We decided to visit the Atara Checkpoint / Atara Bridge, which controls the northern entrance to Ramallah. We had not been there for quite some time and had received complaints about long traffic jams. We drove north on Route 60, where expansion work is proceeding at full speed. The existing road is mountainous, with curves and steep gradients. Turning it into a multi-lane highway with two lanes in each direction requires cutting into the slope, widening the roadbed, removing enormous quantities of rock and earth, constructing retaining walls, and creating bridges and crossings—and only then can paving begin.

The road does not pass through an “empty space.” It runs through an area where Palestinian communities, predominantly Palestinian agricultural land, settlements, and outposts exist side by side. The transportation significance is clear, but so is the annexationist context: the road is the main transportation artery in the area, and it is being built with one clear purpose—to facilitate settlers’ travel to Jerusalem and central Israel—and thereby make the West Bank an integral part of Israel. De facto annexation through roads—need we say it again? The seizure of Palestinian agricultural land and the damage to Palestinians’ ability to make a living are also a crucial part of this violent process. Palestinians will be given miserable, narrow “Fabric of life” roads, another layer in the pile of actions all serving one purpose—to drive them out of here permanently—ethnic cleansing.

Remember the days of the Intifada, when people denied passage at Qalandia were repeatedly told to “go to Surda”? The reference was to the Atara checkpoint. The checkpoint is not continuously staffed, but the pillbox and concrete barriers remain. Inspections are carried out mainly in the morning between seven and nine and in the afternoon between two and four-thirty—peak traffic hours. In August 2025, the Givat Tarfon outpost was established on the eastern outskirts of the checkpoint, in Area B. Since its establishment, there has been a dramatic increase in violence in the area. Settlers led by settler Tal Yinon Dardik “occupied” two houses in Atara, and one of the settlers even celebrated his son’s circumcision in the Palestinian house, after first installing a mezuzah on the front door. In August this year, settlers, apparently from Givat Tarfon, attacked Palestinian journalists covering the demolition of Palestinian homes in the area, causing an international outcry. According to an OCHA report, more than 70 incidents of attack were documented in the area; 12 herding families and 69 people were displaced from the area. 

Since we were within touching distance of the modern Palestinian city of Rawabi, about 3.5 km from the Atara checkpoint, we decided to drive there. The turnoff to the access road is preceded by a roundabout awash with Israeli flags, in a provocative display. The city was built as a private initiative by businessman Bashar al-Masri, and construction began in 2010—all of it in Area A. The aim was to create a planned city with infrastructure, parks, sewage and water systems, commerce, public institutions, and transportation: to enable a modern Palestinian urban economy that would be less dependent on the movement of workers and goods through Israel and the checkpoints. The emphasis was on high-tech, communications, medicine, and similar fields. At the time, the projected population was around 30,000, a dream that is far from being realized. The planning error was that, instead of creating jobs and building a city around them, a city was built without a significant employment base.

At the entrance to the city stands a large, beautiful mosque, with a church beside it. Most of the shutters on the residential buildings are closed, the streets are well maintained, and the school has a swimming pool. The shopping center is spacious, with upscale shops, cafés, and restaurants. We chose a place to have coffee. The choice was not difficult because the place was almost completely empty. The price of coffee and cake was like that in central Tel Aviv. The upscale shops, too, are not intended for residents of the nearby villages. On the positive side, it is important to note that there is no parking problem!

We continued north on Route 60 as far as the Tapuach / Za’tara Junction. All the entrances to the villages bordering the road are blocked by gates. By contrast, there is no shortage of Israeli flags and “Messiah” concrete barriers—the road is littered with them, lest we forget who is in charge here!!

Sinjil was one of the objectives of the tour in memory of the late Irit Saguli, and in honor of Nurit Popper, Riki Shaked, and Tzvia Shapira.  In their  Makams report Sinjil featured prominently.  Now it is surrounded by a formidable four-meter-high metal fence separating the town from a very large portion of the farmers’ agricultural land on the other side of Route 60. Of the four entrances the town once had, only one controlled entrance remains—a prison without a roof.

This is the central story of Sinjil: not a single violent incident, but a process of radical transformation. A town that is gradually being enclosed within a ring of fences, roads, settlements, and outposts—a process of the “slow disappearance” of a large village before the eyes of its residents. At one of the locked gates, we met two people passing goods through the gaps in the locked gate. With cynical humor, one of them “explained” to us that “the situation is absolutely wonderful.” We agreed that when peace comes, we will be his guests for coffee.

At the Tapuach Junction, we turned toward the Jordan Valley on Route 505. In just this short stretch are the long-established outposts of Evyatar, Migdalim, and Gitit. Evyatar attracted considerable public attention at the time, and we reported on it repeatedly. The first attempt to establish the outpost was in 2021, as an attempt to seize Jabal Sabih, the mountain between Beita, Yatma, and Qabalan. The significant development of this violent site began after a yeshiva student from Yitzhar was killed there. A large group of settlers came to the site, and within a month about 50 families were already living there. Of course, there were already water and electricity—after all, we are in the Occupied Territories, not the Negev!
The people of Beita, who understood that this was a blatant attempt to take control of a strategic point and create a barrier between them and the surrounding villages and agricultural lands, held demonstrations for months. The army used enormous force against the demonstrations, and during the events seven Palestinians from Beita were killed and many others wounded.

Then the unbelievable happened: in June 2021, the army issued an order declaring the area a closed zone and ordering the outpost evacuated. But this is where the thing happened that made Evyatar a special case: instead of demolishing the structures, the government reached a compromise agreement with the settlers, and then, in June 2024, turned the outpost into a recognized settlement! The wonders of this government of horrors.

At the Migdalim Junction, we turned onto the Alon Road. We should note the agricultural outposts, farms, and settlements we saw along the way: Kochav HaShahar, Mitzpe Kramim, Rimonim, Sde Yonatan, Ma’ale Michmash, Mitzpe Dani, Malachei HaShalom, and Neve Erez. At times, all that can be seen is a few caravans, an antenna, and a graded dirt road, or large pieces of heavy machinery. It is important to emphasize: in recent years, a growing continuous chain of small farms and outposts has emerged along the Alon axis, which do not appear as settlement names in published materials. People speak of “no fewer than 30 farms and hilltop outposts.” All of these make life unbearable for Palestinians in the area—those who have not yet fled for their lives. If this is not an overt policy of transfer, what is?

We returned home desperate and frustrated. Let us hope that next year will bring change, even if only the slightest.

When we rejoined Route 60, we noticed construction work near the settlement of Kochav Ya’akov on Route 45, intended to allow Israelis alone to bypass the severe congestion in the area of the Qalandia checkpoint and connect without delay to Route 443 toward Jerusalem and central Israel.