Israeli settlers use sheep herds to displace Palestinians in West Bank

Over 100 Palestinian communities have been displaced or erased; Palestinians face beatings, property destruction, and denial of access to their own homes and land.
This is my land and you won't stay. These are my roots.
Hassan Faraj shouted in Hebrew as Hilltop Youth blocked him from reaching his own home, moments before they broke his nose.
Mark

So these aren't organized military operations—it's settlers with sheep herds and teenagers with sticks?

Mimi

That's the core of it, yes. The sheep farms are the infrastructure, the Hilltop Youth are the enforcers. It's low-intensity but relentless.

Luke

But the Israeli government is funding it. That's the state dimension Roie was pointing at.

Mimi

Right. Netanyahu's government has poured tens of millions into expanding these farms. They're not rogue actors.

Mark

And the Palestinians can't just leave or call the police?

Mimi

They have deeds to their land going back generations. And when they try to reach their homes, they get beaten. The police—the army—often sides with the settlers or does nothing.

Luke

How many cases actually get prosecuted?

Mimi

The reporting says only a tiny fraction. The Faraj family doesn't expect anyone to be held responsible for shooting Muhammad in the head.

Mark

So it's a strategy designed to make life unlivable.

Mimi

Hassan said exactly that. They steal electricity and water. They block access. They attack anyone who tries to use their own property.

Luke

And the Sons of Abraham—how much actual protection can they provide?

Mimi

They can sometimes de-escalate by being present. But when Hassan tried to visit his home with them there, he still got beaten and thrown off his own land.

Mark

So what changes this?

Luke

The elections, maybe. But the government has already shown where it stands by funding the farms.

Mimi

And if America cuts military aid, Minster says Israel will find other allies. The pressure points are narrowing.

  • More than 1,600 documented incidents of settler violence this year alone signal that what was once fringe behavior has become a systematic campaign of displacement across the West Bank.
  • Palestinian families like the Farajs — holding deeds to land for generations — are being beaten, shot at, and physically blocked from their own homes by settlers who arrive within seconds and strike without hesitation.
  • The Israeli government publicly condemns the violence while simultaneously funding the expansion of settler sheep farms with tens of millions of dollars and American-made vehicles, exposing a deep contradiction at the heart of official policy.
  • Jewish Israeli activists from Sons of Abraham are placing themselves between settlers and Palestinians as human shields, betting that the presence of other Jews will slow the violence — a fragile and dangerous wager.
  • With Israeli elections two weeks away and U.S. Democrats threatening to limit military aid over West Bank abuses, the political window for accountability is narrow but, for the first time in years, visible.

On the ancient hilltops of the West Bank, a quiet but devastating form of territorial conquest is unfolding — not through formal decree, but through sheep herds, wooden sticks, and the slow erasure of Palestinian communities. Young Israeli settlers, some barely out of adolescence, are driving livestock into Palestinian homes and conducting violent raids, displacing over 100 communities in a campaign that blurs the line between private extremism and state policy. As Israeli elections and U.S. midterms approach, the world is being asked whether democratic accountability can reach into the hills where this oldest of conflicts is being redrawn, one flock at a time.

On the hilltops of the West Bank, sheep have become instruments of war. Over the past several years, Israeli settlers have established roughly 200 farms across the territory, and the herds they drive into Palestinian communities serve a clear purpose: to claim land, strip vegetation, and make life untenable for those who have lived there for generations. Mordehai Minster, who cofounded one such operation, describes it plainly — sheep are a language everyone understands. More than 100 Palestinian communities have been displaced or erased by this combination of livestock and violence.

The foot soldiers of this expansion are the Hilltop Youth — teenagers and young men in their twenties, some with troubled histories, drawn to the West Bank by a sense of divine mission. This year, the UN documented over 1,600 incidents attributed to settlers: olive trees cut down, cars torched, farmers beaten, livestock harassed. In the village of Jannatah — Arabic for paradise — the Faraj family holds generational deeds to their land. In March, 20 to 25 settlers arrived and established an outpost in Hassan Faraj's backyard. When family members tried to reach a cousin's home, settlers rushed down with sticks and stones. One fired a shot that struck Muhammad Faraj in the head. Prosecution, the family knows, is unlikely.

When Hassan returned with a camera crew, the settlers appeared within seconds, blocked his path, and struck him — one headbutting him hard enough to break his nose. He kept his hands behind his back to deny them any pretext. He shouted in Hebrew that this was his land, his roots. He was forced off it anyway.

Not every Jewish Israeli accepts this reality. Sons of Abraham, an activist group composed largely of people raised in right-wing religious homes, now positions itself as a human buffer between settlers and Palestinians. Some members, like a woman named Amana, were once Hilltop Youth themselves. Activist Roie reframes the violence not as the work of rogue individuals but as state violence — the consequence of a government that funds expansion while offering only verbal condemnation.

With Israeli elections imminent and U.S. midterms a month away, the political stakes are rising. Democrats have threatened to condition military aid on West Bank conduct. Minster worries about losing American support, though he speaks of it as losing a friendship rather than a crisis. The deeper question — whether any incoming government will move to stop what is happening on those hilltops — remains, for now, unanswered.

On the arid hilltops of the West Bank, a conflict older than modern nations is being waged with an unlikely weapon: sheep. Over the past several years, Israeli settlers have established roughly 200 sheep farms across the territory, and these herds have become instruments of territorial expansion and Palestinian displacement. The farms now occupy an estimated 20 percent of the West Bank—a landscape that has hosted shepherds for millennia, but never quite like this.

Mordehai Minster, who cofounded one of these operations, describes the strategy with disarming clarity. Sheep, he explains, are a language everyone understands. When settlers drive their herds into Palestinian communities, they are drawing a line: this is where we graze, where you do not plant, where you do not build. The herds enter Palestinian homes, their gates left open so the animals can strip the vegetation around the houses. It is a form of pressure that requires no formal declaration, no written order. Over 100 Palestinian communities have been displaced or effectively erased by this encroaching occupation and the violence that accompanies it.

The young men behind much of this expansion are known as Hilltop Youth—teenagers and men in their twenties who have arrived in the West Bank seeking adventure and, they are told, a divine mission to reclaim ancestral land. Minster characterizes them as kids who struggled in school, who didn't easily enter the military, some with behavioral problems or drug use. There are roughly 500 in a hardcore core, with another thousand drifting in and out. This year alone, the United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs has documented more than 1,600 incidents of settler violence: fields stormed, olive trees cut down, cars torched, property destroyed, farmers and livestock harassed.

In the village of Jannatah—which means paradise in Arabic—the Faraj family has held deeds to their land for generations. On March 26, a group of 20 to 25 settlers arrived and established what Hassan Faraj calls a tent outpost in his backyard, cutting off access to his cousin's house entirely. When family members attempt to reach their property, the young settlers rush down with wooden sticks and stones. In one confrontation, Hassan says, three of the settlers were armed. One fired a shot that struck his cousin Muhammad in the head. The beating continued after that, with wood sticks falling on Muhammad and Hassan's uncle. The family has little faith that anyone will face prosecution; only a tiny fraction of these cases ever result in charges.

When Hassan tried again to reach his home with a camera crew present, the Hilltop Youth appeared within seconds in their black hoodies, blocking his path. He kept his hands behind his back to prevent them from claiming he had struck first. He shouted in Hebrew: "This is my land and you won't stay. These are my roots." They hit him anyway. One headbutted him, breaking his nose. He was blocked from retreating. In the end, Hassan was forced off his own property while the settlers remained.

Not all Jewish Israelis support this expansion. A group called Sons of Abraham, composed largely of activists who grew up in right-wing religious homes, now works to protect Palestinians under siege. Some, like a woman named Amana, were once Hilltop Youth themselves. They position themselves as human shields, betting that settlers will hesitate to attack other Jews. Amana tells the young settlers: I grew up as you did, I know what you're doing, and it is not the right way. Roie, another activist, speaks of the pain of watching childhood friends behave this way. He reframes the violence not as settler action but as state violence—the violence of a government that has shown unwillingness to crack down. The Israeli government has condemned the violence while simultaneously pouring tens of millions of dollars into expanding the sheep farms, arming them, and providing American-made off-roaders.

With Israeli elections two weeks away and U.S. midterm elections a month off, the political ground is shifting. Democrats have threatened to limit military aid to Israel partly because of the West Bank attacks. Minster worries about American public opinion and the loss of American support, though he frames it as losing a friendship rather than an existential threat. Israel, he suggests, will find other allies. But the immediate question remains unresolved: whether the next government in Jerusalem will finally move to stop what is happening on those hilltops, or whether the sheep will continue their slow march across Palestinian land.

When you have sheep, everyone understands. It's a way to delineate the border. 'This is where I graze my sheep. You don't take your sheep here. You don't plant here. You don't build here.'
— Mordehai Minster, sheep farm cofounder
They steal electricity from the locals and they also steal water. This is their strategy, to make the area unlivable.
— Hassan Faraj, Palestinian villager in Jannatah
Envie de l'histoire complète ? Lire l'original sur CBS News ↗
Nous contacter FAQ