From early morning to late at night, local radio stations in the West Bank offer a service akin to weather or currency updates elsewhere: live “crossings” reports. But here, they serve a grimmer purpose, helping Palestinians navigate a maze of Israeli military checkpoints that can make a routine trip a matter of life or death.
“The northern entrance to al-Bireh is closed in both directions. The Atara-Birzeit gate is shut. Heavy traffic and inspections at the Atara village gates. Rawabi entrance is open. Ein Siniya is clear. Traffic jam and inspections between Yabrud and Silwad.”
The broadcast goes on, listing over a dozen closures, bottlenecks, and military checkpoints.
Since October 7, 2023, when Israel launched a deadly military campaign in Gaza and stepped-up operations across the West Bank, residents have grown accustomed to checking the radio before stepping out — not for rain or sun, but for which roads are open, and which are militarized.
For many Palestinians, every journey now begins with a calculation: which route is less likely to end in detention, injury, or worse. Some simply stay home, avoiding the uncertainty and humiliation altogether.
The network of closures has turned normal life into a logistical nightmare. Key junctions like the Container checkpoint near Bethlehem and Hamra in the Jordan Valley are often closed in both directions, while entrances to towns such as Salfit, Dura, Sa'ir, and al-Arroub are blocked entirely. Even areas with relatively light congestion, like al-Nashash or Kalandia checkpoint, can see delays due to sudden inspections or shifting policies.
The consequences of these restrictions can be deadly. Palestinians still recall the killing of 29-year-old Mohammad al-Jundi, who was shot near a newly erected checkpoint in Beit Jala. Witnesses say he had stepped forward to help an elderly woman open a locked gate, a simple act of kindness that cost him his life.
“They executed him in the middle of the street,” one local resident said.
What was meant to be a brief walk home turned into an irreversible tragedy, one emblematic of a broader reality in which daily travel through the West Bank is anything but routine.
Mahmoud al-Azza left his home in Bethlehem early, hoping to make it to his university classes in the nearby town of Abu Dis. Instead, he found himself stuck in a long line of cars at the Container checkpoint - one of the most notorious in the West Bank, dividing its northern and southern regions.
Al-Azza quickly realized he would miss his first lecture. Still, he clung to the hope of attending the rest. But three hours passed, then five. He was trapped, along with hundreds of others, unable to move forward or turn back. Prisoners in their own vehicles, waiting for a soldier’s whim.
“I thought I might have to delay my semester,” al-Azza told Asharq Al-Awsat. “The problem is that this happens every day now. They close the checkpoint at random times for one, two, even three hours. We just stand there, waiting for a soldier to feel like letting us through. It’s humiliating, exhausting.”
Before October 7, 2023, such disruptions occurred sporadically, al-Azza said. Now they are constant.
“Every hour, every day, they either shut the checkpoints entirely or inspect each car slowly, checking every ID. It’s as if they’re doing it on purpose, to humiliate us. We can’t take it anymore.”
The Container checkpoint is one of hundreds of roadblocks and iron gates scattered across the occupied West Bank, a system Israel has built up since 1967 and expanded drastically since October 7, 2023, when war erupted in Gaza and security tightened across the West Bank.
A Landscape of Barriers
According to the Palestinian Authority’s Colonization and Wall Resistance Commission, there are now 898 Israeli military checkpoints and iron gates across the West Bank. Of those, 146 were added after October 7, and 18 more were installed in just the first five months of 2025.
“These include old, new, permanent, and rotating barriers,” said Amir Daoud, Director of Documentation and Publication at the commission. “It reflects a consistent Israeli policy, one of systematic closure and control since 1967.”
The tightening web of checkpoints across the occupied West Bank is not just a security measure, but a strategic reconfiguration of Palestinian space, aimed at fragmentation and control, according to Palestinian officials.
“What we are witnessing today is unprecedented,” said Daoud.
Speaking to Asharq Al-Awsat, Daoud accused Israel of attempting to impose a new spatial reality on Palestinians, one that overrides familiar roads and territories with a framework of closures, surveillance, and exclusion.
Since October 7, 2023 - the date that marked the start of Israel’s war on Gaza and a sweeping parallel crackdown in the West Bank - gates have become the defining feature of the Israeli occupation's infrastructure, Daoud said.
“Before October 7, the closure system generally targeted large geographic zones, isolating the north from the south, for example. Today, it operates differently. The focus is on isolating individual communities, like villages. That’s a new pattern.”
Daoud also raised alarm over the changing character of Israeli forces manning the checkpoints. “Previously, the soldiers were regular army personnel, trained to some extent, with at least minimal instruction to abide by international law,” he said.
“Now, we are seeing militias, including members of the religious Zionist movement and others who are openly driven by ideology and vengeance. They are not there to maintain order; they are there to punish. They are imposing an oppressive environment designed to break the will of the people.”
Israeli military checkpoints have now encircled virtually every Palestinian town and village in the occupied West Bank, transforming daily life into a tightly regulated existence defined by gates and roadblocks.
In Hebron alone, there are 229 checkpoints. Ramallah has 156, and Bethlehem 65, a network that includes iron gates sealing off entire villages and refugee camps, effectively turning them into open-air prisons.
For many Palestinians, especially those living in gated communities, life has become a series of negotiations with steel barriers. Residents must plan their work, education, and even medical appointments around the unpredictable opening times of these gates.
