There’s enough room here for all of us

In 2025, more than 100,000 Bedouin citizens of Israel still live in unrecognized villages across the Negev—without paved roads, electricity, or running water. These are Israeli citizens. And yet, they live with the constant threat that their homes could be demolished.

The roots of this crisis are complex—legitimate planning challenges, bureaucracy, cultural misunderstandings, and politics. Some of the causes for the deadlock come from within Bedouin society, too. But at its heart, this is about a state that has refused, for decades, to accept the legitimacy of Bedouin life in the Negev.

Whatever the reasons, the current reality is indefensible.

I work alongside young Bedouin leaders in the Negev. Again and again, I see how deeply they want to belong—to contribute, to be part of the Israeli story. But how can they believe they’re included when the state tells them, through bulldozers and demolition orders: You don’t count?

This isn’t just a planning issue. It’s a crisis of inclusion. Of belonging. Of hope.

Imagine how different things could be if government officials came to the table and said, first and foremost: We are sorry this is the situation. We want to help you find a place where you can raise your family. We have limitations. We may not be able to meet every need. But we will do our absolute best.

I know many Jewish Israelis are struggling too. We’re facing a savage and seemingly endless war, economic crises, impossible housing prices. Not all of us can afford homes either. But this is different. This isn’t about affordability. It’s about recognition. These citizens are not just underserved—they’re unseen.

To emphasize this point, not a single English-language news site has reported on the latest wave of demolitions. Dozens last week and again this week. How are families supposed to go on as though this is normal?

For those of us who aren’t personally affected, we can see and acknowledge their pain. We can care. We can show up.

Tomorrow at 10am there’s a protest at the Ministry for the Development of the Bedouin in Be’er Sheva, across from Soroka. I’ll be there. Will you?

The sign I’ll be holding tomorrow:
The Negev belongs to everyone.
There’s room here for us all.