Shuruq Josting
In her book Environmental Warfare in Gaza, published by Pluto Press in February 2024, Shourideh C. Molavi makes a historical journey through the wars and incursions on Gaza, developing our understanding of what their past and ongoing impacts mean for Gaza’s built and cultivated environments.
Molavi serves as lead researcher for Palestine at Forensic Architecture (FA), which is a research agency based at Goldsmiths, University of London, as well as the founding institutional base for an interdisciplinary academic field of the same name.. As a field, forensic architecture works on “the production and presentation of spatial evidence within legal, political, and cultural contexts, and takes architecture to include not only buildings, but shaped environments at the scale of cities and territories.”
The research agency’s work has been used as evidence in courts and in citizens’ tribunals across the world, combining techniques such as spatial modeling and audio and video documentation of state violence and violations of human rights. In its investigations of states and corporate entities, Forensic Architecture, according to its website, has aided the legal and public struggle against “historical and contemporary colonial violence, including the destruction of traditional environments and life worlds.”
In her new book, Molavi not only builds on her previous investigations along Gaza’s Eastern “border”[1] but also considers the colonial history of Palestine’s environment, starting with the categorization of plants by the British.
Over years, Israel has widened the “protective” zone along its borders, progressively reducing the scarcely available arable land by flattening the land through airstrikes and bulldozers. In recent years, this process has been extended through the deliberate targeting of lands with high concentrations of pesticides, sprayed alongside the fence onto Gazan farmlands.
These steps are done in order to create the perfect “buffer zone,” providing clear views into the strip. Molavi concludes that this so-called “no-go zone,” ranging from 300-1000 meters, turns Gaza’s border into the ideal “one-sided” border, allowing for permeation from one side only. This constantly affects the livelihood of Palestinians in proximity to the border.
In order to have a clearer view of protestors or agriculturists, specific types of plants were criminalized due to their height or banned from the environment altogether. The effects can be seen clearly, for instance, in the planting pattern: while in earlier years crops up to 80 cm height were permitted, the Al-Mezan Center for Human Rights reported in 2018 that farmers had been forced to reduce the height of their plants to only 40 cm (~15 in) due to ongoing razing activities (Molavi 2024, 33).
These enforced changes to the agricultural environment include citrus orchards, which were central to the development of Gaza’s role as a coastal trade hub. According to Molavi, the role of the orange in the “formation of Gazan identity, including local knowledge production, socio-economic relations and migration patterns, domestic and international cultural exchange . . . is largely understudied.” (p. 27) We do know, however, that Gazan traditional citrus cultivation is closely linked to the Palestinian Nakba or “catastrophe,” as thousands of families lost access to fruit orchards and vegetable plots that lay beyond today’s militarized borders. After they became refugees and settled in Gaza, many Palestinians had to adapt to an urban lifestyle, and only a small percentage of Gazans today cultivate farmland, much of which is owned by a small percentage of large-scale landowners.
Similarly, Gaza has lost many of its olive groves, often near the “buffer zone” due to clearing processes by Israel or by the prohibition of taller plants. According to Oxfam, roughly 112,000 olive trees, symbolic of Palestine, were uprooted by Israel between 2000 and 2008.In addition to their symbolism, olive trees have provided Gazan grove keepers and their families an income, as well as a critical food source, in the form of oil and olives, during times of curfew imposed by the Israeli army. Already in the early stages of Israel’s ongoing genocide on Gaza, many Gazans had to cut down their trees to provide their own families and communities with firewood to survive the winter. Gazans stress the loss they felt and the role these trees, many of which were inherited, had in their lives.
From 2017 to 2019, when Gazans protested for their internationally recognized Right of Return (UNGA Res. 194 (III)), the now cleared and flattened area near the fence allowed for the targeting and injuring of thirty six thousand Gazans, who resorted to burning tires and utilizing the toxic smoke to take cover from snipers. Roughly 29% of these injuries were brought on by live ammunition and rubber bullets, leading to many Gazans undergoing amputations. Especially for small-scale farmers, this can mean the loss of their livelihoods.
Investigations of the pesticides sprayed by Israel onto Gazan lands have resulted in the conclusion that the while plants subjected to the deliberate spraying of herbicides along Gaza’s borders showed traces of insecticides and pesticides, “damaging levels of herbicides were not detected” (Molavi 2024, 72) by the consulting Katif Center Laboratories. Nonetheless, farmers have reported severe losses of crops and have had to resort to planting different crops, not only changing the landscape but also removing Gazan people’s access to ancestral foods and traditions, such as foraging Khobeiza (Palestinian Common Mallow) and grazing animals on the land. Further, many farmers have had to move away from their traditional growing techniques and crops, growing alternative crops in greenhouses so as to shield them from herbicides.
Questions regarding FA’s approach have been put forward, most interestingly by Palestinian filmmaker and artist Emily Jacir in her film Letter to a Friend (2019), which is dedicated to FA founder Eyal WeizmannGiven the often repeated crimes in the Occupied Palestinian Territories, ranging from extrajudicial executions to war crimes and crimes against humanity in connection with global arms exporting firms, Jacir raises the question why her friend’s focus remains on proving a crime has been committed instead of working to prevent it from being repeated or exacerbated.
Jacir’s Letter to a Friend is a critique that can nourish movements for social and ecological justice, essentially calling for the proactive protection and defense of lives and livelihoods. This call could, if we let it, form the basis of more strictly enforced policies determining what will—sooner or later—harm the environment and local populations and inform new ways of preventing these crimes. It is this very necessity to protect the soils and livelihoods from being weaponized to create scarcity that can connect movements for a joint cause and a more just future.
Writing for Verfassungsblog: On Matters Constitutional, Saeed Bagheri, Lecturer in International Law at the University of Reading School of Law, writes that “the natural environment remains the silent victim of Israel’s war on Gaza.” He highlights the Israeli military’s general stance towards the environmental destruction it is causing in Gaza: While there is a military necessity to clear areas, “there appears to be little evidence of ‘widespread, long-term, and severe environmental damage’ from Israel’s air strikes on the heavily civilian-populated Gaza.” Bagheri makes the case that Israel is thus using the “widespread, long-term, and severe standard—an international humanitarian law standard that already labors under ambiguity—in combination with the inability of scientists to undertake careful studies of air, water, and soil quality, to screen its enormously damaging impacts in Gaza.
Despite decades of Palestinian and Lebanese farmers, as well as international researchers, attempting to prove and provide evidence for the widespread environmental destruction, we do not need to wait until evidence of an already destroyed environment surpasses military need. Under the precautionary principle, the burden of proof lies with the party profiting from the actions, which is why some researchers advocate for the use of the precautionary principle in armed conflict. They assert that while under International Humanitarian Law the focus rests on “all feasible precautions,” the precautionary principle actually provides protective guidelines and takes parts of the decision out of the hands of military personnel.
Some, like Bagheri, do not think that this is enough, looking at the lack of consequences and interventions on behalf of Gazans: already in April 2024, six months after the start of Israel’s genocide on Gaza, Bagheri said that “the UN, in general, and the ICC in particular, should have done more to attenuate the substantial risk of mistreatment of the natural environment, concerning more particularly the ecology, health and survival of Palestinians.” This sentiment is shared by many and goes far beyond the ongoing genocide—those who read Shourideh Molavi’s research closely will see that an intervention should have long preceded the currently ongoing destruction, given the vast amount of evidence provided.
Environmental Warfare in Gaza is is an essential book for understanding the ongoing war on Gaza. Molavi reports on Gaza’s past and present with respect and gratitude to her local colleagues, closing off by paying tribute to her collaborator Roshdi Yahya Al-Sarraj, co-founder of the investigation’s journalistic partner organization, Ain Media Gaza, who was killed in an airstrike on his home.
Since the book’s release early this year, much has changed, and Molavi, despite clearly having re-edited her book to include the newest developments, could not have predicted the destruction that has been brought upon Gaza since. While she continues to investigate Israel’s crimes in Gaza and the continued ecocide in Gaza that enhances the famine, a section of the book comes to mind that brings us closer to the people and the future of Gaza:
“Refusing to limit her output to low-growing fruits and vegetables, Mona would strategically place olive trees among her crops. [...] Responding to the forced biopolitical modifications of [the] otherwise familiar landscape, such acts of resistance interrupt the colonial and imperial gaze, also emphasizing the inextricable role of the environment in modern warfare.” (p.43)
As with the farmers interviewed by Molavi in 2018, the people of Gaza still refuse to be helpless in the face of a man-made famine. Initiatives such as Thamra have resorted to planting amidst the ruins, to have access to food. Seeing himself forced to evacuate, Yousef Abu Rabea, a Palestinian farming engineer and co-founder of Thamra, collected seeds from his family’s farm in Beit Lahia. Thamra’s aim is to promote food stability, but Abu Rabea remains concerned: “The genocide has left the farmland all but devastated by artillery-borne white phosphorus, a potent carcinogen that lingers in the soil, poisoning farmers and making their crops unsafe to eat.” As of October 7, 2024, new evacuation orders for Gaza’s North have been issued, and the bombing of the densely populated areas of the North has increased manifold. Yousef Abu Rabea was killed by an Israeli drone strike on October 21, 2024.
While the majority of research on the chemical effects of discharged ordnance focuses on the effects of white phosphorus, an incendiary agent that is not yet deemed a chemical weapon, on the human body, laboratory investigations by the American University of Beirut are underway to better understand the result of soil contamination in South Lebanon’s targeted areas. The United States’ National Institute for Occupational Safety and Health already lists ingestion as a possible means of absorbing white phosphorus, suggesting that soil and plant contamination will lead to absorption by humans, as well as grazing animals. While many insist that conclusive investigations can only be done after the end of Israel’s attack on Lebanon and Gaza, Lebanese farmers have already lost thousands of trees due to white phosphorus fires. Previous attacks with white phosphorus have led to diminished harvests and contaminated streams in earlier attacks. Earlier research has linked white phosphorus particles in Alaska’s Eagle River Flats to the death of thousands of waterfowl.
Building on the conclusion drawn in a recent ELC blogpost by Elena Tiedens, where the precautionary principle fails to prevent damage done to the environment, ecocide proves to be a path through which the destruction of the environment, and subsequently co-violations to human rights, could be persecuted and punished. Ecocide in Gaza is not a local issue, as became clear at the latest in Reuters’ most recent findings on e.g. the release of asbestos through urban bombing that will affect the health of the coming generations. In the words of Cenk Tan, ecocide is “a phenomenon that has serious international impact. It represents humanity’s toll on Earth.”
Notes
[1] To this day, the Occupied Palestinian Territories of 1967 and the Gaza Strip are internationally considered occupied territories and therefore do not have officially determined borders.
