When Israeli forces damaged the Union of Agricultural Work Committees’ (UAWC) seed multiplication unit in Hebron on July 31, seed activist Melina Roise felt a familiar shock. The destruction of one of the West Bank’s few functioning seed-saving centers—its irrigation system, water tanks, and control room—was not just physical damage. To Roise, it was an attack on memory itself.
“This isn’t only about seeds. It’s about people—taste, memory, identity,” says Roise, who coordinates conservation work for the Palestine Heirloom Seed Library (PHSL) from her home in Catskill, New York.
For years, the Hebron center played a vital role in preserving rare Palestinian seed varieties essential to the region’s food traditions and climate resilience. This latest strike—reportedly carried out by the Israeli army without warning and under threat to staff—marked the second targeting of UAWC infrastructure. With preservation inside the West Bank increasingly threatened, diaspora-led efforts like PHSL have become more essential than ever.
Preserving Palestinian Heritage: PHSL’s Seed Activism Across the U.S.
PHSL, founded in Battir in the West Bank, operates through a decentralized global network. Farmers across the United States grow traditional Palestinian crops so that the varieties survive even when Palestinian lands come under attack. One variety sourced from Hebron survived only because it had been entrusted to a Hudson Valley farmer shortly before the strike.
“Ideally, these seeds stay in healthy numbers in Palestine,” Roise explains. “But if people there ever need them back, we’ll be ready.”
Seed-keeping—always a cultural act—has now become a political act of resistance. Founded by Jerusalem-born artist and conservationist Vivien Sansour, PHSL’s mission has become more urgent as settler expansion, land seizures, and escalating violence since October 7, 2023, threaten agricultural life in both Gaza and the West Bank.
“When institutions are attacked, the community becomes the institution,” Roise says.
Roise entered seed conservation through farming apprenticeships and later worked with Indigenous seed keepers in North America. She recalls an elder who possessed only a handful of sacred corn seeds.
“It was terrifying,” she says. “The histories of erasure are so similar.”
PHSL’s model pairs seeds with appropriate climates. Heat-loving plants like okra and eggplant grow in the American South, while hardy grains are tested in colder regions. But some crops resist domestication. Akub, a beloved Palestinian wild thistle, simply refuses to grow in neat beds.
“It wants to be eaten by birds or washed downstream,” Roise says. “Not placed gently in rows.”
Diaspora Farmers Keep Palestinian Seeds—and Culture—Alive
Despite the challenges, interest in traditional Palestinian crops is rising, especially among diaspora families longing for flavors from home.
In Philadelphia, Owen Taylor, founder of Truelove Seeds, cultivates crops central to Levantine cuisine, including molokhia, kusa, and several zaatar varieties. Seed sales support conservation and—when possible—seed repatriation.
“The destruction of the UAWC bank was an attack on life,” Taylor says. “Seeds carry knowledge and history. They are resistance.”
International regulations often restrict the movement of seed material, making community-led systems even more important. A 2023 study in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences (PNAS) highlighted the crucial role of informal, smallholder seed systems in maintaining global crop diversity—systems often undervalued or hindered by formal policy.
To counter these challenges, PHSL launched the Seed Protectors Project, a global network of growers who cultivate Palestinian heirloom crops and safeguard their survival.
In Philadelphia, Nate Kleinman, co-founder of the Experimental Farm Network (EFN) and the Cooperative Gardens Collective, has embraced this mission. His work began with Lenape seed histories near his hometown; today, he collaborates with PHSL to distribute Palestinian seeds across climate zones—from desert-adapted okra in Arizona to drought-resistant wheat in the Midwest.
“Local seeds give people a fail-safe,” Kleinman says. “They’re adapted, they’re free, and they belong to your community.”
Seeds of Memory: Preserving Palestinian Heritage Across the Diaspora
For many Palestinian families, these seeds hold emotional meaning beyond agriculture. They are ties to memory: a grandmother’s zaatar, a cousin’s tomato jam. Even when plants fail, the act of planting becomes a form of remembrance.
“People want these foods. You can’t buy them in stores,” Roise says. “Sometimes the seeds don’t grow well. But the care remains.”
Seed sovereignty—like cultural sovereignty—depends on shared responsibility. Taylor calls it “distributed preservation”: no single farmer or institution bears the full burden. Instead, countless small acts of stewardship build collective resilience.
The destruction of the Hebron seed bank makes this approach essential. As physical institutions come under attack, the future of Palestinian agricultural heritage rests in the hands of farmers, families, and diaspora networks who refuse to let this memory disappear.
“We need as many fail-safes as possible,” Kleinman says. “Because when seeds are lost, it’s not just food that disappears—it’s identity.”