Busy junction, scene of nine attacks and four fatalities, has attracted visits from Binyamin Netanyahu and protests from Israeli students

In the middle of the huge tarmac roundabout of the Gush Etzion junction in the occupied West Bank, a group of yeshiva students sits on plastic chairs reciting prayers as part of a protest.



An Israeli army officer comes to talk with them and asks them to move on, citing not only the risk to the students but saying that – while they are sitting there – the army will be required to protect them.

The reason for the warning is in evidence only 100 metres away, where a makeshift memorial of broken rocks and a bunch of fading flowers marks the spot where Hadar Buchris, a 21-year-old Israeli student, was stabbed to death by a Palestinian assailant next to a bus stop on Sunday.

Hadar Buchris, a 21-year-old Israeli student, was stabbed to death by a Palestinian assailant at the junction. Photograph: Facebook

The death of Buchris is not an isolated incident. Since 20 October there have been nine attacks in the vicinity of the junction carried out by Palestinians and four fatalities, all within four days in November.

Situated on the main road leading south through the West Bank towards Hebron, Gush Etzion junction is a hub whose spokes radiate towards the cluster of Israeli settlements in the region, towards Alon Shvut, Gush Etzion itself, towards Migdal Oz and Efrat.

Both Palestinians and Israelis use the main road despite complaints by settlers who would like to see the traffic separated.

On one side is a low rocky shoulder covered in trees, on the other a cluster of shops and cafes and garages. The roundabout, served by bus stops, is often used as a hitchhiking stop and is protected by soldiers in low, concrete sentry boxes.

At the bus stop next to where Buchris died, two bullet holes have pierced the white painted metal support.

The attacks have shone a harsh spotlight on the junction, which in recent days has seen visits from Israel’s prime minister, Binyamin Netanyahu, president, Reuven Rivlin, party leaders and senior army officers. “It’s a symbol,” said one young Israeli army officer among a group that had come with commanders to the roundabout on Tuesday. “That should be obvious.”

But a symbol of what? For Israelis it has become emblematic of the escalating violence of the last two months which has claimed more than 100 lives on both sides, including Palestinian attackers. For Palestinians – local farmers and commuters who travel through the junction on the West Bank’s road 60, as well as those who work in the nearby Israeli settlements of the Gush Etzion bloc – it is symbolic of the continuing Israeli settlement enterprise and occupation.

A van slows at the junction near where the Guardian is taking photographs. The driver explains he has come to pick up his daughter, a young female soldier, who is too frightened to make the journey home to Tel Aviv.

Inside a rest area behind concrete walls used by the soldiers, Talya Cohen and Avital Kleid, two 22-year-old trainee teachers are sheltering. “We’re waiting for our lift,” explains Talya. “Until a week ago we would have waited outside by the bus stop, but after what happened on Sunday we’re waiting here because it’s safer.”

“I would have hitchhiked before,” says Avital. “But not since what has been happening.” Avital has her own theory why the junction has attracted so many incidents. “This is a place where people were used to standing outside at the junction. It makes it an easy target.”

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Israeli soldiers patrol the Gush Etzion junction, which is a hub for roads leading to Israeli settlements where some 70,000 people live. Photograph: Peter Beaumont/Guardian

And amid mounting questions in Israel over the continuing violence, locations like the Gush Etzion junction have been thrust into the political spotlight.

Netanyahu used the opportunity of his visit to the junction to insist extra security measures were being taken, including checking all Palestinian vehicles on the main roads, using bypasses where possible and revoking work permits for the families of Palestinian attackers.

Not everyone, however, is convinced that Netanyahu and the Israeli military are going far enough, among them settlers or members of Israel’s rightwing national religious sector who have come to demonstrate at the junction.

It is members of this group who have plastered posters on all of the concrete sentry positions demanding Israel declare sovereignty in the Occupied Palestinian Territories. Elsewhere, painted on a concrete barrier, is “Kahane was right” – a reference to Meir Kahane, the extremist leader who wanted to expel Palestinians from the West Bank.

Among those who have camped out at the spot where Buchris died on Sunday is Shuli Moalem, an MP from the rightwing Jewish Home party, who is among those who have been calling on the government to annex Gush Etzion to Israel.

“Arabs have nothing more to do in Gush Etzion,” Moalem told the Times of Israel last week. “We’re stepping up the war on terror.”

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Relatives and friends attend the funeral of Hadar Buchris at a cemetery in Jerusalem. Photograph: Sebastian Scheiner/AP

She is not alone among those who have gravitated to the junction who see recent events as justifying tougher action. Among those protesting on the roundabout was Dov Baker, a yeshiva student, who is also calling for a wider separation.

“This is our land. We need to be able to feel safe. You see that woman,” he said, pointing to a Jewish woman approaching one of the bus stops. “She is probably scared, thinking she could be next because that car ... the one with the white and green number plate [indicating a Palestinian car approaching the junction]. The driver could stab her. That’s what’s in her mind.”

Like others demonstrating at the junction last week he said the main road should be closed to Palestinians.

For Palestinians who live and work in the area, the anxieties are equally in evidence. For them the junction also feels a perilous place. Indeed, one of the three who died in a shooting attack on 19 November, the Thursday before Buchris’s death, was a Palestinian bystander.



Many Palestinians from the surrounding villages work among the 70,000 Israeli settlers inside the settlements, creating a degree of economic dependency. They are ferried to work by their employers, often entering the settlements through separate entrances. After the recent incidents, many were barred from work for several days.

At his home a few miles from the junction, 50-year-old Yacoub ‘Hassan’ reflects the Palestinian concerns. He has sons who work in the settlements and has land with olive trees close to the junction.



“It’s not like it used to be. You can’t go within a kilometre of the junction and feel safe with your hands in your pockets in case they think you have a knife. You can’t walk there. You need to go there in a car. But sometimes you have to go. That’s where the place is that you need to go to get a permit from the [Israeli] Civil Administration.

“Since the trouble began I haven’t used the junction. I don’t go to Hebron. Where my olive trees are I have to return via the junction. This year I didn’t harvest my olives because I didn’t want to come that way.”

He also believes – perhaps unsurprisingly given the demands of the demonstrators – that Israel wants to use the recent violence at the junction to bar Palestinians from road 60.

He, however, has one last point to make – not about the junction but about the violence that has come to visit it. “It’s different to the intifada that started in 2000 [the Second Intifada]. That was between the Palestinians and the Israeli government. This is between the settlers and the Palestinian villagers. It is like a local confrontation.”



On both sides they are wondering how long it can remain like this.