Farmers in Northwest Syria Struggle to Revive Their Land

Many displaced people have returned to their lands in southern Idlib and northern Hama after years of regime control there, only to find widespread devastation and a ravaged vegetation cover. The trees they inherited from their parents and grandparents – pistachios, olives, and figs – were mostly cut down or left to wither.

What escaped direct damage suffered from neglect. Public auctions for investing in vacant lands, organised by the Hama and Idlib governorates between 2020 and 2024, further depleted agricultural lands. The lands were leased to investors who had no interest in maintaining them, only rushing to harvest and sell the crops before their contracts expired.

Today, returning farmers face an almost impossible task: saving what remains of their trees or starting anew.

The damage to agricultural lands in these areas has been extensive. Farmers told The Syria Report that the tree cutting was not entirely random, as it often targeted lands owned by individuals affiliated with opposition factions, adding a political dimension to the agricultural destruction.

In Kafr Zita and its surroundings in northern Hama, a prominent pistachio-growing region, one tree planting crew estimated that around half of the trees have been damaged, either through direct logging or gradual death. AbdulHamid, a supervisor at the planting crew, explained that the remaining trees need intensive care to recover from years of drought and neglect, while the workshop is planting new trees to replace those lost. Since the fall of the regime, AbdulHamid’s workshop has planted more than 20,000 trees in areas affected by logging or drought and in previously uncultivated lands.

These workshops, which have recently become widespread, operate at the request of landowners, charging fees based on the area or the number of trees uprooted, planted, or maintained. This new phenomenon reflects a shift in the relationship between farmers and their land, with revival becoming a necessity rather than a choice, especially in the absence of any collective or institutional support.

Although the climate and soil are similar across the region, the extent of damage varies from one plot to another due to human factors. The identity of each investor played a crucial role in the care of the trees; when the investor was a relative of the original owner, there was relatively more care for the land. However, when the investor was an outsider, neglect was common. For example, Majed and his uncles own 15 hectares of pistachio trees near Kafr Zita. Although they were forced to uproot 150 trees and heavily prune more than half of the remaining trees, affecting future yields, their losses were relatively lower since the investor was an acquaintance. In contrast, their neighbours, who own 20 hectares, lost 400 trees due to neglect by an unfamiliar investor.

In Kafranbel, south of Idlib, the losses extended beyond just the number of trees. The natural landscape itself has been devastated. The region, once renowned for its ancient olive and fig trees, was completely transformed into a closed military zone due to its proximity to frontlines. After its residents were displaced in 2019, logging operations began, leaving most of the land barren.

Abu Khaled, a resident of nearby Maaret Harma, said 50 of his ancient olive trees near his home were cut down. These trees had previously produced around 160 kilograms of olive oil annually, providing a stable source of income for his family. Today, nothing remains of them.

Despite all these losses, farmers are doing what they can, pruning and rehabilitating when possible, or starting from scratch and planting new saplings. However, these efforts remain individual, scattered, and costly. In the absence of support, there are no clear collective initiatives, no organisational interventions, and not even accurate official statistics. When The Syria Report questioned officials in the Idlib governorate, they simply stated that assessing the damage would require time and specialised committees. Yet, nothing on the ground suggests a genuine intention to initiate such efforts.

What happened to the land in these areas cannot be summed up by the word “logging,” nor can it be understood solely as environmental destruction. It is an extension of a long war that has affected both people and their environment. The revival attempts by the farmers are not only about restoring the trees but also about reclaiming what was deliberately severed from the memory and identity of the place.