The revolution led by Yoel Zilberman, founder and CEO of HaShomer HaChadash, began when his father nearly dismantled the family herd after years of harassment and violent attacks by members of a criminal Bedouin clan. Over the past two decades, Zilberman has built a Zionist organization that helps farmers protect their land, provides support during crises, and promotes agricultural education.
Now, he speaks about the bond between community and the land, HaShomer HaChadash’s mobilization on Oct. 7, the rapid formation of a mobile reserve division, and how Israel can prevent the next Operation Guardian of the Walls.
IN JULY 2023, shortly before the catastrophe that shattered life as we knew it, Home Front Command chief Maj.-Gen. Rafi Milo summoned Zilberman for an urgent meeting. At the time, defense officials feared an event similar to the internal unrest seen during Guardian of the Walls, and Zilberman, founder and CEO of HaShomer HaChadash, was asked to propose solutions. “Milo told me, ‘If remote communities come under threat, there won’t be a way to get forces to them in time,’” Zilberman recalls.
<strong>Why did he turn specifically to you?</strong><br><span></span>
“Because he knew I had a large volunteer base and around 250 off-road drivers who could be mobilized to transport combat troops to remote areas. We sat down and developed a structured model. By September, we presented him with a full operational plan, essentially a unit capable of moving infantry forces rapidly to save the country.”
Then came Oct. 7. “At 6:40 a.m. I was already on the phone with people from the Gaza border communities reporting what was happening,” Zilberman says. “There was a sense the attack could spread – from Syria or elsewhere. I started driving to Atlit towards the naval commandos, but Home Front Command called and told me to get to them immediately. They feared unrest could also erupt among Israeli Arabs. I turned the wheel and raced there.”
That morning, Zilberman received the order to activate the mobility force he had proposed weeks earlier. “They told me: ‘Organize immediately and transport forces to the central Negev – Omer and Beersheba.’”
By noon on Oct. 7, 150 volunteer drivers from HaShomer HaChadash were already operating in the South. “It started with security presence and deterrence,” he says, “and quickly turned into rescue missions – evacuating families, extracting soldiers, recovering bodies, transporting military equipment. Almost anything imaginable.” By the end of that week, the unit had grown to 1,500 jeeps.
Within three weeks, it was formally recognized as a reserve division and named Har Zion Division. “This was the first reserve division established at the outset of the war,” Zilberman says. “It began with HaShomer HaChadash volunteers and members of the general public. I published one post, and hundreds showed up. Very quickly, the IDF institutionalized it as a division model: four battalions, each with hundreds of vehicles capable of transporting an entire division.
“We brought together some of the finest people in Israel – hundreds of volunteers driven by a deep love of the land in its simplest sense, who stepped forward to defend and safeguard the country without any expectation of reward.”
Today, the division includes four battalions. “The volunteers are older, many with white hair, most long exempt from reserve duty. Together, they have driven over 10 million kilometers and transported more than 40,000 soldiers during the war, with only two minor traffic accidents,” Zilberman says with a smile.
“The army gained not only excellent drivers, but limitless flexibility. These are people available for war – not newly discharged soldiers or young reservists with small children.”
They were in Gaza, Syria, Judea and Samaria, in continuous activity, with the ability to create reciprocity and provide backing. And all of this was born from the infrastructure of the HaShomer HaChadash organization that Zilberman established.
He himself was in the field with the unit in full activity. Just last month, at the end of 600 days of reserve duty was he released for the first time since the war began.
ZILBERMAN, 40, is married to Tal with whom he has five children and lives in the Golan Heights. He founded HaShomer HaChadash in 2007 together with On Rifman. At the time, Zilberman was a naval commando officer from Tzippori and Rifman an officer in Sayeret Matkal from Revivim. Their goal was to establish a civilian volunteer force to protect agricultural and grazing lands amid a wave of agricultural crime.
“I never planned to found an organization,” Zilberman says. “I grew up in Tzipori with a deep love for agriculture. My grandparents were among the first Holocaust survivors to marry in the moshav. We had cattle, orchards, and close relationships with neighboring Arab communities. When blood feuds erupted, Arabs would come to my grandparents to mediate.”
Did you consider becoming a farmer yourself?
“No. I saw my future in the military, in long-term command. But then problems began with a clan from a nearby Bedouin village. My brother and I were in the army, and my father was left alone to face repeated land invasions. They cut fences, poisoned animals, threatened him, and eventually attacked him with severe violence and stole his car.”
Did he turn to the police?
“Every complaint was closed for ‘lack of public interest.’ Hundreds of complaints, sometimes two in a single day. Farmers across the region were suffering. When things escalated, a police commander advised my father to give up part of the land. He told him frankly: ‘We’re dealing with murderers, robbers, rapists. Your case isn’t a priority.’
“My father was heartbroken. He told us he was done; he was a farmer but spent his days fighting invasions and begging the police to come. He seriously considered dismantling the herd.” That moment planted the seed.
“I thought: ‘How can I operate beyond enemy lines and show strength against external enemies, yet feel powerless to protect my family at home?’” Zilberman recalls.
“I told my father we’d give it one month and stabilize the situation. I got a flag from my base, set up a small tent on the land, planted the flag, and brought mattresses and books. I planned to stay a few weeks. I stayed two and a half years.”
Did it work?
“It was a revolution. Within a month, a community of 45 people was created from army friends, childhood friends, and local residents who saw the flag and just showed up to help. No violence, no slogans, just presence. It changed everything. The police began intervening, and the invaders understood they were no longer facing a lone farmer.”
That success led to broader action. In 2009, nearly 100 farmers from across the country gathered. “Most were around 60 years old. They told their children: ‘Do anything, just don’t become farmers.’ They were dealing with drought, pests, and high water costs – but the inability to protect their land was the final straw.”
Zilberman realized that the crisis was more profound. “Since the mid-1980s – the kibbutz crisis – the ideological connection between Israeli society and the land collapsed. Tens of thousands of farms closed. Agriculture lost its prestige, its vision, and its ability to attract young people. We’ve reached an era where it’s no longer self-evident that Israeli agriculture will survive.”
Together with Rifman and inspired by the case of farmer Shai Dromi, Zilberman founded HaShomer HaChadash.
“The understanding was that when the state fails to protect its citizens, farmers must protect one another. No farmer should ever be left alone because agriculture is a national strategic asset.” Eighteen years later, HaShomer HaChadash operates nationwide. “We built a kind of agricultural Magen David Adom,” Zilberman says. “Night patrols so farmers can sleep, emergency manpower, crisis response. A farmer in trouble calls us – just like calling 911 – and someone shows up.”
The organization also established Adam V’Adama – seven agricultural high schools throughout the country, youth movements with some 20,000 participants, leadership programs, pre-military academies, and forest protection initiatives with KKL-JNF. Under these protection initiatives, Israel’s forests are preserved to prevent fires and during the Iron Swords war, worked around the clock to extinguish fires and provide emergency civilian assistance – including in evacuated cities and mixed urban areas.
“If I weren’t so deeply immersed in reserve duty, I could look back with satisfaction,” Zilberman says. “There has been a real reversal. Farmers who once closed operations are returning. Investors are coming back. The state is beginning to understand that food independence is no less critical than energy or weapons independence.”
What about reforms, such as the milk market reform?
“They reflect flawed priorities,” he argues. “The war proved agriculture is Israel’s first line of defense along the borders. Weakening it only deepens dependence on foreign producers.” And competition? “The promise of cheaper prices through imports is largely a myth. Consumers barely benefit, while national infrastructure collapses.”
Despite claims that HaShomer HaChadash is a civilian militia, Zilberman rejects the label. “In 20 years, we’ve had zero violent incidents. We include Arab, Druze, and Bedouin volunteers. Today, Arab communities turn to us for guidance in dealing with internal violence.” Zilberman remains focused on education, agriculture, and civic responsibility. “I’m only 40. My anchor is my family and life in the Golan. I want to deepen my roots through agriculture.”
Politics?
“Not at all. Politics is just one method of change. I prefer action. In Isaiah Berlin’s parable of the hedgehog and the fox, the fox knows many things; the hedgehog knows one big thing. I want to be the hedgehog.”
Written in collaboration with HaShomer HaChadash