I arrived at Masafer Yatta in the West Bank in July for my first extended stay in the community since April 2025. Before I moved back to Boston, Massachusetts, a year and a half ago, I lived in Masafer Yatta for six months of my six years living in Israel and Palestine, engaging in protective presence—a community protection strategy in which I use my privileged social position and my body to mitigate the rampant Israeli settler and military violence in villages of the occupied West Bank.
Sam Stein
An American-Israeli activist confronts soldiers in Umm Al Kheir.
It is impossible to deny that the situation in Masafer Yatta has gotten worse in the time I’ve been gone. New settler outposts in the villages of Huwara, Khalat Al Humus, and Wadi Rakhim have led to constant settler attacks, which are facilitated by the Israeli military. The murder of my friend Awdah Hathaleen, a Palestinian activist and English teacher killed by an Israeli settler last July, has opened up the floodgates for non-stop invasions in his home village of Umm Al Kheir. New military gates in the village heavily restrict Palestinian movement, preventing anyone from driving in or out. Even Awdah’s memorial service was almost broken up by the Israeli military. Large portions of the village of Susiya are under a twenty-four-seven closed military zone order, making activist presence nearly impossible. On Saturday, August 8, there was a wave of attacks throughout the region that are beginning to feel like the new normal.
When I arrived, I was quickly re-added to the local activists’ Signal message groups. Activist groups that used to have no connection to each other besides working in Masafer Yatta are now in constant coordination, efficiently communicating and supporting each other to maximize activist presence throughout all the different villages in the region. The list of villages with protective presence activists has grown exponentially since 2020, when I first started participating in the practice.
Some of the villages newly hosting activists I remember from my time living in Umm Al Kheir. Others I had never heard of before—these places activists have only recently begun offering solidarity. And while some villages in Masafer Yatta are easily accessible by the main highways, others cannot realistically be reached quickly in the case of an emergency. Earlier this month, settlers committed an arson attack in the village of Tuba, which is isolated by the violent settler outpost Havat Ma’on and an Israeli military training area called “Firing Zone 918.” Settlers burned one family’s house to the ground, destroyed the village’s solar panels, and sent five residents to the hospital.
Sam Stein
Children's toys burned during an arson attack in the village of Tuba.
In one regard, our expanded presence is encouraging: Our circles are expanding, and more Palestinian communities are becoming aware of the service we offer. Calls from strangers in the region asking for protective presence seem to be a daily occurrence. In another regard, this is terrifying: It means we’re needed in more places, that there is violence in more villages, and that, even with expanded numbers and better cross-organizing, we simply cannot be everywhere at once.
And yet, the activist movement is meeting this crucial moment in stride. The increased presence of internationals has led to more awareness of the situation, which has slowed Israeli expansion in the region, and led to the unprecedented indictment of the settler Yinon Levi, who shot and killed Awdah Hathaleen. Ambitious new initiatives like Protect the Harvest aim to bring hundreds of volunteers into the West Bank. Israeli-Palestinian organizations like Comet ME have provided communities with basic utility infrastructure, including energy, clean-water delivery, and Internet services, making communication and documentation much easier both for the Palestinian residents and present activists.
This is all on the foundation of the sumud—which means “steadfastness” in Arabic—of the Palestinians living in the region and resisting Israeli occupation. They continue to build when their homes are demolished and continue to offer joy and leisure to their children. They stand tall in the face of the settler attacks and restrictions of the Israeli occupation. There is no dismissing the horrors of the occupation, or the fact that the situation is getting worse, not better. But every time I return to Masafer Yatta, I see a movement of Palestinians and international solidarity activists that is up to the task.