A tiny illegal outpost is blocking hundreds of Palestinians from their land in the West Bank
Palestinians from Halhul trying to reach their vineyards, April 2026
Matan Golan reports in Haaretz on 6 May 2026:
Mohammed, a farmer from Halhul, is marching with dozens of his neighbors, trying to reach the vineyards that are awaiting cultivation by him and the other owners. It’s noon in mid-April, and most of the residents trying to reach their land are carrying work tools – mainly pruning shears.
A few of them are even accompanied by their children. Every year in the middle of winter, vineyard owners begin pruning the vines before they start to blossom in the spring. This is meant to maximize the fruit yield. This year, the residents of Halhul have been unable to reach their vines and prune them, and the economic implications are a source of concern for all of them.
These are the final days of the pruning season, the atmosphere is tense, and the explosion follows quickly. The first marchers, who have already reached the top of the hill, are sprayed with pepper spray by residents of the outpost. Two girls, aged seven and nine, cry out with eyes closed under the vines, while their father, whose eyes are also squinting in pain, tries to calm them down. In the footage from the top of the hill, a soldier is seen bandaging the head of a Palestinian, and among the attackers is a young settler carrying an army weapon.
Below them, in the valley, an army unit is blocking the rest of the marchers, while hilltop youth driving Rangers begin to gather. Reports about the wounded people on top of the hill reach the group, and one of the mothers, who knows that her son is among the first marchers, shouts at the soldiers in Arabic.
The tension is palpable. One of the landowners, who speaks Hebrew, approaches the soldiers in the valley and shows them an ownership certificate for his land. They listen, uneasily checking to make sure that their face coverings are in place. Another soldier, at a lookout point, scans through the sight of his weapon. “I have an ownership certificate for my land up there,” the farmer pleads. “We eat from our land. If I don’t work the land, I have no money, but they don’t let me go to it.”
A vineyard is Judea
There are over 33,000 residents in Halhul, and the area it is located in is the principal grape-producing region in the West Bank – which is the second most common Palestinian crop after olives. ” Halhul has about 37,000 dunams [about 9,000 acres],” explains Mohammed. “Twelve thousand of them are in Area C [under full Israeli security and civil control]. Before, we never had outposts in Halhul, and then they started to appear one after another.”
In fact, since the start of the war, eight outposts have been built along Route 60, between Gush Etzion and Hebron. Six of them are on the land of Halhul. Two have been approved for retroactive recognition by the security cabinet, although they aren’t located on state land but on private Palestinian land.
In the summer of 2025, Kerem Hamami – a new outpost on Halhul’s land – was built at the top of the hill among the vineyards. It, too, is on private Palestinian land. The outpost is named after Col. Asaf Hamami, commander of the Gaza Division’s Southern Brigade, whose body was abducted to the Strip on October 7.
In a video posted on social media, an Israeli in uniform, wearing a kippa and carrying a gun, explains the name: “We decided to call the farm Kerem Hamami [Hamami’s Vineyard]. A vineyard is Judea; the vineyard has been likened to the Land of Israel [in the Bible]… a vineyard means roots.” He then goes on to talk about his personal acquaintance, as a soldier, with the revered commander in whose memory the “farm” was built.
But while the video was posted on the Facebook page called “Kerem Hamami Farm,” Kerem Hamami isn’t a farm at all. On Thursday, the head of the Israel Defense Forces Central Command, Avi Bluth, made that clear. “It isn’t a farm, it’s an illegal outpost that will be evacuated in the end,” he said in response to a question during a conference held in Gush Etzion. But the anticipated evacuation isn’t preventing the residents of the outpost from harassing the Palestinian residents.
“Kerem Hamami on its own is denying access to thousands of dunams of vineyards,” says Mohammed. “This area of Halhul produces products from the vines valued at 50 million shekels ($17 million) a year. It supports thousands of families. We’ll lose about 40 million shekels this year,” he estimates in despair. “There are no work permits, the Palestinian Authority budgets have shrunk – what are we supposed to do? Eat grass?”
‘What does the soil give me?’
The economic distress is evident in conversations with all the farmers I spoke to. “I work, I’m a farmer, not a terrorist,” says another resident. “What does the soil give me? It gives me grapes. Who eats the grapes? You and me. What does your government want from us? What does the State of Israel want our children to work in tomorrow? The day after? Ten years from now? We will work the land; we won’t work at making bombs.” Another villager adds: “We lived here quietly, we’re willing to live with anyone in peace. But these settlers have simply destroyed our lives.”
Since November, the Palestinians have tried to reach their land over 50 times, says Mohammed. “At first, we tried coming a few at a time – but then the settlers attack us.” He says that when they were accompanied by religious Israelis who volunteer with the Bnei Avraham organization, they were able to reach the vineyards twice, and the soldiers allowed them to work the land for about four hours.
“When there are Israelis, they speak to us and behave more respectfully, even if they don’t allow us access. Without them, they immediately throw tear gas and stun grenades at us,” he says. “We want to work the land, but is the entire army here for 10 settlers on the mountain? Because of 10 settlers on the mountain, hundreds of families have lost their livelihood,” Mohammed adds.
The Palestinians testify that officers in the area have begun to demand that they coordinate the activity with the District Coordination and Liaison Office, something that they weren’t required to do before.
“We went to the Palestinian Coordination and Liaison Office dozens of times, but the Israeli side won’t allow coordination. We also went directly to the Israeli Coordination and Liaison authorities; we sat there from 8 A.M. until 3 P.M. and waited to talk – but they wouldn’t let us in. And yet all the soldiers in the area kept telling us, ‘Go coordinate it.’ Who am I supposed to coordinate with? Who am I supposed to turn to?” he says in frustration.
At the end of the farmers’ attempt to march to their land, which Haaretz joined, an officer presented the Palestinians with a military closure order. The order was indeed issued on April 14, but it’s valid only later in the year – in November and December. In spite of that, the officer demanded that the Palestinians disperse.
When Bluth was asked about that last week, he claimed that the order was meant to make it easier to evacuate the outpost. According to Bluth, “The fact that they used it to deny access to the Palestinians, that wasn’t the intention.” He also said that he intends to visit the area and ensure that the forces at the site really understand the purpose of the order.
Even if the farmers’ regular passage to their land is formalized, it looks as though the damage to the coming season has already been done. “If we don’t prune now, there won’t be grapes,” said one of the farmers in mid-April. Like hundreds of thousands of other Palestinians, he has been denied entry to Israel since the war. Since then, the land has become the main resource on which his livelihood depends.
“Why are they causing people problems with accessing their land? We don’t need anything, only to work our land and that’s it. Where will I bring food for my children from? They go to school, they need clothes, they need things. Where will I bring it from? Will the government give it to me?” he asks in frustration.
There was no response from the Israel Defense Forces.
This article is reproduced in its entirety