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160 pages, Paperback
Published February 20, 2024
Formerly made up of lush citrus, olive, pomegranate, and fig trees—orchards that served as a continuous link between Gaza and the rest of Palestine—the historical production of the border area and the buffer zone also involves strict controls by the occupation army of agricultural and crop cultivation. Palestinian farmers living and working along the border are prohibited by the Israeli military from growing crops over one meter high, meaning that the cultivation of any trees in these areas is routinely destroyed, with farmers forced to transition and plant other low-growing crops. As an area that forms the future architecture of the besieged Gaza Strip, the agricultural lands along its eastern border perimeter are fundamental to the food security of the civilian population. Historic transformations between 1970 to 2014 have led to the gradual clearing of these precious agricultural areas in Gaza, and the present-day production of its eastern frontier. Over time, and through multifaceted practices of settler-colonial occupation, the conditions of agriculture were forced to collude with the conditions of security.
To highlight the links between landscape and colonial eco-imaginaries in Palestine, scholars have looked at the role of forests, and particularly the placement of trees in the formation of national identities and collective memories. As politicized entities, trees embody national ways of life, featuring regularly as a symbol of national identity and rootedness. Whether the English oak, Japanese cherry blossom, Canadian maple leaf, or the Lebanese cedar, trees, and the landscapes they create, often propel an ideological desire to physically alter a terrain to protect or maintain parts of national significance—making it appear as a “given and inevitable” natural reality and concealing its politically engineered origin. Landscapes create a sense of belonging among a people, producing their presence in the land as a natural fact, while excluding those rendered outside. In this manner, the ecoimaginary in Palestine has become a terrain of colonial struggle through the mobilizing of species of trees that reflect lived significances and collective memories: the pine within the Jewish national consciousness and the olive in the Palestinian. Indeed, the JNF’s preference for European-looking pine is not surprising given the historical matrix of European colonialism within which the Zionist movement emerged. Cultivating trees that conform to the picturesque Western ecological sensibilities further demonstrates Israel’s European-style environmental values, while also pushing forward a new historical narrative on the landscape that naturalizes a more ‘civilized’ colonial presence. And so, as a settler-colonial project, widespread afforestation of Palestinian orange and olive orchards across the country enabled the State of Israel to weaponize forests to erase Palestinian presence in strategically important spaces, providing camouflage for military objectives.
Growing up in Gaza and tasting previous Israeli wars, Shurouq and Roshdi knew the bloodshed and destruction that would unfold but returned anyway. Young, in love, talented, accomplished Palestinians with a child would rather come to Gaza to resist, document, and defend their homes than to live abroad.