Even by the standards of Israel-Palestine, it has not been a peaceful year. In the aftermath of the raid on Nablus, the shooting in Hawara, the settler pogrom that followed it, and the shooting near Jericho, we — myself and one other Israeli-American activist — knew that tensions were high.
The Palestinian shepherd we were meeting up with was hesitant to even bring his flock out because of an increased military presence. Eventually, he asked us to bring him to a nearby junction, which involved crossing a temporary military checkpoint. This crossing was purportedly set up due to the shooting near Jericho in late February, but we were on the opposite side of the city, and it seemed unlikely that the shooter would be traveling in this area.
Sam Stein
A temporary checkpoint
Temporary military checkpoint near Jericho, February 2023
Once we arrived at the checkpoint, we reached a complete standstill. There was a car or two in front of us, and zero indication that any of us would be let through. Soldiers weren’t asking security questions, checking IDs, or searching cars. We were simply stuck there. Eventually, we got out of the car to ask the soldiers at the checkpoint about the situation, and I began filming.
One of the soldiers, whose face was entirely covered, walked up to the car the second he saw me filming, stuck his hand through the window, and grabbed my phone. He told me that it is illegal to film soldiers. While there have been multiple attempts in Israel to outlaw the filming of soldiers, it is, as of now, completely legal. Of course, this soldier knew that the current far-right Israeli government supported his actions, so, as far as he’s concerned, legality is nothing more than a minor detail.
This was just one example of soldiers feeling emboldened by Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s Likud government. As an Israeli Defense Forces soldier (whose unit member later assaulted a well-known Palestinian activist), recently told a group of left-wing activists and tourists in Hebron, far-right Knesset member Itamar Ben Gvir is “going to bring order.”
The soldier at the checkpoint eventually returned my phone, and the shepherd we were accompanying was allowed to pass through on foot. Another Palestinian in line remarked that it was unusual that Jewish Israelis were also being held up.
Sam Stein
In line at the checkpoint
Temporary military checkpoint near Jericho, February 2023
Throughout this experience, one soldier said that it could take a day or two to get through, while another said “it’ll be like this all month.” The indifference in the soldiers’ voices when they said this, and the fact that there didn’t seem to be any function to these checkpoints, highlighted something that Palestinians have been saying forever: the cruelty is the point.
Soldiers are regularly instructed to perform arrests or night raids simply to “make their presence known,” and make sure Palestinians know who controls their lives. This function of the Israeli military is so thoroughly understood that Breaking The Silence, an organization of Israeli former soldiers who speak out against the atrocities they committed during their service, has an entire section on its catalog of testimonies called “demonstrations of presence.”
The purpose of these checkpoints isn’t to find a wanted individual or perform “counter-terrorism”; they’re simply an attempt to make the entire Palestinian population regret the actions of a single person. These checkpoints can and should be understood as collective punishment, which is illegal according to international law.
After the checkpoint, we joined another shepherd in the field to be present in case of settler violence (it’s an understood reality for Palestinian shepherds that having Jews around makes them safer) and then made our way back to Jerusalem. With no Palestinian in the car with us, we were allowed past the checkpoint, no questions asked, and with no traffic, we were back home in less than an hour.
Sam Stein
Crossing at checkpoint
Temporary military checkpoint near Jericho, February 2023
Having a masked soldier reach into my car and grab my phone was a violating and infuriating experience. It was the angriest I’d felt since being attacked by extremist settlers in May 2021. But, at the end of the day, I put myself in situations where there is always a risk of these things occurring. I can opt out of this struggle whenever I want to. If I’m walking around Jerusalem just going about my day, nobody can tell that I’m a left-wing activist, and I enjoy the full benefits of Jewish supremacy.
Palestinians, however, do not have the choice to opt out of their struggle for freedom and liberation. Palestinians can’t just put their heads down and go about their daily lives. To be a Palestinian in the West Bank is to know that if any Palestinian in the entire Israel-Palestine attacks an Israeli Jew, you’ll pay the price.
As a Jewish ally to the Palestinian cause, my story at the checkpoint near Jericho is remarkable only in the fact that it happened to a Jew.