the Lechathila outpost because I saw them go back in that direction.The settlers from Lechathila and the second, newer outpost restrict our access to grazing areas. They throw stones at us and threaten us with firearms to prevent us from grazing, so over the past five years we’ve only been able to take our sheep a maximum of 400 meters from our houses. We are afraid to get close to the outposts. In addition, the settlers who come from the direction of the outpost graze their sheep in front of our homes and no one dares speak to them, because we’re afraid they will attack us as they have in the past. For example, yesterday, 12 May 2024, at around 5:30 P.M., a settler came from the outpost west of our community and threw stones at our sheep, breaking one of their legs. The most frustrating part is that the settlers are free to roam with their sheep within the community’s area and in Wadi Qalt, while we, the native Bedouin residents, cannot. I used to have 80 sheep, but because of the settlements and outposts restricting our access to grazing areas, I had to sell 60 of them, leaving me with just 20. I am a poor man; I work in Palestinian date plantations for a daily wage of 80 shekels [~$22 USD]. This is seasonal work, only eight months a year, and the money is not enough to buy fodder for my sheep. This has severely impacted our community’s economic situation, which used to rely on raising sheep and trading livestock and dairy products we produce. Shepherding and livestock trading have become economically unviable, and many people have abandoned our traditional work to become laborers. The settlements and outposts around the community have destroyed our Bedouin way of life.
13 October 2024
