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'We cannot let the Arabs stay,' say Israeli settlers on the conquest of the West Bank

About 40 Israeli settlements south of Hebron are expanding in the West Bank. Driven by religious motives, settlers see themselves as protectors and conquerors, aiming to control the territory with Donald Trump’s support.

(Special Correspondent in the occupied southern West Bank)
Updated March 18th, 2025 at 09:39 am (Europe\Rome)
Israeli soldiers in the Jenin area of the West Bank during Operation Iron Wall, January 2025. (Phot
Israeli soldiers in the Jenin area of the West Bank during Operation Iron Wall, January 2025. (Photo: IDF/Wikimedia Commons)

Eliram Azoulay eagerly examines the map that covers an entire wall of his office in Metarim, overlooking the hills of Mount Hebron. The head of the Har Hebron Regional Council contemplates the latest “settlements”—the term used by settlers—that are gradually consuming Palestinian lands in this West Bank, occupied by the Israeli army since 1967. “Our territory includes about 40 villages and stretches up to forty minutes by car from here, covering one million dunams (around 1,000 km², Ed.),” he explained, adding that “historically, King David was here.”

With piercing gray eyes and a crocheted kippah, the 47-year-old leader has his hands full managing his 13,000 residents. “In 2024, two new villages were legalized: Asaed and Avigail.” Meaning: two settlements that were illegal under international law but have now been sanctioned by the Israeli state. “There is a huge demand to live here. Our biggest problem is finding homes for newcomers looking for an authentic village, nature, and a sense of religious community.”

'We serve as shields'

More than half of the settlers in the region are under 18, a phenomenon encouraged by the government’s pro-natalist policies. “Just this year, we built three new schools,” Azoulay boasted. Or rather, he admitted, Palestinian workers built them. “The only relationships we have with the Arabs are economic,” he insisted.

Behind this real estate developer-like rhetoric, Azoulay clarified that settlers have a dual motivation: “Most villages here are religious, as their biblical names indicate,” he explained. “Even before this war, pioneers came to protect these places. And this is not just a local fight—we serve as shields, as protectors,” he gestured. “Almost everyone here has someone mobilized in the war. Ask Rabbi Benni Kalmanzon.”

The ten kilometers between Metarim and Otniel, the settlement where this well-known rabbi lives, offer a glimpse of the rapid and methodical expansion of colonization. Asaed, just recently legalized, is still just a cluster of mobile homes tucked behind a heavy yellow gate guarded by an armed man. With a camera scanning license plates at the entrance, Otniel represents the region's most developed form of settlement, featuring residential homes, a small supermarket, and two yeshivas (religious schools).

'Jews must be like elephants'

At the back of “Rabbi Benni’s” car, parked outside his home, is a photo of his son Elhanan, who was killed by Hamas militants while attempting to rescue Kibbutz Beeri, near Gaza, during the October 7, 2023 attack. “He was a lieutenant in the army before joining the Mossad,” recounted the rabbi, his thick white beard trembling, noting the apparent paradox: “A soldier, religious, a settler, right-wing, who defended a very secular and leftist kibbutz. As thanks, Beeri dedicated a tree to him in a ceremony a few months ago.”

According to him, the October 7 massacre has brought religious and secular communities closer together, pushing Israel much further to the right than before. “People have realized that we need a strong, aggressive country, even if that means being less kind to others.”

Since then, several of Rabbi Benni’s children and grandchildren have gone to the front—in Gaza, Lebanon, or the West Bank. Another son has been wounded. A necessary sacrifice, in his view, and even a mission. “Religion and the army go hand in hand. Jews in Israel today must be like elephants so that no one dares attack them.” For this community figure, who was one of the first settlers in Otniel 35 years ago, the reason “the hardest terrorists” still remain in the northern “Judea-Samaria” is precisely because there aren’t enough settlements and military presence there.

"Before October 7, everyone thought separation (from the Palestinians) was enough, but we cannot let the Arabs stay, even with a wall. The army must have total control. This is not about imperialism, but about protecting ourselves," he adds. “Jews have always been paranoid, but history has taught them that it's better to be.”

A dream return to Gush Katif

In the hallway of one of Otniel’s yeshivas, where students and teachers hurry by with their tzitzit (fringes on their garments) swinging, Elhanan Kalmanzon’s name is one of eight engraved in slate on the wall. Elazar (who prefers not to share his last name) stops for a moment in front of the names of these men killed in Gaza or Lebanon. “Several were my students, reservists,” explained the 40-something rabbi. “I accompanied one in his final moments,” he said softly. In this Hesder yeshiva (meaning “arrangement” in Hebrew), everything is designed to allow students to combine Talmudic studies with military service.

Founded in 1993, it is one of the most prominent yeshivas in Israel and the occupied West Bank. “Almost everyone here is a fighter. I just got back myself. The ceasefire gives me a bit of a break after three deployments—350 days in total,” he said, listing Gaza, the West Bank, and Lebanon, where he served in a combat unit. “But I’ll be recalled soon.” It’s a striking contrast to his composed teacher persona, dressed in a blue shirt and holding a smartphone—except for his haunted gaze. “The war has heightened our collective awareness: before, people thought lifestyle was more important than security. The war has shown that we must fight for our survival.”

Colonization, annexation… Without using those words, he argued that “the Arab leadership must be broken so they cannot rise again.” “The only possible peace is under an Israeli government. We are willing to give them jobs, but they must not have a government or weapons. Otherwise, they will kill us.”

And after the West Bank, all eyes here are on Gaza. “I never accepted the 2005 disengagement. To achieve victory, we must reclaim that land and resettle Gush Katif.”

A former resident of this bloc of settlements in Gaza, which was evacuated on the orders of former Prime Minister Ariel Sharon, Azoulay, like many here, hoped to soon replace nostalgia with reality—with the help of President Donald Trump. “His plan gives us hope that Gaza can develop just as Judea-Samaria has today. Gaza is a dream. And a huge opportunity.”

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► More than 700,000 settlers

According to the United Nations, more than 700,000 Israeli Jewish settlers live illegally under international law in the occupied West Bank since 1967, including East Jerusalem.

In 2005, Israel withdrew its army and 8,000 settlers from the Gaza Strip, which had been occupied since 1967, as part of a unilateral disengagement plan decided by then-Prime Minister Ariel Sharon.

Settlers do not refer to the “West Bank” but to “Judea-Samaria,” nor do they speak of “settlements” but of “outposts.” They also avoid terms like “occupation” or “annexation,” instead using “sovereignty.”

Since October 7, 2023, violence—including theft, looting, and attacks—by settlers against Palestinians in the West Bank has surged. At least 910 Palestinians have been killed by Israeli soldiers or settlers, according to the Palestinian Health Ministry.