At one of the world's most contested sacred sites, a decades-old arrangement born of painful compromise is being deliberately dismantled. Israel's far-right security minister Itamar Ben-Gvir has led thousands of Jewish extremists onto the al-Aqsa compound in Jerusalem, erecting tents, conducting open prayer, and signaling a government-backed push toward what was once an unthinkable fringe ambition: a third Jewish temple. The 1967 status quo — a fragile bargain that kept a detonator from igniting — is being tested not by radicals at the margins, but by those holding the levers of state power.
Netanyahu's Far-Right Coalition Escalates Al-Aqsa Confrontation, Challenging Decades-Old Status Quo
To erect structures, even if temporary, is a red rag to a bull
Why does this particular site matter so much? There are other contested religious spaces in the world.
Because it's layered with meaning for two peoples at once, and because the history keeps getting rewritten to justify the present. For Muslims, it's where the Prophet ascended. For Jews, it's where their ancient temples stood. Both claims are real. Both are felt deeply. That's what makes it so dangerous.
But the status quo has held for nearly sixty years. Why is it breaking now?
Because the people now in power in Israel see the status quo as a constraint, not a solution. They want to change the facts on the ground. Small visits became larger ones. Quiet prayer became public ritual. Tents went up. Each step tests whether anyone will stop them.
What do the Arab states actually do when they issue these condemnations?
They issue strong statements. They hold emergency meetings. But the Waqf, which manages the site, is defenseless. Five of its staff were detained by Israeli intelligence. The police recruiting extremists to patrol the compound—those are the people enforcing the rules now.
Is there a historical parallel?
Yes. Ariel Sharon visited in 2000 to demonstrate Israeli sovereignty. It sparked the second intifada. Hamas named its October 2023 attack al-Aqsa Flood, claiming Israeli violations provoked it. That attack killed 1,200 Israelis. The site has a way of igniting things.
What are former Israeli security officials saying?
They're warning that this is creating long-term security problems for Israel. Two former prime ministers, former heads of security services, former judges—they signed a final warning about Jewish terrorism in the West Bank. They see the far-right agenda as destabilizing, not strengthening.
El Pulso
- Ben-Gvir led over 2,000 Jewish extremists onto the al-Aqsa compound in July, with Israeli police — answering to Ben-Gvir himself — erecting tents to shelter worshippers in an act of deliberate symbolic provocation.
- Eight Arab nations issued a joint condemnation, Jordan convened an emergency summit of Arab and Islamic leaders, and Jordanian officials have begun treating an Israeli takeover of the site as a genuine near-term possibility.
- Netanyahu has publicly endorsed Jewish prayer at the site, Israeli police are actively recruiting West Bank settler activists into the compound's policing unit, and five Waqf staff members were detained ahead of Ramadan — signaling institutional capture, not isolated extremism.
- The vision driving these incursions — rebuilding a Jewish temple on the compound — has migrated from the fringes to government policy, with temple imagery appearing on soldiers' patches and bulldozers in Gaza alike.
- Former Israeli prime ministers, security chiefs, and judges have issued formal warnings against their own government, while historians and analysts point to 2000 and 2023 as proof that provocations at this site carry catastrophic consequences.
- With Israeli elections approaching in October and Netanyahu rejecting a US-backed peace framework, the government appears to be accelerating irreversible changes on the ground before its mandate expires.
At one of the world's most contested sacred sites, a decades-old arrangement born of painful compromise is being deliberately dismantled. Israel's far-right security minister Itamar Ben-Gvir has led thousands of Jewish extremists onto the al-Aqsa compound in Jerusalem, erecting tents, conducting open prayer, and signaling a government-backed push toward what was once an unthinkable fringe ambition: a third Jewish temple. The 1967 status quo — a fragile bargain that kept a detonator from igniting — is being tested not by radicals at the margins, but by those holding the levers of state power.
In late July, Itamar Ben-Gvir — Israel's minister of security and a West Bank settler — walked onto the al-Aqsa compound with more than two thousand Jewish extremists. They sang the national anthem, prayed openly at the center of the grounds, and sheltered under tents erected by Israeli police. The tents were not incidental. To place even temporary structures on the compound is to test a boundary that has held, however fragilely, for nearly sixty years.
Al-Haram al-Sharif sits in the southeast corner of Jerusalem's Old City, home to the Dome of the Rock — where Muslims believe the Prophet Muhammad ascended to heaven — and above the Western Wall, last remnant of the second Jewish temple. After Israel captured East Jerusalem in 1967, a careful arrangement took shape: Jordan would serve as custodian, Muslims would hold exclusive prayer rights, and Jews could visit but not worship there. It was a bargain built on the recognition that without clear limits, the site would become a detonator.
For three years, Ben-Gvir has been systematically eroding those limits. Groups have grown from a handful of settlers quietly escorted to the far wall to thousands conducting open rituals at the compound's center. Jordan's Waqf — the foundation that administers the site — has been described by its own officials as defenseless. Eight Arab nations condemned the incursions jointly. Jordanian leaders called an emergency summit and warned of a blatant provocation to Muslims worldwide.
The escalation carries government endorsement. Netanyahu has publicly backed Jewish prayer at the site. Israeli police have begun recruiting settler activists into the Temple Mount Unit, the force responsible for policing the compound. Five Waqf staff were detained by Israeli counterintelligence ahead of Ramadan. Behind all of this lies a vision once considered extremist fringe: the construction of a third Jewish temple. That vision now appears on soldiers' patches, on flags carried through the compound, and on bulldozers operating in Gaza.
History is unambiguous about the consequences of rupturing this equilibrium. Ariel Sharon's 2000 visit to the site helped ignite the second intifada. Hamas named its October 2023 attack al-Aqsa Flood, citing Israeli violations at the mosque — an attack that killed 1,200 Israelis and launched the war on Gaza. Dozens of senior Israelis, including former prime ministers and security chiefs, have now issued formal warnings against their own government. With elections approaching in October and Netanyahu having rejected a US-backed peace framework just days ago, the government appears to be racing to lock in changes before its mandate expires — and the question of whether the 1967 arrangement can survive what comes next grows more urgent by the day.
In late July, Itamar Ben-Gvir, the West Bank settler who serves as Israel's minister of security, walked onto the grounds of al-Aqsa mosque compound with more than two thousand Jewish extremists. What happened that day was not new in form—far-right groups have been making these visits for years—but it marked a visible escalation in scale and audacity. The group sang the national anthem. They prayed in the center of the compound. Israeli police, answering to Ben-Gvir himself, erected tents to shade the worshippers. For anyone watching the site's history, these tents were a provocation with symbolic weight. To erect even temporary structures on the compound is to test a boundary that has held, however fragilely, for nearly sixty years.
Al-Haram al-Sharif, as Muslims call it, sits in the southeast corner of Jerusalem's Old City. At its center stands the Dome of the Rock, one of Islam's oldest surviving places of worship, built on the spot where Muslims believe the Prophet Muhammad ascended to heaven. At the compound's base runs the Western Wall, a retaining wall from the second Jewish temple destroyed in 70 CE. The site is the holiest place in Judaism. For centuries, access has been managed through intricate compromise. After Israel captured East Jerusalem in 1967, the arrangement known as the status quo took shape: Jordan would remain custodian of the site; Muslims would have exclusive prayer rights; Jews could visit at designated times but could not pray there. It was a historic bargain, born from the recognition that without careful boundaries, the site would become a detonator.
For three years, Ben-Gvir has been visiting the compound with increasing frequency, each visit eroding the norms that kept the arrangement intact. The groups have grown larger and bolder. Where once there were perhaps twenty settlers, quietly escorted to pray at the far wall, now there are thousands performing rituals openly in the center. Eight Arab nations issued a joint condemnation. Jordan, which administers the site through the Waqf—a foundation now described as defenseless—called an emergency meeting of Arab and Islamic leaders and warned that the incursions constituted a blatant provocation to Muslims worldwide. Jordanian officials have begun speaking of an imminent Israeli takeover as a genuine possibility.
The escalation is not accidental. Netanyahu has publicly backed Jewish prayer at the site, claiming he coordinated the changes with Ben-Gvir. The Israeli police have begun actively recruiting extremist activists to serve in the Temple Mount Unit, the force responsible for policing the compound. According to reporting from Haaretz, the deputy commander of that unit posted a call on social media and in WhatsApp groups associated with West Bank settlers: anyone who wants to take part in implementing sovereignty should contact him. Meanwhile, five staff members of the Waqf were detained by Israel's counterintelligence service in the run-up to Ramadan.
Behind these incursions lies a vision that was once fringe but is now gaining mainstream backing within Israel's government: the construction of a third Jewish temple on the site. Extremists march under flags depicting this temple, a structure that does not exist. Those same flags appear on bulldozers flattening neighborhoods in Gaza. Soldiers wear patches bearing the temple's image. The rise of this movement coincides with a surge in attacks on Palestinians in the occupied West Bank, violence so severe that it has prompted urgent intervention calls from within Israel's own establishment. Earlier this year, dozens of Israelis—including two former prime ministers, former heads of security services, and former judges—signed a final warning threatening legal action against their government over its support for what they called Jewish terrorism in the West Bank.
History offers a warning about what happens when the status quo breaks. In 2000, then-opposition leader Ariel Sharon visited the site to demonstrate Israeli sovereignty. The visit sparked a chain of events that helped ignite the second intifada, a conflict that killed thousands. In October 2023, Hamas named its attack on Israel al-Aqsa Flood, claiming it was provoked by Israeli violations at the mosque. That attack killed 1,200 Israelis and triggered the war on Gaza. The site has always been a detonator, sitting in the center of the Old City with strong religious beliefs compressed into a small space. What is happening now is not the work of radicals operating at the margins. It has government approval. With national elections scheduled for October and much of the world's attention still fixed on Gaza—Netanyahu rejected a US-backed fifteen-point peace plan just this past weekend—the Israeli government appears to be racing to expand settlements and accelerate changes on the ground before its mandate expires. The question now is whether the fragile arrangement that has held since 1967 can survive what comes next.
Citas Notables
This isn't the stuff of radicals any more. It has government approval.— Julian Borger, Guardian senior international correspondent
The status quo represented a historic compromise. Jews got the Western Wall. Muslims got Haram al-Sharif.— Julian Borger, Guardian senior international correspondent