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The Dominican Republic was a haven for Jews fleeing the Nazis. A museum project could tell that story.

SOSUA, Dominican Republic (JTA) — Sitting inside a small wood-frame shul just around the corner from Playa Alicia, where tourists sip rum punch while watching catamarans glide by, Joe Benjamin recounted one of the most uplifting but often forgotten stories of Jewish survival during the Holocaust.

“I was bar mitzvahed right here,” he said, pointing to a podium at the front of the sanctuary in La Sinagoga de Sosua. It was built in the early 1940s to meet the spiritual needs of about 750 German and Austrian Jews.

At the time, the Dominican Republic was the only country in the world that offered asylum to large numbers of Jewish refugees, earning the moniker “tropical Zion.”

Benjamin, 82, is president of the Jewish community of Sosua and one of only four surviving second-generation Jews remaining in this touristy beach town on the northern coast of the Dominican Republic. His parents were part of the unconventional colony of Jewish immigrants who established an agricultural settlement between 1940-47 on an abandoned banana plantation overlooking the Atlantic Ocean.

“When I talk about that, I get goosebumps,” Benjamin said. “This is a distinction that the Dominican Republic has. It was the only country that opened its doors to Jews.”

Joe Benjamin, president of the Jewish Community of Sosua, inside the sanctuary of La Sinagoga. (Dan Fellner)

At the 1938 Evian Conference in France, attended by representatives of 32 countries to address the problem of German and Austrian Jewish refugees wanting to flee Nazi persecution, the Dominican Republic announced it would accept up to 100,000 Jewish refugees. About 5,000 visas were issued but fewer than 1,000 Jews ultimately were able to reach the country, which is located on the same island as Haiti, about 800 miles southeast of Miami. 

Benjamin was born in 1941 in Shanghai, the only other place besides the Dominican Republic that accepted large numbers of Jewish refugees during the Holocaust. Shanghai, then a divided city not under the control of a single government, did not require a visa to enter. About 20,000 Jewish refugees immigrated there, including Benjamin’s parents, who fled Nazi Germany in 1939.

In 1947, with a civil war raging in China, Benjamin’s father realized the country “was getting a little difficult” and looked for another place to raise his two children.

“I think my father read it in a newspaper – there was a Jewish refugee colony in the Dominican Republic,” he says. “My father had no idea where that was, but he said, ‘I’m going there.’” 

Benjamin’s family took a ship from China to San Francisco, a train to Miami, and then flew into Santo Domingo, the Dominican Republic’s capital city. At that time, the city was officially called Ciudad Trujillo after the country’s dictator, Generalissimo Rafael Trujillo, who ruled the Dominican Republic from 1930 until his assassination in 1961. 

Photos of some of the 750 Jewish refugees who settled in Sosua in the 1940s on display at the Gregorio Luperon International Airport in Puerto Plata, Dominican Republic. (Dan Fellner)

Historians suggest the Dominican dictator’s motives in accepting large numbers of Jewish refugees at a time when so many other countries — including the United States, Canada and the United Kingdom — turned their backs were fueled more by opportunism than altruism. It’s believed that Trujillo wanted to improve his reputation on the world stage following the 1937 massacre of an estimated 20,000 Black Haitians by Dominican troops. Furthermore, Trujillo liked the idea of allowing a crop of mostly educated immigrants who would “whiten” the country’s population.

“He was a cruel dictator,” Benjamin said of Trujillo. “But it’s not for me to judge. Because for us, he saved our lives. If you’re drowning and someone throws you a rope, you hold on to it. You don’t start asking his motive. You just hold on.”

In 1947, Benjamin was among the last group of Jewish refugees to arrive in Sosua, one of about 10 families known by the other colonists as the “Shanghai group.” The Sosua settlement was run by an organization called the Dominican Republic Settlement Association (DORSA) that was funded by the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee in New York.

“DORSA would give you 10 cows, a mule, a horse and a cart,” said Benjamin. “My father by profession was a cabinet-maker. He thought he was going to do that here. But there was no market for that. So he dedicated himself to farming.”

Benjamin said conditions in Sosua were “primitive” and a difficult transition for many settlers who had been city-dwellers in Europe. Still, he spoke fondly of a childhood in which he was relatively insulated from the horrors that befell so many other Jewish children his age. 

“We had enough to eat,” he says. “We enjoyed the beach. And I went to a Jewish school.”

La Sinagoga de Sosua in the Dominican Republic served the spiritual needs of the Jewish refugees who found a safe haven in Sosua during the Holocaust. It’s now open only for the high holidays. (Dan Fellner)

The school, originally called Escuela Cristobal Colon, opened in 1940 in a barracks and was attended by Jewish children as well as the children of Dominican farm workers. The school still exists and is now called the Colegio Luis Hess, named after Luis Hess, one of the Jewish settlers. Hess taught at the school for 33 years and lived in Sosua until his death in 2010 at the age of 101.    

While the children attended school, men worked on farms and women cooked dinner for their families, who ate communal style. Beds were lined with mosquito netting to prevent malaria. As men greatly outnumbered women — Trujillo did not allow single Jewish women to enter the country — intermarriage was common.      

Over time, the agriculture venture failed and DORSA instead decided to promote a beef and dairy cooperative, Productos Sosua, which ultimately proved successful. 

After finishing high school, Benjamin moved to Pittsburgh to attend college (he’s an engineer who once built and flew his own airplane), got married and started a family. After 17 years in the United States, he decided in 1976 to return to the Dominican Republic, where he became an executive with Productos Sosua. He worked there until he retired in 2004, when the firm was sold to a Mexican company.

“All my life I talked about Sosua as my home,” he said. “I like it here. Everybody knows me.”

A street mural recognizes Sosua’s Jewish history on the main road connecting Sosua with Puerto Plata on the north coast of the Dominican Republic. (Dan Fellner)

Today, Sosua is vastly changed from the sleepy town in which Benjamin was raised. In 1979, an international airport opened in Puerto Plata, just a 15-minute drive to the west. Sosua morphed into a congested tourist destination known for its golden-sand beaches and water sports. It also became a hub of the Dominican sex tourism industry. 

Most of Sosua’s Jewish population immigrated to the United States by the early 1980s. Benjamin estimates that only 30-40 Jews remain in Sosua, most of whom are not religiously observant. As a result, the synagogue hasn’t been able to financially sustain a permanent rabbi for more than 20 years. Services are held only on the high holidays, when a rabbi is flown in from Miami. 

Benjamin says a group of seven Jews chips in about $2,500 a month to pay for security and other operating expenses. 

“It’s very hard to get the Jews here to pay,” he said. “When we bring in the rabbi, we try to charge something. But we don’t get any people if we charge.”

Next to the synagogue is a small museum called the Museo Judio de Sosua, which offers a window into the town’s Jewish roots. Five years ago, the U.S. Embassy in Santo Domingo donated $80,000 to the museum to preserve and digitize its archives. However, the museum, which is badly in need of repairs, has been closed for the past year. 

The Museo Judio de Sosua, which tells the story of the Jewish refugees who found a safe haven in the Dominican Republic during the Holocaust. The museum is closed while the community waits for funding to reopen it. (Dan Fellner)

Benjamin has been in discussions with the Dominican government in hopes it will soon finance a major renovation of the museum that would include an exhibition hall big enough to accommodate 100 people for events. Benjamin says he is optimistic the project, which has a price-tag approaching $1 million, will be green-lighted by the government. 

“They are very positive about it because it could become a tourist attraction,” he says, noting that Puerto Plata and nearby Amber Cove have become popular port-stops on Caribbean cruises originating in Florida. “If it comes to fruition, it will be in the next year. Because if they don’t do it by then, the government changes. And the next government never continues what the previous government started.”

Otherwise, there are only a few remnants of Jewish life in Sosua for visitors to see. In Parque Mirador overlooking the Atlantic, there is a white cement-block star of David, built to honor the Jewish refugees. About 70 Jews, including Benjamin’s parents, are buried in a Jewish cemetery about a five-minute drive south of the synagogue. 

The main street connecting Sosua with Puerto Plata has a street mural depicting the town’s history that features a large star of David right above a scuba-diver. And two of the most prominent streets in Sosua — Dr. Rosen and David Stern — still bear the names of two of the colony’s Jewish founders. 

Dr. Rosen Street in downtown Sosua is named after Joseph Rosen, one of the founders of the Dominican Republic Settlement Association. (Dan Fellner)

There had been an exhibition about Sosua’s Jewish colony at the Museum of Jewish Heritage in New York but it closed several years ago. All the more reason, Benjamin says, that the Sosua museum reopens as soon as possible so that the story of the Jews who found a Caribbean cocoon to ride out the Holocaust isn’t forgotten. 

“Look at what’s happening in the world — there is a rise in antisemitism,” he said. “It’s very important that our history is documented. It will also be a place where Dominican schoolchildren can come and learn about Judaism.” 

With the museum closed, the only place in the area to see photos of the Jewish settlers on public display is the departure lounge in Puerto Plata’s airport. Next to a Dominican band serenading travelers with meringue music, there is a display of pictures showing the colonists riding horses, tilling the fields, attending school and praying in La Sinagoga. 

“When they came here, the Jews found no antisemitism at all in this country,” said Benjamin. “They were as free as anybody. They had a wonderful life.” 

—
The post The Dominican Republic was a haven for Jews fleeing the Nazis. A museum project could tell that story. appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.

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Netanyahu called for unity. His anti-Arab speech to the Knesset may have made it impossible.

Benjamin Netanyahu stood before Israel’s newly sworn-in Knesset this week and called for a national unity government. By the time he finished speaking, he may have made such a government under his leadership all but impossible.

At an occasion associated with festivity, democratic continuity and national purpose, Netanyahu denounced members of the Israeli Arab parties as “terror supporters, haters of Israel” and declared that Ra’am and the Joint List “both agree that the Jewish state must be destroyed.” He questioned his opponents for contemplating a government dependent on their support, asking whether they were prepared to entrust the country’s fate to people bent, in his mind, on its destruction.

Neither Arab party’s platform calls for the destruction of Israel, although the Joint List certainly does challenge elements of the Zionist consensus. Netanyahu’s speech  portrayed them as existential enemies, which prompted heckling from former premier Naftali Bennett, part of the leadership team forming a coalition with Gadi Eisenkot. And then Netanyahu called for national unity – as if the one-fifth of Israelis who are Arab citizens are not part of the nation.

Whatever his intentions, the effect was to remind a substantial part of the Israeli electorate why it has become so difficult to contemplate another government headed by Netanyahu.

“I sat and listened to the outrageous, divisive, hateful and disgraceful speech by the outgoing prime minister,” said Eisenkot, the former military chief who was tapped by President Isaac Herzog to form a new government after winning the recommendation of 67 out of 120 Knesset members. “I am even more convinced that he is unfit to remain in office for even one more minute …  His continued rule is dividing Israel and endangering its security.”

Political history is full of speeches and interviews that acquire a significance far beyond the circumstances in which they were delivered. Sometimes they capture a leader’s finest qualities. Sometimes they expose weaknesses that opponents had long suspected. And sometimes they become defining moments precisely because they reveal a politician’s lack of self-awareness.

Hillary Clinton’s reference to Donald Trump’s supporters as a “basket of deplorables” became an enduring symbol, evidence of  the  liberal condescension critics suspected of her. Mitt Romney’s privately recorded remarks about the “47 percent” of Americans he regarded as dependent on government came to encapsulate perceptions of an out-of-touch plutocrat. George W. Bush’s appearance beneath a “Mission Accomplished” banner became a monument to the premature triumphalism of the first Iraq War. Margaret Thatcher’s declaration that “the lady’s not for turning” crystallized the determination that admirers celebrated and critics considered inflexibility.

A few words in a speech can come to define an entire political personality – and Netanyahu already has one such speech to his credit.

In March 2015, he addressed a joint session of the United States Congress to warn against the nuclear agreement the Obama administration was negotiating with Iran. It was a dramatic performance, greeted enthusiastically by Republicans and regarded by many Democrats as an extraordinary intervention in an American political dispute. The lasting significance was the deterioration of Israel’s relationship with Democrats – or at least Netanyahu’s.

Eleven years later, Netanyahu may have delivered another defining speech, this time with consequences much closer to home.

This week’s setting was the swearing-in of Israel’s 26th Knesset. Netanyahu had lost his parliamentary majority, backed by just 53 of 120 seats. Eisenkot had already begun coalition negotiations, and the possibility of a broad national unity arrangement remained part of the political conversation – until, it seems, the speech.

Netanyahu invoked Israel’s grave security challenges, particularly the threat from Iran, to argue that only a unity government could meet the moment. But he grounded that appeal with a vicious attack on the Arab parties and on those prepared to cooperate with them.

His rhetoric will undoubtedly resonate with some Israelis. Many Jewish Israelis, including some who voted for opposition parties, are uncomfortable with the prospect of a government dependent on Arab political support. That discomfort is not simply racism, it reflects a complicated history in which Jewish and Arab citizens of Israel share a country while often identifying differently with the broader Israeli-Palestinian conflict.

Arab Israelis share ethnic, cultural, religious and familial ties with Palestinians and with populations across a region whose states have, at various times, fought wars against Israel. In a country that has lived with existential fears since its founding, such ties have sometimes generated suspicions of divided loyalties. Objectively, they could be suspected of being a classic potential fifth column that works covertly with Israel’s surrounding enemies, who share their religion and ethnicity.

But the actual record of Arab citizens’ participation in Israeli society tells a very different story from the one Netanyahu presented or what fear and conspiratorial thinking could suggest.

Arab Israelis are deeply embedded in the country’s institutions, professions and daily life. They constitute roughly half of Israel’s pharmacists and about a quarter of its doctors and nurses. Arab citizens have served as judges, including on the Supreme Court. Justice Salim Joubran, an Arab Christian, chaired Israel’s Central Elections Committee in 2015.

They are integral to the functioning of the Israeli state. And despite decades of conflict, the overwhelming majority of Arab citizens have pursued their lives and political aspirations through civic institutions rather than violence or subversion. Cases of terrorism or disloyalty have been extremely rare.

I am a frequent guest, interviewee and host at events run by Bokra, an NGO and news website run by Ghada Zhoabi, a champion of peace, integration and coexistence. I thought of this fine Israeli Arab leader, presently celebrating a successful get-out-the-vote campaign, besmirched by her prime minister.

There is a crucial distinction between rejecting Zionism as a political ideology, advocating a state of equal citizenship, supporting Palestinian national aspirations and seeking Israel’s violent destruction. Netanyahu’s speech erased those distinctions.

Indeed, Mansour Abbas, the leader of Ra’am, has gone further than many Arab politicians before him in seeking practical accommodation with the Israeli political system. His party joined the Bennett-Lapid coalition in 2021, an unprecedented step for an independent Arab party. Abbas has repeatedly emphasized his commitment to pursuing his constituents’ interests through Israeli politics. And he has accepted Israel as a Jewish state.

Responding to Netanyahu’s accusations, Abbas declared that his party was not seeking to establish either an Islamist or an Arab state in Israel. “We have defined ourselves within the State of Israel as citizens,” he said, reiterating his support for peace and a two-state solution. He also emphasized that his party condemns terrorism. He said the speech created danger to his life and to his family.

For a prime minister to respond to such overtures by portraying Arab political participation as a threat to the state’s very existence is to throw a grenade into a powder keg.

And that explains, in part, why the reaction to the speech was so swift and harsh.

Eisenkot’s Yashar party had scheduled a meeting with Likud representatives to explore coalition possibilities. Following Netanyahu’s speech, Eisenkot canceled it, describing the address as divisive and inappropriate for the ceremonial opening of the Knesset. Likud responded that Netanyahu stood by his remarks but remained committed to national unity.

Even Aviv Bushinsky, a former Netanyahu communications adviser, expressed bewilderment. He contrasted the performance with Netanyahu’s conciliatory appeal for unity in 2019 and recounted receiving calls from foreign ambassadors who had attended this week’s ceremony and wondered what they had just witnessed.

National unity requires something that cannot be measured in parliamentary seats: mutual legitimacy and a minimum of trust. Political adversaries must believe that cooperation will not become another instrument of their humiliation or marginalization.

For many Israelis who voted for parties opposed to Netanyahu, the central obstacle is not necessarily Likud, its voters or even its policy preferences. It is Netanyahu himself.

Years of political conflict, disputes over democratic institutions and the unresolved reckoning over Oct. 7 had already made his continued leadership unacceptable to many opposition voters. But the speech may have hardened that sentiment into something even less negotiable, offering a fresh illustration of the political behavior they had voted to end.

Netanyahu’s speech did not make a unity government under his leadership more plausible. It made it harder to imagine.

The post Netanyahu called for unity. His anti-Arab speech to the Knesset may have made it impossible. appeared first on The Forward.

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Pope praises the bond uniting the Catholic Church with the people of Israel

(JTA) — BUENOS AIRES – Pope Leo XIV reaffirmed the Catholic Church’s spiritual bond with the people of Israel during an interfaith gathering in Buenos Aires, a statement that drew particular attention from Jewish leaders amid growing antisemitism in Europe and elsewhere.

“Following the teachings of the Second Vatican Council, I wish to reaffirm the spiritual bond that unites the Church with the people of Israel,” and “our sincere respect for what is holy and true in the different religious traditions,” the Pope said Nov. 9 during a meeting with representatives of various religious communities at San Martín Palace, Argentina’s Foreign Ministry headquarters.  The Second Vatican Council, from 1962 to 1965, shaped the church’s strategies for dealing with the modern era.

“The statement was a pleasant surprise to us, especially at a time when antisemitism is resurfacing, as it is in Europe,”  Isaac Sacca, chief rabbi of the Sephardic Community of Buenos Aires, told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency. “That is very meaningful to our people,” he said.

“The meeting was moving on several levels,” added Sacca, who also is the president of Menora, a Jewish youth organization. “All the different religious communities that coexist in harmony and peace in Argentina came together and showed themselves as they truly are before the pope.”

Addressing around 100 religious leaders, Leo highlighted Argentina’s history of religious and cultural diversity, describing the country as a meeting point of different peoples and traditions.

“Hearing those words from Pope Leo himself, just a few meters away, was very comforting,” Rabbi Marcelo Polakoff, commissioner for interreligious dialogue of the World Jewish Congress in Latin America, told JTA. “Moreover, his use of language about honoring the People of Israel struck me as significant, since I don’t think that terminology is commonly used in Church documents. It gives his approach an even greater sense of closeness. He is clearly continuing the strong legacy of interreligious dialogue established by Pope Francis, Benedict XVI, and especially John Paul II.”

Leo praised Argentina’s tradition of welcoming immigrants. “Argentina’s national identity has taken shape as a melting pot of races, cultures and religions, formed by its Indigenous peoples and the many immigrants from different parts of the world who arrived in this land over the centuries, bringing with them their dreams and their faith,” Leo said.

“At first, they were Catholics, Protestants and Jews, and later many others. Despite their differences, they all learned to work together, to form families and communities, and to build settlements and villages, in an admirable blending of their traditions with local customs,” he added.

Rabbi Ariel Stofenmacher, rector of the Latin American Rabbinical Seminary, drew a connection between Nostra Aetate, the historic 1965 Vatican recalibration of the church’s relations with other religions, and Leo’s speech.

“The pope emphasized the need to strengthen relations with the people of Israel and with Judaism. He revisited the ideas behind Nostra Aetate, particularly the relationship between the Church and Judaism. He also expressed his gratitude for the spirit of brotherhood,” Stofenmacher said.

“I think Pope Leo is showing that he is a leader on a global scale, someone who is not afraid to address difficult issues and who puts social and family issues at the forefront,” added Stofenmacher, who is also rector of the Isaac Abarbanel University Institute.

In addition to religious authorities and leaders of rabbinical institutions, the pope also invited prominent representatives of Argentina’s Jewish community. Among those present were representatives of AMIA, the main Jewish community center in Buenos Aires, and DAIA, the political umbrella organization representing Argentina’s Jewish community.

“The pope emphasized at the meeting that religions are guardians of human integrity — that is, each person’s dignity in its spiritual, social, and communal dimensions,” AMIA chief rabbi Eliahu Hamra said. “We are united in defending that dignity and in upholding the value of every human being.” The interfaith gathering opened with a live orchestra playing a tango song from iconic composer Astor Piazzolla as religious leaders assembled and waited for the pope. It was a distinctly Argentine musical choice, rather than music associated with any particular religious tradition.

“There was a tango performance at the beginning, so there were no religious elements in the ceremony, precisely out of respect for all faiths, as I understand it. The whole event was a real pleasure, ” Rabbi Sacca told JTA.

“I believe we must remain engaged in this effort,” said Rabbi Polakoff. “At the World Jewish Congress, we presented the document Kishreinu, which was conceived as a Jewish response to Nostra Aetate. That was in November 2022. I believe we must continue working along those lines, and I think we have an exceptional partner in Leo XIV to do so.” The meeting concluded with a minute of silence for world peace and the victims of violence.

Monday’s meeting followed two earlier events in Buenos Aires. Pope Leo XIV first visited a residential care facility for people with disabilities on the outskirts of the city. He then celebrated Mass at Palermo Park, drawing an estimated crowd of more than 2 million people.

The pope’s four-day visit to Argentina began Sunday, Nov. 8, following his visit to Uruguay. It continued Tuesday in Córdoba province, where he celebrated Mass before returning to Buenos Aires. On Wednesday, he plans to visit the city of Luján for another Mass before departing for Lima, Peru, the final stop of his South American tour.

This article originally appeared on JTA.org.

The post Pope praises the bond uniting the Catholic Church with the people of Israel appeared first on The Forward.

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3 years after Bedouin hero rescued 30 people on Oct. 7, Israel destroyed his family’s homes

(JTA) — Three years after Youssef Ziadna risked his life to rescue 30 Israelis from the Hamas massacre at the Nova music festival, Israeli authorities have demolished the homes of members of the Bedouin driver’s family in the unrecognized village of al-Ziadna.

Dozens more buildings in their village, which has about 5,000 residents and is located near the southern Arab-Israeli city of Rahat, face demolition orders.

Israel has celebrated Ziadna as a national hero. He was awarded Israel’s highest civilian honor for bravery by President Isaac Herzog, and selected to light a torch at Israel’s 2024 Independence Day ceremony. But he said the government’s crackdown on illegal construction made that recognition feel hollow.

“After everything we did on Oct. 7, running around and risking our lives, doing whatever we could, none of it has any meaning,” he told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency. “In the end, you’re still an Arab.”

The plight of Ziadna highlights long-simmering tensions over Bedouin housing in the Negev.

An estimated 90,000 Bedouins live in dozens of unrecognized villages across the Negev, many without reliable running water, electricity, paved roads or sewage systems, while their homes remain vulnerable to demolition because they are deemed by the state to be illegal.

Many of them pre-date the creation of Israel in 1948, and were never granted official recognition; more recent construction has also taken place without planning approval, sometimes on land designated for other uses.

A bureaucratic maze of Israeli agencies and decades of disputes over land ownership have inhibited a solution that would allow for their legalization, a necessary step for authorized construction. In recent years, the problem has been exacerbated by government figures with a history of anti-Arab animus. Israeli courts have previously upheld demolition orders against individual buildings in al-Ziadna, including while efforts to legalize the community were underway.

The demolitions affected branches of Ziadna’s family that suffered devastating losses following the Oct. 7 attack. His cousin, also named Youssef al-Ziadna, was abducted to Gaza with three of his children. Two were released after 55 days, but the father and another son, Hamza, were killed in captivity. The late hostage’s brother and sister have since had homes and other structures demolished.

On Sunday, authorities posted eviction notices on five more homes in al-Ziadna, including that of Aatef al-Ziadna, whose son Abed al-Rahman was murdered by Hamas at Zikim beach on Oct. 7. Youssef Ziadna said the family had previously appealed to Herzog’s office over an earlier demolition order, which was subsequently canceled.

The president’s office confirmed receiving requests from the family concerning demolition orders and described the Ziadnas as “a bereaved family who suffered grievous losses on October 7th and thereafter,” and further highlighted Youssef Ziadna’s contribution, noting that Herzog had recognized his “life-saving actions” that day.

The president “has maintained contact and supported the family throughout this difficult time,” his spokesperson told JTA, adding that he and his office “have sought to assist the family within the limits of the law on this matter.”

The eviction notice, a copy of which JTA obtained, gives the occupants 30 days to vacate. Ziadna said even those deadlines were not always respected. In one case, he said, officers from the Yoav Unit, a special police force involved in land enforcement in the Negev, arrived just a week after a notice was posted and demolished a relative’s home.

Anger over home demolitions helped drive a surge in voter turnout in the Oct. 27 parliamentary election, with participation in Rahat soaring from 60% in 2022 to 85%, part of a dramatic increase in Arab voting across Israel. Ra’am, the Arab party led by Mansour Abbas, won approximately 85% of the city’s votes. That support helped the party secure eight Knesset seats.

“We are desperate. Everyone I know is going to vote,” Ziadna said on the eve of the election.

Rahat Mayor Talal al-Krenawi also attributed the high turnout to anger over demolitions.

“People who previously didn’t vote went to the ballot box to change the government’s policy,” he told JTA, expressing hope that the next government would be “one that listens, consults and coordinates” with Bedouin communities.

In October, demolition crews arrived in the al-Ziadna neighborhood, north of Rahat, where around 65 homes and other structures faced demolition orders. Ziadna’s cousin tore down a house built for his son, who had married just two weeks earlier. Other relatives, including his brother and nephew, have received demolition orders. One displaced family has been sleeping together in a single room at another relative’s house, he said.

Ziadna, who is a father of seven, dismantled a warehouse on his property after receiving a demolition order rather than face the fines of having the authorities demolish it. His home is not currently under an order, but he said that offered little comfort in a community where extended families live alongside one another.

“What’s the difference between my house, my brother’s house or my nephew’s house?” he said. “For us, it’s the same home. We’re Bedouin, we live together.”

The demolitions in al-Ziadna are part of a wider enforcement campaign that has intensified across the Negev under Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s government, championed by outgoing National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir.

Told that Bedouin families whose homes had been demolished were sleeping in a school, Ben-Gvir declared: “They should prepare many more schools across the Negev, because I’m going to demolish more and more and more.”

Between 2023 and 2025, some 14,280 unauthorized structures were demolished in the Negev, an 81% increase over the previous three-year period, according to figures presented to the Knesset by Ben-Gvir’s ministry.

Al-Krenawi, Rahat’s mayor, slammed the government for embarking on a demolition blitz across the Negev, leaving families “with no roof over their heads and with no solutions.”

The al-Ziadna neighborhood was included in a government-approved plan in 2021 to incorporate it into Rahat and provide for approximately 1,900 housing units, as well as public buildings, roads, commercial areas and livestock facilities.

Yet the Bedouin Settlement Authority, the government body responsible for regularizing Bedouin communities in the Negev, told JTA that not a single residential plot has been allocated under the plan.

According to a spokesperson, implementation of the plan was delayed “partly because residents of the neighborhood have prevented it from being carried out.” The spokesperson cited interference with surveyors, soil drilling and archaeological work but did not provide details of specific incidents or identify those responsible.

Al-Krenawi said agreements had been signed to develop al-Ziadna, which was already within the city’s planning boundaries, but that “unresolved land ownership claims” were holding up the allocation of plots. He said he was unaware of any obstruction of planning work but added that the municipality was not involved in that process, which was handled by the Bedouin Settlement Authority.

Michael Oren, a former Israeli ambassador to the U.S. and former Knesset member who has advocated greater integration of Bedouin citizens, criticized the state’s failure to enforce its laws in the Negev, which covers roughly 60% of Israel’s territory.

“They’re either under Israeli law or they’re not under Israeli law,” he told JTA, criticizing the “lack of application of laws against polygamy, illegal building, tax evasion” in Bedouin communities.

Oren said he supported reaching agreements to legalize unauthorized construction, but argued that Bedouin residents should pay for the land allocated to them, just as Jewish Israelis are required to do. “Why should they charge Jewish residents and Bedouin get it for free?” he said.

But he also acknowledged Bedouin contributions to the military and blamed successive governments for failing to provide adequate economic and educational opportunities, calling the state of education “appalling.”

“Everything that’s happened down there is entirely our fault,” he said.

Haggai Reznik, head of the Rifman Institute for the Development of the Negev and a former Housing Ministry director-general, issued dire warnings about the region’s security, saying in a television interview that “the next Oct. 7 will come from the Negev.”

Reznik pointed to widespread illegal weapons, weak law enforcement and the failure to regularize Bedouin communities, or bring them into the formal planning system, warning that without a national emergency plan, the Negev could become “a Palestinian state whose capital is Beersheba.”

The Regional Council for Unrecognized Villages in the Negev (RCUV), a Bedouin advocacy group, condemned Reznik for spreading a “blood libel,” arguing that crime and the proliferation of illegal weapons were consequences of longstanding neglect, dispossession and other policies that had pushed Bedouin communities into deep poverty.

Reznik’s remarks came as the Shin Bet security agency said it had arrested 72 residents of the Negev and southern Israel since the beginning of 2026 on suspicion of security-related offenses, with roughly 50 indicted.

Around the same time as the demolitions in al-Ziadna, authorities demolished around 80 homes and a mosque in the nearby Abu Wadi community of al-Dahiya, leaving 380 people homeless, according to al-Krenawi, who told JTA that the displaced families were now living in tents.

The Bedouin Settlement Authority said residents had rejected alternative housing. Residents countered that the proposed site was not ready for construction and negotiations over another location were still underway.

RCUV, the Bedouin advocacy group, estimated that demolitions had caused NIS 290 million in cumulative losses to families whose homes were destroyed, including legal fees, demolition costs, alternative accommodation and related expenses.

Marwan Abu Frieh, a Rahat resident and lawyer with the legal rights group Adalah, who has spent nearly 15 years accompanying families through eviction and demolition proceedings, said government housing plans frequently fail to account for Bedouin communities’ traditional way of life, requiring families accustomed to living on agricultural land to move to densely built urban neighborhoods.

“They’re not offering solutions suited to Bedouin society, to traditional or agricultural life,” he told JTA. “They’re offering modern solutions because they want us to become modern.”

Ziadna echoed that concern, saying there was “no way” his family would abandon its rural way of life for apartment blocks.

Most members of the extended family work in agriculture on nearby kibbutzim. Former Rahat Mayor Atta Abu Madegham described the Ziadnas as a noble family with “zero unemployment,” according to a report published soon after Oct. 7 in Makor Rishon.

In August, Israel’s Supreme Court rejected a bid to delay the eviction of some 500 residents of Ras Jrabah, near Dimona. An earlier ruling had found that suitable alternatives had been offered and refused, but Adalah, which represents the residents, rejected that finding, saying that none of the options was viable. Even suggestions of temporary housing or rental assistance left basic questions unanswered: where families would live, under what conditions and for how long. Abu Frieh described the ruling as “very simple and very extreme.”

“They were saying that there is no connection between providing an alternative housing solution and carrying out an eviction. This is unprecedented,” he said.

He emphasized the difficulty of transforming an established community, where homes have stood for decades, into a formally planned neighborhood. Recognition, he said, is only the first stage. Completing the planning and infrastructure work can take many years, particularly when the community is already inhabited.

“You can’t demolish people’s homes when they have nowhere else to go and the regularization process hasn’t been completed,” he said.

The Bedouin Settlement Authority confirmed that the buildings facing demolition in the al-Ziadna neighborhood are within the boundaries of the approved 2021 plan, but described them as “new and illegal construction.”

Although the Bedouin Settlement Authority said demolitions were handled by separate enforcement agencies, al-Krenawi said those agencies operated only in coordination with it. JTA contacted the National Land Enforcement Authority, which identified the Israel Land Authority as responsible for the October operation. That authority, in turn, referred JTA back to the Bedouin Settlement Authority.

“The sooner residents take steps to advance regularization, the less need there will be for enforcement action and carrying out demolition orders,” the spokesperson said.

Ziadna objected to his family being treated as trespassers on land they had occupied for generations. “We’ve been here since the British ruled, before Israel was established. We never moved.”

“They call us invaders. Fine, come and sit with us. Talk to us,” he said. “Give us infrastructure, water, electricity. Give us a way to live like human beings. We’re citizens of this country.”

Abu Frieh criticized the Bedouin Settlement Authority’s origins, saying it was created to address what successive governments regarded as the “Bedouin problem,” rather than involving Bedouin communities in decisions about their own future.

“This authority controls every aspect of Bedouin life,” he said, describing its approach as “unilateral” and noting that all government funding for Bedouin communities must pass through it.

Established by the government in 2007, the Bedouin Settlement Authority replaced an earlier body founded in 1986. It has since operated under seven government ministries, with a May 2026 State Comptroller report finding that the repeated transfers had significantly disrupted its operations. Bedouin representation in the authority is also almost non-existent. The authority told JTA that it now employs more than 80 people, only one of whom is Bedouin.

“We’re not refusing a solution,” Abu Frieh said. “We’re just not part of the process.”

Ziadna, now 50, said his health has deteriorated sharply since JTA first interviewed him in October 2023. He has lost substantial weight, has been unable to work for seven months and receives just NIS 1,800 ($570)  a month in disability benefits for post-traumatic stress and other health problems.

“I look like an 80-year-old man,” he said.

When JTA interviewed him just days after the Hamas massacre, Ziadna had expressed hope that his actions might change the relationship between Bedouin citizens and the state.

Three years later, asked whether those hopes had materialized, his answer was brief.

“The opposite happened.”

This article originally appeared on JTA.org.

The post 3 years after Bedouin hero rescued 30 people on Oct. 7, Israel destroyed his family’s homes appeared first on The Forward.

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