After the ceasefire in Gaza, West Bank Palestinians face more Israeli barriers, traffic and misery

After the ceasefire in Gaza, West Bank Palestinians face more Israeli barriers, traffic and misery
Palestinians lift their arms while leaving their home for safety as the Israeli army conducts a raid in the Nur Shams refugee camp near Tulkarem in the occupied West Bank on February 9, 2025 (AFP)
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Updated 10 February 2025

After the ceasefire in Gaza, West Bank Palestinians face more Israeli barriers, traffic and misery

After the ceasefire in Gaza, West Bank Palestinians face more Israeli barriers, traffic and misery
  • Israel intensified its crackdown on the occupied West Bank, ramping up raids against militants in the north of the territory and subjecting Palestinians in the area to the strictest scrutiny

RAMALLAH: Abdullah Fauzi, a banker from the northern West Bank city of Nablus, leaves home at 4 a.m. to reach his job by 8, and he’s often late.
His commute used to take an hour — until Hamas’ attack on Israel on Oct. 7, 2023, after which Israel launched its offensive in the Gaza Strip.
The Israeli military also ramped up raids against Palestinian militants in the northern West Bank, and diverted its residents through seven new checkpoints, doubling Fauzi’s time on the road.
Now it’s gotten worse.
Since the ceasefire in Gaza between Israel and Hamas took effect, Fauzi’s drive to the West Bank’s business and administrative hub, Ramallah, has become a convoluted, at least four-hour wiggle through steep lanes and farm roads as Israel further tightens the noose around Palestinian cities in measures it considers essential to guard against militant attacks.
“You can fly to Paris while we’re not reaching our homes,” the 42-year-old said from the Atara checkpoint outside Ramallah last week, as Israeli soldiers searched scores of cars, one by one.
“Whatever this is, they’ve planned it well,” he said. “It’s well-designed to make our life hell.”
A ceasefire begets violence
As the truce between Israel and Hamas took hold on Jan. 19, radical Israeli settlers — incensed over an apparent end to the war and the release of Palestinian prisoners in exchange for Israeli hostages — rampaged through West Bank towns, torching cars and homes.
Two days later, Israeli forces with drones and attack helicopters descended on the northern West Bank city of Jenin, long a center of militant activity.
More checkpoints started going up between Palestinian cities, slicing up the occupied West Bank and creating choke points the Israeli army can shut off on a whim. Crossings that had been open 24/7 started closing during morning and evening rush hours, upturning the lives of hundreds of thousands of people.
New barriers — earthen mounds, iron gates — multiplied, pushing Palestinian cars off well-paved roads and onto rutted paths through open fields. What was once a soldier’s glance and head tilt became international border-like inspections.
Israel says the measures are to prevent Hamas from opening a new front in the West Bank. But many experts suspect the crackdown has more to do with assuaging settler leaders like Bezalel Smotrich, the finance minister and an important ally of Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, who has threatened to topple the government if Israel does not restart the war in Gaza.
“Israel now has a free hand to pursue what it has wanted to in the West Bank for a long time: settlement expansion, annexation,” said Tahani Mustafa, a senior analyst at the International Crisis Group. “It was considered a potential trade-off.”
Asked why Israel launched the crackdown during the ceasefire, the Israeli military said politicians gave the order in part over concerns that the release of Palestinian prisoners — in swaps for Israeli hostages held by Hamas — could raise tensions in the West Bank.
The checkpoints all over the West Bank, it said, were “to ensure safe movement and expand inspections.”
“Checkpoints are a tool we use in the fight against terror, enabling civilian movement while providing a layer of screening to prevent terrorists from escaping,” said Lt. Col. Nadav Shoshani, an Israeli military spokesman.
Life disrupted
To spend rush hour at an Israeli checkpoint is to hear of the problems it has brought — Palestinian families divided, money lost, trade disrupted, sick people kept from doctors.
Ahmed Jibril said not even his position as manager of emergency services for the Palestinian Red Crescent protects him.
“We’re treated like any other private car,” he said, describing dozens of cases in which Israeli soldiers forced ambulances to wait for inspection when they were responding to emergency calls.
In one case, on Jan. 21, the Palestinian Health Ministry reported that a 46-year-old woman who had suffered a heart attack in the southern city of Hebron died while waiting to cross a checkpoint.
The Israeli military said it was not aware of that specific incident. But citing Hamas’ use of civilian infrastructure like hospitals to conceal fighters, the army acknowledged subjecting medical teams to security checks “while trying to reduce the delay as much as possible in order to mitigate harm.”
The UN humanitarian agency, or OCHA, reported that, as of last Nov. 28, Israel had 793 checkpoints and roadblocks in the West Bank, 228 more than before the war in Gaza.
The agency hasn’t updated the tally since the ceasefire, but its latest report noted a surge in “suffocating restrictions” that are “tearing communities apart and largely paralyzing daily life.”
A bubble bursts
With its upscale restaurants and yoga studios, Ramallah gained a reputation in past conflicts for being something of a well-to-do bubble where cafe-hopping residents can feel immune to the harsh realities of the occupation.
Now its residents, struck in numbingly long lines to run simple errands, feel under siege.
“All we want to do is go home,” said Mary Elia, 70, stalled with her husband for nearly two hours at the Ein Senia checkpoint north of Ramallah last week, as they made their way home to east Jerusalem from their daughter’s house. “Are we meant to never see our grandchildren?”
Suddenly, her face contorted in discomfort. She had to urinate, she said, and there were hours to go before they crossed.
A national obsession
Roll down the window at a bottlenecked checkpoint and the same soothing female voice can be heard emanating from countless car radios, reeling off every Israeli checkpoint, followed by “salik” — Arabic for open — or “mughlaq,” closed, based on the conditions of the moment.
These reports recently beat out weather broadcasts for top slot on the West Bank radio lineup.
Almost every Palestinian driver seems able to expound on the latest checkpoint operating hours, the minutiae of soldiers’ mood changes and fiercely defended opinions about the most efficient detours.
“I didn’t ask for a Ph.D. in this,” said Yasin Fityani, 30, an engineer stuck in line to leave Ramallah for work, scrolling through new checkpoint-dedicated WhatsApp groups filled with footage of soldiers installing cement barriers and fistfights erupting over someone cutting the line.
Lost time, lost money
It was the second time in as many weeks that his boss at the Jerusalem bus company called off his morning shift because he was late.
Worse still for Nidal Al-Maghribi, 34, it was too dangerous to back out of the queue of frustrated motorists waiting to pass Jaba checkpoint, which severs his east Jerusalem neighborhood from the rest of the city. Another full day’s work wasted in his car.
“What am I supposed to tell my wife?” he asked, pausing to keep his composure. “This job is how I feed my kids.”
Palestinian trucks, packed with perishable food and construction materials, are not spared the scrutiny. Soldiers often ask truckers to pull over and unload their cargo for inspection. Fruit rots. Textiles and electronics get damaged.
The delays raise prices, further choking a Palestinian economy that shrank 28 percent last year as a result of punitive Israeli policies imposed after Hamas’ attack, said Palestinian Economy Minister Mohammad Alamour. Israel’s ban on most Palestinian workers has left 30 percent of the West Bank’s workforce jobless.
“These barriers do everything except their stated purpose of providing security,” Alamour said.
“They pressure the Palestinian people and the Palestinian economy. They make people want to leave their country.”


West Bank’s ancient olive tree a ‘symbol of Palestinian endurance’

West Bank’s ancient olive tree a ‘symbol of Palestinian endurance’
Updated 07 November 2025

West Bank’s ancient olive tree a ‘symbol of Palestinian endurance’

West Bank’s ancient olive tree a ‘symbol of Palestinian endurance’
  • The Palestinian Authority’s agriculture ministry recognized the tree as a Palestinian natural landmark

AL WALAJAH: As guardian of the occupied West Bank’s oldest olive tree, Salah Abu Ali prunes its branches and gathers its fruit even as violence plagues the Palestinian territory during this year’s harvest.
“This is no ordinary tree. We’re talking about history, about civilization, about a symbol,” the 52-year-old said proudly, smiling behind his thick beard in the village of Al-Walajah, south of Jerusalem.
Abu Ali said experts had estimated the tree to be between 3,000 and 5,500 years old. It has endured millennia of drought and war in this parched land scarred by conflict.
Around the tree’s vast trunk and its dozen offshoots — some named after his family members — Abu Ali has cultivated a small oasis of calm.
A few steps away, the Israeli separation wall cutting off the West Bank stands five meters (16 feet) high, crowned with razor wire.
More than half of Al-Walajah’s original land now lies on the far side of the Israeli security wall.
Yet so far the village has been spared the settler assaults that have marred this year’s olive harvest, leaving many Palestinians injured.
Israel has occupied the West Bank since 1967, and some of the 500,000 Israelis living in the Palestinian territory have attacked farmers trying to access their trees almost every day this year since the season began in mid-October.
The Palestinian Authority’s Colonization and Wall Resistance Commission, based in Ramallah, documented 2,350 such attacks in the West Bank in October.

- ‘Rooted in this land’ -

Almost none of the perpetrators have been held to account by the Israeli authorities.
Israeli forces often disperse Palestinians with tear gas or block access to their own land, AFP journalists witnessed on several occasions.
But in Al-Walajah for now, Abu Ali is free to care for the tree. In a good year, he said, it can yield from 500 to 600 kilograms (1,100 to 1,300 pounds) of olives.
This year, low rainfall led to slim pickings in the West Bank, including for the tree whose many nicknames include the Elder, the Bedouin Tree and Mother of Olives.
“It has become a symbol of Palestinian endurance. The olive tree represents the Palestinian people themselves, rooted in this land for thousands of years,” said Al-Walajah mayor Khader Al-Araj.
The Palestinian Authority’s agriculture ministry even recognized the tree as a Palestinian natural landmark and appointed Abu Ali as its official caretaker.
Most olive trees reach about three meters in height when mature. This one towers above the rest, its main trunk nearly two meters wide, flanked by a dozen offshoots as large as regular olive trees.

- ‘Green gold’ -

“The oil from this tree is exceptional. The older the tree, the richer the oil,” said Abu Ali.
He noted that the precious resource, which he called “green gold,” costs four to five times more than regular oil.
Tourists once came in droves to see the tree, but numbers have dwindled since the start of the war in Gaza in October 2023, Abu Ali said, with checkpoints tightening across the West Bank.
The village of Al-Walajah is not fully immune from the issues facing other West Bank communities.
In 1949, after the creation of Israel, a large portion of the village’s land was taken, and many Palestinian families had to leave their homes to settle on the other side of the so-called armistice line.
After Israel’s 1967 occupation, most of what remained was designated Area C — under full Israeli control — under the 1993 Oslo Accords, which were meant to lead to peace between Palestinians and Israelis.
But the designation left many homes facing demolition orders for lacking Israeli permits, a common problem in Area C, which covers 66 percent of the West Bank.
“Today, Al-Walajah embodies almost every Israeli policy in the West Bank: settlements, the wall, home demolitions, land confiscations and closures,” mayor Al-Araj told AFP.
For now, Abu Ali continues to nurture the tree. He plants herbs and fruit trees around it, and keeps a guest book with messages from visitors in dozens of languages.
“I’ve become part of the tree. I can’t live without it,” he said.