Shuffling down a rocky hill with remarkable ease, 83-year-old Israeli Gabriella Goldschmidt headed into a valley on the outskirts of the village of Mukhmas in the occupied West Bank, unsure of whether she would spend the morning picking olives or running from baton-wielding countrymen generations younger than her.
“What the settlers do here is so outrageous. I can’t stand to not do something. I can at least express my solidarity with the villagers,” she said as she walked in a column of about 30 Jewish Israeli activists led by several Palestinian farmers.
Although not able to climb high into the olive trees like the young people in the grove, Ms Goldschmidt’s presence as an Israeli Jew could have been the pivotal reason the Palestinians were able to harvest their crop this week.
Activists such as her hope that if Israelis are present, their country’s authorities are more likely to respond if violent settlers from the surrounding hilltops descend to try to stop the harvest, as has been happening at an unprecedented rate this year.
The olive harvest is a key moment in the rural economy of the West Bank. If Israeli settlers prevent farmers from harvesting their crops, then life in the countryside becomes untenable and entire communities could be emptied. Some shepherding groups, who are even more vulnerable, have already left.
The annual harvest is also an event of great cultural significance and has been for centuries. It is attended by a spectrum of Palestinians across all the territories, be they monks and nuns on the Mount of Olives in East Jerusalem or families in the West Bank. Gaza, too, had 3,300 hectares of the trees, yielding about 23,000 tonnes of olives each year. Barely any remain after the war.
When it was not so violent, the harvest was a celebratory occasion. Today, social media is flooded almost daily with reports and videos of clashes in olive groves like the one in Mukhmas where Ms Goldschmidt was working. The most well-known footage is of a masked Israeli clubbing a middle-aged Palestinian woman in the head. She collapsed immediately and was taken to hospital.
There is a well-organised campaign by Israeli civil society groups to get activists to the olive groves to try to prevent such scenes, with buses departing nearly every day from major cities such as Jerusalem, Tel Aviv and Haifa. Ms Goldschmidt was part of a group arranged by Rabbis Human Rights. As many as 70 activists can be present at any one harvesting site, organisers said. Although there has been violence even with activists present, most still believe the chances are lower if they are there.
But it is still not enough to end the attacks. As of last week, the UN documented 86 settler attacks across 50 villages related to the olive harvest, in which about 112 Palestinians were injured. More than 3,000 trees and saplings were vandalised. Settler attacks on Palestinian olive growers in the occupied West Bank this year have surged to four times the level recorded before the Gaza war began two years ago, the Palestinian Farmers' Union said.
For Palestinians, the pressing questions being asked in the groves were about surviving the immediate future.
Shukri Abu Ali, 38, who owned the groves harvested that day, said he has had a financially ruinous year, with much of his land inaccessible due to the threat posed by settlers from the nearby outpost of Ma'ale Mikhmas.
"We’ve had zero economic activity this year, zero per cent,” he said. “I think this will go from bad to worse, if these conditions stay the same. We could lose all of this.
"It’s become particularly bad in the last two to three months. The attacks by the settlers can involve as little as seven people, but sometimes as much as 50, coming with weapons as well,” he added.
Mr Abu Ali said he was happy to see the Israeli activists. “These people want peace. We want peace,” he said. “I relax when I see these people, for that matter people from any country. Without them, I simply wouldn’t be able to do anything.”
It was a peaceful day in the end, with only a brief visit from the Israeli military to check whether the farmers had permission to be on their land. Other such visits have resulted in detentions, crowd control measures and even the deportation of foreign activists.
For the Israelis in the group, the questions they were asking themselves were less about immediate survival, but instead about deep existential fears for the future of their country.
“I used to be a Zionist. Now I ask myself whether I really am. It’s very sad,” said Ms Goldschmidt.
Despite the lack of drama that day, Ms Goldschmidt was still downbeat. On the hills around her and Mr Abu Ali, Israeli settlers, who that day chose to stay away, seem to be winning the battle for the soul of Israel, she said.
She has not entirely given up hope her side could win, but her assessment of the chances was very sober. “Maybe in the long run things will get better, but I will not be around by the time that could happen.”
