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Settling for Less — The Planned Resettlement of Israel's Negev Bedouin

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Summary

Steven C. Dinero’s study of the government-planned resettlement of Israel’s Negev Bedouin, centred on the planned town of Segev Shalom/Shqeb where he conducted research from the early 1990s, argues that the state-forced resettlement into planned new towns since the 1960s was ill conceived and poorly designed, was planned with no Bedouin input until very late, and served the state’s agenda of relocating the Bedouin off the land into concentrated areas for its own political ends rather than the community’s needs; he traces the community from four million dunams and 60,000-90,000 people before 1948, through expulsion and flight leaving 11,000, concentration in the siyag under Military Administration and indirect rule through co-opted sheikhs, to the successive planned towns — Tel Sheva, Rahat, K’seifa and Aroer/Arara B’Negev, Hura, Laqiya and Segev Shalom — and finds the first seven towns in socioeconomic crisis, with 65-75 percent of the Negev Bedouin population below the national poverty line; he then profiles Segev Shalom in detail — inaugurated in 1979 for the Azazmeh, governed first by the Masos Regional Council and from 2000 by an elected Bedouin mayor, fiscally the best-managed of the towns yet with an Industrial Zone employing no more than 30 men and most commerce unofficial — and sets out the four household surveys (1993-2007) by which he measures quality of life against residents’ own perceptions; Chapter 3’s 2007 results show a town stratified between Azazmeh and Tarabeen/Abid residents, improving on the state’s own indices yet voiced by residents chiefly as inequality, loss and unmet expectations, and Chapter 4 opens by showing healthcare and education — the state’s two showcase services — as the areas residents find most dysfunctional, with sedentarization itself generating new health needs such as diabetes; Chapter 4 closes by showing education as a double-edged sword — the more educated are more critical, less likely to vote, and more likely to favour Islamic parties — Chapter 5 traces identity’s shift from “bedouin” (75.4 percent of primary labels in 1996) to “Muslim” (49.6 percent in 2007) under a state policy Dinero calls de-bedouinization, amid growing Jewish Israeli talk of an inevitable “bedouin intifada”, and Chapter 6 opens the account of resettled women, whose literacy and wage work have risen sharply while neo-traditional veiling and polygyny (32 percent of town households in 2007, 48 percent in the pezurah) persist; Chapter 6 closes with the focus-group women largely rejecting polygyny and with women’s changing roles as the community’s bellwether, Chapter 7 sets the Jewish-run “Noble Desert Savage” tourism narrative and Bustan’s “voluntourism” victim narrative against bedouin entrepreneurs telling their own story, and Chapter 8 closes the book’s main text arguing that planning must work with multiple futures and with the bedouin rather than for them, proposing regional tourism and a camel-dairy economy, while recording that most residents still experience resettlement as loss and surrender; a Postscript dated Miami Beach, 18 May 2009 then updates the town through Kher El-Baz — Amir Abu-Mu’amar re-elected in November 2008 after Sheikh Ouda’s death at 96, jobs in the new Ir HaBahadim base confined for bedouin to low-skilled fields, and a poultry plant nearly complete with perhaps 450 jobs by early 2010 — before the Bibliography and Index close the volume (Settling for Less — The Planned Resettlement of Israel’s Negev Bedouin, PDF p.15-250).

What the file is

The open access ebook edition (2019) of the book first published in 2010 by Berghahn Books (New York • Oxford), Volume 3 of the Space and Place (Anthropology of Space and Place) series, made available under a CC BY-NC-ND 4.0 license thanks to Knowledge Unlatched (PDF p.4-6). ISBN 978-1-84545-762-4 (hardback) and 978-1-78920-109-3 (open access ebook) (PDF p.6). 250 PDF pages, about 106,501 words; printed pagination runs to p.222 (the Index, which begins on printed p.218) with front matter in roman numerals to p.xxv. Maps 1.1 and 1.2 are not reproduced in this open access ebook, with the notice “This image is not available in this open access ebook due to rights restrictions” (PDF p.33, 36). The text copy is legible with occasional ligature and spacing artefacts (“Th e” for “The”, small-caps chapter titles in private-use characters). Dinero is a professor in Philadelphia (Philadelphia University) who first encountered the Negev Bedouin as an American high school exchange student in Qiryat Gat in 1978 and has researched Segev Shalom since the early 1990s (PDF p.15-16, 22).

Section by section

Front matter (PDF p.1-14)

Cover, series page, title page, copyright and cataloguing, dedication “For Penina”, Contents, and lists of Figures, Tables, Illustrations and Maps (PDF p.1-14). The Contents lists the Preface (xiii), Acknowledgements (xx), a Note on Arabic and Hebrew Transliteration and Translations (xxiv), eight chapters — Ch.1 Planning in the Negev Bedouin Sector (printed p.1), Ch.2 Segev Shalom—Background and Community Profile (p.36), Ch.3 Planning, Service Provision, and Development in Segev Shalom (p.64), Ch.4 Health and Education (p.92), Ch.5 Negev Bedouin Identity/ies Development in Segev Shalom (p.119), Ch.6 The Resettled Bedouin Woman (p.145), Ch.7 Bedouin Tourism Development Planning in the New Economy (p.166), Ch.8 Segev Shalom—A City on the Edge of Forever? (p.186) — a Postscript (p.205), Bibliography (p.207) and Index (p.218) (PDF p.9-10).

Preface (PDF p.15-21 / printed p.xiii-xix)

Dinero opens with a herding scene near Hatzerim on 23 March 2007 and his first glimpses of Bedouin from a bus in 1978, then states his research since the early 1990s in Segev Shalom/Shqeb on how planning transitioned a formerly pastoral-nomadic community from tents to towns, shepherding to wage labor, and an ascriptive- to an achievement-oriented order (PDF p.15-16). Three provisos: nomadism is a complete social, economic and political system, not mere geography (citing Salzman 1980); planned change differs from unanticipated change, and planning is a tool that in Israel has made “omelets”, “soufflés” and “messes”; and the Bedouin do not shun modernity or aspire to an Orientalist “Lawrence of Arabia” image (PDF p.16-17). The central question is how change over six to ten decades served Bedouin needs compared with the interests of Israeli Jews at large, when a government “has set its sights on this community and will not rest until every bedouin has become what it wants, rather than what the bedouin want, the community to be” (PDF p.17). The Bedouin are lifestyle, ethnic (Arab) and religious (Muslim) minorities in a dominant Jewish state, within the Arab-Israeli and Palestinian-Israeli conflicts; ordinary Bedouin and Jewish planner voices are rarely heard, and the book uses lengthy quotations as a corrective (PDF p.17-18). Chapters 3-5 draw on four anonymous household surveys (1993, 1996, 2000, 2007) measuring “Quality of Life”, combined with interviews, focus groups and participant/observation (PDF p.18). The Preface previews the findings: planned change fell short, unplanned change (identity, women’s roles) followed, tourism is the rare economic success, and the community has endured hardship while “getting very little in return—in effect, settling for less” (PDF p.19-21).

Acknowledgements and Note on Transliteration (PDF p.22-27 / printed p.xx-xxv)

Acknowledgements name the Berghahn team, Haifa University hosts, a Fulbright Senior Research Grant and other funders, BGU advisers Avinoam Meir and Gideon Kressel, manuscript readers Emanuel Marx and Aref Abu-Rabia, the Masos Regional Council and Segev Shalom Local Council, Muhammad Masri, Saeed El-Harumi, Ilan Sagie (died November 2009), Kher El-Baz, headmasters Abdullah Jirjawi and Muhammad (Abu-Tarek) Hamamdi, and Taleb and Amira Abu-Kueider and family; signed Philadelphia, 23 July 2008 (PDF p.22-25). The transliteration note explains the simplified system, Anglicized ayins, alefs and kafs, and the communication gap between Israeli Jews who mostly do not speak Arabic and Bedouin Israelis who mostly speak Hebrew but prefer Arabic (PDF p.26-27).

Chapter 1. Planning in the Negev Bedouin Sector — opening and history to the siyag (PDF p.29-36 / printed p.1-8)

The chapter opens on new-town Utopianism: a planned town can be Utopian only if planned with potential residents’ interests as guiding principle, not planners’ self-interests (PDF p.29). Applied to the Bedouin towns, the resettlement “was ill conceived, poorly designed, and is, to the present day, questionable in every facet”, and its failure to involve the community “was not accidental, but was part of the state’s agenda to relocate the bedouin off of the land and into concentrated areas as quickly as possible for its own political ends”; many Bedouin perceive the initiative “as nothing short of a dismal failure” (PDF p.30). Before 1948 the Bedouin controlled four million dunams, numbered 60,000-90,000, and comprised seven macro-tribes (kabila) — Tarabeen, Tiyaha, Hanajira, Jibarat, Sa’idiyin, Ahyawat and Azazmeh (PDF p.31). After the 1948 War only 11,000 remained, the majority having fled or been expelled; 90 percent of remainers were Tiyaha and only a few hundred Azazmeh remained, of whose twelve sub-tribes only the Mas’udiyin remained intact (PDF p.31). The Military Administration removed the remaining Bedouin into the siyag, a “restricted” or “fenced-in place” of some 1,000 square kilometres, one-tenth the original habitation area, with exit permits; its purported purpose was security and removing Bedouin from “state lands”, and state policy from then encouraged permanent concentrated settlement and effectively eliminated nomadism, partly on the politicized assumption that sedentarization would turn Bedouin cultural orientation from Arab toward modern Western culture (PDF p.31-32). Four settlement areas resulted — Huzaiyil (Rahat), Hura, Laqiya and Tel Sheva — initially with no plan and no services other than schools (PDF p.32). Concentration restricted pastoral movement, drove soil overuse, and pushed wage labor: by the mid-1960s 45 percent of Bedouin male labourers worked in agriculture, 23 percent in construction, transport and services, and 32 percent were “unemployed” in the wage economy (PDF p.33). Women, girls and elders took over flock-tending; density in the siyag was 15 persons per square kilometre against 2 in the Sinai and 220 in the rest of Israel, among nearly 3,300 families (PDF p.34). Settlement in the siyag was not spontaneous: Boneh calls the Bedouin “reluctant participants in the process of sedentarization” (PDF p.35). The Administration ruled indirectly through co-opted sheikhs who distributed land and permits, replacing a decentralized, consensus (ijma’a) society with top-down rule (PDF p.35-36). The Bedouin were granted Israeli citizenship in 1954, which severed regional ties and made the state responsible for their healthcare, schools and facilities (PDF p.36-37).

Chapter 1 — the new town initiative, Tel Sheva and the fellahin (PDF p.37-40 / printed p.9-12)

In the early 1960s the state decided a limited number of town sites would permanently settle and concentrate the Bedouin and deliver services; Dudu Cohen of the Ministry of the Interior (24 April 2007) is quoted that a government can only deliver services in a central location and “you can’t do it in the wilderness” (PDF p.37). Against this, others contend the plan born on 19 September 1965 aimed primarily at removing the Bedouin from the land to end their ownership claims (Swirski & Hasson 2006:17, as cited) (PDF p.37). Tel Sheva, the first planned town, had 43 buildings by 1968; its 70 m2 houses and 400 m2 lots were too small, residents housed animals in houses and lived in backyard tents, the shopping centre failed against the Be’er Sheva Thursday suq, and by the mid-1970s only 25 of 46 government-built houses were occupied (PDF p.38). Those who did move in were overwhelmingly fellahi Bedouin — landless tenants of Egyptian origin who had leased land from “True” Bedouin, held an inferior position, and sought permanent settlement and upward mobility; “True” Bedouin mostly refused, fearing settlement on other tribes’ land, and land-ownership concerns along fellahi/“True” lines remained the primary distinction between relocators and remainers (PDF p.38-40). The Azazmeh, in the southern Highlands, had limited fellahi or outside exposure and a continued livestock preference, contributing to their later resistance to permanent settlement (PDF p.40).

Chapter 1 — Planning Since the 1960s: Rahat, the Albeck Committee, K’seifa and Aroer (PDF p.40-46 / printed p.12-18)

A new approach began with Rahat in the early 1970s: recognized in 1973, its self-built neighbourhoods were designated for related “True”, fellahi or Abid groups, preserving tribal hierarchies while also serving state social-engineering interest in tribal integration (Fenster 1991, as cited) (PDF p.40-41). Rahat attracted residents far more successfully: 10,000-12,000 people by 1982 and at least 42,000 by 2007, “the largest bedouin community in the world” (PDF p.42). The 1975 Albeck Committee restated three principles: the state does not recognize Bedouin ownership of the land they live on (the pezurah); the Bedouin can be compensated on relocation despite that; and compensation is premised on their moving to a planned town (PDF p.42). K’seifa and Aroer (Arara B’Negev) were built in 1982 to expropriate land for the Tel Malhata military air base required by the Camp David withdrawal from Sinai — 150,000 dunams on which 5,000-7,000 Bedouin resided; Bedouin erected tents and nearly 5,000 structures in 1982 alone to create “facts on the ground” (PDF p.42-43). The Bedouin Team and then the 1980 Implementation Authority used development-anthropological methods and participation, but negotiators were community elite bound by ijma’a, the Chief Negotiator accepted fellahi pressure-group demands, and promises the Authority could not deliver backfired (PDF p.43-45). In final analysis government’s primary concern was land appropriation for the base: “We just wanted to build the air strip, that was our job” (Shoshani, 7 December 1992, as quoted) (PDF p.46). Through the 1980s resettlement often relied on forced relocation by the Green Patrol, created by Ariel Sharon in 1978 (PDF p.46). The Bedouin Authority, created in 1986, holds a “monopoly” on planning and development, is compared to the US Bureau of Indian Affairs, and has all administrative positions headed by Jews (Swirski & Hasson 2006, as cited) (PDF p.46).

Chapter 1 — lot planning, eligibility and removal, to the towns’ crisis (PDF p.47-54 / printed p.19-26)

The Bedouin Authority Director (Yeshuran, 10 May 2007) is quoted defending all-Jewish staffing in the Authority (PDF p.47). Hura (1989) and Laqiya (1985) were recognized from siyag-era spontaneous concentrations (PDF p.47). The standardized planning steps were aerial-photograph household counts, an on-foot survey, and neighbourhood planning by tribal breakdown (Shapira, 24 November 1992) (PDF p.47). Developing a one-dunam lot cost the government on average 40,000 NIS (about 42,500) (PDF p.49). Planners state hamula (family-group) resettlement defeats any free-market contractor model (Dudu Cohen, 24 April 2007) (PDF p.50). In the worst case the Land Authority takes groups to court; Bedouin outside the towns are by law illegal squatters, no court challenge has succeeded, and the government razes vacated settlements with bulldozers; the Bedouin Authority Director grounds this in rule of law and order (Yeshuran, 10 May 2007) (PDF p.50). The roughly 40 percent who do not relocate are replacing tents with tin shacks and cinder block to signal permanence against the Green Patrol (PDF p.51). Planning remained top-down, with local councils largely limited agents of “resistance” and “resilience” (Meir 2007, as cited), and Meir is quoted that the state, “by regarding the western style of urban life as the only viable option for the Bedouin, and by excluding them from participating in decision making… considered its knowledge superior to that of the Bedouin” (PDF p.51). Under “The Outcome—The Socioeconomic Viability of the First Seven Planned Towns”, the towns are in crisis: 65-75 percent of the Negev Bedouin population lives below the national poverty line; Bedouin are 27 percent of the Negev population living on 2 percent of the land; neighbouring Jewish towns have far lower densities than Segev Shalom’s (PDF p.52). Average family income in the towns is less than half Be’er Sheva’s; natural increase is 5 percent per year (5.5 percent growth doubling the population every fourteen to fifteen years); the towns have no economic rationale and minimal commercial or industrial infrastructure (Lithwick 2002, as cited); low budgeting and poor follow-through leave the towns consistently among Israel’s ten poorest, and in 2003 only half of the “Planning and development in the minorities sector” allocation was used (Swirski & Hasson 2006, as cited) (PDF p.53-54). Unemployment in the Bedouin towns is approximately 35 percent against 12 percent in Be’er Sheva, and over 64 percent of the employed hold “blue collar” positions; a state planner (Dudu Cohen, 24 April 2007) proposes first-phase industries such as carpentry, metalworking and greenhouses alongside high tech (PDF p.54).

Chapter 1 — conclusions: the unclear benefits of urban living (PDF p.55-63 / printed p.27-35)

The chapter closes on the towns’ economic failure and the reasons Bedouin stay in the Pezurah. Eighty-seven percent of Bedouin women in the planned towns are not considered in the labour force, and urbanized Bedouin wages average about 3,000 NIS/month less (men) and 1,700 NIS/month less (women) than in Be’er Sheva (Swirski & Hasson 2006:96-97, as cited) (PDF p.55). Swirski & Hasson argue that concentrating the Bedouin chiefly reduced the visibility of “the [Bedouin] problem” for the country’s leaders, while the recognized towns’ own problems — lack of infrastructure, low-quality services, no economic development — await resettlers (PDF p.55). Dinero argues the roughly 40 percent of some 175,000 Bedouin who do not move stay because of potential land loss and because the towns failed as the Utopian magnets that were supposed to draw them, even though pezurah living is illegal and its approximately 40 settlements face demolition (PDF p.58). Officials partly agree: Ilan Sagie (24 March 2007) concedes people think they are losing by moving to Segev Shalom, and Dudu Cohen (24 April 2007) describes using town children’s access to electricity and the Internet as “non-formal education” pressure on pezurah parents, a model Dinero notes cannot work where half of Segev Shalom’s neighbourhoods have no phone lines and the town has no Matnas community centre (PDF p.58-60). The Abu-Basma settlements’ mixed agricultural/pastoral neighbourhoods and convertible lots (Moshe, Bedouin Authority planner, 15 February 2007) are presented as the planners’ belated admission that Bedouin resist planning that ignores their interests (PDF p.56-57). Dinero’s four conclusions: the plans were poorly designed without Bedouin participation; budgeting was halfhearted; planners implement as well as they can while their directive remains getting the Bedouin off the land; and the community is skeptical, distrustful and reluctant (PDF p.61-62). The Bedouin Authority Director (Yeshuran, 10 May 2007) concedes the contradiction that the courts require services in the pezurah while the state deems living there illegal (PDF p.62-63). A chapter note credits some historical information to Dinero’s 1995 Rutgers Ph.D. dissertation (PDF p.63).

Chapter 2. Segev Shalom — founding, early development and demography (PDF p.64-71 / printed p.36-43)

Segev Shalom/Shqeb as-Salaam was officially inaugurated in 1979 under a unique agreement between Azazmeh Sheikh Ouda and the state allowing the tribe to settle on its own traditional lands; with Aroer and K’seifa it formed the Masos Regional Council from 1988 until the three split into separate municipalities in 1996, and the town first elected its own Bedouin Rosh Ha’Moatzah in 2000 (PDF p.64). The Azazmeh — “True” landed Bedouin with the most to lose, and the last tribe to adopt agriculture (Kressel 2003:56, as cited) — resisted most: the town, the smallest of the first seven, was initially designated over 4,000 dunams for 10,000 people but only became an active resettlement site in 1986 (Kressel gives the true founding as 1984), with 40 families in 1985 and 18 permanent buildings in 1986 (PDF p.65). The first large in-migration was the Masri Hamula, 120 Abid households from Emek Sarah from 1987, led by Muhammad Masri (PDF p.65). By late 1992, when the study began, 60 percent of developed lots were sold and houses had been started on 40 percent of those sold; Shekhuna Alef and Bet lots were 77 percent sold, Gimmel’s 24 percent (Ministry of Housing 1992, as cited) (PDF p.67-69). By 1995 the town had 420 households and 2,354 people, an average household of about 6 (PDF p.70, 74). The Azazmeh have always been the numeric majority (never above about two-thirds of survey respondents); the Abid community — who in town call themselves “Tarabeen” — has grown rapidly since 2000 and is viewed by Azazmeh residents as separate, with Shekhuna Bet as “their neighborhood” (PDF p.70-71). Fellahi were at first forcibly kept out by Azazmeh leadership, and 15-20 families of Palestinian “collaborators” (shtinkerim) resettled in the 1990s are highly stigmatized (town leadership estimate, 2007) (PDF p.71).

Chapter 2 — politics and town development (PDF p.71-82 / printed p.43-54)

Ilan Sagie, the Jewish Rosh Ha’Moatzah of Masos from 1988 to 1996, is quoted (16 November 1992) that economic problems are worse in town than in the pezurah — electricity, water and taxes cost money — and a 2007 survey respondent remembered his tenure favourably against later leadership (PDF p.72-73). After Masos was dissolved on 1 August 1996 (following a 1994 Supreme Court appeal by the three towns’ tribes), the Segev Shalom Local Council sat under a Shas-controlled Interior Ministry and the party appointee Eliezer Mizrachi, a Jerusalem-based diamond polisher, served as Rosh Ha’Moatzah for four years, a period Dinero calls a turn for the worse (PDF p.73). A 1997 state strategy sought to “contain the spread of the scattered Arab population, prevent further invasion into state land, and tighten the enforcement of the state’s planning and construction laws” (Yiftachel 2003:39, as cited) (PDF p.73). In September 2000 the town elected its first Bedouin mayor, Amir Abu-Mu’amar, eldest son of Sheikh Ouda; quoted at length (10 December 1992), he argues the town destroyed the Bedouin economy’s two foundations — agriculture and animal-raising — and the land claim is political: “This town is our grave” (PDF p.74, 77-78). Unseated narrowly in September 2004 by Saeed El-Harumi, running on a platform supported by Israel’s Islamic parties, Amir was succeeded by an administration emphasising infrastructure and schools, backed by over 18,500) in 2007 for a further lot (Yeshuran, 10 May 2007) (PDF p.80).

Chapter 2 — commercial development and conclusions (PDF p.82-91 / printed p.54-63)

By the late 2000s the town had five public schools, two health clinics, three mosques and a small post office (PDF p.82-83). Dinero argues the state’s shift from “stick” to “carrot” after 2000, and participatory planning from 1995 (Moshe Moshe, Bedouin Authority planner, 15 February 2007), coincided with entrepreneurial growth, but most commercial activity is unofficial and unregistered because residents avoid regulation and taxes: an official Moatzah list (2 May 2007) records 22 businesses, and even it omits bridal salons, a pizza shop, butchers, garages, a doctor’s office and a bakery that Dinero lists by observation (PDF p.83-85). The 258-dunam Industrial Zone held eight listed businesses employing no more than 30 men in total (Ministry of Industry, Trade, and Labor, via El-Amour, 14 June 2007), with a subsidized chicken plant planned to employ 400-500 from late 2009; El-Amour charges that lots sit unbuilt for years amid cost and bureaucracy, so “we can’t really say that there even is an Industrial Zone in Segev Shalom at all” (PDF p.86-87). Meir & Baskind (2006) found no statistically measurable difference in entrepreneurial activity between the planned towns and the pezurah, because promised public investment “have been negligible” (PDF p.88-89). The chapter concludes that indices show improvement residents do not feel, that the state treats the gap as cultural rather than contextual, and quotes Dudu Cohen (24 April 2007) at length placing the onus on the community — women’s restricted occupations and schooling, polygyny and one low-tech breadwinner — which Dinero reads as the foundation of the state’s planning agenda (PDF p.89-91).

Chapter 3. Planning, Service Provision, and Development in Segev Shalom — opening and method (PDF p.92-100 / printed p.64-72)

The chapter opens with Muhammad (Abu-Tarek) Hamamdi (11 November 1992) on the town shiq as nostalgia: town Bedouin “have lost something by coming here. But of course, you can see what we’ve gained” (PDF p.92). Dinero sets out his method for measuring growth and quality of life: four independent household surveys (1993, 1996, 2000, 2007), framed by the World Bank’s resettlement policies and evaluation techniques (Cernea 1988; 1990; 1993), the urban-functions premise that concentrating services is “more efficient and effective than scattering services and facilities widely over the landscape” (Rondinelli 1990:242, as quoted) — which he calls the state’s resettlement argument in a nutshell — and Social Impact Analysis (Freeman et al. 1979), under which social costs and benefits count alongside economic ones (PDF p.93-96). Israel’s Jewish new towns of the early 1950s used the same Christaller central-place hierarchy, with planning rarely regional and results at best mixed (Efrat 1984, as cited) (PDF p.95). Quality of life is defined perceptually following Cutter (1985): “Is life better in town than in the pezurah?”, with individual and communal benefits distinguished (PDF p.96). The surveys used clustered random sampling by occupied lot, administered door to door by Bedouin students: 81 questionnaires in March 1993 (38 percent of occupied households), 102 in July 1996 (36 percent), 150 in July 2000 (31 percent; 480 households against 215 in 1993), and 236 in March 2007 (21 percent of 1,124 officially recognized households in a town of 6,248 residents), with a refusal/no-one-home rate averaging about 20 percent and declining (PDF p.97-98). The 2007 results open with age and length-of-residence correlations: younger residents were more educated, more literate, less likely to live polygynously, more likely employed and to own phones, cars and computers (all p≤.05, mostly p=.00); 60 percent of 2007 respondents had lived in town at least 11 years, against 58 percent at five years or less in 1993; newer arrivals were more educated and literate than old timers yet more likely to live in lower-income households (PDF p.99-100). Table 3.1 gives the 2007 respondents as 49 percent male, 77 percent aged 40 or under, 68 percent married, 32 percent in polygynous families, 58 percent Azazmeh and 32 percent Tarabeen (PDF p.100).

Chapter 3 — the 2007 results: stratification, consumption and services (PDF p.101-110 / printed p.73-82)

The 2007 indicators (Table 3.2) give 88 percent literate, 53 percent employed, 78 percent of households under 10,000 NIS/month, and job locations split 45 percent Jewish area/town, 40 percent Segev Shalom itself, 8 percent moshav/kibbutz and 7 percent Bedouin area, with 37 percent raising animals and 45 percent raising crops (PDF p.101). Table 3.3 gives relocation reasons as 47 percent family, 27 percent government force, 20 percent services/quality of life and 6 percent born here/other, with 80 percent in a permanent house, 80 percent on public electricity and 96 percent on utility water (PDF p.102). The chapter’s central finding in this stretch is stratification: the Azazmeh and the Tarabeen/Abid differ in aggregate into “a vast social and economic disparity” — the Tarabeen raise animals and crops as an income supplement (Shekhuna Bet’s corrals and gardens mark the neighbourhood physically), while the Azazmeh own the high-end goods; Tarabeen purchases of TV, washing machine and refrigerator are read as essentials of post-nomadic life, not leisure (PDF p.102-104). Only 22 percent of employed men work in the town against 76 percent of employed women, and Dinero records the residents’ fear that the towns are “economically empty peripheral proletarian spaces” servicing Jewish urban cores (PDF p.105). Government force faded as a stated reason for moving while the quality-of-life attraction rose and then, by 2007, faded in turn as the promises of the 1980s-1990s went undelivered; the refrigerator — impossible on the Pezurah’s four to five hours of generator power — is the single good distinguishing quality-of-life movers from forced movers (PDF p.106-107). Forced movers, especially polygynous Azazmeh households, were more likely to say they do not feel equal with other Israelis; satisfaction with services tracks the ability to pay for them, and lower-income Tarabeen rate the town’s services higher than the Azazmeh do — “unmet expectations” on one side, acceptance of little on the other (PDF p.108-109). Under “Qualitative Data: The Voice of the People”, Dinero warns that “rating” is a novel, malleable concept for respondents, whose first answer is usually “kweis” or “b’seder” (“OK”); in 2000, 66 percent said life was better than 10-15 years before and 4 percent worse, and in 2007 better rose to 74 percent while worse rose to 25 percent; the open-ended answers demand cleaner streets, gardens and a matnas activity centre with courses and children’s programmes (PDF p.110).

Chapter 3 — residents’ voices, the pezurah comparison and conclusions (PDF p.111-119 / printed p.83-91)

The quoted voices temper the indices: a 19-year-old praises electricity, clinic, school and post office, then lists the missing bus to Be’er Sheva, security checks that single out Bedouin, and unequal school support; other respondents call the state racist toward the Bedouin, describe hospital care that dismisses Bedouin patients, and — in Table 3.4 — six men voice the costs of town living (arnonah and utility bills, work “just for the Jews”, promotion passed over at Ramat Hovav, sisters whose Gaza husbands were denied teudot zehut and deported, caravan classrooms, a bus bill of 1,400 NIS a day) alongside attachment to the town’s schools and Arab culture; one 51-year-old, father of 22, says he moved “by mistake” (PDF p.111-113). Dinero stresses these views are not exceptional, and a 50-year-old woman summarises the ambivalence: “We have progressed a little, but then we’ve moved backwards and things are worse today than in the past” (PDF p.114). His small, explicitly non-representative comparative survey of 45 pezurah households (3-13 May 2007) found polygyny at 48 percent against the town’s 32 percent, no utility electricity or water in the pezurah, similar male employment and household income in both environments, town women far more likely to be in wage labour, and 97 percent of pezurah respondents against 77 percent in town saying they are not treated equally with Jewish Israelis (PDF p.114-117). The conclusions hold both registers: slow but steady improvement on the quality-of-life indices, an undeniable positive impact of resettlement for women in particular, and yet a pervasive sense of loss and anger — residents believe they are being told to settle for less than they deserve as full citizens, and the chapter closes by turning to healthcare and education as the services where the state claims most success and the community finds most dysfunction (PDF p.117-118). The chapter’s notes give the ‘crab-pot’ syndrome analogy and explain that Table 3.4’s extensive comments are all men’s, women remaining reluctant to speak in mixed settings, which is why a Bedouin Women’s Focus Group was created for Chapter 6 (PDF p.119).

Chapter 4. Health and Education — healthcare (PDF p.120-134 / printed p.92-106)

Chapter 4 opens under two Bailey proverbs: planning’s outcomes are mixed, and its inconsistency and negligence overshadow its gains, nowhere more than in healthcare and education (PDF p.120). Healthcare was the state’s founding rationale for sedentarization — Shapira: citizens are owed healthcare, but “when they are spread out they are difficult to access” (PDF p.121) — yet Shvarts et al. show it was confinement in the siyag, not dispersion, that spread TB and malnutrition; the 1949 Soroka mobile unit and the blame placed on Bedouin living conditions are set against that finding (PDF p.121). The 1953 Maternal Insurance Law shows inducements working: hospital births reached 95 percent within four decades (Belmaker, 19 April 1993), while the 1961 Ministry of Health document “Development of medical services for the Bedouin” made stone-house settlement itself the prescription (PDF p.122). Sedentarization then generated its own morbidity: diabetes, “virtually unknown among Bedouins in the Negev three decades ago” (Abou-Rbiah and Weitzman 2002:689, as quoted), runs at 5.5 percent in the towns against 3.9 percent in the pezurah (A. Cohen et al. 2005), with higher LDL cholesterol and obesity, especially among women, and twice the hypertension among Abid women (Jacob Dreiher, 14 March 2007) (PDF p.123-124). In Segev Shalom 99 percent of households use the town services centred on the Tipat Halav and the Kupat Holim clinic (new building, January 2007; about 250 patients a day; some 60 percent of its 15,000 enrolled patients from the pezurah), 84 percent also use Soroka Hospital and 38 percent private doctors (PDF p.124-125). Dreiher, the clinic internist, is quoted at length on the diabetes and hypertension “epidemic”, on genetic-counselling consultations rising from 1,000 in six months to 3,000 in the next twelve, and on Bedouin “fatalism” as the barrier to compliance; Dinero reads a lack of cultural awareness in his account, counterposes Sheiner et al.’s less judgmental reading, and gives the Laqiya medic Al-Sana’s anecdotes (11 November 1992), in which refusals of intervention are followed in two cases by healthy outcomes and in others by loss (PDF p.125-129). Private care marks growing wealth and class distinction — Azazmeh, the more educated and higher-income residents use private doctors most — while satisfaction with the public clinic rises with its new building; the complaints that persist from 1993 are inconvenient hours, staffing, and above all the lack of Arabic-speaking personnel (26 percent of 2007 respondents), which Dreiher disputes with the clinic’s staff figures, concluding “the professionality [sic] of the healthcare worker is more important than his/her ethnic background” (3 June 2007) (PDF p.130-132). On welfare, Lubetzky et al.’s “clash of cultures” explanation is criticised for placing the onus on the user; until 2007 the town had no dedicated social welfare office, and social worker Tsofit Goren (7 May 2007) describes a population now demanding quality services “like that in the Jewish system” — which, Dinero notes, is exactly the expectation gap that produces the disenchantment (PDF p.132-134).

Chapter 4 — education to PDF p.143 (PDF p.134-143 / printed p.106-115)

Under “Educational Services — A Case of Unintended Consequences”, Dinero states that today’s Negev Bedouin are the most formally educated Bedouin community in their history, and perhaps in the Middle East, in the sector whose provision is most critiqued (PDF p.134). The Compulsory Education Law was little enforced early on; by the mid-1950s roughly 17 percent of school-age boys were enrolled, and enrolment rose only after the siyag was removed (PDF p.134). Dropout ran at 67 percent in 1995 against 43 percent in other Arab areas, with roughly 55 percent the most consistently cited figure; Bagrut matriculation rose from 6 percent of Bedouin examinees in 1995 to 26 percent in 2002, still behind the Arab sector’s 34 percent and the Jewish sector’s 52 percent (Katz et al. 1998; Abu-Rabia 2006, as cited) (PDF p.135). Only 60 percent of the region’s teachers are Negev Bedouin and many were historically uncertified; against the “culture” explanation (Meir 1997), Abu-Saad documents purposeful neglect: the State Comptroller’s 1992 report put 1990-91 per-capita ministry expenditure at 308 NIS per Jewish student against 168 NIS per Arab student (Abu-Saad 1995:150, as quoted) (PDF p.135-136). The gender gap in schooling has all but disappeared by 2007 and literacy has risen concurrently (Figures 4.2, 4.3) (PDF p.136). In Segev Shalom the three elementary schools held over 2,350 pupils, the high school 1,800 and the new middle school over 150 in 2007, against a single 580-student secondary school in 1992; 40-60 percent of elementary and 60 percent of secondary pupils are bussed from the pezurah — a shortage Dinero calls in part purposeful, since only elementary schools are built there and the schools are treated as “temporary” — and overcrowding (average class 36, El-Farona, 19 February 2007) and caravan classrooms persist despite a late-1990s finding that 146 classrooms a year were needed (PDF p.137-139). Headmasters Ibn-Nasir and El-Farona (19 February 2007) both argue parental follow-through, not residence or living conditions, distinguishes students — parents with little education sometimes show the greater commitment — while El-Farona voices the perception problem: a graduate whose brother is unemployed on state payments asks “For what?”, and young men pre-emptively assume a job is not for them because they are Bedouin or did not serve in the army (PDF p.140-142). The 2007 correlations close the part: education predicts employment for women, the under-40s, the Tarabeen and lower-income residents but not for Azazmeh men, for whom educational achievement carries no statistical link to a compatible wage-labour position; the more educated have higher family incomes and are less likely to raise animals or crops in town (PDF p.142-143). Chapter 4 continues beyond PDF p.143.

Chapter 4 — education correlations, consumption and politicization (PDF p.144-146 / printed p.116-118)

The 2007 correlations close Chapter 4: the more educated own phones, VCR/DVD players, cars, satellite dishes, washing machines and computers at higher rates, but the striking pattern is inverse affordability — lower-income residents with higher education are the most likely to acquire the material goods of twenty-first-century Israeli society (PDF p.144). The more educated are generally more critical of town services, with exceptions such as electrical service (PDF p.144). They are less likely to have voted in the most recent national elections (p=.01) — an alienated group tending to be under 40, Tarabeen and higher-income — more likely to say the national government is “failing to serve the needs of the bedouin community” and to feel unequal with other Israelis, and more likely, especially among higher-income men, to favour Islamic parties over Jewish/Zionist parties, while being less likely to frequent the mosque (PDF p.145). Dinero concludes that education is a double-edged sword: the more residents learn and see of Jewish society, the more they perceive Segev Shalom’s neglect and their own unmet expectations; no sector is affected more than women, each new school class now 50 percent female (PDF p.146).

Chapter 5. Negev Bedouin Identity/ies Development in Segev Shalom (PDF p.147-172 / printed p.119-144)

The chapter, epigraphed with Bailey’s proverb “He who has no sheep has nothing”, argues that through land confiscation and forced resettlement the state sought to de-territorialize, control, encapsulate, assimilate, proletarianize and “de-bedouinize” the Bedouin, but this “active policy of social conquest” only strengthened resolve and fostered Arabicization and Islamicization as public identity, as part of the Palestinian Arab Muslim minority; Palestinian statehood, while significant, is a “low level priority” beside the state’s domestic development policies in staving off an impending “bedouin intifada” (PDF p.147-148). Following Cole (2003), bedouinism is a lifestyle, not an ethnic group, now defined increasingly by deprivation and by who the Bedouin are not; in the Negev, identity formation is fostered by external forces, including a Jewish/Zionist narrative whose institutions “systematically excluded Arabs” (Shafir & Peled 2002:44, as quoted) and scholarly binaries presenting Arabs as “anti-Jews” (Rabinowitz 2002, as cited) (PDF p.148-150). Before de-territorialization, identity worked at a micro level through the three groups — ‘Arab (“True” Bedouin), fellahin and Abid — and at a macro level through El-‘Arab/El-Bedu against El-Yahud; access to “Israeliness” is blocked by the state’s Jewish symbolism, its expressed rise among Arabs from the mid-1970s to mid-1990s reversing from the late 1990s (Ghanem & Smooha 2001, as cited), and “Israeliness” may be becoming a class distinction (PDF p.151-152). Residents voice the loss directly — a pezurah shopkeeper: “There, you will find bedouin. Not here!”; café worker Haidar on everyone “running” — while planners such as Dudu Cohen read the same changes as absorption into Jewish Israeli society, and Bedouin Authority planner Moshe Moshe credits the fellah, in sharply worded terms, with stimulating the “True” Bedouin toward business and education (PDF p.153-155). A shop owner (6 March 2007) sums up internal change — money, the privatized shiq, “Everyone wants to be their own sheikh” — and the post-2000-intifada reclassification by Jewish Israelis: “you’re Arabs … it’s all the same thing” (PDF p.155). The survey data (Tables 5.1-5.6) show the primary identity label shifting from bedouin (75.4 percent in 1996) to Arab (37.5 percent in 2000) and then Muslim (49.6 percent in 2007), with Israeli labels peaking at 12.6 percent in 2000 and falling to 6.1 percent; the vast majority in all three surveys said they are not treated equally, regular mosque participation rose from 48 percent (1996) to 69 percent (2007), support for Jewish/Zionist parties collapsed to virtually none by the 2009 election, and agreement that the Islamic parties can further Bedouin interests held at about half of respondents in 2007 (PDF p.156-163). “Israeliness” in 2007 is increasingly an identity of youth, wealth and success — its choosers more likely to be in wage labour, longer resident, and now, reversing earlier surveys, more likely to say they came by government force — while “bedouinness” is tied to lack and loss, its choosers owning fewer consumer goods (PDF p.164-165). Under Islamicization and the ‘Inevitability’ of a Bedouin Intifada, Dinero sets Layish (1984) and Segev Shalom’s Imam Sheikh Salam Abu-Kalif (28 June 2007) — no mosques in the Negev Bedouin community in 1983, some ten built around then, literacy and schooling driving Quran connection — against Jewish Israeli fear discourse: Arnon Soffer’s “Trends among the Bedouin in the northern Negev — A threat to the entire Negev”, road-sign thefts attributed to Qassam-rocket smuggling, the Shai Dromi cause celebre of early 2007, and a 2008 Qiryat Gat schools programme with a video entitled Sleeping with the Enemy warning Jewish girls against Bedouin men (PDF p.166-170). Kher El-Baz (3 June 2007) answers the “otherization” — “Do they see us as citizens, or as enemies?” — and Yusuf of Bir Hadaj (6 March 2007), an army veteran with no electricity in a settlement of over 1,000, concludes “there’s just no hope for us”; Dinero notes such views are for the moment exceptional, but fear, resentment and anomie are growing (PDF p.170-172).

Chapter 6. The Resettled Bedouin Woman — traditional roles and the contest over control (PDF p.173-183 / printed p.145-155)

The chapter, epigraphed “He who collects more wives begets more men” (Bailey), uses the 2007 household survey and two Bedouin Women’s Focus Groups (BWFG, 9 and 29 May 2007) to argue that women’s roles have shifted markedly since 1992, yet a Western-model “women’s rights” agenda is limited, and “the control of women, their spaces, activities, behaviors, and basic freedoms, remains as yet a primary arena through which political resistance to the state’s mechanisms of power may yet freely be exercised” (PDF p.173). Traditionally women built and kept the tent, fetched water and wood and prepared food, and above all were biological and cultural reproducers whose status rose with births, especially sons; children were labour, old-age “social security” and a normative duty (Meir & Ben-David 1993, as cited), and women’s power, though real, was exercised domestically, within a shame/honor order enforced through seclusion (Marx 1967; Kressel 1992, as cited) (PDF p.174-176). Resettlement displaced that power into a gender contest over women’s bodies: Jakubowska (1988, as cited) links increased control to women’s proximity to non-agnatic men, Dinero (1997) to lost continuity outside the home, and Meir (1997:161, as cited) holds that women’s social position has “deteriorated considerably” under sedentarization, with haram and ‘ird controls intensifying in town; social welfare services, redeveloped away from a “Western, feminist model” to work through the extended family and its influential men (Goren, 7 May 2007), address the resulting stresses (PDF p.176-178). Against this, female literacy has risen far faster than male and is now nearly equal, town women use services more than pezurah women (El-Krenawi 2004, as cited), and women’s employment outside the home has skyrocketed by 2007 while male rates stayed virtually unchanged — though married women remain less likely to work than married men, working women work mainly inside Segev Shalom, and under-40 men are still more educated than under-40 women (Abu-Rabia-Queder 2006, as cited) (PDF p.178-180). Under “New Veiling and Polygynous Marriage — Retrenchment, Empowerment or Both?”, Dinero sets the development gains — some young women now drive, mixed meetings in Be’er Sheva are routine (El-Baz, 3 June 2007), fertility fell from 9 children per woman in 2003 to 7.6 in 2005 — against neo-traditional retrenchment: rising veiling and polygyny are not simply “traditional” revivals; the hijab and niqab function as a “portable tent”, extending women’s mobility through anonymity in the dense town (Goren, 7 May 2007), are partly haj-brought Saudi fashion (El-Harumi, 28 May 2007), and can express individual and umma identity rather than only subjugation — a reading Dinero qualifies with a proviso about the pain polygyny causes in lived experience (PDF p.180-183).

Chapter 6 — the focus groups and polygyny to PDF p.188 (PDF p.184-188 / printed p.156-160)

The two BWFG sessions, facilitated by Amira Abu-Kueider in a participant’s home, gathered ten married women (one divorced) aged 20-54, all wearing head coverings and none a face veil; their views on the new veiling ranged from religiosity (Delal, Rhonda, Sabra) to fashion (Houla, 20) to custom (Wadha A.) to mobility — Fatma: “[hijab] makes our lives here easier — I put on hijab and I can go anywhere” — to outright opposition from Wadha B., 54, a former first wife with two co-wives: “There is nothing in the Qur’an that requires this!” (PDF p.184). Polygyny among married household representatives was 31 percent in 1996 (N=95), 29 percent in 2000 (N=119) and 32 percent in 2007 (N=214), against 48 percent in the neighbouring pezurah (p=.04); sedentarization has not eliminated polygyny and has in part impelled it (Abu-Rabia et al. 2008:33, as cited; Cole 2006:383, as cited) (PDF p.184-186). Dinero reviews the critical literature — El-Krenawi and El-Krenawi & Slonim-Nevo on food security, conflict and women’s well-being as the hinge of family functioning — against Elbedour et al. (2002), for whom a valued practice carries no stigma and so buffers its stressors, and his own argument (2006) that polygynous families are often a community’s wealthiest and most powerful, not its poorest; in Segev Shalom the higher-income share was 23.1 percent polygynous against 20.5 percent monogamous, not statistically significant (PDF p.186-187). Social worker Goren (7 May 2007) reports a new female view — “the women themselves [now] see polygamy as oppressive” — with jealousy and unequal support replacing the older view of co-wives as extra help, and links some violence to very young arranged marriage followed by later love matches. The 2007 profile makes age the definitive factor (older residents far more likely polygynous, p=.00), with polygynous families longest resident in town, and wealthier polygynous families now Azazmeh rather than Tarabeen (p=.03) (PDF p.187-188). Chapter 6 continues beyond PDF p.188.

Chapter 6 — polygyny’s predictors, the focus groups on the pezurah and polygyny, and conclusions (PDF p.189-193 / printed p.161-165)

The 2007 correlations complete the polygyny profile: polygynous residents are disproportionately Azazmeh (p=.01), less educated (p=.03) and less literate (p=.01), and less likely to own a telephone, satellite dish, washing machine or VCR/DVD player, while more likely to own animals and raise crops; the strongest predictors after age are years living in town (p=.009) and animal ownership (p=.041) — the longest-resident, most reluctant arrivals holding onto polygyny and livestock as signifying elements of bedouinism, and a second wife functioning for many Azazmeh men as a “trophy wife” signifying status even when unaffordable (PDF p.189-190). In the focus groups, women from Jordan and the pezurah praise the town’s electricity, water, schools and clinics, while older women speak nostalgically of pezurah freedom — Wadha B.: “In the pezurah I felt free. Here in town I feel suffocated” — and on polygyny the group is near-unanimous against: only Delal supports it, Wadha A. calls it a “‘blemish,’ a wound upon our society”, and Iman concludes “the Christians have it right: one woman, one man. That’s it!” (PDF p.190-192). Dinero concludes, with Abu-Lughod (2002) and Abu-Rabia-Queder (2006), that women’s rights are not a Western import opposed to Islam; the sedentarized woman stands at the crossroads of tent and town, and her evolving role is the red flag for future conflict and the bellwether of the whole society — El-Baz (3 June 2007): “Our mistake is that we want our community to become Western in two days … but it’s a process. [But here] it’s random, not really planned” (PDF p.192-193). The chapter note keyed to the polygyny series states: “*Reliable data is unavailable from the 1993 survey” (PDF p.193).

Chapter 7. Bedouin Tourism Development Planning in the New Economy (PDF p.194-213 / printed p.166-185)

Epigraphed “The camel is the family’s father” (Bailey), the chapter contrasts three tourism narratives. The Jewish Israeli “perpetrator” narrative markets a Disneyfied, Orientalist “Noble Desert Savage” — heritage tourism at the Bedouin Shuk in Be’er Sheva, the Joe Alon Museum at Kibbutz Lahav and the “Bedouin Tent” stops on American Jewish youth trips — which places the onus of underdevelopment on bedouin culture itself: “the Israeli Jewish agenda of settling the land and controlling its borderlands … are central to the construction of Bedouin society as a tourist attraction” (Dinero 2002:91, as quoted) (PDF p.194-198). The post-2000 “victim” narrative — “poorism” and “voluntourism” (Hutnyk’s Calcutta; Kibera “pity tours”; Table 7.1’s slum tours) — is embodied by Bustan’s Negev Unplugged tours, which Dinero joined on 12 July 2007: a BIMKOM briefing in Segev Shalom that mentioned no benefits of resettlement, a Jewish organic farm, demolished houses at Hiram/Attir where a Bustan translator first glossed a resident’s anger, photographs of the ruins, and a Hura debriefing in which Hura’s own mayor spoke only of the demolitions; founder Devorah Brous frames the tours as “citizen diplomacy” meant to move participants to act, and a January 2008 United Jewish Communities study trip produced the same response in Jeff Klein: “I feel like I’ve been with the wrong tour guide for the past twenty-five years” (PDF p.199-206). Against both narratives, bedouin entrepreneurs present strength and pride: Ibrahim El-Afenish’s Ohel Ha’Shalom (“The Peace Tent”) in Rahat (opened 2006; about 300 tourists since opening, now mostly Rahat weddings), Abu Youssef’s Bedouin Hospitality Tent and Restaurant on Route 40N (since 2000; “like it once was”), and Suleiman El-Hrenik’s shiq in the unrecognized village of El-If’dai, who served under Ariel Sharon in the Yom Kippur War and now faces a demolition order on his son’s house: “We are bedouin, not Arabs! … We just want to live out here and be free!” (9 July 2007) (PDF p.206-212). Dinero concludes that El-Hrenik is neither savage nor victim but is barely heard, that the Bedouin Heritage Centre in Rahat failed while the Joe Alon Centre draws thousands, and that tourism — especially ecotourism — remains a sector of great promise centred on the planned towns (PDF p.212-213). The chapter note explains that no government officials offered their perspective on the Unplugged tour because of last-minute cancellations (PDF p.213).

Chapter 8. Segev Shalom — A City on the Edge of Forever? (PDF p.214-232 / printed p.186-204)

Epigraphed with Hamamdi (10 December 1992) on the romanticizing of bedouin life, the final chapter argues through Kumar (1987), Skinner’s Walden Two and the Star Trek episode City on the Edge of Forever that planning can only work with multiple possible futures; planners who see one fixed future “are not really planners; they are bureaucrats” (PDF p.214-217). Reviewing twenty-first-century Negev plans, Dinero finds bedouin concerns again peripheral: the 2000 district plan (petitioned against by the bedouin; the 2004 Abu-Basma proposal began the rural/urban balance), Abu-Saad & Lithwick’s 2000 economic-poles plan (Rahat as administrative centre, Tel Sheva as “Economic Pole”, a “Marshall Plan”, civilian Nevatim), the Jewish National Fund’s Blueprint Negev (119 million public plus US$166 million private, projected), and, following physiologist Reuven Yagil, a camel-dairy economy: camel milk has three times cow’s milk’s vitamin C and up to ten times the iron (FAO, as cited), Mauritania’s Tiviski dairy shows the model, but Negev bedouin resist controls and a traditional reluctance to sell milk stands in the way; Israel’s camel population fell from 10,000 (FAO, 1990) to about 3,000, Degen estimating some 2,500 in the Negev, 60-70 percent in the pezurah (PDF p.223-230). The book closes: indices point skyward and quality of life is higher than ever, yet most bedouin describe resettlement as “failure”; fifteen years of study show mistrust and hatred “as thick and as toxic as is the black smoke that billows out of the factories at Ramat Hovav”; settling in a town is viewed by bedouin as surrender of lands, pride, identity itself — “Having been the “Stranger in a Strange Land” themselves numerous times over the millennia, the Jewish people should understand this” (PDF p.230-232).

Postscript (PDF p.233-234 / printed p.205-206)

Dated Miami Beach, Florida, 18 May 2009, the Postscript is a conversation, not a chapter: nearly two years after his last intensive Negev research, Dinero walks Miami Beach with Kher El-Baz, Director of Social Services in Segev Shalom — both there for a small conference devoted to Negev regional development — and retells their first meeting nearly 20 years earlier in West Mt. Airy, Philadelphia. El-Baz reports that Amir Abu-Mu’amar was again elected for a five-year term in November 2008 as Rosh Ha’Moatzah of Segev Shalom, replacing Saeed El-Harumi, his election just following the death of his father Sheikh Ouda in early 2008 at the age of 96 (PDF p.233). In El-Baz’s opinion the town is showing increasing signs of economic growth: it had acquired positions in the labour force for the new military base Ir HaBahadim (City of the Training Bases), to be built just south of Be’er Sheva for a population of between 10,000 and 20,000 servicemen and women, though virtually all jobs available to bedouin would be low-skilled and lower-paying (laundry, food services), and high-security jobs would not likely be available to them; and the poultry processing plant, previously only in planning, was nearly completed, to employ perhaps 450 employees by early 2010, possibly double at full capacity, with female employees likely a significant part of its labour force given the Industrial Zone’s proximity to Shekhuna Bet (PDF p.234).

Bibliography (PDF p.235-245 / printed p.207-217)

The Bibliography lists the works and personal communications the book relies on, alphabetically by author or title: Dinero’s own earlier Segev Shalom studies (1995 dissertation; 1996; 1997; 1998a; 1998b; 1999; 2000; 2002; 2004; 2006; 2009), the dated personal communications with residents, officials and planners from 1992 to 2008 that are quoted throughout (among them Abu-Mu’amar 1992, Hamamdi 1992-2007, Shapira 1992, Shoshani 1992, Cohen 2007, Sagie 1993 and 2007, El-Baz 2007, Dreiher 2007, El-Harumi 2007, Yeshuran 2007, Yagil 2008, Degen 2008 and Migdadi 2008), the scholarly literature (Marx, Boneh, Cernea, Cole, Kressel, Abu-Rabia, Abu-Saad, Fenster, Meir, Shafir & Peled, Swirski & Hasson, Lithwick, Kumar, Nash, Hutnyk), official and organizational sources (Ministry of Housing annual reports 1990-1992, the Statistical Yearbook of the Negev Bedouin 1999, the Israel Central Bureau of Statistics, the UN Economic and Social Council document, JNF’s Blueprint Negev page, the Bustan Report 2005), and the press items cited in the text (Ha’Aretz, Ynetnews, The Jerusalem Post, The Jerusalem Report, BBC News, Reuters AlertNet, Smithsonian Magazine, MSNBC). Its final page prints the last five entries in this order: Yeshuran, Yiftachel, “The Wild South”, Winerman and, out of alphabetical order, Yagil (PDF p.245).

Index (PDF p.246-250 / printed p.218-222)

The two-column Index, running from “abaya (See modesty dress)” to “Zionist parties”, keys the book’s people, places, institutions and themes to printed pages, including the Postscript (Abu-Mu’amar, Amir, 205; El-Harumi, Saeed, 205; Tel Sheva, 205; Ir HaBahadim, 206; Industrial zones in Segev Shalom, 206). Its largest entries are Be’er Sheva, Jews, electricity, pezurah, polygyny, modernization and water, each with analytic subentries (Jews: attitudes towards the bedouin; employing the bedouin; in comparison with the bedouin; in conflict with the bedouin; in positions of authority; influences on the bedouin). As-printed slips in the Index are recorded under Open questions.

Key passages

Evidence the work relies on

  • Dinero’s own research in Segev Shalom since the early 1990s: four anonymous household surveys (1993, 1996, 2000, 2007), personal interviews, focus groups and participant/observation (PDF p.15-18).
  • Dated interviews with officials and residents quoted throughout Chapter 1, including Shapira (24 November 1992), Gur (18 May 1993), Dudu Cohen (24 April 2007), Yeshuran (10 May 2007), Shoshani (7 December 1992), Abu-Saad (2 November 1992) and Hamamdi (7 February 2007) (PDF p.31-54).
  • The secondary literature as cited in the text: Marx 1967, 1990; Boneh 1983; Meir 1988, 1990, 1997, 2007; Gradus & Stern 1985; Horner 1982; Ben-David 1993; Fenster 1991; Kressel 2003 and Kressel et al. 1991; Abu-Rabia 1994; Salzman 1980; Cole 2003; Bailey’s Bedouin proverbs; Swirski & Hasson 2006; Lithwick 2002; Katz and De Schutter 2001; and the Bustan Report 2005 (PDF p.29-54).
  • For Chapter 2: Ministry of Housing 1990 and 1992 lot and housing-start figures, the Statistical Yearbook 1999, Israeli Central Bureau of Statistics population figures 1995-2005 (Figure 2.1), a Segev Shalom Local Council business list and internal veterinarians’ document (fall 2006; 2 May 2007), Ministry of Industry, Trade, and Labor Industrial Zone employment figures (via El-Amour, 14 June 2007), and Meir & Baskind 2006 on Bedouin entrepreneurship; dated interviews with Shoshani, Shapira, Sagie, Masri, Hamamdi, Mu’amar, El-Harumi, Cohen, Moshe/Moshe Moshe and El-Amour (1992-2007) (PDF p.64-91).
  • For Chapter 3’s method: Cernea 1988; 1990; 1993 (World Bank resettlement evaluation), Rondinelli 1985; 1990, Belsky & Karaska 1990, Freeman et al. 1979 (Social Impact Analysis), Cutter 1985 (quality of life), Efrat 1984 (Jewish new towns), Thomas et al. 2001, Stycos 1993, Ben-David 1993, and Dinero’s own earlier survey reports (1995; 1996; 2000; 2004) (PDF p.93-99).
  • For Chapters 5-6: the surveys’ identity, voting and mosque-attendance tables (Tables 5.1-5.6), the two Bedouin Women’s Focus Groups of 9 and 29 May 2007 facilitated by Amira Abu-Kueider, and dated interviews with Sheikh Salam Abu-Kalif (28 June 2007), Kher El-Baz (3 June 2007), Tsofit Goren (7 May 2007), Saeed El-Harumi (28 May 2007) and Yusuf of Bir Hadaj (6 March 2007); the literature and press as cited: Cole 2003; 2006, Altorki & Cole 2006, Shafir & Peled 2002, Rabinowitz 2002, Layish 1984, Abu-Saad, Yonah & Kaplan 2000, Ghanem & Smooha 2001, Parizot 2006, Marteu 2005, Soffer’s “Trends among the Bedouin in the northern Negev”, Jakubowska 1988, Fenster 1996, Meir & Ben-David 1993, Abu-Rabia-Queder 2006, El-Krenawi 2004, El-Krenawi & Slonim-Nevo 2003, Elbedour et al. 2002 and Abu-Rabia et al. 2008 (PDF p.147-188).
  • For Chapter 3’s results and Chapter 4: the 2007 survey’s Tables 3.2-3.4 and Figures 3.1-3.7, the May 2007 comparative pezurah survey (45 households), and dated interviews with Jacob Dreiher (14 March and 3 June 2007), Ilana Belmaker (19 April 1993), Al-Sana (11 November 1992), Tsofit Goren (7 May 2007), Abdullah Jirjawi (7 February 2007) and headmasters El-Farona and Ibn-Nasir (19 February 2007); the literature as cited: Shvarts et al. 2003, Abu-Rabia 2005; 2006, Abou-Rbiah and Weitzman 2002, A. Cohen et al. 2005; 2007, Groode & Dreiher 2007, Sheiner et al. 2001, Lubetzky et al. 2004, Hays and Zouari 1995, Abu-Saad 1991; 1995; 1997, Abu-Rubiyya et al. 1996, Katz et al. 1998 and Human Rights Watch 2001 (PDF p.101-143).
  • For the Postscript: a conversation with Kher El-Baz at a Negev regional development conference in Miami Beach, 18 May 2009, reporting developments of November 2008 to early 2010 (Amir Abu-Mu’amar’s re-election, Sheikh Ouda’s death, Ir HaBahadim labour-force positions and the poultry processing plant) (PDF p.233-234). The Bibliography (PDF p.235-245) gathers the book’s full evidence base — the personal communications of 1992-2008, the scholarly literature, official reports and statistics, and press items catalogued in the bullets above — and the Index (PDF p.246-250) keys people, places and themes to printed pages, including the Postscript.
  • For Chapters 7-8: Dinero’s earlier tourism study (Dinero 2002) and Dinero et al. 2006; Hutnyk 1996; Nash 1989; 1996; Hobbs 1996; Lancaster 2007; Winerman 2006; “Slum Tourism…” (9 February 2007) and “Poverty Tourism” (4 February 2008) with Table 7.1; Bustan’s Negev Unplugged website text and Devorah Brous (2 July 2007); Dinero’s participant observation of the 12 July 2007 Unplugged tour and Jeff Klein (16 January 2008) on the January 2008 United Jewish Communities / Inter-Agency Task Force study trip; YNet, “A Bedouin Welcome” (4 July 2007); interviews with Ibrahim El-Afenish (5 July 2007), Abu Youssef (4 July 2007) and Suleiman El-Hrenik (9 July 2007); Kumar 1987 on utopian planning and Skinner’s Walden Two; the 2000 Negev district plan (United Nations Economic and Social Council document); Abu-Saad & Lithwick 2000 and Lithwick 2002; JNF’s Blueprint Negev (JNF.org); Swirski 2007 on the Daroma 2015 Plan; the Israel Ministry of Foreign Affairs 1997 Jordan River Valley proposal and Ezrahi 2003; and the camel-dairy material: FAO figures as cited, Reuven Yagil (22 March 2008), Degen (25 March 2008), Hussein Migdadi (30 April 2008), Awawdeh et al. n.d., and “Milking the Benefits from Camels” (21 April 2006), “Camel Milk Transforms Mauritania’s Herding Lifestyle” (20 August 2007), “Desert Dessert” (1 September 1999) and “Negev: Car Strikes Camel…” (11 September 2007) (PDF p.194-232).

Analysis

Dinero writes as a planner and geographer sympathetic to the Bedouin community and to planning as a discipline: his framing question is whether planning was done for residents or for planners, and his Chapter 1 answer is that in the Negev it was done for the state’s land and concentration aims, with service provision as its stated rationale. He holds state and Bedouin accounts side by side — quoting officials (Cohen, Yeshuran, Shapira, Shoshani) and residents at length beside the critical literature (Boneh, Fenster, Swirski & Hasson, Lithwick, Meir) — and his own verdicts (“ill conceived, poorly designed”, “dismal failure” as community perception) are stated in his own voice in the chapter’s opening and closing movements. The book moves from historical and institutional survey (Chapter 1) into the Segev Shalom case study: Chapter 2 combines Land Authority and ministry statistics with long attributed quotations from successive mayors and planners, and its argument — that the town’s real growth is indigenous and unofficial while the state’s planned Industrial Zone is empty — rests on the contrast between the Moatzah’s own incomplete business lists, which Dinero corrects by observation, and the ministry’s employment total of no more than 30 men. Chapter 3 makes the method explicit, adopting the state’s own concentration premise (Rondinelli, Cernea) and testing it against perceptual quality-of-life measures, so the survey design itself holds planner and resident accounts side by side rather than resolving them. In the results chapters Dinero repeatedly sets a provider’s or official’s explanation against the users’ account of the same service — Dreiher against his patients, the clinic’s staff figures against the 26 percent who report no Arabic-speaking personnel — and intervenes in his own voice only to mark where an explanation places the onus on the user (the “bewildering” Lubetzky passage) or where an as-printed figure does not compute. The pezurah comparison is presented with its limits stated up front (45 households, non-representative), and its strongest use is negative: on male employment and household income it shows no town advantage, which undercuts the resettlement rationale on its own economic terms while leaving the women’s-employment difference standing as the initiative’s clearest measured gain. Chapters 5-6 extend the same method to identity and gender: Dinero lets the label data (Table 5.1) carry the de-bedouinization argument rather than anecdote, sets planner and fear-discourse voices (Cohen, Moshe, Soffer, the Qiryat Gat programme) beside residents’ and officials’ replies (El-Baz, El-Harumi, Yusuf) without resolving them into one account, and in the veiling discussion explicitly corrects his own earlier empowerment reading (Dinero 2006) with a proviso drawn from the focus-group women’s conflicting views, which he reports side by side — religiosity, fashion, custom, mobility and Qur’anic objection — rather than choosing among them. Chapters 7-8 make the same move at the level of narrative and policy: Dinero names his own earlier “perpetrator” framing (Dinero 2002), then shows its mirror image — the voluntourism “victim” framing, documented from inside a Bustan tour he joined as participant observer, including the tour’s own silences (no resettlement benefits, a glossed translation) — before giving the floor at length to three bedouin vendors whose accounts fit neither frame. Chapter 8’s recommendations are explicitly his own, offered from a stated outsider position (“advantaged and disadvantaged”), and its plan survey (district plan, Abu-Saad & Lithwick, Blueprint Negev, Daroma 2015) is used to show a continuity his interviewees confirm from different sides: bedouin concerns peripheral in each successive plan. The closing verdict keeps the two registers of the whole book side by side without resolving them — indices “skyward”, residents’ verdict “failure”. The Postscript then demonstrates the book’s own warning that its subject is a moving target: the political succession (Amir’s return, Sheikh Ouda’s death) and the two economic developments it reports are given wholly through El-Baz, an interested town official, with no survey or documentary check, and even its optimism carries the book’s central qualification inside it — the new base jobs open to bedouin are the low-skilled ones, and the plant’s promise rests on projected, not actual, employment. The Bibliography makes the evidence base auditable — every dated interview and personal communication quoted in the text is listed with its speaker’s role — while its closing disorder and the Index’s slips, recorded under Open questions, show the apparatus was not proofread to the standard of the text.

Steven C. Dinero, Segev Shalom, Naqab, Siyaj, Tel Sheva, Rahat, Pezurah, Bedouin Authority, Green Patrol, Azazmeh, Tarabeen, Jacob Dreiher, Beersheba, Arik Sharon, Hamula, Ilan Sagie, Amir Abu-Mu’amar, Saeed El-Harumi, Muhammad Masri, Ouda Abu-Mu’amar, Dudu Cohen, Masos Regional Council, Abu-Basma, Benjamin Netanyahu, Shas, Kher El-Baz, Arnon Soffer, Shai Dromi, Bir Hadaj, United Arab List, Bustan, BIMKOM, Devorah Brous, Ibrahim El-Afenish, Suleiman El-Hrenik, Reuven Yagil, Jewish National Fund, Ir HaBahadim, Ouda Abu-Mu’amar

Sedentarization, Quality of life, Polygyny, Islamicization, Bedouin identity, Hijab, Judaization, Voluntourism

How it relates to other sources

Dinero’s account of the siyag/siyaj concentration, the non-recognition of Bedouin land ownership and town planning as a land-control instrument agrees in outline with The Ongoing Judaisation of the Naqab and the Struggle for Recognising the Indigenous Rights of the Arab Bedouin People, which Dinero’s Chapter 1 predates in publication (2010 against 2012) and which reaches the same towns through the Judaisation and indigeneity frame; Dinero adds the planner’s institutional history (Albeck Committee principles, the Bedouin Team and Implementation Authority, lot costs and eligibility rules) and named official and resident voices from 1992-2007 interviews. Both sources are held here with their own terms — Nasasra’s “siyaj” and Dinero’s “siyag” for the same enclosed zone; see Siyaj.

Open questions

  • Segev Shalom’s area and density as printed do not compute together: “an area of 5,500 km2”, a population of 6,005 in 2005 and a density of 915.8 people/km2 (Bustan Report 2005:3, as cited, PDF p.52 / printed p.24). 6,005 at 915.8/km2 implies about 6.6 km2. Both figures are recorded as printed, not reconciled.

  • The 2002 planned-community population is given as 76,364 (Negev Regional Development Center, via Swirski & Hasson 2006:66), and the next clause says this suggests “some 150,000 bedouin live in the seven urban communities”, with nine further Abu-Basma communities added since (PDF p.53 / printed p.25). Both figures are recorded as printed, not reconciled.

  • Boneh (1983:96, as cited) suggests “annexed” fellahi groups were expected to offer daughters as wives to their “True” Bedouin advocates, while Marx (1967:67, as cited) states this behaviour was not common in his fieldwork (PDF p.39 / printed p.11). Both accounts are held, not reconciled.

  • Whether the “Bedouin Authority” Dinero describes as created in 1986 (PDF p.46) is the same body as the “Bedouin Development Authority” named in The Ongoing Judaisation of the Naqab and the Struggle for Recognising the Indigenous Rights of the Arab Bedouin People is not stated in either work; the pages are kept separate pending a source that names both.

  • El-Amour’s reaction to Segev Shalom’s economic development is described as “far more sanguine” than Moshe’s (PDF p.87 / printed p.59, byte-verified as printed), although the statement attributed to him that follows is sharply critical of the Industrial Zone and of government investment; the wording is recorded as printed, not reconciled.

  • The businesses omitted from the Moatzah list are said to include “three butcher shops”, followed by five locations as printed: “two on the main road, one adjacent to Shekhuna Bet, and one adjacent to Shekhuna Alef, and one in the suq” (PDF p.85 / printed p.57, byte-verified as printed). Both the count and the locations are recorded as printed, not reconciled.

  • Dudu Cohen, praising Segev Shalom’s management, is quoted: “There are 8,000 new housing lots” (PDF p.82 / printed p.54), in a town whose neighbourhood lot plans given in Chapter 2 total in the hundreds per neighbourhood and whose 2007 population is given as 6,248 (PDF p.98). The quotation is recorded as printed, not reconciled.

  • Figure 2.1 is captioned “Segev Shalom Population Increase Averaging 387 Resettlers/Year, 1995–2005” (PDF p.74), while the text gives the 1995 population as 2,354 (PDF p.70) and the 2007 population as 6,248 (PDF p.98); no 2005 population figure is given in the book to check the average against. Recorded as printed.

  • The Bedouin Authority planner quoted in Chapter 1 as “Moshe” (15 February 2007, PDF p.57) and in Chapter 2 as “Moshe Moshe, a Bedouin Authority planner who has worked in Segev Shalom” (15 February 2007, PDF p.83) appears to be the same person on the same date, but the text does not state this; the names are recorded as printed in each place.

  • Table 3.2’s education figures as printed — None 15%, Some elementary 10%, Post elementary 26%, HS grad 54%, Post HS 5% — sum to 110% (PDF p.101 / printed p.73, byte-verified against the original PDF). The categories are recorded as printed, not reconciled.

  • The better/worse/same figures for 2000 as printed — 66% better, 4% worse, 25% about the same — sum to 95% (PDF p.110 / printed p.82). No “about the same” figure is given for 2007 in that passage. Recorded as printed, not reconciled.

  • The pezurah identity comparison is given twice with different figures: pezurah respondents are said to be more likely to identify as bedouin (p=.01), “47 percent compared to 19 percent in the pezurah” — the second figure’s referent is printed as “the pezurah” again — and two sentences later town identification is given as 50% Muslim and 16% bedouin against the pezurah’s 30% Muslim and 48% bedouin (PDF p.115 / printed p.87, byte-verified against the original PDF). Both passages are recorded as printed, not reconciled.

  • “Azazme” is printed without the final h once, in “rate the water service higher than the Azazme (p=.02)” (PDF p.109 / printed p.81, byte-verified against the original PDF); the tribe’s name is otherwise printed “Azazmeh” throughout the part. Recorded as printed.

  • Figure 3.7 is captioned “Political Indices, Segev Shalom 1996–2007 and the Pezurah 2007” with sources given as the “1993, 1996, 2000, 2007 Surveys” (PDF p.115); the caption’s date range and source list do not match exactly. Recorded as printed.

  • Table 5.4’s 2007 Missing/no response figures as printed are 7 percent for men and 49 percent for women (PDF p.161 / printed p.133, verified against the original PDF); the women’s column as printed therefore sums to 144 percent (computed). Recorded as printed, not reconciled.

  • Table 5.6’s 1996 women’s column as printed — Agree 78, Disagree 12, Don’t know 9 — sums to 99 percent (computed) (PDF p.163 / printed p.135). Recorded as printed.

  • Table 5.1’s category totals as printed sum to 100.0 percent for 1996, 100.1 percent for 2000 and 100.1 percent for 2007 (computed) (PDF p.157 / printed p.129). Recorded as printed.

  • The text states that by 2007 “nearly 75 percent of respondents claiming regular religious participation” (PDF p.158 / printed p.130), while Table 5.3 on the same page gives Regular/frequent as 69 percent for 2007. Both are recorded as printed, not reconciled.

  • El-Krenawi & Slonim-Nevo (2003:43, as cited) are summarised as finding that more wives feel their husbands do not discriminate amongst his wives than feel he does discriminate, with the figures given in that sentence as 36 percent vs. 41 percent (PDF p.186 / printed p.158) — the comparative wording and the two figures as printed do not align. Recorded as printed, not reconciled.

  • The 2007 polygyny profile states that wealthier polygynous families tended to be Azazmeh, not Tarabeen (PDF p.188 / printed p.160), while the summary of the early (1996) findings on the same page states polygynous Azazmeh tended to be among the least educated, poorest residents and polygynous Tarabeen wealthier. Dinero presents the 2007 data as in part contradicting earlier findings; both profiles are recorded as printed, not reconciled.

  • As-printed wording held in this part: “historically quiescent, insolated population” (PDF p.168 / printed p.140), “statically verify” for “statistically verify” (PDF p.180 / printed p.152), and “Bedouin Womens’ Focus Groups” (PDF p.173 / printed p.145). Each verified against the original PDF or the text copy’s bytes.

  • The footnote at “in 1996*” for the polygyny series (PDF p.184 / printed p.156) is printed at PDF p.193 / printed p.165: “*Reliable data is unavailable from the 1993 survey.” Resolved in part 5.

  • As-printed wording held in this part, each verified against the original PDF: “insipient” for “insidious” (PDF p.195 / printed p.167), “problemacize” for “problematize” (PDF p.201 / printed p.173), “in may cases” for “in many cases” (PDF p.222 / printed p.194), “Emek Sarak” for the Emek Sarah Industrial Zone (PDF p.223 / printed p.195; “Emek Sarah” is printed elsewhere on the same page), and Swirski’s Daroma discussion cited as “(2007: 85-84)” with the page range reversed (PDF p.221 / printed p.193). Recorded as printed, not reconciled.

  • Israel’s 1990 camel population is given as 10,000 (FAO, as cited) with others reporting as high as 20,000 (“Israel’s Dr. Dolittle…”, 23 May 2007, as cited), the recent total as “somewhere around 3,000” and Degen’s Negev estimate as about 2,500 (PDF p.228 / printed p.200). All figures are recorded as printed, not reconciled.

  • Jordan’s camel total is given only as a range of 5,000-13,000 by 2000 (Awawdeh et al. n.d., as cited) and a consensus of 8,000 head (Migdadi, 30 April 2008) (PDF p.228-229 / printed p.200-201). Both are recorded as printed.

  • The Postscript sentence reporting Segev Shalom’s economic growth duplicates a word across the page break: “He notes that that the town has succeeded in its bid…” (PDF p.233-234 / printed p.205-206, verified against the original PDF). Recorded as printed.

  • The Bibliography’s final page prints its last five entries in the order Yeshuran; Yiftachel; “The Wild South”; Winerman; Yagil (PDF p.245 / printed p.217, verified against the original PDF) — Yagil out of alphabetical order, and “The Wild South” and Winerman after the Y surnames. Recorded as printed, not reordered.

  • The Bibliography entry for the Israel Central Bureau of Statistics is dated 2004 while the work it names is the Statistical Abstract of Israel 2006 (PDF p.240 / printed p.212). Recorded as printed, not reconciled.

  • Index slips as printed, each verified against the original PDF: the Islam entry’s locators run “17, 100, 139 156, 159, 164” with no comma between 139 and 156 (PDF p.248 / printed p.220); the Bedouin Women’s Focus Group entry gives “91N” with a capital N (PDF p.246 / printed p.218); the polygyny entry gives “139,145” with no space after the comma, and the modernization subentry “as equated with Jewish values 22, 28, 122, 126” has no comma after “values” (PDF p.249 / printed p.221); the Science Fiction entry reads “as a Planning model” with a capital P (PDF p.249 / printed p.221). Recorded as printed.

Coverage

Read in full, PDF p.1-250 of 250 (parts 1-6 of 6): front matter, Preface, Acknowledgements, transliteration note, Chapters 1-8, Postscript, Bibliography and Index; PDF p.250 carries only the open-access licence line below the Index.

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