by Eileen Hanson
This year I have been blessed to be a part of the olive harvest here in Palestine. Olives are an integral part of Palestinian life. Olive trees are the landscape; they are connection to land and family; they are economic livelihood; olives are food and the olive oil flavors nearly every dish in Palestine.
Since September, I have been watching as the olives ripen on the tree, as the small bright green olives grow larger and ripen to a fleshy deep purple fruit. This year the season for harvesting olives came directly after Ramadan. After the feasting of Eid, the hard work of harvesting began.
Early in the morning, a tractor and wagon with everyone from grandmothers to toddlers arrives in the olive grove. The family pours out into the grove, and spreads a tarp or blanket beneath a tree. The nimblest members go up in the tree to get the olives high up and near the middle. Others surround the tree, picking what is close at hand. Often it is the oldest and the very youngest members of the family on the ground collecting the fallen olives and picking out the twigs and leaves. Then family members gather up the olives in the tarp and funnel them into a bag to take to the oil press in the city.
When one tree has been picked clean, the whole family moves on to the next tree. In this way, a large grove of olives, which looks as though it goes on forever, can be harvested in a short time. By working together, and sharing the time joyfully, families turn what might seem back-breaking labor into a celebration.
With increasing pressure from both Israeli settlers and the military to evacuate this area, for Palestinian families the olive harvest has become something even more meaningful.
Throughout the West Bank, many Palestinian villages have difficulty even gaining access to their land and olive groves. With athe building of the Separation Barrier, or The Wall, Palestinians are being prevented from working their land, which lies on “the wrong side” of the Wall.
Just outside Bethlehem, in an ongoing campaign of nonviolent resistance, the village of Umm Salamoneh is protesting the confiscation of the olive groves behind the Separation (Apartheid) Wall. One day when a group was attempting to access their land and tend to their trees, a Palestinian man spoke up, saying, “These trees are like our children. We will not neglect our children.”
Dozens of Israeli soldiers then formed a phalanx and blocked the villagers from even walking to their land. So it is that simply continuing to try to cultivate one’s own land becomes an act of nonviolent resistance.
In this area, the South Hebron Hills, where there is not yet “The Wall,” there are still significant barriers to Palestinians having unfettered access to their land. Even though the Israeli High Court has upheld Palestinian landowners’ right to access their land and freedom to cultivate it, many times the Israeli military have denied Palestinians permission to access their land. I have been present a number of times when Palestinian land owners tried to gain access to their land, carrying legal ownership documentation, and were told by the Israeli military they were not allowed to be there and threatened with arrest.
Both the Israeli settlers and military know well that without the ability to cultivate the land and olive trees, life on the land will become unsustainable for Palestinians. By putting pressure on this key part of the rural life, they are pressuring Palestinians to leave their homes and their land.
Many Palestinian families have chosen to remain on their land despite settler harassment, attacks, and military occupation. Checkpoints and travel restrictions make it difficult to get the olives to market, and home demolitions and the constant threat of more demolitions make all of life uncertain here. But people here have refused enticements to an easier life somewhere else in order to remain connected to their land, to their trees, and to the traditions of life here.
As I have been helping harvest the olives over the last few weeks, I have been reflecting on how the traditions of the olive harvest inform Palestinian nonviolent resistance.
One of the characteristics of nonviolent resistance, as opposed to violent struggle, is that it is democratic. In a violent conflict, the fighters, those in the forefront, are the young adult males (in a few cases, young women are also conscripted to fight). In general, the fighting is reserved for the young, physically fit males. There is no place for grandmothers on the frontlines of such a struggle. Violent resistance is a limited approach, because only a small portion of the population is qualified.
But in a nonviolent struggle, everyone has something to contribute. It is a much more democratic approach. Women, children, the very young and the elderly, those with disabilities, everyone can participate. Everyone has something they can offer. In this way, everyone is invested, and everyone’s voice can be heard in the nonviolent struggle against oppression. While violence sows the seeds of anger and more violence, nonviolence sows the seeds of justice and respect for all members of society.
The olive harvest is a model for united action and democratic principles. It is a wonderful thing to see whole families working together to harvest the olives. Everyone has a job to do, and everyone has something to contribute. It is an experience that builds trust and community and a sense of accomplishment together. These children will remember these days of harvesting with their parents and grandparents when some day they are sending their children up that same tree to gather the olives. When the whole family goes out to gather olives, in spite of threats and harassment, everyone has a part in resisting the pressure to abandon their land.
Another quality of nonviolent movements is patience. There is something to be learned about patience from the cultivating of olives. It takes years for a tree to bear olives, maybe a decade. In this time the trees require tenderness and care. The trees are indeed like children, and they are likely to outlive even the children’s children. Cultivating olive trees requires a long-term commitment. There is no quick money to be made, nor instant reward for your work.
So, too, in the nonviolent struggle, there are no quick rewards. History shows that the nonviolent struggle against oppression takes a long time. Gandhi’s campaign against British colonial rule in India and the anti-Apartheid movement in South Africa took decades to achieve their ends. There were losses along the way, great personal risks taken, leaders jailed and killed. The hope of results is not what sustains such movements. The nonviolent struggle requires a commitment to something greater than immediate results; it requires patience.
Palestinians refer to this kind of patience as sumud, or steadfastness. The Palestinian people have a long history of living under occupation. Now it is the Israeli occupation, but before that, it was British, Jordanian, and Ottoman occupations. There have been times when some have resorted to violent resistance to these occupations, but peaceful sumud has been the Palestinians’ central approach to enduring occupation. The proof is in the fact that so many Palestinian villages remain, even under intense pressure to evacuate. Sumud refers to the steadfast commitment to remain on the land, carrying on the traditions handed down through generations. It is a quiet faith that “this too shall pass,” and that what is truly important will endure.
One hopeful sign from this year’s olive harvest is that many Israelis joined with Palestinians to help harvest olives throughout the West Bank. Over one hundred Israelis from Combatants for Peace—former Israeli soldiers who now see a different path to a peaceful future—came to help with the olive harvest in the Palestinian village of Susiya.
Susiya village is located between an Israeli settlement, a settlement outpost and an Israeli military base. They face violence and abuse from literally every direction. The village has been completely demolished four times. Each time the people have returned to live on their land. The people of Susiya are currently living in tent shelters, which are again under demolition orders. This means they might again be forced from their homes and land at any time.
For the visiting Israelis, coming to Susiya was an act of solidarity. It was also an act of nonviolent resistance to official Israeli policy that bars Israelis from entering Palestinian areas. These Israelis came to help and they came to meet the people on the other side of the Wall, both literal and psychological. And they were welcomed with open arms and open homes.
The olive branch has long been a symbol of peace. To offer the olive branch is to offer reconciliation. For Palestinians, the olive tree itself is a clear sign that God always provides what is necessary to sustain life. The biblical image of the olive branch is the twig in the mouth of the dove, returning to Noah, giving the sign of dry land. This is a symbol of reconciliation with God, a symbol of God’s promise never again to flood the earth or threaten total destruction.
Israelis joining together with Palestinians sharing in the work of the olive harvest, breaking bread together, is a kind of olive branch. It is a small branch, but with patience and cultivation, even a small cutting can thrive. Perhaps for Palestinians of Susiya, it might be a sign that they will not face another demolition. But just like an olive tree, it may take years for this olive branch to bear good fruit. It was a blessing to be a part of this olive harvest. I hope that I will be present to see the harvest of justice and peace, the harvest of God’s promise for this land.