In the fall of 2016, two new settlement outposts were established in the northern Jordan Valley. They put into practices methods similar to those employed in other instances of Israeli dispossession of Palestinians in the West Bank: The settlement outposts themselves are built on just a few hectares of land, but their footprint far exceeds their actual area, and they serve as the basis for an Israeli takeover of hundreds of hectares of land. Israel’s longstanding policy in this area, aimed at the expulsion of local Palestinian communities, is implemented through a combination of military orders, administrative and planning measures, and military activity. The settlers who live in these new settlement outposts function as the long arm of the state: exploiting their status as Israeli citizens in occupied land, they attack Palestinian shepherds and deny them access to land that has been the mainstay of their communities’ livelihoods for decades.
The first of the two new settlement outposts was established in the northern Jordan Valley in September 2016. It was initially built on a plot of land privately owned by Palestinians a few hundred meters away from the settlement outpost of Giv’at Sal’it (established in 2001) and the settlement of Mehola (established in 1968). Several months later, in January 2017, the settlers moved the outpost’s structures to a nearby hilltop, to a plot of land that had been registered as government property even before the Israeli occupation. Israel appropriates this state land, meant to serve the local population’s needs, and uses it exclusively for Israeli purposes. The fact that the settlement outpost was relocated to a plot designated as state land suggests the move was coordinated with the Israeli authorities.
The settlement outpost currently covers five hectares and includes a residential hut, several tents, a livestock pen – for sheep and cattle – and a large water tank. Israeli human rights activists estimate that about ten young adults live in the settlement outpost. Its hilltop location commands a view of Wadi Khillet Hamad, a valley that is home to one of the tent clusters which make up the longstanding shepherding community of Khirbet Tall al-Himma (population: about 200). The settlement outpost lies in the heart of hundreds of acres of pastureland used by the Khirbet Tall al-Himma community, the al-Farisiyah cluster of communities (with a total of about 300 residents during the winter months and 100 in the summer), and the village of Kardalah (population: about 450).
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Map of the northern Jordan Valley and new settlement outposts
The second new settlement outpost was built in November 2016, about two months after the first. It is located about eight kilometers south of the first settlement outpost, and only 300 meters away from the Megamat Nezah Yehuda military base. In early January 2017, settlement outpost residents brought in a several dozen cows and built a pen for the cattle herd and some agricultural structures. In April 2017, volunteers of human rights NGO MachsomWatch documented a water main connecting the settlement outpost to the Israeli military base. The revelation that the state was supplying water to a settlement outpost it officially considers illegal apparently led to the relocation in May 2017of the outpost to a site known as Khirbet a-Sweidah, some four kilometers away from the military base. The new site is located in an area the military had declared a firing zone, also in this case on a plot of land that had been registered as government property before the occupation.
This settlement outpost now covers four hectares of land. It has tents, sheds, agricultural structures, a cattle pen, solar panels, a large water tank and a tractor. Israeli human rights activists estimate that about ten young adults live in this settlement outpost as well. Like the first settlement outpost, it is surrounded by hundreds of hectares of pastureland used by three longstanding Palestinian communities: Khirbet Samrah, which numbers about 40 residents in the winter and is vacant in the summer; Khallet Makhul, also with a population of roughly forty; and ‘Ein al-Hilweh, which numbers roughly 55.
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Settlement outpost near Khirbet Tall al-Himma. Photo by Sarit Michaeli, B’Tselem, 14 November 2017
The impact of the settlement outposts far exceeds their built-up areas. The settlers living in them put a great deal of effort into blocking Palestinian shepherds from accessing their land. To this end, they use intimidation tactics, such as patrolling the area on horseback or driving ATV’s, armed with guns and clubs, and driving away Palestinian shepherds. B’Tselem has documented incidents in which settlers rode into a herd of sheep to disperse them, ran over livestock or threw stones at them. We have also documented threats and violence against the shepherds themselves.
Settlers take over pastureland and use it to pasture their own cattle and flocks, while keeping Palestinian shepherds from using the land. In doing they seriously harm the Palestinian shepherds’ main source of income.
Members of the affected communities have complained to the Israeli military and police about the routine of violence they have been subjected to, but Israeli law enforcement agencies systematically avoid taking any measures against settlers. Palestinian residents report that even when soldiers are on the scene during attacks by settlers, they stand by, taking the part of the settlers.
The establishment of these settlement outposts and the violence perpetrated by their residents against local Palestinians do not take place in a vacuum. They form an inseparable part of Israel’s policy in the Jordan Valley ever since 1967, which includes a variety of official and unofficial measures designed to minimize Palestinian presence in the area and further establish Israeli control of it.
As part of this general policy, Israel denies Palestinians use of 85% of the Jordan Valley and northern Dead Sea, using this area for its own needs: Palestinians may not build in these areas, live there, graze their livestock there or cultivate their land. Palestinian access is denied based on various legal pretexts: As early as 1967, a few short months after the occupation began, Israel declared all the land that had been registered as government property under Jordanian rule – an area that covers 53% of the Jordan Valley and northern Dead Sea – as closed zones. In the late 1960s and early 1970s, the military declared 45.7% of the Jordan Valley as firing zones and barred all Palestinians access to these areas, including living there. Israel also declared 20% of the Jordan Valley as nature reserves or national parks, and other areas were allocated to settlements built in the Jordan Valley shortly after the occupation (some of these areas overlap).
Added to all this is the blanket ban Israel has placed on construction in these Palestinian communities, whether for public or residential purposes, its refusal to connect the communities to basic water and electricity services and to build access roads to the communities. When, having no other choice, residents build without permits, the Civil Administration issues demolition orders. Whether executed or not, the threat of these orders constantly looms over the residents. In some of these communities, the Civil Administration repeatedly demolished homes belonging to the same residents.
From 2006 to 30 November 2017, the military demolished 205 structures in the communities encroached upon by these new settlement outposts: in the community of Khallet Makhul, the military demolished 25 residential structures and 37 other structures; in the community of Khirbet Samrah, 4 residential structures and 6 other structures; in the community of ‘Ein al-Hilweh, 15 residential structures and 7 other structures; in the community of Khirbet Tall al-Himma, 17 residential and 12 other structures; in the community of al-Farisiyah, 61 residential structures and 21 other structures. All told, as a result of the demolitions, 391 residents lost their homes during this this period, including 157 children and teens.
The unbearable, dispiriting reality forced on these communities is meant to cause them to leave their homes, ostensibly, of their own will. Creating such a reality is tantamount to an expulsion of residents of the occupied territory from their homes and land and constitutes the forcible transfer of protected persons – a war crime under international law. Everyone involved in the commission of such a crime, including the prime minister, the defense minister, the justices who approve measures leading to expulsion and the military general who signs the orders – bear personal liability.
The establishment of the two new settlement outposts helps Israel realize its main goal for the West Bank: dispossessing Palestinian residents of their homes and land, and taking over their property. Each of the restrictions the state imposes on the Palestinian residents has enabled settlers to encroach on their land, build settlements and settlement outposts and take over vast areas around them. The state may say that the settlement outposts are “illegal” and are a “private initiative” by the settlers, but these claims ring hollow given Israel’s complete inaction to change this reality. The state’s refusal to remove the settlement outposts, prevent the routine attacks and prosecute those responsible for them speaks volumes as to Israel’s reliance on the settlers’ criminal behavior to entrench its control of the area while paying lip service to the law by formally disavowing any ties to them. These actions complement the official measures Israel takes in its pursuit of Palestinian dispossession in the area (and in other parts of the West Bank) and play a key role in the implementation of its policy.
‘Abed Daraghmeh, 80, a shepherd from Khirbet Samrah and married father of nine, spoke with B’Tselem field researcher ‘Aref Daraghmeh on 20 December 2017 and related the following account:
I’m a shepherd. It’s a profession that’s been handed down in my family from one generation to the next. That’s how we earn a living and raise our children. My first wife passed away a few years ago and all my children had already gotten married and moved away to look for work elsewhere. I got remarried. I wanted life to go on. Before the occupation began, we used to roam across our land: in Khirbet Samrah, Khirbet a-Sweidah and Khirbet al-Mzoqah. Life was great – without the occupation, the military bases and the settlers. Our sheep could wander freely through the pastureland. We had open spaces, made a good living and led comfortable lives. For decades I lived at Khirbet a-Sweidah with other families from my extended family.
After the 1967 war, our lives became hell. The military came and expelled us from the area of Khirbet a-Sweidah. They attacked us, confiscated our livestock and killed many sheep. We fled and left everything behind, to save ourselves and our children. Since then we’ve been hounded by one disaster after another and life has never gone back to normal. The occupation robbed us of our livelihood and of everything that made us happy. Our lives have become very difficult. After we ran away from Khirbet a-Sweidah and Khirbet al-Mzoqah, we moved to Khirbet Samrah. At first, there were dozens of families living here with us, but now there are only a few left because life here is hell. Several years ago, my tents were bulldozed along with the tents of my sons and of our neighbors. We were told that it was because we didn’t have building permits for the tents. Meanwhile, they build houses in the settlements.
That’s how our life went from bad to worse. This past year has been the worst. Suddenly, settlers came and put up tents on the top of the Khirbet al-Mzoqah hill. We have land in the area, from which the Israel Nature and Parks Authority expelled us, saying that grazing is not allowed there. Now the settlers graze their cattle on that land, while we aren’t allowed to bring our flocks there. We’re afraid of the settlers, because they’re armed and the military takes their side, against us. The military has driven us out of the area, saying that it’s a military zone. But the military orders that apply to us don’t apply to the settlers. About six months ago, the settlers moved from Khirbet al-Mzoqah to Khirbet a-Sweidah and set up their tents there. That was a catastrophe for us. A-Sweidah is the land of my forefathers. It spans hundreds of hectares. Now the settlers have shut us out of it and there is nothing we can do to about it. The settlers brought in cattle and sheep and they use our pastureland, right in front of our eyes, while we aren’t allowed to live on it or even enter it. The settlers wander around the pastureland all the time, with vicious dogs. They have threatened to kill my sons and my family, and also the families of other shepherds, if we set foot on the pastureland. We’ve filed complaints about it with the military several times, but the military sides with the settlers, imposing restrictions on the shepherds and forcing them to live far away.
Our life has become a misery, and we’ve also gone into debt. The pastureland used to provide food for the sheep, and we would also gather edible plants. Now we have to keep to a very small area, and we have to buy food for the livestock, which is very costly. I sold some of my sheep to buy animal feed, and so did other shepherds in the area. It has made our lives very difficult – financially and emotionally. We don’t know what to do.
In the last few years, because we’re being so restricted and have no place left to graze our sheep, we’ve started wandering far afield in summer. We have to leave our tents to live by the pastureland near Tubas, which makes things even more difficult. Our lives were hard enough beforehand, and since the settlers came they’ve become hellish. Because of them, we live in constant worry and we fear for ourselves, our children and our livestock. It’s our land. What right do they have to take it over?
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Zahrah Ayub, after the Civil Administration demolished her home. Photo by ‘Aref Daraghmeh, B’Tselem, 27 September 2016
Zahrah Ayub, 69, a resident of Khirbet Tall al-Himma, tends to livestock. A married mother of thirteen, she related the following in a testimony she gave on 20 December 2017 to B’Tselem field researcher Salma a-Deb’i:
Ever since I got married, I’ve lived with my husband in the area of Khirbet al-Himma in the Jordan Valley. We’ve had to move several times in the area because of the military and the Civil Administration. The last time was last year, when they demolished the shacks we lived in and the livestock pens, and left us nothing, saying that we had no building permit. We can’t build shacks any more because they’re too expensive, so we put up tents instead.
Our lives have been especially difficult since they established the new settlement outpost, about a year ago. The settlers chase us all the way home, shout at us, take pictures of us, demand that we leave and say that this is their land – although they are the settlers. They even take photographs of our livestock pens. They chase my children while they tend the sheep. They’ve often thrown stones at the livestock, too, and several ewes miscarried because settlers were chasing them and throwing stones at them.
Since it’s so difficult to graze the sheep on our land, we have to buy feed for them, which is a big financial burden. Buying the feed has got us into debt, which is another source of worry. We barely eke out a living and the profit from the livestock is only just enough to live off. We can’t buy animal feed all year round, because we can’t afford the huge expense.
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The Civil Administration confiscating water tanks at Khirbet Tall al-Himma. Photo by ‘Aref Daraghmeh, B’Tselem, 17 July 2017
We live without electricity and running water. In July, Civil Administration officials confiscated the solar panels we had received just four months earlier from an aid organization. We have to buy water from tankers near ‘Ein al-Bida. In contrast, the moment the settlers got here, they were hooked up to the power and water grids with amazing speed and even planted olive trees. If we were to plant trees, the military and the Civil Administration would immediately uproot them. I don’t know what to do. I can’t sleep at night. I’m anxious all the time. I’m worried about my kids, scared that something bad will happen to them and wondering what kind of future they’ll have. I’m an old woman and I’m not worried about myself, but I do worry about what will become of my children and their children. I don’t know what they want from us. We don’t bother them. They’re the ones who come bothering us and chase us wherever we go. I told my children, “Let’s leave and go somewhere safer, anywhere.” But they said, “There’s nowhere safe, nowhere without settlers. They’ve taken over all the land.” I suggested we move to Nablus, but they said, “Even in Nablus, the settlers have taken over all the land. There is nothing left.”
I keep thinking, where will we go? We don’t want anything, just to live peacefully and be safe. We accepted this hard work, and the hardship of raising livestock in such tough conditions. But what can we do about the settlers? Feeling like you’re fighting for every crumb, living under constant threat, always in fear, is intolerable. If there were somewhere we could go, with pastureland and a place to build homes, I wouldn’t think twice, I’d move there immediately.
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.
Settler violence against Palestinians is a daily matter in the West Bank. Instead of taking preventive action, the Israeli authorities aid and abet the settlers in harming Palestinians and using their land. The report shows how settler violence is an unofficial arm of the state violence Israel uses to drive Palestinians off their land. By downplaying it as a fringe phenomenon while keeping up a pretense of law enforcement, Israel enjoys the best of both worlds: maintaining room for “plausible deniability” while taking over more West Bank land.
Two weeks ago, on November 3rd, Israel carried out one of its biggest demolition operations in a decade. Khirbet Humsah, an entire Palestinian community in the northern Jordan valley, was demolished within hours. Seventy-four people were left homeless, 41 of them children. Tens of structures, people’s homes and livelihood, were destroyed. Humsah is not alone. For years, Israel has been targeting dozens of Palestinian communities throughout the occupied West Bank. It is a criminal policy of forcible transfer. Israel is turning the lives of these communities into a prolonged nightmare, in order to force them to give up and leave. A nightmare of years of hardship without running water or a connection to the power grid, of home demolitions, of having to repeatedly vacate your home so Israeli troops can train on your land, of ongoing violence by settlers backed by Israeli security forces. And sometimes, all this organized state violence is condensed into a few dark hours, as happened in Humsah. But whether it takes years or mere hours, it is a war crime. The European Union has responded by calling this a “regrettable trend” and saying that “such developments constitute an impediment towards the two-state solution”. Let me be clear: Israel knows, from decades of experience, that the worst it will have to deal with is such inconsequential expressions of concern. Israeli bulldozers on their way to demolish the next home of a defenseless Palestinian are driving on roads paved with such empty rhetoric. Every time euphemisms are used instead of calling crimes by their proper name, it emboldens Israel to continue its policies of oppression, dispossession, and violence against Palestinians. International acquiescence, decorated by meaningless talk of a “two-state solution”, is the backbone of the inherently undemocratic one-state reality we live in. Everyone knows – in European capitals and in this parliament – that more statements will not stop the next demolition. When the lines have nothing in them, Israel doesn’t even have to read between them to recognize a green light to continue oppressing Palestinians. Without real consequences, that green light will continue to shine. Humsah was not the first. And as long as impunity is the norm, it will not be the last. Everywhere in the Jordan valley, Palestinian communities face similar predicaments, while at the same time Israel established more and more settlement points. In Jerusalem, Palestinian families are forced out of their homes so Jewish settlers can move in. A few kilometers to the east, the community of Khan al-Ahmar is awaiting its turn. In the South Hebron Hills, Palestinian communities fear, after struggling for 20 years to stay on their land, the forthcoming ruling by Israel’s High Court of Justice. A court so just that it has never ruled against Israel’s Kafkaesque planning regime in the West Bank – a regime tailored to forbidding Palestinian development while issuing permits to build and expand Israeli settlements. By legitimizing all this, Israel’s highest court functions as a key enabler of flagrantly illegal policies meant to forcibly transfer Palestinians. All this has been happening for decades, and continues also after Israel recently set aside – at least for the time being – its plan to formally annex parts of the West Bank. De-jure or de-facto, the formal status of Palestinian land has never stopped Israel from promoting its interests at the expense of Palestinians’ rights. Clearly, if Israel cared about international law or respecting human rights, it would not have built more than 250 settlements in which some 600,000 Israelis already live. Does Europe really need an announcement of de-jure annexation to see reality for what it is? How many years of prolonged occupation, how many explicit statements by Israeli leaders, how many infrastructure projects, how many settlers does it take for Europe to wake up to the reality of Israel’s permanent control of everything and everyone between the Jordan river and the Mediterranean sea? A century of occupation? A million settlers? What is it that the EU is waiting for? Consequences for human rights violations can be introduced through European foreign policy, by effectively using Europe’s considerable leverage. Clearly, the decision to not do so is a political choice. It undermines Europe’s commitment to human rights and weakens the rules-based international order. It normalizes oppression and dehumanizes Palestinians, because – apparently – no one has to be held accountable for their permanent subjugation. Not when an entire community is razed to the ground, not when hundreds of demonstrators are shot with live bullets along the Gaza fence, not when dozens of families were wiped out in their own homes in the massive attack on Gaza in 2014. Not now, not ever. Europe has international responsibilities. It is the most significant international stakeholder committed, at its core, to democracy and to the rule of law. Grave, systemic human rights violations have been going on for years, in broad daylight, in Europe’s neighborhood. Put the empty rhetoric aside. See reality for what it is. Stand up for the universal values enshrined in law in the aftermath of the Second World War. Protect the rights of Palestinians. The time is now.
