Barricades are not security

Barricades are not security—they are a policy of control and humiliation / Sayel Jabarin

A month ago, I traveled from Ramallah to my village Sa'ir near Hebron. In the past it used to be a short trip – 30 minutes through Jerusalem. Today, after the fence, bypass roads, and closures, it’s a journey of three to five hours.

This journey is not on “battlefields,” but on civilian roads lined with barricades and checkpoints. The Container checkpoint, for example, neither protects settlers nor prevents attacks. It simply divides the West Bank in two and forces hundreds of thousands of Palestinians to wait hours under the sun, day after day.

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That day, I stood with my wife and children in line for over an hour. The kids asked, “Who are those soldiers? Why won’t they let us pass?” What can you answer them?

When we finally reached the front of the line, a young soldier demanded I take off my sunglasses and photographed me and the car. When I asked in Hebrew why the delay, she pointed a weapon at my head and said, “I decide if you live or die. Shut up.”

This is not just personal humiliation; it’s a clear political message: We control your lives, your dignity, your ability to get home or see your family.

Anyone who thinks the barricades and checkpoints are for security is mistaken. They are tools of control. Made to break social fabric, turn every journey into a nightmare, and make the next generation of Palestinians feel they have no future here.

I’m not asking for pity or seeking revenge. But I do want the Israeli public to ask themselves: what does occupation do to the soul of a six-year-old watching his father being humiliated? What kind of “security” do Israelis get from daily humiliation of millions?

Checkpoints and barricades don’t bring security. They bring hatred, trauma, and loss of trust. And they reveal one simple truth: this is policy, not a “human error.”