SUBSCRIBE TO OUR FREE NEWSLETTER
Daily news & progressive opinion—funded by the people, not the corporations—delivered straight to your inbox.
5
#000000
#FFFFFF
To donate by check, phone, or other method, see our More Ways to Give page.
Daily news & progressive opinion—funded by the people, not the corporations—delivered straight to your inbox.
A menacing convoy of bulldozers was heading back to Be'er Sheva as I
drove towards al-Arakib, a Bedouin village located not more than 10
minutes from the city. Once I entered the dirt road leading to the
village I saw scores of vans with heavily armed policemen getting ready
to leave. Their mission, it seems, had been accomplished.
The
signs of destruction were immediately evident. I first noticed the
chickens and geese running loose near a bulldozed house, and then saw
another house and then another one, all of them in rubble. A few
children were trying to find a shaded spot to hide from the scorching
desert sun, while behind them a stream of black smoke rose from the
burning hay. The sheep, goats and the cattle were nowhere to be seen -
perhaps because the police had confiscated them.
Scores of
Bedouin men were standing on a yellow hill, sharing their experiences
from the early morning hours, while all around them uprooted olive trees
lay on the ground. A whole village comprising between 40 and 45 houses
had been completely razed in less than three hours.
I
suddenly experienced deja vu: an image of myself walking in the rubbles
of a destroyed village somewhere on the outskirts of the Lebanese city
of Sidon emerged. It was over 25 years ago, during my service in the
Israeli paratroopers. But in Lebanon the residents had all fled long
before my platoon came, and we simply walked in the debris. There was
something surreal about the experience, which prevented me from fully
understanding its significance for several years. At the time, it felt
like I was walking on the moon.
This time the impact of the
destruction sank in immediately. Perhaps because the 300 people who
resided in al-Arakib, including their children, were sitting in the
rubble when I arrived, and their anguish was evident; or perhaps because
the village is located only 10 minutes from my home in Be'er Sheva and I
drive past it every time I go to Tel Aviv or Jerusalem; or perhaps
because the Bedouins are Israeli citizens, and I suddenly understood how
far the state is ready to go to accomplish its objective of Judaising
the Negev region; what I witnessed was, after all, an act of ethnic cleansing.
They
say the next intifada will be the Bedouin intifada. There are 155,000
Bedouins in the Negev, and more than half of them live in unrecognised villages
without electricity or running water. I do not know what they might do,
but by making 300 people homeless, 200 of them children, Israel is
surely sowing dragon's teeth for the future.
Donald Trump’s attacks on democracy, justice, and a free press are escalating — putting everything we stand for at risk. We believe a better world is possible, but we can’t get there without your support. Common Dreams stands apart. We answer only to you — our readers, activists, and changemakers — not to billionaires or corporations. Our independence allows us to cover the vital stories that others won’t, spotlighting movements for peace, equality, and human rights. Right now, our work faces unprecedented challenges. Misinformation is spreading, journalists are under attack, and financial pressures are mounting. As a reader-supported, nonprofit newsroom, your support is crucial to keep this journalism alive. Whatever you can give — $10, $25, or $100 — helps us stay strong and responsive when the world needs us most. Together, we’ll continue to build the independent, courageous journalism our movement relies on. Thank you for being part of this community. |
A menacing convoy of bulldozers was heading back to Be'er Sheva as I
drove towards al-Arakib, a Bedouin village located not more than 10
minutes from the city. Once I entered the dirt road leading to the
village I saw scores of vans with heavily armed policemen getting ready
to leave. Their mission, it seems, had been accomplished.
The
signs of destruction were immediately evident. I first noticed the
chickens and geese running loose near a bulldozed house, and then saw
another house and then another one, all of them in rubble. A few
children were trying to find a shaded spot to hide from the scorching
desert sun, while behind them a stream of black smoke rose from the
burning hay. The sheep, goats and the cattle were nowhere to be seen -
perhaps because the police had confiscated them.
Scores of
Bedouin men were standing on a yellow hill, sharing their experiences
from the early morning hours, while all around them uprooted olive trees
lay on the ground. A whole village comprising between 40 and 45 houses
had been completely razed in less than three hours.
I
suddenly experienced deja vu: an image of myself walking in the rubbles
of a destroyed village somewhere on the outskirts of the Lebanese city
of Sidon emerged. It was over 25 years ago, during my service in the
Israeli paratroopers. But in Lebanon the residents had all fled long
before my platoon came, and we simply walked in the debris. There was
something surreal about the experience, which prevented me from fully
understanding its significance for several years. At the time, it felt
like I was walking on the moon.
This time the impact of the
destruction sank in immediately. Perhaps because the 300 people who
resided in al-Arakib, including their children, were sitting in the
rubble when I arrived, and their anguish was evident; or perhaps because
the village is located only 10 minutes from my home in Be'er Sheva and I
drive past it every time I go to Tel Aviv or Jerusalem; or perhaps
because the Bedouins are Israeli citizens, and I suddenly understood how
far the state is ready to go to accomplish its objective of Judaising
the Negev region; what I witnessed was, after all, an act of ethnic cleansing.
They
say the next intifada will be the Bedouin intifada. There are 155,000
Bedouins in the Negev, and more than half of them live in unrecognised villages
without electricity or running water. I do not know what they might do,
but by making 300 people homeless, 200 of them children, Israel is
surely sowing dragon's teeth for the future.
A menacing convoy of bulldozers was heading back to Be'er Sheva as I
drove towards al-Arakib, a Bedouin village located not more than 10
minutes from the city. Once I entered the dirt road leading to the
village I saw scores of vans with heavily armed policemen getting ready
to leave. Their mission, it seems, had been accomplished.
The
signs of destruction were immediately evident. I first noticed the
chickens and geese running loose near a bulldozed house, and then saw
another house and then another one, all of them in rubble. A few
children were trying to find a shaded spot to hide from the scorching
desert sun, while behind them a stream of black smoke rose from the
burning hay. The sheep, goats and the cattle were nowhere to be seen -
perhaps because the police had confiscated them.
Scores of
Bedouin men were standing on a yellow hill, sharing their experiences
from the early morning hours, while all around them uprooted olive trees
lay on the ground. A whole village comprising between 40 and 45 houses
had been completely razed in less than three hours.
I
suddenly experienced deja vu: an image of myself walking in the rubbles
of a destroyed village somewhere on the outskirts of the Lebanese city
of Sidon emerged. It was over 25 years ago, during my service in the
Israeli paratroopers. But in Lebanon the residents had all fled long
before my platoon came, and we simply walked in the debris. There was
something surreal about the experience, which prevented me from fully
understanding its significance for several years. At the time, it felt
like I was walking on the moon.
This time the impact of the
destruction sank in immediately. Perhaps because the 300 people who
resided in al-Arakib, including their children, were sitting in the
rubble when I arrived, and their anguish was evident; or perhaps because
the village is located only 10 minutes from my home in Be'er Sheva and I
drive past it every time I go to Tel Aviv or Jerusalem; or perhaps
because the Bedouins are Israeli citizens, and I suddenly understood how
far the state is ready to go to accomplish its objective of Judaising
the Negev region; what I witnessed was, after all, an act of ethnic cleansing.
They
say the next intifada will be the Bedouin intifada. There are 155,000
Bedouins in the Negev, and more than half of them live in unrecognised villages
without electricity or running water. I do not know what they might do,
but by making 300 people homeless, 200 of them children, Israel is
surely sowing dragon's teeth for the future.