It was a crime of Biblical savagery, recalling the deaths by stoning in the Old Testament, and one that may further radicalize the relentless cycle of violence in the Middle East. Days earlier, two small Palestinian children died in the bombing of a Fatah activist’s home in Ramallah, and a 4-month-old girl named Iman Haju was killed in her mother’s arms by shrapnel from an Israeli mortar shell fired in the Gaza Strip. An anonymous caller from a group known as Hizbullah Palestine claimed that the boys’ murders were revenge for Haju’s death. The killings also drew fresh attention to the seemingly intractable issue of Jewish settlements, which have become regular targets of Palestinian militants during the seven-and-a-half month intifada. Last week a committee of inquiry led by former U.S. senator George Mitchell called for a total freeze on settlement expansion as a precondition for peace in the Middle East. But Israeli Foreign Minister Shimon Peres said that the “natural growth” of the settlements would continue–and the intifada has made many settlers even more determined to cling to land they claim is the rightful inheritance of the Jews. Since this is the same land that Palestinians are dying over, many fear the conflict could now go on indefinitely. “They’re occupying our land, so we can never be at peace with them,” says Mussa al-Shaer, a journalist and resident of the Arab village of Tekoa, just across the road from the settlement.
Founded in 1974, Tekoa was one of the first settlements built in the Judean Wilderness, which was captured by Israel from Jordan during the Six Day War. King David shepherded his father’s flocks here, the prophet Amos was born in ancient Tekoa and Rabbi Shimon ben Yohai, a second-century mystic who developed the cabala philosophy, dwelled for 20 years in the largest of the Kharitan Caves. But Palestinian roots in the desolate landscape–where “there’s nothing but sky and hills, man and God,” says one settler–run just as deep.
Tekoa’s settlers live in a constant state of vigilance. Most residents older than 18 carry rifles, and youngsters are discouraged from hiking into the wadi without an armed escort. Even so, many break the rules. Yosef, the gregarious son of Sephardic Israelis, and his friend Yaakov, the quieter son of religious Americans who emigrated, were typical. The boys planned their expedition in anticipation of Lag Baomer, a Jewish holiday that commemorates the second rebellion of the Jews against the Romans. Tekoa’s residents celebrate by building bonfires near the Kharitan Caves, where they claim Rabbi ben Yohai retreated to read the Torah. “They told us that they planned to hike to the wadi to look for a good place for the bonfire,” said their friend Amos Simchon, 13. “We said it was dangerous, you needed permits. But they were determined.” The boys set out down a winding dirt track that disappears behind rugged hills. Somewhere down the track, the boys met their killers. Police do not yet know if the boys were ambushed on the way to the wadi or lured into the caves and killed there.
The murders have raised tensions in the Judean Hills to their highest level in years. Israeli security forces sealed off surrounding Arab villages, searched dozens of houses and arrested at least 20 Palestinians–including several shepherds who tended the flocks of Jewish settlers. Across the road in the settlement, the bonfire went off as scheduled on Thurs-day night, but it turned into an emotional memorial service for the murdered boys. As the flames roared into the night sky, Rabbi Menachem Froman, a longtime Tekoa resident, tried to tamp down the anger. He sensed he was fighting a losing battle. “The youths of Tekoa are burning,” he says. It may be a very long time before the fires on both sides are put out.
