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The road to Atara from Ramallah winds through the hills and valleys of the occupied W est Bank. To drive the nine miles to the village from the de facto capital of the Palestinian Authority should take about half an hour, despite the potholes and traffic.
These days, the taxi drivers waiting for fares on Radio Street in the north of the city shrug when asked when they will arrive at their destination.
“Thirty minutes, one hour, half a day, it all depends on the checkpoints. If I could tell you, I would … but no one knows,” said Ahmed Barghouti, 50, a driver for over 20 years.
Since the ceasefire between Israel and Hamas came into effect in Gaza in January, life for the 2.9 million Palestinians in the West Bank has not become easier. Israel immediately launched a bloody major offensive in the north that has so far forced at least 40,000 people from their homes, the largest displacement since Israel’s occupation began in 1967, and killed dozens, including children.
At the same time, Israeli authorities have been constructing new checkpoints and barriers. According to the Palestinian Authority, at least 119 “iron gates” have been set up since the start of the war in Gaza in October 2023, including many since January. These block access to villages and towns, cutting off entire communities from major transport routes.
There are now close to 900 barriers in the West Bank, the PA said. The UN has recorded more than 800, a steep increase on the 645 in 2023.
Palestinian officials say this “localised system” of roadblocks is a change from a strategy merely to cut the West Bank into north, south and central sections. “It no longer controls movement alone, but also … access to agricultural land, social and livelihood opportunities, health, education and the economy, among other things,” Amir Daoud, of the Authority’s Colonisation and Wall Resistance Committee, told the Observer.
A survey last month of NGOs working in the West Bank found that 93% said roadblocks, permit denials and checkpoint delays hindered aid delivery. “Each village has a gate now and they lock us in like sheep in a pen,” said Barghouti, who lives in Atara.
At 11am on Thursday, Barghouti’s taxi was filling up. These days, he is lucky if he makes a third of the 200 shekels (£42) he once took home daily. Barghouti’s eldest son, of six children, was forced to drop his university studies to help his father. Abu Usama, a 70-year-old construction worker unwilling to give his full name for fear of repercussions from talking to media, had taken a front seat.
He too has suffered financially since the war in Gaza began in October 2023, when Hamas militants launched a surprise attack into Israel killing 1,200, mostly civilians, and taking 251 hostages.
More than 48,000 Palestinians have been killed in Gaza in the subsequent Israeli offensive, and at least 840 have been killed in the West Bank, according to the UN, most of them victims of Israeli security forces. There have been 48 Israeli fatalities.
“There is no work even for the young. So who is going to employ me at my age?” Abu Usama said. Like about 150,000 others, he used to travel into Israel to work but since the war no permits have been issued by Israeli authorities. Nor has he been able to reach Jerusalem to pray at the al-Aqsa mosque, as is tradition during Ramadan, the Muslim holy month.
“I went with my daughter at the beginning of Ramadan a week or so ago, but they turned us back at the checkpoint. I am old and sick but they sent me back anyway,” he said.
Israeli authorities have said they had granted permits for entry into Jerusalem for prayer to only a “limited number of Muslim worshippers” from the West Bank due to fears of unrest, though no restrictions were placed on Israeli Palestinians. Islamic authorities estimate that some 80,000 people peacefully attended the midday prayer on Friday on the plaza of the Haram al-Sharif, the third holiest site in Islam and the holiest for Jews, who know it as the Temple Mount.
Behind Abu Osama was sitting Umm Omar, a 36-year-old housewife, also afraid to give her full name. She had been visiting family in Ramallah. Like other passengers, Umm Omar had consulted the new apps that list which checkpoints are open, and sought information on social media.
“I set out this morning, then heard that the [Israeli] army had shut the gates to the village so turned back, but then I heard that they were open after all. I hope we get through easily but you can never tell,” she said.
When earlier this week the army shut the gates from 9pm to 5am, a dozen Atara residents who work in restaurants in Ramallah and return late were caught out and spent a cold night in their cars.
Ramziya Dahabreh, 68, had come into Ramallah for a doctor’s appointment. “I have to come in and out for medical treatment,” she said. “But with the checkpoints it is very hard.”
Squeezed on to a final vacant seat in the taxi was Adam Awad, an 18-year-old medical student. Now on his way home to Atara, Awad said he wakes an hour early – at 6am – to make sure he reaches lectures. “I’ve been lucky. I’ve missed one or two but some of my friends have missed exams,” he said.
“It’s not just the wait. It is dangerous too. You forget your ID card, you can be detained and end up in prison for months. You can be humiliated, or beaten for nothing at all,” Awad said.
With a blast of its horn, Barghouti’s yellow taxi headed off into Ramallah’s chaotic streets, heading for Atara. Following a complicated route on side roads to avoid checkpoints and barricades, the run was clear. Relieved, the passengers scattered quickly.
Israeli officials says its offensive in the West Bank and the new obstacles to free movement there are necessary to counter imminent security threats from extremist armed groups.
In a statement to the Observer, the Israel Defense Forces said that following guidance from “the political echelon and a security assessment, it was decided to modify procedures and intensify the inspection of Palestinian vehicles entering roads shared with Israeli traffic to ensure safe travel.
“The checkpoints have proven effective, leading to arrests, the seizure of weapons and the prevention of attacks,” the IDF said.
Outside a shop selling construction equipment beside the taxi stand in Atara, Shoail Shader, 76, said he could not remember a “situation so bad”.
“Business is dead. People have no money. We thought it would get better when the ceasefire came to Gaza but it just got worse.”
