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LONDON: Abu Hassan was born in 1950 among the olive shrubs that his family had planted shortly after they were uprooted by the 1948 war. When he died last June, he was clutching a broken cane carved from the wood of those same trees.

His family says he died of “qahr” — heartbreak and oppression.

Before his death at age 75, Abu Hassan spent his life in Deir Istiya, a village in the northern West Bank where his family resettled after displacement.

They bought land near Kafr Qara, planted olive trees, and raised livestock. The groves became a symbol of endurance, passed down like an inheritance.

That land was Abu Hassan’s pride and joy, as was his cherished cane, which he inherited from his father. But year by year, life on the land had become intolerable.

Local activists told Arab News that Israeli settlers, some as young as 12, regularly harassed Abu Hassan and his family.

They hurled insults, beat him, dumped his food, stormed his home, and unleashed their dog in the spring that his family used for drinking water. When the municipality tried to bring him fresh water, settlers allegedly destroyed the pipelines.

Still, Abu Hassan and his children refused to retaliate, fearing any response would result in their eviction. Their resistance was simply to remain.

On June 20, witnesses say a 13-year-old settler snatched Abu Hassan’s cane and broke it in two. Moments later, Abu Hassan collapsed from a heart attack, still gripping the splintered wood.

His death encapsulates the broader reality faced by thousands of Palestinian families in the Israeli-occupied West Bank.

Since the Oct. 7, 2023, Hamas-led attack against Israel triggered the war in Gaza, Israeli restrictions and settler violence have escalated.

Those pressures have prevented Palestinian farmers from reaching farmland and pasture. What was once a season of harvest has become a period of uncertainty.

The UN human rights office, OHCHR, warned in August that such restrictions are devastating the local economy and displacing thousands of farmers and herders, creating what it called “conditions that may amount to forcible transfer.”

The olive harvest is not only a cornerstone of the economy but also an essential part of Palestinian heritage. Yet for many farmers, livelihoods have been cut off entirely.

One of them is Hashem, whose name has been changed for his safety. His land near El-Matan, an illegal Israeli settlement, was his sole source of income.

Locals told Arab News that settlers harassed him and then occupied part of his property under the pretext of creating a nature reserve.

Since October 2023, Hashem has been barred from reaching his fields. The fate of the 300 olive trees he inherited from his father is uncertain.

Experts say his case is far from unique. Fuad Abu Saif, an expert in agriculture and development, likened the situation in the occupied Palestinian territories to an “open-air prison.”

He cited systematic settler violence; military checkpoints and the separation barrier that block access to fields; confiscations and bulldozing under the guise of “military zones” or settlement expansion; and water deprivation, “even in times of severe drought.”

Abu Saif told Arab News: “During last year’s olive harvest, hundreds of families were denied access to their groves behind the wall, while farmers in Hebron and Ramallah endured armed settler attacks that destroyed thousands of trees.

“This year, under the (Gaza) war, such assaults have doubled, forming part of a deliberate policy to drive Palestinians off their land.”  

The separation barrier, dubbed the “apartheid wall” by Palestinians and rights groups, cuts deep into the West Bank.

Although Israel says it follows the pre-1967 Green Line, about 85 percent of the wall runs inside Palestinian territory, isolating towns, farmland and residential areas, according to the UN.

“The main constraint farmers face now is severe restriction of access to Area C and to agricultural activity there,” Eng. H. Barakat, a food security expert, told Arab News.

“Restrictions differ by location. In some areas, farmers cannot access land because it is declared a military zone (for firing drills or operations).

“In other areas, settlers control access and prevent Palestinian farmers from going there; if farmers do go, settlers may burn crops or damage infrastructure.”

Area C constitutes about 61 percent of the occupied West Bank, and it is home to the majority of agricultural lands. This area remains under full Israeli control.

Diana Mardi, a field researcher with the Israeli nongovernmental organization Bimkom, Planners for Planning Rights, says Palestinian farmers face both physical and bureaucratic barriers, from settler violence to military orders blocking access to their land.

Settlers seize farms by claiming them as “state land,” sometimes erecting physical barriers or structures, making even privately owned land inaccessible, she told Arab News.

“Land takeovers take many forms — some overt, like visible construction and barriers, and others covert, such as bureaucratic restrictions or intimidation that prevent landowners from accessing private plots.

“Even when land is privately owned, Palestinians may be blocked from reaching it,” she said, adding that even where there are no tangible restrictions, “settlers’ violence in itself is enough reason not to access the lands.”

In some cases, settlers are directly enabled by authorities.

In Oyoun Kafr Qara, or Arab Al-Khawleh, activists said officials brought in a settler identified as Ben Shai and provided him with 85 cows. They say the herd roams freely through Palestinian olive groves, destroying trees and crops.

“What the cows don’t eat or trample, Ben Shai and his companions damage themselves,” local activists told Arab News.

Before the Gaza war began, Palestinians were sometimes granted limited permits to reach land inside or near settlements — one or two times a year for planting or harvesting. Now access has become nearly impossible.

“Even reaching lands that are technically under Palestinian control can be made difficult by barriers and checkpoints placed by the army,” Mardi said.

Israeli officials consistently deny that security forces turn a blind eye to settler violence or target Palestinian farmers without justification, arguing that operations and restrictions in the West Bank are necessary responses to security threats and attacks against Israelis.

The Israel Defense Forces say the ongoing “Iron Wall” operation is aimed at dismantling militant infrastructure, preventing attacks, and defending Israeli civilians and settlements from terrorist factions.

Israeli government spokespeople have called settler violence “unacceptable” and say perpetrators are pursued where evidence supports prosecution, but stress these are isolated events that do not reflect state policy.

The economic fallout for Palestinians is nevertheless severe. Many villages depend on agriculture, especially since Israel has tightened restrictions on movement.

“Before the war, there were periods when working in Israel was common (for Palestinians) and encouraged, which led some to move away from farming,” Mardi said.

However, this option “is gone for many, so people are returning to family land as a last resort to recover losses and survive economically.”

Palestinians are now often denied entry permits, leaving many without work. “To recover financially, people returned to their land to plant and harvest,” she said.

However, since October 2023, Palestinian farming has been treated as a form of provocation.

“In the early days of the ongoing Gaza war, some settlers treated any Palestinian agricultural activity as if it were a political or celebratory act tied to the conflict,” Mardi said.

“Palestinians return to their land because it is their right and because it is their livelihood. For Palestinian farmers, the land is a sacred inheritance from their fathers and grandfathers, and they will protect it even with their blood.

“Cultivating it is not only a way of life but also a symbol of duty and belonging — to the land and to themselves.

“For Palestinians, working the land is not provocation — it is survival and the exercise of a legal and economic right.”

Abu Saif agrees that farming is both an economic necessity and a statement of resilience. “They continue to farm because farming itself is a statement of survival and resistance,” he said.

“For us, protecting agriculture is not only about food; it is about sovereignty, dignity, and the future of Palestine.”

Yet Palestinian farmers face another challenge: the climate crisis.

“Repeated droughts, rising temperatures, and declining rainfall have hit wheat, barley, and olive yields hard,” said Abu Saif. “With Israel controlling water, farmers are left unable to adapt.

“In the Jordan Valley last year alone, cereal crops lost more than 35 percent due to water shortages. Occupation policies of ‘thirst’ make climate change an even sharper tool of control.”

Barakat agreed that climate stress is compounding hardships.

“Last year, rainfall was very poor, and the expected olive season in 2025 may be less than 20 percent of the average,” he said. “Droughts, occasional floods, and early severe winters also hurt crops, and farmers are often not allowed to build terraces or other protective measures.”

The World Health Organization says the West Bank’s mean annual temperature could rise by 4.4 degrees Celsius by the end of the century, annual rainfall could fall by about 30 percent, while droughts could grow more frequent and severe.

Under these combined pressures, local and international bodies have become lifelines for Palestinian farmers.

“Despite these conditions, cooperatives and national networks have been crucial to sustaining farmers,” said Abu Saif. “The Union of Agricultural Work Committees, through its Solidarity Shields volunteer campaign, has provided collective protection during the olive harvest.”

He added that local cooperatives have revived community seed exchanges, protecting food sovereignty against what he described as “attempts by the occupation to impose imported and genetically modified seeds.

“This solidarity has allowed families to stay rooted,” he said. “In the northern Jordan Valley, for example, dozens of families worked collectively to harvest threatened lands, defying fear and settler intimidation.”

Still, experts caution that such efforts cannot replace systematic support.

Barakat said NGOs have become the primary players on the ground as the Palestinian Authority faces a financial crisis. “International, national and UN agencies are offering support, but often without a sustainability approach,” he said.

Because long-term projects such as permanent farm roads, new wells or durable infrastructure are often blocked, aid is usually limited to short-term supplies — tools, fodder, and mobile or plastic water tanks that can be removed if demolition orders or settler attacks occur.

Institutional barriers add another layer. Mardi said NGOs and security institutions “face major hurdles when trying to help, and military security claims often shut down discussion.”

Still, she said, “many farmers are motivated to return because the land is theirs, it provides for their families, and there are few alternatives.” While some have given up, others continue to risk their lives to feed their children.

Barakat observed that younger generations, who are finding work in Israel or settlements increasingly unsustainable, are also turning to farming.

“Casual day labor in cities is irregular, and many government employees are not receiving salaries,” he said. “For many families, farming is the only source of income after other options collapsed.”

That return to the land, some argue, is more than economic. Some even see farming now as a form of resistance and a shield against land confiscation, Barakat said.

Abu Saif agrees.

“When our people in Gaza are subjected to a documented genocide and the West Bank faces an unprecedented campaign of ethnic cleansing, farming is no longer only an economic or social activity — it has become an existential national act, tied to our right to land and survival.

“Initiatives like Peasant Seed Producers re-engage young people with seeds and soil, while new urban farming projects in cities like Jenin and Bethlehem prove that agriculture is not confined to rural areas — it is part of a larger project of sovereignty, even inside urban spaces.”

For Palestinians, Abu Saif says farming is about identity as much as livelihood. “Despite the possibility of destruction tomorrow, the farmer continues to plant an olive tree as a declaration of presence,” he said.

“After their crops are torched, we have seen farmers return the next day to replant. Families haul water across long distances to irrigate a few dunums in the Jordan Valley — not for profit, but to affirm their right to remain.

“Land is the last anchor of a people under assault. Defending it through cultivation is a form of national struggle.”