The 2024 harvest at Israel’s Daltôn Winery was punctuated by nonstop rocket and drone attacks launched from just across the border in Hezbollah-controlled southern Lebanon. As tractors rolled through the vineyards at night, collecting the last of the Cabernet grapes, the sky was lit up by the glow of exploding rockets and the resulting wildfires that have scorched parts of northern Israel since Hezbollah’s campaign began on Oct. 8 of last year.
Across Israel, Lebanon and the West Bank, the growing conflict ignited by Hamas’ attacks one year ago on Oct. 7, 2023, has upended winemakers’ livelihoods and lives throughout the region. Harvest is traditionally a time of hard work and celebration. But as the military campaign in Gaza continues, Israel and Hezbollah trade fire and Iran launches missile attacks, vintners on all sides are simply trying to survive and protect what they have spent a lifetime building. Grapes are being harvested, but so is sorrow.
Evacuated Vineyards and Villages in Galilee
Located in Israel’s Upper Galilee region, the Daltôn winery is just a few miles from Lebanon, and some of owner Alex Haruni’s most northern vineyards nearly touch the border fence. Hezbollah fighters can often be seen on the other side. Some of Daltôn’s prime vineyards have been completely destroyed by blasts or fire. Like many winegrowers operating in the region, Haruni was forced to abandon others, as they are located in zones the Israeli Defense Forces (IDF) have deemed unsafe. With more than 70,000 civilians evacuated from Israel’s Golan and Galilee regions—where 40 percent of the country’s wine production takes place—the entire northern swath of the country sits empty, populated only by IDF soldiers.
Since harvest ended in late September, Hezbollah’s attacks have increased in intensity. “We now have to run for shelter more frequently than before and the most nerve-wracking part of the day is the drive to and from work when the smell of smoke and cordite hang pervasively in the air,” Haruni says. Everyday he prepares the winery, “as if I’m not coming back tomorrow.”
He’s not alone—and considers himself lucky by comparison. In March, the nearby Avivim Winery was destroyed by two Hezbollah rockets and owner Shlomi Biton was injured. Galil Mountain Winery, situated just 200 yards from the Lebanese border, has had many of its vineyards destroyed by rocket fire. Most days winemaker David Bar Ilan and his team are unable to access his vines, as they are in closed military zones. The forced evacuations mean that most wineries had few workers available.
Palestinian Wineries Struggle Economically
While not under a constant rain of rocket fire, the handful of wineries in the Palestinian territory of the West Bank have also been suffering since the war began. The Christian communities between Bethlehem and Jerusalem have a long tradition of wine production.
Located in the Salesian Monastery on the outskirts of Bethlehem, Cremisan Winery has been producing wine since 1885, now with guidance from famed Italian winemaking consultant Riccardo Cotarella. Head winemaker Fadi Batarseh has been a pioneer in the resurrection of grapes native to the region, varieties such as Baladi, Dabouki and Hamandi.
The West Bank has never been an easy place to make and sell wine, says Batarseh, but the last year has been devastating on every level. “I can’t even call this a harvest—we only have 30 tons of fruit compared to our usual 250 tons.” Batarseh had just completed harvest in 2023 when Hamas attacked Israel from Gaza and the war began—and everything shut down. It’s been difficult and often impossible for many Palestinian farmers to reach their vines or olive trees for harvest because of military road closures and added checkpoints. But the bigger challenge has been an inability to sell wine, he says.
“There are virtually no sales—most of our clients are tourists and local people in the West Bank, who are mostly out of work and have no permission to work in Israel,” he says. It is not sustainable for another year, he grimly reports. Poverty is rampant, leading to “outrage, crimes and robberies. The economy has collapsed.”
His ability to export his wines has also virtually halted: Palestinian wineries must export via Israel and the lockdown has slowed this to a trickle. Economic survival looks grim, he reports. “We hope that peace will come and life goes back to normal.”
Unfortunately, normal is not something that Palestinian winemakers often experience. “The Israeli-Palestinian conflict casts a long shadow,” says Adam Kassis of Domaine Kassis, the boutique family winery he founded in Birzeit, close to Jerusalem. He is also the head winemaker at the Cistercian monastery winery Domaine de Latroun. The logistical hurdles of the last year have been enormous—and the anxiety has been crippling.
“This year we experienced fear and low energy, always worried about the uncertainty of tomorrow,” Kassis says. Of all the crippling logical obstacles of the past year, a labor shortage was not one of them. “Due to this war, many Palestinian workers lost their daily work in Israel. At least we had no problem finding labor to pick the grapes.” Selling is another story, however. Like Batarseh, export restrictions have been a challenge; his exports are down 60 percent from last year. “Wine consumption has decreased in Palestine. People are sad, stressed and have no feeling for drinking wine.”
In Lebanon, Winemakers Conclude Yet Another Wartime Harvest
Conflict and instability have unfortunately been part of Lebanon’s wine industry for decades. During the Lebanese Civil War, the country’s most famous winery, Chateau Musar, lost their 1976 and 1984 vintages entirely. In 2006, a 34-day armed conflict between Israel and Hezbollah took a heavy toll on the small country, including the 75-mile long Bekaa Valley, now home to about 50 wineries. Nationwide, production is roughly 9 million cases per year.
“Yet again we are victims of the geopolitical nightmare. We are hostages of the situation,” says Sami Ghosn, who founded Massaya Winery in 1998 with his brother, Ramzi, and has quickly established it as one of the country’s top names. (The U.S. is Massaya’s number one export market).
Ghosn and his family were among the Christian Maronites displaced from their land by Palestinian insurgent forces during the 1975 war; he spent 17 years living in the U.S. before returning to reclaim his family’s land. Massaya was damaged in the 2006 war when nearby factories were bombed—a traumatizing experience, he recounts.
Ghosn and his team spent this year’s harvest “constantly scanning the sky, not to predict the weather, but to look out for drones. At times we didn’t know if we would be able to go to the vineyards.” Ghosn projects an aura of amazing calm, the result of unfortunate familiarity with working in violent times, he explains. But admits he would “be lying if I said that I don’t have anxiety and don’t wake up in the night and constantly check my phone.”
A Chronic Sadness and Resilience
In Israel, many wine producers feared that calls to boycott Israeli goods to protest the war in Gaza would impact sales, but exports have actually increased. Annual production stands at about 40 million cases. Still, the country’s trauma in the aftermath of Oct. 7 and the ongoing war has made wine seem insignificant or even meaningless for many producers.
“Something in the energy of selling wine and all the positive things that come with it has been lost and I hope it will return when the war ends,” says Gilad Flam, who established Flam Winery with his brother in the Judean Hills. “The suffering in Israel and Gaza and Lebanon is unbearable.”
Labor shortages have been an ongoing problem for nearly all Israeli wineries; many Israeli workers are still mobilized in the military and Palestinian workers cannot travel. Like many, Domaine du Castel in the Judean Hills (whose vineyards were hit by a Hamas rocket from Gaza early in the war) managed with the help of local volunteers who helped pick grapes. Owner Eli Ben-Zaken also reports the quality of the 2024 harvest was very high, yet he shows a noticeable lack of enthusiasm as he describes it.
“As Israelis, we are probably living the most difficult time the country has ever suffered,” says Ben-Zaken.
Without an immediate end in sight to the conflict, it can be excruciatingly difficult to stay positive, admits Victor Schoenfeld, the head winemaker at Golan Heights Winery, who just completed his 40th harvest. “This has been a year of charged emotions, with the country seemingly saturated in chronic sadness,” he said.
Feelings of helplessness and despair can certainly make wine feel irrelevant, but the tradition of winemaking throughout the Levant provides vintners there with unique perspective and hope, too.
“We make wine at the frontier and we defend our civility,” says Ghosn. “Our Phoenician ancestors never conquered with bombs, wars or force. They were masters of craftsmanship and exchange across the ancient world, at the helm of which was wine. This is the legacy we pursue. We are people of culture and communication, not people of war and hate.”
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