For years, the narrative has been the same: Bedouin communities in the Negev face a housing crisis, the government offers no solutions, and legalizing the Bedouin diaspora would magically fix everything. Just two months ago, former Knesset member Taleb El-Sana, chairman of the Negev Arabs' Steering Committee, reiterated this at a conference on the issue: "The Bedouin were uprooted from their lands in 1948, only ten percent remained. All the Bedouin occupy just 3% of the Negev's land… All Arabs in Israel must stand together, not just those in the Negev." Yet, across the vast, empty expanses of the Negev, the reality paints a starkly different picture.
Recent data from the Regavim Movement reveal what anyone familiar with the Negev already knows: the current system simply doesn't work. Dozens of settlements established for the Bedouin population sprawl across vast areas, yet only a tiny fraction—mere single-digit percentages—are actually used. For instance, in the Mar'it region near Arad, 15,548 dunams (3,840 acres) were allocated to the Bedouin settlements of Drijat, Kukhla, and Makhul, but only 2,458 dunams (15.8%) are used, housing just 2,819 residents. Another example is the town of Kseife, spanning 13,666 dunams, yet only 22.4 % (3,061 dunams) are residential, housing about 20,000 people. Compare this to Kfar Saba, which, on 14,500 dunams, sustains over 110,000 people. The same pattern repeats in settlements like Abu Tlul, Segev Shalom, and others follow suit, with aerial images revealing vast, unused land, even when factoring in rural lifestyles or agricultural needs.
To understand why this happens and how we reached this point, we must grasp a key concept in the Negev: "ownership claimants." In the 1970s, Israel allowed Bedouin to claim land ownership in the Negev with minimal documentation—no surveys, deeds, or proof required. Over a few years, 3,200 such claims were submitted to the Beersheba land registrar, covering an astronomical 800,000 dunams. Over time, about 200 of these claims were adjudicated in court, and every single one—without exception—was rejected, with the land registered to the state. That's what happens when you claim land based on tenuous grounds like the fact that your grandfather passed through it with his camel every day for 20 years. Today, roughly 15% of Bedouin claim ownership over massive areas, barring anyone else from accessing and using them.
So, what happened to the remaining claims, and how do they connect to the desolate settlements that have become ghost towns? Under Bedouin customary law, no one settles on land claimed by another, regardless of state or court rulings. If the state allocates land that conflicts with these claims, Bedouin law prevails. And what has Israel done over the years? It ignored the issue, drew blue lines on maps, established settlements with the stroke of a pen, and began developing plots worth billions of shekels in a genuine effort to relocate Bedouin residents living without basic infrastructure. The outcome? Only about 30% of these recognized settlement areas are inhabited and built, leaving thousands of Bedouin in the same insufficient living conditions.
Here lies the great absurdity: the state, out of chronic weakness and its reluctance to confront the issue, has repeatedly tried to solve the problem with grants, cash and land compensation for these ownership claimants, hoping naively for a breakthrough or a compromise. Yet every new 'offer' creates a perverse economic incentive: why settle today when, in 5 or 20 years, the land might be worth more? Why accept one million if someone else got two? This has birthed a unique system that rewards stagnation over progress and encourages non-regularization.
We keep hearing talks about a "vision for the Negev"—development, infrastructure and a prosperous future— but in order to achieve all of this, we must first change the rules of the game. A true vision requires courage. It cannot rely on cosmetic fixes but on a genuine willingness to change this current broken system. The current situation not only stalls the development of the Negev but also condemns the Bedouin themselves to a reality of uncertainty and a lack of basic quality of life without access to basic amenities such as running water, electricity or paved roads.
The solution isn't in increasing the generous grants the state is willing to shower on those who release claimed land, nor in allocating another square meter of our precious land resources. It starts with admitting the system's failure. As long as unproven ownership claims effectively dictate policy, progress is impossible. We need to flip the hourglass and incentivize regularization, not perpetuate this non-viable status quo. If we don't, the Negev's potential will remain a mere mirage and empty words.
Yehuda Kapach is the Southern District Coordinator of the Regavim Movement.
