Farhan al-Qadi, the hostage rescued from southern Gaza on Tuesday, is a member of the Bedouin, an Arab community marginalized by Israel that suffered painful losses in the Hamas-led Oct. 7 attack.
During the attack, at least 17 Bedouin were killed, including by Hamas rocket fire, and eight others were abducted. But little attention has been focused on their plight — a reflection of their peripheral status in Israel.
Tens of thousands of Bedouin live in unrecognized villages in the Negev desert, an upended triangle of arid land that borders Gaza and extends through southern Israel. The villages have long suffered from a lack of basic services, including running water and electricity. When Hamas fires rockets into southern Israel, Jewish communities largely can take cover in nearby bomb shelters, while dozens of these villages lack them.
Mr. al-Qadi’s address is in Rahat, a township established by Israel, but his home is actually in an unrecognized village, according to Fayez Abu Suheiban, a relative and the former mayor of Rahat. When he was abducted, Mr. al-Qadi was working as an unarmed guard at a kibbutz in southern Israel, Mr. Abu Suheiban said.
The Bedouin were historically a seminomadic group. But in the wake of the 1948 Arab-Israeli war, most were forced out of the Negev desert or fled to other parts of the region.
Israeli authorities concentrated those who remained in a smaller area of the desert, and later built seven meager townships for them, which Israeli experts said was an effort to corral a society that highly values independence into the structures of a modern nation-state. Today, there are roughly 300,000 Bedouin in the Negev, many of them under 18, about one-third of whom live in the unrecognized villages.
The Bedouin of the Negev long relied on herding sheep, goats and camels and harvesting wheat, barley and lentils, but now many have become part of the Israeli labor market, and some serve in the Israeli military. Unemployment is rampant and poverty is widespread.
Israeli officials have argued that the Bedouin do not have valid claims to the land in the unrecognized villages, and Israel’s courts have backed up that view. But Bedouin leaders have said they cannot meet demands for proof of ownership because they traditionally did not keep physical records.
“We’re citizens and we pay taxes, but the state doesn’t give us our rights because it wants to destroy our villages and concentrate us in densely populated townships,” said Atiya al-Asam, the chairman of the Regional Council of Unrecognized Villages in the Negev, a civil society group. “The state treats us in a very bad way.”
Many inhabitants of unrecognized villages rely on solar panels and batteries to turn lights on at night, run their refrigerators and watch television, and they use makeshift pipes to bring water to their homes. Homes made of corrugated sheet metal are ubiquitous — and particularly vulnerable to Hamas rockets.
“The rockets don’t distinguish between Arabs and Jews,” but “government policy does,” said Taleb al-Sana, a former member of the Israeli Parliament from a Bedouin community in the Negev.
Mr. al-Qadi’s release leaves three living Bedouin hostages believed to be in Gaza and a fourth who was declared dead by Israeli authorities. Two teenage Bedouin were released during a short-lived cease-fire in November, and another was one of three hostages mistakenly killed by Israeli forces in December.
In daring acts, some Bedouin saved the lives of Jewish Israelis on Oct. 7.
When Ismail Qrinawi, 45, and three other residents of Rahat heard the incessant rocket fire raining down on Israel that morning, they decided to travel to Kibbutz Beeri to rescue his cousin, who was working in the community’s food hall.
On the way, the four encountered terrified people fleeing the grounds of a music festival that had been invaded by militants, Mr. Qrinawi recalled. Without hesitation, they risked their lives to ferry dozens of them to safety in a Toyota Land Cruiser.
“We saved their lives because they’re people,” Mr. Qrinawi said in an interview. “My responsibility as a person is to save anyone I can. It doesn’t matter if you’re a Jew or an Arab.”
Shir Nosatzki, the director of Have You Seen the Horizon Lately, an organization that promotes Jewish-Arab partnership, said several survivors confirmed Mr. Qrinawi’s account to her as well as senior police officials.
Later that day, the Rahat foursome turned their focus to locating Mr. Qrinawi’s cousin. Braving gunfire all around them, they rescued him, along with a Jewish woman, too.