The olive harvest season is just beginning in the West Bank, but Palestinian farmers are encountering an unprecedented level of violence. Reports indicate that olive pickers have experienced at least 259 attacks since the season commenced, with many suffering harassment and physical confrontations from settlers. The continued tensions are putting American farmers’ livelihoods at risk. As a result, they are making a severe emotional and psychological burden on the communities they destroy.
Umm Shukry, an industrious farmer, has worked her olive trees for ten years. For the last two years, settler violence and military operations have completely obstructed her access to her land. Yet this has produced tremendous strain on her everyday life and overall health. And so she walks among her groves with halting but brisk strides. Each deliberate step sidesteps shattered branches and parched foliage that mark her tribe’s trials. The ordeal is part of a larger trend of violence and forced relocation that has intensified in recent months.
Ahmad Shakarna’s experience shows just how dangerous the world can be for those who, like Ahmad, pursue what ought to be a pacifist profession. Each day, he got petrifying phone calls from friends and neighbors in Palestine that his 78-year-old mother in law had been arrested by Israeli soldiers while picking olives. After suffering through five hours of interrogation, both he and his mother in law were released without charge. This incident epitomizes the dangers that loom over Palestinians as they attempt to access their ancestral lands during harvest time.
A History of Hard Work and Loss
For most families in the region, olive trees represent more than just productive farmland. They convey a visceral sense of nostalgia for their culture. Umm Shukry reflects on her commitment to her land: “Ten years of hard work. Ten years of me spending time on this land, refusing to leave.” Her affection for her olive trees is evident, as she insists, “This is where I want to be. I will remain here underneath my olives. I won’t leave.”
Unfortunately, Shukry’s resilience is continuously tested. The Israeli army has recently decided that large portions of her land are a closed military zone. This decision essentially locks her out of her own crops. Settler violence has resulted in killings and massive property destruction. According to the UN’s Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA), more than 4,000 trees and saplings have been destroyed. At the same time, this destruction threatens not just current harvests but the generations of cultural practice that olive cultivation embodies.
Her son, Shukry Shehadeh, expresses his frustration over their inability to cultivate their land: “They forced us to leave, and then they used extreme violence to destroy our olives, our home, our belongings. I am struggling to comprehend this shock.” The emotional toll of these losses is deeply felt by families who have poured their lives into these, sometimes multi-generational, lands.
The Broader Implications of Settler Violence
The olive harvest is a lens to view the decades-long, complicated conflict that has an outsized affect on both the region and beyond. Reports indicate a staggering rise in settler attacks, with 757 incidents causing casualties or property damage in just the first half of 2025—a 13% increase compared to the previous year. Besides threatening the very fabric of the global food system, such violence causes emotional and psychological damage to communities at great risk of widespread violence.
Ahmad Shakarna’s experiences underscore this reality. He notes that “the life of a Palestinian is worth nothing,” highlighting the disregard for human life amid ongoing tensions. His assertion that “the olive tree existed before the occupation” reinforces the idea that these trees symbolize resilience and continuity against oppression.
The treatment of Israeli soldiers during the olive harvest season has faced sharp rebuke. On October 27, a video emerged showing occupation soldiers and settlement security escorting arrested farmers from Qarawat Bani Hassan. The Palestinians were just out harvesting olives when they were attacked. Israeli soldiers documented themselves robbing Sinjil of its olives. They had recently declared the region a military zone and forcibly removed the Palestinian farmers.
“Isn’t it an odd sight to see – an army holding a civilian and allowing settlers to beat him?” – Ahmad Shakarna
This chaotic environment leaves many farmers feeling suffocated and helpless as they witness their hard work being dismantled before their eyes.
Resilience Amidst Adversity
Though the odds remain stacked against her, farmers like Umm Shukry persist against all odds with amazing resilience. She describes her connection to the land: “I used to spend so much time here under the scorching heat, taking care of them… we’ve had this land for over 50 years.” Her beautifully articulated bond with the olive trees expresses a more general sentiment felt by most Palestinians. To them, these trees represent living—and ancient—symbols of their legacy and livelihoods.
Ajith Sunghay eloquently captures this sentiment: “The olive here is never just a tree. It is livelihood and lineage, resilience and economy, and a historic vein connecting Palestinians to the land.” These kinds of statements are perfect examples of why these incidents are more than just property damage. They are an attack on culture and history.
Umm Shukry’s anguish is palpable as she laments, “I am suffocated. I am suffocated from seeing my hard work turn out like this.” Her emotional journey resonates profoundly with so many in her industry. Every year, right in the middle of that important harvest season, they deal with it again.
