Ten thousand olive trees uprooted: Israel wipes the Palestinian state off the map in West Bank
In the shadow of the genocide in Gaza, Israel has intensified its campaign in the occupied West Bank — uprooting olive groves, seizing land, and expanding settlements. In Al-Mughayyir, near Ramallah, villagers say their livelihoods and their future are being erased.
Special Envoy to Al-Mughayyir (West Bank)The fields of Al-Mughayyir, a Palestinian village of 4,000 inhabitants near Ramallah, lie devastated. Where centuries-old olive trees once stood, the soil is torn and bare. Only the remains of stumps and roots are left — trees that, as the olive harvest begins, will no longer bear fruit.
On 22 August, a convoy of bulldozers entered the village’s farmland, escorted by the Israeli army. In just 48 hours, they uprooted 10,676 olive trees.
Marzouq Abu Naim, the village’s deputy mayor, shows this newspaper a list of the 300 families who have lost their livelihoods. “Israel is carrying out a plan to expel people from this land,” he says. “Without the olive trees, we cannot survive. Every year we export millions of litres of pure olive oil. That’s why they destroy them — to force us to leave.”
Income source and symbol of Palestinians' connection to the land
For Palestinians, olive trees are not only a vital source of income but a symbol of their deep connection to the land. As the world offers symbolic recognition of a Palestinian state, Israel, villagers say, is working to erase it from the map.
The order to uproot the trees came from Israeli General Avi Bluth, head of the Central Command. Officially, the measure was part of the hunt for a Palestinian accused of injuring a settler while grazing his sheep. But the general later made clear his intent to impose collective punishment: “Every village and every one of our enemies must know that if they attack any resident [settler], they will face siege, curfew, and a land transformation operation,” he declared.
In the shadow of the genocide in Gaza, Israel has intensified its colonisation of the occupied West Bank, the territory bordering Jordan and nominally administered by the Palestinian Authority. Settlements — illegal under international law — expand daily, and settlers attack Palestinian villages with impunity, often under military protection.
They enjoy political cover from Finance Minister Bezalel Smotrich, a far-right settler to whom Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has handed control of West Bank administration, and from National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir, a disciple of the extremist Kahanist movement that advocates the expulsion of Palestinians.
Al-Mughayyir survives on agriculture, nestled in the fertile lands of the Jordan Valley. Even before the Hamas-led attacks of 7 October 2023, the army and settlers had already driven shepherding families from their lands. Bedouin communities living in small encampments endured constant assaults, and even saw their school burned down. Many have now moved into the village, but they can no longer graze their herds: the pastures have been declared a closed military zone. Two years ago, herders owned 35,000 animals; today only around 6,000 remain. A large earth barrier blocks the only road leading east, cutting Palestinians off from their fields and water wells. “The genocide in Gaza and the slow suffocation of the West Bank are two paths to the same goal — the disappearance of the Palestinian people from their land,” says Abu Naim.
"I fear of my family"
In a modest house on the edge of the village, 23-year-old farmer Ayou Abu Ali points to the closed shutters. His wife and one-year-old daughter rarely open them. “Living here is very hard,” he says. “At night the settlers come and throw stones or firebombs. I fear for my family.”
The Colonisation and Wall Resistance Commission (CWRC) has promised to help him build a fence and provide fire extinguishers. Abu Ali still carries pellet wounds in his chest. “If I go near my trees, they shoot at me,” he says.
In several homes, the traces of this summer’s settler attacks remain visible: Stars of David and the initials MTA or MH — references to the Maccabi Tel Aviv and Maccabi Haifa football clubs — are spray-painted on the walls.
At the edge of the area now declared a military zone, settlers have built an outpost atop a nearby hill — four metal containers overlooking the village, giving them strategic control. When they see visitors approach the mound of rubble marking the boundary of the seized land, they shine a blinding spotlight toward them.
Annexation plan
In September, Smotrich unveiled a plan to annex 82% of the West Bank, presented as retaliation for the recognition of a Palestinian state by France, the United Kingdom, and Canada — countries long considered allies of Israel. Referring to the West Bank by its biblical name, Judea and Samaria, he declared: “We will never allow the establishment of a Palestinian state because it poses an existential threat to Israel. After decades of hesitation, the time has come to say it.”
According to UN figures released on Saturday, since 7 October 2023, 999 Palestinians have been killed by the Israeli army and settlers in the West Bank. The UN has documented 3,500 attacks against Palestinians, leaving 3,938 injured, 2,700 vehicles destroyed, and 50,000 trees or saplings damaged. Small olive saplings torn out by settlers last week still lie broken on the ground. Palestinian attacks during the same period have killed 41 settlers and soldiers.
Smotrich’s words — and the facts on the ground — confirm what many already know: the Oslo peace process, launched in 1993 with the aim of creating a Palestinian state in Gaza and the West Bank, is dead.
What remains uncertain is whether Palestinians will be expelled from Gaza entirely, or whether the enclave will become — as envisaged in Donald Trump’s “Deal of the Century” — a foreign-administered protectorate, managed by former UK Prime Minister Tony Blair under international supervision.
International pressure might still delay formal annexation, but on the ground Israel has already created a fait accompli: military and settler violence and years of unchecked land seizures have transformed the territory beyond recognition.
Sitting on a stone by the roadside, 55-year-old Abdulatif Alya looks at the remains of his 350 uprooted olive trees. “What they want is to uproot us from our land,” he says quietly. “But we will remain planted here as long as we breathe. We will plant new olive trees — and start again.”
