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Far
from being a symbol of peace, the olive tree is at the heart of the
Palestinian-Israeli conflict. Environmental issues in Palestine are not a side
issue; it is the environment itself that is at stake, the land to live on and
the water to feed it. Nothing is more symbolic of the struggle for the land than
the olive tree. As this year’s olive harvest begins, Isabelle Humphries
reports for IslamOnline on the Israeli threat to the fruit and the tree, the
ground underneath and the Palestinians who harvest them.
As
mayor of Jayyous, a West Bank village close to Qalqilya, Faris Salim presides
over a village built on some of the most fertile land in the Middle East. Or at
least he should be. In the last year, Mayor Salim has seen 75% of his people’s
land disappear before his eyes.
Salim
is no Palestinian Authority fat cat sitting in his town hall immune from the
disaster striking the village. As I leave the building, he stops me, and points
to the olive groves rolling before us towards the 1967 border several kilometers
away. “That is my family land,” he said. “My grandfather was harvesting
the olives from those trees.” Like the rest of Jayyous, his olive groves and
agricultural land was taken to build the new wall. For the people of Jayyous,
2003 has been worse than 1948 or 1967.
Paid
to Work Their Own Land
In
1948 the Zionists occupied a land in which the prime source of income was
agriculture. Whether they are now wealthy middle class New Yorkers or still
squatting in the slums of Beirut, the older generation of Palestinian refugees
speaks wistfully of home in the olive groves, a life determined by the dictates
of the seasons and the weather. As well as a source of income, olives and their
oil have always played an essential role in the Palestinian diet of all classes.
Over
55 years of Israeli occupation, the agricultural base of the Palestinian economy
has been torn from beneath the people; in the case of the olive trees, quite
literally. In 1948, Israel began a process of confiscating the land of
Palestinians who remained inside the Jewish state, to create a cheap workforce
for the Jewish economy. After 1967, the same process began in the West Bank and
Gaza. By the 1990s, a large proportion of Palestinians on both sides of the 1967
border were reliant on an income as manual laborers in the Jewish sector.
Theft
of land meant that an income from agriculture was no longer viable for the
majority. It is ironic that some Palestinians are actually employed cultivating
their own ancestral land for a small wage for the Jewish ‘owner’, who takes
the profits of the produce. (See “Present
Absentees” Refugees Still Living in 1948 Palestine to read of Umm
Ahmed, paid for hard labor in the fields of her old village of Saffuriya, only
to have to return to her refugee home in Nazareth by night).
Israeli
closure to Palestinians employed as workers in the Jewish state has led to
massive unemployment. Contrary to Israeli claims, closure and harassment of
Palestinian workers trying to cross checkpoints to work occurred throughout the
Oslo years, and was not simply the result of an ‘unavoidable security
situation’ as many Israelis would like to pretend. As continuing employment in
Jewish Israeli business becomes impossible, in these desperate times
Palestinians have been forced to return to the few dunams of land that they have
been able to hold on to in order to try to scrape a living.
Thus
every new olive tree or fraction of a dunam that is taken now has a direct
impact on the impoverishment of local families. It is estimated that around
228,000 trees of various types have been uprooted by the Israelis during the
current Intifada.1 As mayor of Jayyous, Faris Salim was forced to cut off the
electricity supply of the home of his own daughter because she and her husband
could not afford to pay the bills. “How does this make me feel as a father if
I can’t afford to help out my children in difficulties?” said the Mayor,
echoing the feelings of Palestinians across the land. “We have no social
security like you do in Europe,” pointed out another village councilor who has
lost many dunams in this year’s plunder, “the land itself was our social
security.”
A
union of Palestinian NGOs (www.pengon.org), estimate that the latest
confiscations in the name of the wall will prevent Palestinian farmers from
producing some 2,200 tons of olive oil per season. This land is not all being
built on by the Israelis; it has simply been confiscated for ‘security’
purposes, preventing access to farmers for the harvest. “When I tried to reach
my land they came at me with dogs,” said another Jayyous farmer. In other
places there are rolls of lethal razor wire to shred the foot of anyone who
dares to ‘infiltrate’ back to their land.
Uprooted
Trees Sold to Israelis
When questioned, Israeli authorities say that those farmers whose olive trees
have been uprooted are asked where they would like the trees replanted. However,
Btselem, the Israeli human rights group has heard of no such cases. As an
undercover study published in the Israeli daily ‘Yediot Ahanorot’ showed,
somebody else is financially benefiting from the loss of West Bank farmers.2
According
to the newspaper’s in-depth investigation, Israelis are profiting from the
sale of the trees to Israeli nurseries and individuals. When posing as potential
customers, the reporters had no trouble purchasing any number of ancient trees
taken from Palestinian land. The liaison with the army and contractors building
the fence to acquire the trees was seemingly easy for these dealers to handle.
Of course when the newspaper went public and questioned all parties involved,
the sale of Palestinian olive trees was categorically denied.
The
building of the wall however represents only a part of the cause of the
devastation of the olive market. “Technically I am allowed to go to my olive
trees up there,” a farmer in the Hebron area told me as he pointed towards a
hilltop settlement. “But I don’t go because it is too dangerous. They will
attack us again and nobody will stop them.” The ‘Yediot Ahanorot’
investigation sent an undercover reporter to join a group of settlers who were
harvesting Palestinian olives. Settlers have harvested olive trees that
Palestinians were unable to reach owing to army restrictions. The reporter
testifies to the implicit support/aid of many army personnel. Some fields are
officially confiscated or declared military zones, while other fields
Palestinians are simply too frightened to approach. Last year a young man
harvesting olives, Hani Bani Minyeh from Aqraba in the West Bank, was killed by
settler gunfire.
Peace
Activists’ Hands Tied
Groups
of international peace activists have tried to aid the Palestinians in the
harvest. This year again, groups are calling for support from foreigners, in the
hope that settlers and soldiers will think twice before attacking foreign
nationals. Yet the power of internationals is increasingly weakened. Since last
year’s harvest, the Israeli army bulldozed to death Rachel Corrie, and
severely wounded two other international activists. Many more foreigners are
turned away at the airport to begin with. A foreign passport is no longer a
guarantee of safety.
And
even when Palestinians can reach the trees, where to market their products? The
Israeli closure makes transportation of produce extremely difficult. Although
NGOs outside have tried to assist in marketing produce beyond the borders, this
can only provide a fraction of the income that the Palestinian olive oil market
could make.
The
tale of the olive tree is an increasingly desperate one.
Further
reading:
References:
1-
See www.miftah.org, NGO headed by Hanan
Ashrawi
2-
‘The battle of the Olive’ (part I) and (part 2), Danny Adino Ababa, Meron
Rapaport and Oron Meiri,
22 January, 2003, Yediot Ahanorot
Isabelle Humphries is conducting PhD research at St Mary's College, University of Surrey, on the situation for Palestinian refugees living inside the 1948 borders. She has worked for three years with Palestinian NGOs, and as a freelance writer, on both sides of the 1967 border. You can reach her at
innazareth@yahoo.co.uk
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