Quote: "Because the deeds being perpetrated by the pogromists in Judea-Samaria against Palestinians' property and souls are also our own deeds – the deeds of Israeli society and of the Israeli state – the leprosy has infected not only them, but us all.
“Us all,” includes the Settler fascist's “ideological infrastructure," both in Israel, with their far-right (Conservative/Libertarian-https://www.washingtonpost.com/world/2023/03/24/israel-kohelet-judicial-reform-netanyahu/) think tanks, and more importantly, in the U.S. That, as so critical we are in shielding them from any legal accountability, and for disseminating their “cognitive war memes” (mass consciousness activities). We don’t need to guess who and what (U.S. right-wing think tanks/Movements) are most active as their ideological “shock troops” in providing such unlimited support; they’re all over YouTube! With the following just a few examples of their American allies in supporting Israeli “fascism,” by any name. But National Conservatism is most favored now, or the “New Right!”
Police forces during the search for the then-missing shepherd, Binyamin Achimeir, on April 12. In the background homes in the village of Al-Mughayyir that were torched by rioting youths.Credit: Itai Ron
In mid-April this year, I underwent a kind of existential experience in the heart of darkness – in the physically and morally obscure expanse bordering Greater Israel, which was promised to our forebears: in the hills of what can be called Judea-Samaria, among the most majestic yet bleakest places on the face of the earth. It wasn't sparked by some sort of external threat – from distant Iran, which lies in western Asia, or from the Houthis in northwest Yemen – but rather by a far more concrete and worrisome threat, a threat from within, emanating from our wild east. For many, it is indeed an internal threat but one that's perceived as remote and estranged: It's relegated to the margins of consciousness and the psyche, beyond the proverbial Mountains of Darkness, to a place which we cannot, or perhaps do not wish to, access.
Following a decade of activity as a social anthropologist in that part of the world, the primary focus of my research, and after having developed a sense of confidence in my ability to cope with the extreme situations that spring up in Judea-Samaria, I felt emotionally disturbed this time. I had a truly shattering, traumatic experience.
Trauma means "wound" in the original Greek. It damages one's bodily tissues, seeps into the chambers of the heart and assaults the harmony of the mind. Trauma can be a source of distress, as well as a source of creativity – for externalizing repressed memories, thoughts and feelings from the subconscious mind, and for articulating what lies in the abysses of the psyche. It encounters us when we acknowledge the "simple, cutting fact / we have nowhere to go," as per Israeli poet David Avidan: In the case at hand, it is the simple and cutting fact that Judea-Samaria, aka Yesha in the settlers' jargon, is here, at the heart and core of Israel's being, in its mainstream, in its hubs of power. That at base, we are – in body and soul – Judea-Samaria; that there is no way out; that all the escape rooms in the State of Tel Aviv cannot possibly conceal this bitter reality.
Friday, April 12, was the second day of Eid al-Fitr, the Feast of Breaking the Fast following the holy month of Ramadan. That afternoon, I received a WhatsApp message from my friend, the spokesperson of the Israel Dog Unit – a not-for-profit search and rescue organization that maintains its base in the Orthodox settlement of Kfar Tapuah, in Samaria – where I have been a volunteer for years. The laconic message was about a 14-year-old shepherd missing in the Binyamin region. He had taken his flock to pasture at the crack of dawn and had not returned. With prophetic foresight, the message also noted that there was serious concern for his life. I couldn't help taking a second look at the attached photo of the missing person. I took note of the boy's round face, his frizzy, brownish-red hair, his sunken eyes. I felt compassion for him: "when Israel was a child, I loved him" (Hosea 11:1).
Hastily gathering a few items that I keep on hand for emergencies of this sort, I put on the unit's cap with its logo – an illustration of a dog with perked-up ears, with a Star of David behind it – and set out posthaste on the familiar route from Jerusalem that slices through rocky terrain, traverses the hills and crosses the groves and vineyards of what many of my colleagues view as "no-man's-land." Unsettled, without any landlord other than the Holy One, blessed be he, and his emissaries – namely, of course, the sons and daughters of Am Yisrael.
The Malakhei Hashalom intersection, on the day of the search.Credit: Idan Yaron
* * *
I feel more related to the Samaria part of the West Bank, known for its mountainous formations, than to hilly Binyamin or the Mount Hebron region in Judea. Frequently, over a period of about two years, I would drive along Highway 60 every week to meet my learning companion, Meir Ettinger, grandson of Rabbi Meir Kahane, who, after having been administratively barred from entering Judea-Samaria for a long time, had returned to the extremist settlement of Yitzhar – cradle of the concept of "mutual responsibility" (arvut hadadit) or what came to be known as the retributory "price tag" we are all paying, as a head tax, in Israeli as well as in foreign currency.
During our weekly lessons, which we made every effort never to skip, I wanted to understand in depth, from the point of view of an immersed social anthropologist, the way of life and the experience of the "hilltop youth." Their cognitive, effective and affective being.
Meir, the leading if not the sole ideologue of the hilltop youth, praised "youthfulness." He maintained that God loves youth's attributes, as it enables "holy audacity" (azut dekedusha) – that is, a sanctified boldness with which one can observe reality with a sense of purpose and mission. With the aid of such sanctified courage and determination, Meir observed, one can overcome subjugation to dictates and to embedded norms of behavior.
Meir touted the youthful, mischievous soul, the burning and incandescent messianic spirit of life. He used such notions to bolster the struggle against what he called the "brazenness of the establishment." "All hilltop youth," Meir once said, "have chosen this special way of life out of a sense of mission and caring for every Jew as such." These were, to his mind, "youths whose heart sears after every incident involving the murder of a Jew, after every blow to national security. These youths realize that a healthy and happy revolution is needed that will restore the People of Israel to its spiritual roots and replace the withering, cowed establishment."
Meir described the hilltop youth as a "social, anti-political movement that is springing up on the backdrop of an ideological void to realize the vision the Jews anticipated across the generations." As he saw it, "Even when they are uprooted time and again, the Land of Israel gives rise to warriors and those who dream the dreams we all share."
However, in the shadow of the grim _expression_ that's been heard in recent months, that "our strength is in our unity," the feeling is growing that "we are all to blame." Because the deeds being perpetrated by the pogromists in Judea-Samaria against Palestinians' property and souls are also our own deeds – the deeds of Israeli society and of the Israeli state – the leprosy has infected not only them, but us all.
It was clear to me this time, when I arrived in the area under such tragic circumstances a few months ago, that a particularly volatile event was afoot. The "order" in this region, which proceeds according to its own dynamic, and not necessarily according to the conventional, normative patterns of Israeli society as a whole, had been fundamentally violated. Not everyone, it must be said, perceives this kind of violation as an anomaly. Many people, on both sides, who dwell in this depressing as well as oppressive land, or at least the extremists among them, seek to transform the violation and disruption, the way that life has become bitter and untenable, into a permanent state of affairs. They adopt this as a way of life (and death), responding affirmatively and defiantly to the words uttered by Abner (son of Ner) to Joab (son of Zeruiah):: "Must the sword devour forever? You know how bitterly it's going to end!" (2 Samuel 2:26).
Ouside the Malakhei Hashalom outpost. "A no-man's-land, unsettled, without any landlord other than the Holy One, blessed be he, and his emissaries."Credit: Idan Yaron
* * *
The landscapes of the Land of Israel, for which the hilltop youth – among them, apparently, the sweet lad in question, Binyamin Achimeir – and their fellow settlers in Judea-Samaria yearn are also simultaneously those of the occupation of another people that craves liberation from its shackles. This is a sure recipe for the shedding of blood, which has been staining the hills, the villages and the towns, and especially the roads in the area in question, along with their numerous byways and intersections. On that day I arrived at one such intersection, called Malakhei Hashalom (Angels of Peace), located near an outpost by that name in the eastern Shiloh bloc, north of Kokhav Hashahar, abutting the Samarian wilderness.
The settler outpost of Malakhei Hashalom was formally authorized in mid-February 2023, courtesy of the security cabinet of the Netanyahu government, following the murder of Malakhi Rosenfeld of Kokhav Hashahar, in a drive-by shooting on the Allon Road in 2015. That was preceded by the murder, not far away, of Shalom (Shuli) Har-Melech. He was married to Limor, today a member of Knesset on behalf of the Otzma Yehudit party; she was seven months pregnant at the time of the shooting, in which she herself was critically wounded. There's a sheep farm near Malakhei Hashalom – the Gal Yosef farm – from which the young shepherd who was murdered so cruelly – although he had done no wrong – had set out to go shepherding.
Because the deeds being perpetrated by the pogromists in Judea-Samaria against Palestinians' property and souls are also our own deeds – the deeds of Israeli society and of the Israeli state – the leprosy has infected not only them, but us all.
The seriousness of the incident of that "Black Friday," which we all heard about, and its resonance, stemmed from the fact that it involved flesh-of-the-flesh of hilltop youth, and especially of those occupying the so-called shepherds' farms (a hybrid invention with an obscure identity that is cultivated by the state authorities) – and also the fact that he had been a student at a high-school yeshiva, Lev Hadash (New Heart) in the settlement of Shiloh, whose homeroom teacher said of him at the graveside, "He wanted to be an emissary of Hashem [God], blessed be he… The idea of mission is critical here. A Jew drops everything he is doing and everything that interests a boy of his age, and looks for where he can contribute and give of himself."
Underlying the shepherds' farms is the idea of posting a small number of people, typically a family along with a group of youths, to a strategic location – usually on state lands – who will tend sheep and other livestock while effectively demarcating territory. As one of the leading activists of hilltop youth explained, the sheep are the "loyal soldiers" of the settlement project. According to homesteaders there, the Gal Yosef farm, from which the little yeshiva-student shepherd set out, covers 5,000 dunams (1,250 acres).
So I arrived at my destination, the aforesaid intersection. It quickly became clear that the handful of police officers at the site were there to direct traffic, to prevent the entry of vehicles of essential members of search parties. They looked like they weren't deployed to handle suspicious incidents or offenses (at least if they were the handiwork of the Jewish side). Because I was barred from entering the search area with my car, I left mine at the so-called Angels of Peace Intersection – where there was, obviously, no peace.
Dozens of youths were milling about and clumping together on both sides of the road, worry etched on their faces. The common goal of all of us, the reason we had shown up – to search for the missing youth, in the hope of finding him alive and well – forged an immediate closeness between us.
I wondered what was going through their minds. It was clear that a single word was piercing the air: "Revenge!" I'd heard the well-known song by far-right singer Dov Shurin, from his 2006 album "Biblical Revenge," many times at festive gatherings of hilltop youth. "O Lord God, remember me, I pray Thee, and strengthen me, I pray Thee, only this once, O God, that I may be this once avenged of the Philistines for my two eyes." The song was often accompanied by the defiant brandishing of knives and rifles. One prominent event of this sort became known as the "hate wedding" (which turned into a celebration of an arson attack that had occurred four months previously in the Palestinian village of Duma, in which three members of the Dawabshe family were murdered).
All around was noise and tumult of a sea of "youths" (a catch-all term for those who inhabit this "nowhere land" of "nowhere men"), exuberant and energized by the afternoon heat and their inner turmoil, wearing T-shirts with logos from various security and search-and-rescue organizations – some in uniform, some in semi-uniform, most of them bearing weapons and projecting an air of wily foxes of battle (or perhaps, more accurately, "little foxes that ruin the vineyards," as in Song of Songs 2:15).
Brakes screeching, a car pulled up near me at the intersection, of the sort typically driven by hilltop youth: an old model, whitish, a veteran of lengthy trips on dusty winding trails. Five youths, most in their early teens, emerged from it. Laying heavy hoes on the ground, they huddled in the center of the intersection. Under the passengers in the back seat was also an iron rod, in addition to a hefty wooden pole.
A few minutes later, the youths suddenly burst out with cries of "Arab vehicle," rushed toward it and pounded its windows powerfully. A police officer at the intersection "dispersed" them without talking, and returned to his post at the entrance to the outpost of Malakhei Hashalom, in order to enforce the law on other passersby. The whole scene boded ill for what was to come.
A club and pole in the backseat of a car driven by hilltop youth.Credit: Idan Yaron
* * *
The whole area was buzzing. Youths, including members of the fired-up, gung-ho group who emerged from the car, started to climb the hill toward the nearby village – across the road, next to the intersection – of Al-Mughayyir. Some 3,000 Palestinians live in that village, whose homes abut Route 458. The villagers have experienced plenty of "price tag" events. However, they also have been involved in throwing stones at Israeli cars on the Allon Road, and in the summer of 2023 six were arrested on suspicion of shooting at Israel Defense Forces troops in the area of the Shiloh Valley settlements.
I asked one of the youths for his take on Al-Mughayyir. He replied, with a stern look, "It's an extremely hostile village whose residents recently planned abductions of five Israelis." Right off I grasped the gravity of the situation: A pogrom was imminent.
I joined the youths who climbed up to the village. There were dozens, in their early teens, a few older men (no women in sight) alongside them. IDF soldiers and Border Police officers accompanied them, without impeding their progress. At the same time, some of their comrades were clashing in the village with its inhabitants, wielding crowd-dispersal means.
I attached myself to a cluster of youths who were approaching the village. Shortly before the first line of houses, I stopped and looked around; the rioters began to charge ahead, primed to stone and set fire to the area.
At least three grave issues bothered me in face of the surrealistic situation that was developing, one that has no parallel within Israel itself. First: How could it be that military security coordinators, emergency squads, territorial defense forces, members of search and rescue units – many of whom were at the scene – were making common cause with the rioters? This wasn't the first time I'd witnessed a situation of this kind. I'd seen many during my research stints in Judea-Samaria. I had doubts about the source of authority here. Did these security forces draw on various divine imperatives and ancient promises? Or were they obeying earthly injunctions, as subordinates to the head of Central Command, the sovereign in the West Bank territories, who is responsible for security and law and order enforcement?
The settlers climb up toward the Palestinian village. IDF soldiers and Border Police officers accompanied them, without impeding their progress.Credit: Idan Yaron
As is known, but often denied, these senior officers bear full responsibility for ensuring general order and security in the area in question. The Samaria and Judea (Shai) District of the Israel Police is subordinate to the IDF. However, in practice, it's possible to manage situations such as the one that was unfolding without the police, because soldiers, who are generally on-site or among the first to arrive, are in any case formally vested with enforcement powers like those of the police, based on the procedure for enforcing the law in the territories.
Unfortunately, as Talia Sasson – the former head of the State Prosecution's Criminal Department – wrote in a legal report in 2005, "in practice IDF soldiers do not enforce the law, have no knowledge of the Law Enforcement Procedure, and have no interest to function as cops." Almost two decades later, this worrisome situation has not changed, and has perhaps become more acute, as I saw with my own eyes. Regrettably, the police officers in such scenarios do not actually function like "cops," whose tasks include, according to police ordinances, "maintaining order; preventing disturbances; taking heed of offenses committed, and arresting every person whom they have probable cause to suspect."
How could it be that military security coordinators, emergency squads, territorial defense forces, members of search and rescue units – many of whom were at the scene – were making common cause with the rioters?
Second, I was extremely worried about the number of weapons being brandished in such a small area. These arms were not being carried solely by uniformed soldiers and police officers, but also by people in civilian clothing, some of them possibly soldiers on furlough. One of the young people explained to me that pistols – without which one cannot be perceived to be part of the leading vanguard in Judea-Samaria – are already "off the grid." We've entered the era of so-called long weapons, which lend those who wield them a preferred (phallic?) status. The youngest among them, who were unlucky since they had not even sprouted beards and were prohibited from bearing arms under the law, had to equip themselves with other instruments of battle. They also carried glatt kosher means of arson.
Third, I was shocked at the number of sophisticated, luxury 4x4 vehicles that whizzed around us – all-terrain vehicles, dune buggies, motorcycles, etc. – along with more ordinary vans and SUVs. Civilians (farmers and others), many of them armed, were driving these vehicles. One young man explained that "this is nothing. In the more well-off farms, there are dozens more vehicles like these, but they don't use them in situations like this, because they haven't got the proper licenses." The panoply of equipment and vehicles and weapons could furnish a genuine militia. What is still missing is for the IDF, which already "examined the situation," to equip the so-called security squads composed of interest-ridden sectarian settlers with anti-tank guided missiles in addition to general purpose machine guns.
* * *
The youths entered the village and in short order flames licked its homes and yards and stockpiles of agricultural produce: "And when [they] looked behind them, they saw, and behold, the smoke of the [village] ascended up to heaven" (Joshua 8:20). Against the background of the smoke rising from the village, the IDF stated, "The forces in the area deployed in advance, and worked ceaselessly to protect the lives of the [Palestinian] civilians and their property."
During the increasingly violent melee, the crack of firearms was also heard. One of the members of the security forces, wearing civilian clothing but equipped with a protective vest and a standard-issue weapon, shouted in an authoritative voice: "To everyone with long weapons. I request that you refrain from shooting. There are IDF soldiers in the village." I couldn't figure out whether the shots came from an authorized representative of the alternative sovereign, or from other bearers of arms, which happened to fall into their hands in one circuitous way or another. (One of the ways to be allowed to bear arms, as I was told by a young Haredi man from a search and rescue unit who had been discharged from the army for psychiatric reasons, is via a "special recommendation" from the police – which is directed by a certain notorious minister.)
Armed settlers. "We've entered the era of so-called long weapons."Credit: Idan Yaron
After a few minutes, a young man whose hand had been injured was rushed to an ambulance waiting on the main road below, for first aid. Behind him, in all his glory, primed for action, was a lawyer from the Honenu National Legal Defense Organization, which aims to "provide legal aid to Israeli soldiers and civilian in distress" (as in such cases of vigilantes attacking Palestinian villages). Afterward, another youth made a point of explaining to me, lest I err, heaven forbid, "This is not a 'price tag' operation, but simple revenge." At this stage, after I got the message and decided to abandon those engaged in "righteous revenge," I crossed the road and joined the search for the missing boy, whose fate I so much feared for. I leapt over terraced stretches next to the road, negotiated rusty barbed-wire fences and started to meticulously scour the terrain around me. Because I hadn't been able to find my colleagues in the Israel Dog Unit, I walked alone in the fields, for hours. Ascending toward Malakhei Hashalom, I found a poster with a text written in Arabic and decorated with hearts, in honor of Ramadan: "Gaza in the heart – Children of Yasmin kindergarten."
Now, perhaps for the first time in my life, I found myself praying to God: "Please let me find the boy." But for some reason, maybe because of my many sins, my outcry was not heard. I scoured the fields on one side of the road, and afterward on the other side. On my way back, as I walked through an abandoned goat pen, with impressive caves and rock-hewn wells, an army helicopter hovered above, going back and forth. I waved to the pilots, gesturing that all was well.
After many exhausting, futile attempts to find the mobile command post of the dog unit, I called the unit's commander. He told me he was in the shower in Kfar Tapuah, preparing for the advent of the Sabbath Queen. The prevailing feeling, he said, was that the boy had been abducted and that there was no point in additional searches. Accordingly, my buddies had, most irregularly, abandoned the area. Darkness fell. Shabbat. Still, I decided to attend a "situation appraisal" in the unit's headquarters.
The guard at the entrance to the settlement gave me a suspicious look tinged with disgust, because of my desecration of Shabbat. I explained to him that I was "returning from the searches." He nodded and let me pass through the barrier. I received a fine welcome in the unit. Everyone there was of course aware of the imperative of pikuah nefesh – the principle in Jewish law that holds that preservation of human life overrides virtually any other religious rule, including keeping the Shabbat.
The unit's commander urged me to stay for the Sabbath meal. I told him that, in any case, I would travel home to Jerusalem afterward, and he accepted that, although he suggested that I stay and spend the entire Shabbat with them. We sat at the table, together with young volunteers who board here. The commander sat at the head of the table and conducted the requisite rituals. Salads were served, and challahs, as well as potatoes, fish and chicken soup. One of the young men, who had lived on some Judea-Samaria farms, observed that sometimes even a 12-year-old boy is allowed to take the sheep to pasture.
Smoke billows near the Malakhei Hashalom outpost, after settlers raid the adjacent Palesinian villages.Credit: Itai Ron
"It's not a problem," he said. "After he's shown once or twice how to do it, he can get along on his own." After all, as is known, leadership – e.g., Moses, King David and the prophet Amos – is tested in the pasture, in one's concern for flocks of sheep, in compassion for the little lamb.
The youths at the table speculated about which of the villages would be the victim of the next "blow of revenge." "You have to understand, this time it's impossible to show restraint," they insisted, adding that the Rabbi (Kahane) had said: "It's us or them." And, "All the Arabs aren't worth even one Jew."
I parted from the friends with an _expression_ of gratitude and set out on the dark roads of Judea-Samaria toward home. More detailed reports about the events of the day had come in: Following the boy's disappearance, IDF and Border Police troops encircled the neighboring villages of Duma and Al-Mughayyir. When they entered the latter, clashes erupted with the inhabitants, who threw stones and Molotov cocktails at the security forces, lightly wounding three soldiers. Settlers who arrived in the village, hilltop youth taking the lead, were directly involved in the confrontations. They torched homes, cars and silos, as well as the place where mashtubas (wrecked cars that were taken off road and are illegal to drive) were parked. In one case, the youths burst into an animal pen, stole the entire flock and beat the owner unconscious. The Palestinians reported 25 wounded and one man killed: Jihad Abu Alia.
A tremendous task had been laid on the meager shoulders of young Binyamin Achimeir: widespread redemption of the Land, from horizon to horizon, as part of a mission of the people and of their god.
* * *
I was unable to sleep that night. I recalled the results of a year-long study I had conducted in the mixed Jewish-Arab city of Lod in response to events during the IDF's 2021 operation in the Gaza Strip, known as Operation Guardian of the Walls. My summation then was: "From the point of view of the Arab side, in regard to those events, a mirror image of the Jewish side emerges. It turns out that the diagnosis is similar, but the tables have turned: The aggressor is the Jewish side; the victim, the Arab side."
I was now torn between contrasting sentiments, mixed feelings and split identities. Feelings of compassion enveloped me – for all human beings as such. My heart ached at the growing polarization between "us" and "them," within Israeli society, and between "friends" and "enemies" outside it (with dehumanizing tendencies, the treatment of "others" as savages, and even viewing them as "the seed of Amalek," to be completely annihilated). I could not help but remember, with an oppressive feeling, the words of Rabbi Meir Kahane, whose personality and ideas I have been researching for many years. One particular passage, contained in a book that his family edited after his murder in 1990, titled (in English) "Or Hara'ayon: The Jewish Idea," is clearly aimed at me and people of my ilk. "Consider what a lack of love and friendship there is in the heart of the Jewish Hellenist who revels against the G-d of Israel and His morality, who ventures to be more 'ethical' and righteous than his Creator. Whoever knows that Jewish blood has been spilt and is aware of the pain and suffering caused to his Jewish brethren by cruel gentiles, yet does not demand that their blood and suffering be avenged, is himself wicked and cruel. He lacks the anger and hatred toward wickedness and cruelty which are part of G-d's command 'to love your [Jewish] neighbor as yourself.' Whoever criticizes such revenge is not ethical or merciful, but a cruel ally of murderers."
A torched house in the village of Duma. In the wake of the violent events of that weekend, local hospitals treated 55 Palestinians for gunshot wounds.Credit: Tomer Appelbaum
Midday on Shabbat, it was learned that the body of Binyamin Achimeir had been found. His flock had returned to its home on Malakhei Hashalom without the little shepherd and the tidings were bitter indeed. A tremendous task had been laid on the meager shoulders of this young teen: widespread redemption of the Land, from horizon to horizon, as part of a mission of the people and of their god. The boy led his flock to pasture – alone, completely alone – against the backdrop of a natural, pastoral landscape, ostensibly tranquil and calm but often terrifyingly cruel. He awoke early and left home alone, despite the long and blood-drenched history between the farm near the Malakhei Hashalom outpost and residents of the surrounding villages.
The truth must be told: The somber result of the search for the boy was obvious to me from the outset. In the military operation room (or rather, tent) that was set up to help find the lad in the northern outskirts of the outpost, utter confusion prevailed. Such was the case, as I observed in my searching in the field, with the civilian operation rooms, which were set up close to Malakhei Hashalom: there were no communications or coordination of any sort between them. Chaos reigned throughout. Despite the fact that so many forces wandered around, the deceased boy was found with the aid of a drone, operated by the Border Defense Force, only on the following day. After the body was discovered, reckless, unrestrained hilltop youth again entered Al-Mughayyir. Violent disturbances ensued, in which the youths set ablaze dozens of vehicles and threw stones. Thirteen homes were also torched. The IDF and the Border Police tried to "make a separation" between the two sides. There was also violence in other villages: Qusra, Beitin, Silwad, Turmus Aya and so on. More than 60 assaults by settlers in 11 villages between Ramallah and Nablus were recorded.
In the wake of the violent events that weekend, as stones and Molotov cocktails were hurled and live fire was used, dozens of Jewish settlers and Palestinian inhabitants were wounded. The Palestinian Health Ministry reported that local hospitals treated 55 people for gunshot wounds, including 10 in serious condition. A high-ranking IDF officer termed the events – as had been clear to me at the outset – as "bearing high explosive potential." The defense minister issued this statement: "I call on the public: Let the security forces act rapidly in the hunt for the terrorists – revenge actions will hamper our fighters in their mission. It is forbidden to take the law into [your] hands."
In practice, over the following days the security forces, the army and the police, lost control over the area.
* * *
Back to Jerusalem. I am still suffering from the residues of a "moral injury." In contrast to trauma – which affects one biologically, physiologically, cognitively, psychologically – such injury harms the very soul or spirit. It penetrates into one's deeply held moral beliefs and values, following situations in which the stakes are high. On a wall downtown an inscription catches my eye: "Jerusalem against violence." So simple, so groundless.
On a wall downtown an inscription catches my eye: "Jerusalem against violence." So simple, so groundless.Credit: Idan Yaron
The violent extremism, which is often murderous, that was manifested on that day and on the days that followed (as on many other days in the life of the Palestinian and Jewish residents throughout Judea-Samaria), does indeed stir horror. It was learned that Achimeir's murderer was a man named Ahmed Dawabsheh from the village of Duma, who arrived at the site with a knife and murdered the boy with unspeakable cruelty. The shepherd's murderer, Dawabshe, is from the same village and same extended family as the couple Saad and Riham Dawabsheh, victims of the above-mentioned shocking, murderous attack in July 2015 in Duma, along with their toddler son. Their other son Ahmed, who was 4, was badly burned.
Finally, it must be mentioned that in the shadow of the search for Binyamin Achimeir, a resident of the settlement of Beit El, who had a legal weapon in his possession, was arrested on suspicion of murdering a 17-year-old Palestinian, as an act of terror, in the village of Beitin. It was also reported that at the same time I was in the village of Al-Mughayyir, a press photographer, Shaul Golan (aged 74) was attacked by about 20 inflamed Jewish youths. Golan stated that the hilltop youths "took me apart with blows, broke my fingers and burned my case with all the photographic equipment." Among the assailants was a young man wearing an IDF uniform and a helmet, and a few who carried weapons.
"For the thing which I did fear is come upon me, and that which I was afraid of hath overtaken me" (Job 3:25).
Dr. Idan Yaron is a sociologist and a social anthropologist whose research focuses on the far right in Israel. His books on the Kahanist movement, the hilltop youths and other subjects are due to be published in the near future.
