An obligation and a moral imperative

A cloud of dust enveloped the SUV as we drove through Quarry Sil’it Adumim. Responding to a phone call from a local “head man”, we were driving towards a wadi in which a group of Jewish settlers were heading. Kayed ka’abneh, the head man of a small Bedouin village in the Judean Desert, below Jerusalem, who we had picked up on our way, was worried the settlers were going to steal or kill the village sheep, which were grazing in the wadi.

Our driver, Matan, a Rabbis for Human Rights fieldworker, navigated his way through the quarry, past gigantic earth moving machines and up onto a ledge overlooking the Wadi.

I turned to see another SUV, this one military, pursuing us at close quarters. I could just make out the markings: Mishmar HaGvul-Border Police. They had been alerted to the fracas, by whom, it was not clear. Having driven as far as possible, we exited the vehicles, the dust still settling, falling like snow onto our clothing. I walked across to the Border policeman, in his distinctive dark uniform, his rifle slung low over his back.

“Who are you?” he asked in Hebrew. I explained we were accompanying the Rabbis for Human Rights. We established I was from Australia. His response to this, to be expected, was “why am I engaging in something that was none of my business?”

There was much I could have said in my response. I have defended Israel against those who delegitimize it. I am committed to speaking out when Israel’s enemies demonize it and our connection to it. But I cannot remain silent when the actions of some of Israel’s politicians and certain extremist groups run counter to our values and Israel’s founding ideals.

When violent Jewish extremists carry out attacks on Palestinians, when the Knesset, IDF and police turn a blind eye, it weakens Israel and weakens all of us and it does significant damage to the reputation of Israel and the Jewish people. Coming to the West Bank, volunteering with the Rabbis for Human Rights to see for myself, understand what is happening, and play a part in preventing these transgressions is for me, both an obligation and a moral imperative.

To be fair, the recent impact of Palestinian attacks on Israeli settlers in the West Bank—and the resulting cycles of confrontation—has escalated significantly, against the backdrop of the regional crisis following October 7. This has been exasperated by the erosion of the PA’s authority which has empowered local, non-aligned armed militias that operate independently across the West Bank. But the reciprocal cycles of settler “revenge” attacks cannot be justified or replace the rule of law.

Rabbis for Human Rights was founded in 1988 and today has over 170 members—ordained rabbis, rabbinical students, and rabbinic leaders from across all denominations and rabbinical schools in Israel. The organization serves as a tool to disseminate information about human rights in Israel and in the occupied territories. It acts to promote the rights of vulnerable groups in society, to protect the rights of minorities in Israel as well as Palestinians in the territories. Beyond the Rabbis, are many volunteers who support their vision that as Jews we are obligated to protest any injustice inflicted on any human being, and to prevent it wherever possible.

Our tour with Matan allowed us to meet many well-intentioned Israelis, a veritable cross-section of gender, age and occupation from students to retirees.  These people are well organised and run a 24-7 vigil to protect the Bedouin villages outside of Jerusalem.

Unfortunately, the Settlers are also well organised and are enabled in their activities through the collusion of the current government and often, local police and the IDF. Our experience felt more like the “Wild West” than a territory under the rule of law. I should note, we were in “Area C”, the area of the West Bank controlled by Israel.

Prior to the incident at the quarry, we visited several Bedouin communities, meeting with the head man in each, sharing coffee (We drank a lot of bitter coffee and too sweet tea!). Volunteers are permanently assigned to all villages, including overnight, to be available should a confrontation with settlers arise, which they do, frequently.

We picked up a “Hebrew Teacher” from the local gas station and took him to a village. He sat with the men to teach them Hebrew phrases. Sadly, the sentences taught while critically relevant and potentially lifesaving, framed the conflict in the worst possible terms: “Put your hands above your head”; “I did not do anything”; “Please do not hit me”.

During the class, a small white car with Israeli number plates drives at break-neck speed through the village, only to run-up against a rock. We all run to the vehicle. Out came a slight of figure Yeshiva student. He was visibly terrified. Nadav approached him and assured him he was safe. Clearly lost, he had panicked when he found himself in the village. The Bedouin helped extract his car and Nadav escorted him back to the main road. He told Nadav he was thankful to the Bedouin and thought the work he was doing was worthy. Had this chance act of good will changed at least one point of view?

The incident in the Wadi took place in the afternoon.

Leaving my wife Sandra, and the head man, along with the Border Policemen, Nadav and I made our way into the Wadi to confront the group of approximately 10 settlers. They were mostly young, attired in the “settler uniform” of jeans, Blundestones, flowing Tzitzit, T-Shirts and Kippah Shruiga (Knitted Kippot). They were from a nearby “illegal” outpost, Nakhalat Ben Yishai and led by a notorious and confrontational settler leader, Yinon Cohen.

When asked what they were doing, they said they were on a tiyul (trip or hike) to visit the spring in the wadi. This spring, which it is important to know, is in “no man’s land” (ie Not claimed by anybody), was being used by local Bedouins to water their herds. Claiming they wished to bathe in the Spring, they began to dismantle the infrastructure through which the Bedouin access the water. When we questioned their motives and the destruction, they swore at us, and became threatening. On a rock above, their leader, Yinon Cohen, who was armed, silently watched, stroking his goatee, a wry smile across his face. There was little we could do. The Border Police had launched a drone, which hovered overhead, but were clearly not going to engage.

Defeated, we returned to our SUV. Only a few weeks later, another settler “tiyul” in the vicinity of the Palestinian village of Tell, near Nablus, resulted in the death of two Israelis and four Palestinians. The settlers entered the area without coordinating with the military and a misunderstanding became a violent conflict. In recent weeks it seems that the conflict is only intensifying. Competing claims over settler violence and Palestinian attacks raise the uneasy question: how much further can the West Bank deteriorate before localized confrontations develop into a sustained uprising in the form of an intifada?

Volunteering to protect the Bedouin threatened by settler activity was a cathartic experience that we will not easily forget and will potentially repeat in a future trip. For me this was not only a way of expressing solidarity with Palestinians, but perhaps even more so a reflection of the solidarity I feel towards civil society, the rule of law and the Jewish State aspire for.

When we speak out, or act, we are voicing the call for justice and fairness. We should never flinch from doing so. It strengthens us.

Danny Hochberg is co-president of the Union for Progressive Judaism (UPJ).