The tall red sign on the shoulder warns the unwary in three languages. Zone A, as the West Bank areas populated by Arab villages and controlled by the Palestinian Authority are called, begins at this small deserted road that winds up the hill. Israeli citizens are normally prohibited from entering there. But recently, anonymous people covered the sign with another white and blue poster: “Welcome to Samaria,” we read in Hebrew.
A few meters in front of the controversial plaque, an IDF soldier at an observation post points his machine gun in the direction of the strangers we are. The small lamp above his viewfinder, glowing in the fading daylight, warns that he can take photos at any time.
His colleague, a scorpion embroidered on the shoulder strap of his M16, finally opens the orange barrier and reveals the way to a strip of asphalt that is even narrower than the main road. The climb reveals an extraordinary panorama. It seems as if all of Israel bows at Homesh’s feet.
Homesh, November 21st. The site that dominates Israel is one of the most emblematic “outposts” for settlers with extremist positions in this northern region of the West Bank. LP
This West Bank location is one of the most emblematic “outposts” for settlers with openly extremist positions in this northern region of the West Bank. The colony, which consisted of around thirty families, was disbanded and evacuated by Ariel Sharon’s government in 2005, concurrent with the establishment of Israeli villages in the Gaza Strip. A “detox plan” that most die-hards have never accepted.
Thanks to the rise to power of several right-wing ministers and after months of demonstrations and illegal camps, the settlers returned to Homesh in March, protected by the army, which set up a base there. In their eyes, the massacre carried out by Hamas on October 7 in the south of the country proves them right and encourages them to push their pawns into the region. The wind of distrust and fear blowing through Israel in war is drawing new friends into its arms.
“God gave Abraham this land 4,000 years ago, it says in the Torah.”
This evening David drove two hours with his friend Haïm from a suburb of Tel Aviv to recharge his spiritual and nationalist batteries. Calls to Muslim prayer echo from the valley full of minarets. It seems like he doesn’t hear her.
“God gave Abraham this land 4,000 years ago, that’s what it says in the Torah,” says the student with thick glasses. He takes out a kosher phone from his black pants (without internet, social networks, etc.) to immortalize the sunset. Now he poses victoriously on an excavator parked next to the water tower. The artwork, visible throughout the valley, is painted with a seven-armed candlestick and letters that form this slogan: “We start at Homesh. »
David poses on a tractor next to the water tower, which is painted with a seven-armed candlestick and letters that form this slogan: “We begin in Homesh.” LP/Christel Brigaudeau
“We came to support the people here and to strengthen ourselves through contact with them,” admires David. They are the elite. Their yeshiva is one of the most progressive there is. » This school of Torah and Talmud study was the Trojan Horse of the Eternals. Shmuel Wende, 29, father of four, is the director. It is his reason for living. Whatever the weather, this religious man with long auburn curls climbed the hill with his followers to set up tents and huts and dig a cave. There, the believers studied the Torah wrapped in blankets, under spotlights and without running water. A mythology that his wife compiled into a clip with epic undertones.
In particular, we see the group bringing together “10,000 people in Homesh” in the winter of 2022 after one of them is murdered on the street by a Palestinian sniper. To the police who often arrested him before unceremoniously destroying his tents and shelters, Shmuel tirelessly replied: “The movement is on the move, the Messiah is coming.”
“I’m on a mission. We did not come here to enjoy life or consume, but to inhabit the holy land. Jerusalem is mine. This land is ours. » Shmuel delivers his aggressive speech in a soft, calm voice while sitting at the camping table in a nearby settlement where his family now lives. The rudimentary living conditions in Homesh, far from everything but close to danger, discourage women and children from settling down. The abandoned site still only houses three families in caravans and students passing through the yeshiva.
“When the day comes, I will not hesitate to use my weapon.”
However embryonic it may be, the symbol of Homesh shines both on the landscape and in people’s minds. “We tried the everyone at home formula. Look where that got us. We must not give up,” says Yoni, a forty-year-old whose parents left Sarcelles (Val-d’Oise) when he was five years old to settle in Jerusalem.
Yoni assumes that he lives in a colony on the borders of the West Bank “out of ideology”. LP/Christel Brigaudeau
This computer engineer, who has to drive for hours to reach the Tel Aviv work area, easily admits that he lives here “out of ideology” and has a preference for peace, which he defends with automatic weapons. “I’ve never had to use it before,” he admits, “but when the day comes, I won’t hesitate.” That’s my idea of justice. »
Night has fallen on the small street. Down in the valley are the flashing lights of police cars and soldiers who have come to protect six women wearing tichels (the veil of Jewish women). They demonstrate without a sign and without an audience in the middle of the desert “against insecurity” near their colony. “The Arabs want to kill me every day,” one of them says before the group disappears into the night. The uniformed officers called in to monitor what was happening soon folded up their mobile barriers. During the entire operation, the road remained closed to Palestinians from the neighboring village.