‘Tel Aviv started like this too’: What went on at event for Israelis calling to settle in Lebanon?
Israelis gathered next to the northern border at a far-right event on 30 December 2024 calling for the settlement of Lebanon
Noa Shpigel reports in Haaretz on 2 January 2025:
Dozens who gathered at Israel’s northern border to advocate for Israeli settlement in Lebanon were determined not to let Tuesday’s stormy weather ruin their pastoral adventure.
In the middle of the tour, at a lookout point in the town of Arab al-Aramshe near the border, countless shades of green merged into a breathtaking view, adding wind to the already billowing sails of those aspiring to become the region’s new settlers. Even the barbed-wire fences and concrete walls marking the military presence failed to dampen their vision.
“We wanted to live in Lebanon even before the war,” said an activist from Uri Tzafon, (“Wake Up, North”), the biblically titled group which organized the conference. Speaking at the meet-up point in a park near Kibbutz Adamit, the activist, like many other participants, declined to share his name. “Everything we know now we also knew before the war – that this is our land,” he continued. “We don’t need to apologize.” While the first reason for settling in Lebanon is security, he added, “it’s ours in any case.”
The movement’s website lays out its vision. “The Land of Israel,” it proclaims, “doesn’t cease to be the Land of Israel even if the state decides to withdraw from it … The more we try to flee from it, the more the land pursues us. This happened in Gaza, and also in Lebanon.”
The official name given the conference was “Veterans of the Tower and Stockade operation are passing the torch to residents of the piece of Lebanon that is being renewed.” But veterans of the actual pre-state Tower and Stockade operation, which also sought to claim more land by building new Jewish communities, were not the ones who showed up for this event.
There were plenty of West Bank settlers there, but they weren’t the only ones. Dozens of adults and at least five times that many children slowly made their way to the conference venue. Eli Hollander of Nahariya came with nine of his children. His wife stayed home with the two babies, while the oldest son was studying in yeshiva. “The only way to achieve security for all of Israel is a military presence in southern Lebanon,” he said. “And for that to be permanent, we also need to build communities there.”
“When I was growing up, the army was in Lebanon,” he recalled. He admitted that the price of the army’s 18-year stay there was high, but in his view, it was necessary. “It was clear that if we left, there would be missile fire on the entire country.”
Following a brief meeting in the park, which included a group photograph for posterity, conference organizer Anna Slutzkin gave the signal. Participants then returned to their cars and drove north to visit a lookout post from which the coveted land could be seen. Slutzkin’s brother, Israel Socol, was killed in Gaza last January, along with 20 other soldiers. The organization, Uri Tsafon, was founded in his memory.
Slutzkin sounded determined, but real life turns out to be more complicated. The convoy of cars, almost all of them adorned with stickers bearing slogans like “Hebrew labor” or “Until victory,” entered Arab al-Aramshe, an Arab village in Israel close to the Lebanese border, made a wrong turn and turned around. They ended up spending a long time driving through the village under the curious gazes of the local residents.
When they finally found the lookout post located at the town’s northern edge, the cars stopped. Some of the children got out and raced toward the border fence. A few minutes after they crossed the border, two army jeeps arrived and ordered them to go back.
This isn’t the first time the army has had to evict Uri Tsafon activists from Lebanon. Around a month ago, several of them crossed the border and set up tents in Lebanon. This time, the Israel Defense Forces responded faster.
Hollander looked at Lebanon with satisfaction and said he thinks it would also be good for the Lebanese “to have us living there.” Two families of South Lebanon Army soldiers once lived in his building in Nahariya, he recalled; they had been Israel’s allies when the IDF was in Lebanon and were forced to flee when it withdrew in 2000. “They recognized that what was good for them was to have good ties with Israel,” he said. Another participant in the event said that “every place from which they shoot at us, means that place is calling us.” This man, a resident of Kiryat Bialik, near Haifa, who was there with his wife and five children, said he would “absolutely” move to Lebanon.
Suddenly, someone in the crowd shouted, “Look, there’s a mikveh here! We asked the army not to touch it.” Many of those present were curious and came over to look at the ritual bath.
After another group photo, this time set against the backdrop of the promised land, some participants paused to pray. Alongside them, a barefoot toddler, about two years old, wandered indifferently through the freezing cold, weaving between the barbed-wire fences. The soldiers called to the scene seemed to grasp that it was better to stay close but appeared somewhat confused. One mother scolded her children: “Guys, we came here to see the border. Come on.” The children eagerly complied — one filled a plastic bottle with soil, another pocketed a few stones as souvenirs.
At this point, the soldiers lost their patience. An officer accompanying the group climbed onto a high rock and announced that the area was a closed military zone, ordering everyone to leave. Dozens of attendees tried to protest, but ultimately, they slowly returned to their cars and continued the journey.
Driving at a leisurely pace, the convoy finally reached Hanita Forest, stopping near the restored lookout tower at the Tower and Stockade heritage site. Beside a Jewish National Fund sign telling the story of the site’s original settlers, the conference attendees hung their own banners. One declared, “Lebanon is ours!” While the Land of the Cedars remains unconquered, dozens of children claimed the tower for themselves.
At the foot of the wooden tower, Hanukkah candles were lit in tin cans, and the crowd began singing songs of faith. A few minutes later, some of the men began dancing in a circle around the flames. Yoel Elitzur from the settlement of Ofra reflected on Moses gazing at “the good land,” which he called “the Lebanon.” “This is how the Bible describes parts of the Land of Israel,” he explained.
“The Almighty gives us reality; we are in the midst of redemption, and it’s our duty to realize it,” Elitzur said, connecting the lyrics of the medieval poem and popular Hanukkah song, “Ma’oz Tzur,” to their present circumstances. “The events of the past year and a quarter are greater than what happened in biblical times. The low point during Shemini Atzeret… no state commission of inquiry will help here,” he asserted, referring to an investigation into what led to Hamas’ October 7 attack. Elitzur then added his own interpretation for the massacre. “We gave the Holy One no choice. You can’t hold Yom Kippur prayers in a public square,” he said, referring to a controversy over the holding of segregated prayers in public squares in Tel Aviv. “The nation is so divided.”
As he spoke, a few young attendees began distributing sufganiyot (Hanukkah donuts) to the crowd. Nearby, a stand was set up offering clothing items and stickers with the slogan “Settling in Lebanon brings security.” A cap cost 15 shekels, a sweater 45. A young woman who attended the conference with her five children sought to inspire those with doubts. “Once, even reaching the Land of Israel seemed unrealistic. Tel Aviv started like this too. You progress with each goat, with each dunam. Ben-Gurion also spoke of Lebanon,” she said, invoking Israel’s first prime minister.
“The border is neither viable nor defensible,” she added. “It looks like a two-year-old drew it with a shaky hand. Just as we settled Hanita and Malkiya [kibbutzim in northern Israel], it’s now time to fix the border. The Lebanon region is ours.”
Slutzkin paused her organizational activities to give an interview. “Do you know why my brother was killed? They were clearing the buffer zone in Gaza after the evacuation. My brother wanted to live in Lebanon, thought maybe we should settle in Gaza. So yes, the people of Israel are willing to pay heavy prices, but only if we gain our long-term peace and tranquility… It’s Hanukkah now, and we talk about the Maccabees. We didn’t inherit a foreign land; we are here as rightful owners.”
A man joined the conversation and explained: “We’re not taking land from any sovereign entity. Lebanon is a patchwork of minorities, and they’re trying to hold it together by force. In the past, Britain and France divided the land. The de facto ruler here is Hezbollah, and the people are Shi’ites who supported the organization.”
A young man with a religious appearance stood before the crowd, holding a torch. “More than 80 years ago, our brothers fought here. At Kibbutz Hanita, there’s a museum that was once a Lebanese home,” he declared. A native of the kibbutz, he later returned to religion. “We inherit this torch from the kibbutz founders, and with God’s help, we continue to strengthen and expand the Galilee. We will restore the crown to its former glory!” he proclaimed passionately and began singing, “The land is indeed very, very good.”
This article is reproduced in its entirety