Late last month, on a Thursday afternoon, a 59-year-old Palestinian woman proceeded to harvest olives on her family’s property close to Faqqua village, situated in the northern occupied West Bank. Hanan Abu Salameh had engaged in this activity for many years. Shortly thereafter, the mother of seven and grandmother of 14 was fatally wounded in the olive grove, having sustained a bullet injury to her chest from an Israeli soldier. Despite the family having coordinated their olive picking plans with the Israel Defense Forces (IDF), as stated by her son Fares and husband Hossam, the soldier discharged multiple shots while other family members sought refuge. The IDF has indicated that it is investigating the event, yet Hanan’s mourning family members express minimal hope or anticipation that the perpetrator will face legal consequences. This event is not unique. The harvesting of olives, a long-standing tradition and vital economic activity for numerous Palestinians, is becoming progressively uncertain, as reported by the UN. Agricultural workers throughout the West Bank—a territory internationally recognized as Palestinian land under Israeli occupation—encounter elevated dangers, including coordinated assaults by Israeli settlers aiming to disrupt the olive harvest, and the deployment of force by Israeli security personnel to obstruct routes and Palestinian access to their properties. “Last year we couldn’t even harvest our olives, except for a very small amount,” states Omar Tanatara, a farmer residing in Umm Safa village. Omar, who also serves on the village council, recounts, “At one point, the army came, threw the olives we’d already gathered on the ground, and ordered us to go home.” He further notes, “Some people were even shot at and olives trees were cut down with saws – that’s how we later found them,” while he and fellow villagers are currently employing small hand-held rakes to collect this year’s crop from their surviving trees. Even with the presence of Israeli and international activists accompanying villagers to their olive groves, in an effort to mitigate risks, safety cannot be assured. Zuraya Hadad visibly flinches while viewing a video depicting the event where her ribs were fractured by a masked individual carrying a large stick. This Israeli peace activist was assisting Palestinian farmers with their olive harvest when she was attacked without any provocation. Instead of apprehending her assailant, Israeli soldiers, who were present with settlers at the location, merely instructed him to depart. “Even when we come to help, it doesn’t guarantee that the Palestinians can harvest their olives,” Zuraya explains while recuperating from her injuries at her residence. She adds, “We try to raise awareness, but in the end it’s either the settlers steal the olives or cut the trees, or they remain unpicked and go to waste.” The issue of land—its control and accessibility—is central to the protracted conflict between Israel and the Palestinians. For countless Palestinian households and communities, olive cultivation and harvesting constitute a significant component of their economic livelihood. However, numerous individuals report that, recently, access to trees on their properties has been obstructed, frequently through violent means by Israeli settlers. The UN reports that hundreds of trees, which require years to achieve fruit-bearing maturity, have been intentionally incinerated or felled. Furthermore, over 96,000 dunums (approximately 96 sq km; 37 sq miles) of olive groves within the West Bank remained uncultivated in 2023, attributed to Israeli limitations on access for Palestinian agricultural workers. Following manual collection, residents of Umm Safa transport sacks filled with olives to the adjacent factory, where the pressing machinery has recommenced operations for the current season. Olives represent the primary agricultural commodity in the West Bank. During a prosperous year, their value to the Palestinian economy exceeds $70m (£54m). Nevertheless, factory owner Abd al-Rahman Khalifa states that income significantly decreased last year, and this year is projected to be even more unfavorable, due to a reduced number of farmers being able to gather their crops because of settler assaults. He offers an illustration: “My brother-in-law in Lubban – next to the Israeli settlement – went to pick his own olives, but they broke his arms and they made him leave along with everyone who was with him.” He further states, “We, as Palestinians, don’t have petrol or big companies. Our main agricultural crop is olives.” He concludes, “So, like the Gulf depends on oil, and the Americans on business, our economy is dependent on the olive tree.” An unauthorized settler outpost, functioning as a farm, is situated on the hill above Umm Safa’s olive groves. Zvi Bar Yosef, the extremist settler managing this outpost, received sanctions this year from the UK and other Western governments for recurrent violent actions against Palestinians, which included twice menacing families with a firearm. Throughout the past year of the conflict in Gaza, Jewish settlers have been encouraged by the backing of far-right Israeli ministers such as Itamar Ben-Gvir. In his capacity as national security minister, he has distributed complimentary firearms to numerous settlers and has urged them to affirm their claim to what they describe as their “God-given” land. Ben-Gvir has additionally faced allegations of overtly endorsing the obstruction of olive harvesting on Palestinian territory. At the olive press, agricultural workers patiently await in the courtyard to observe the conversion of the olives they managed to collect this year into “liquid gold”. The olive tree has symbolized this territory for hundreds of years. For successive generations of Palestinians, it represents their connection to the land—a connection currently facing unprecedented peril. Post navigation Students Motivated by Sea Fatalities Engage in Migrant Rescue Efforts Lebanese Woman’s Four Escapes from Israeli Bombing End in Loss