Brasil

In the Negev desert, southern Israel, a growing boycott campaign is taking root among Bedouin citizens in response to the Israeli government's continued demolition of homes in unrecognized villages. The community of Al-Sar, also known as Qasr al-Sir, is the latest to face mass displacement as bulldozers raze entire neighborhoods to make way for the expansion of nearby Segev Shalom (Shaqib al-Salam).

But as Eid al-Adha approaches on Friday — typically a time of celebration and major shopping — many Bedouin residents are turning their frustration into economic resistance. A grassroots boycott targeting Israeli-owned businesses and products has emerged from southern Bedouin communities and is gaining traction among Arab citizens across the country.

At the heart of the campaign is a call for self-reliance and solidarity. Activists are circulating hashtags in Arabic like #OurMoneyDestroysOurHomes and #UsBeingUsed, pointing to what they see as a painful irony: Bedouin citizens contribute to the Israeli economy, pay taxes, and shop in Israeli stores — while the same state demolishes their homes and denies them basic services such as electricity, infrastructure and protection from […] rockets.

"This is about reclaiming our power," Hamad Abu Hamid, a 21-year-old architecture student at Sami Shamoon College of Engineering in Beʻer Sheva, says to Haaretz. Though he comes from Kuseife, a recognized town, Abu Hamid has long felt connected to the broader Bedouin struggle. "Only Bedouin will truly protect and support other Bedouin," he said. "No matter how far I go in education or development, I'll always look, speak, and live like a Bedouin — it's who I am."

Abu Hamid recalls how the reality of state-led displacement hit him during a university workshop in Abu Qrenat, another village under constant threat of demolition. "When we arrived, it was full of destroyed homes — shattered furniture, animals wandering over rubble," he said. "People were living in tents. They refused to leave their land."

"It's colonialism in disguise," Abu Hamid describes the government's policy of home demolition. "Demolishing orders come with two options: either the state demolishes homes and people pay the fee, or you destroy your own home free of charge."

Through his academic work, Abu Hamid has consistently chosen to highlight his community's struggles — even when it meant challenging his professors. He recalls one assignment in particular, where students were tasked with designing new housing units on land that, in reality, was already inhabited by Bedouin communities. "I protested and asked, 'How can we erase people from their homes and livelihoods?'" he said. His professor responded bluntly: "You're studying architecture — your job is to change reality. Their homes are illegal, and the land belongs to the state."

With thousands facing homelessness and little sign of government dialogue or alternative housing solutions, the boycott is fast becoming a powerful outlet for a community demanding to be heard — and refusing to quietly disappear.

Calls to boycott Israeli-owned businesses are a way to “cut funds for the machines and manpower that demolish our homes,” says Abu Hamid. “The state takes our tax money,” he explains, “and uses part of it to fund the very plans that destroy our communities.”

To avoid contributing tax money to the state, some Bedouin residents are now turning to businesses in the West Bank, or Arab-owned stores nearby where they know receipts are not typically issued. "This way," explains Abu Hamid, "there's no official tax documentation, and no revenue ends up in the hands of the state." He expresses a sense of satisfaction when hearing that Israeli shop owners have been urging Bedouin customers to return in social media videos.

"Maybe the boycott will pressure the state to delay demolition orders. The government doesn't listen to Bedouin voices — maybe it will listen to its own business owners."

As for the government's proposed solution of relocating residents from unrecognized villages to state-approved towns, Abu Hamid is unconvinced. "This is not a solution. The Bedouin will not give up the land they've lived on for generations. What they're demanding is recognition." He recalls the case of Umm al-Hiran, a Bedouin village whose residents were evicted last year to make way for a new Jewish town. "Not only were they expelled," he says, "but they are barred from living or buying homes in the new town — on land that was theirs."

Even the recognized Bedouin villages, Abu Hamid warns, are under threat. He believes the state is pushing a plan to concentrate the entire Bedouin population into already overcrowded recognized towns. "This will create ghettos — more people squeezed into limited land," he says.

The authority for development and settlement of the Bedouin in the Negev, has commented in the past that "the policy of concentrating a population into recognized communities is designed mainly to allow better services for that population, from basic infrastructure to education and welfare services, which cannot be done under the wide geographic dispersal today."

"They claim it's about controlling crime or promoting development," Abu Hamid concludes. "But the truth is it's about ethnic cleansing, erasing our identity, and advancing a colonial project."

'A fight for survival and dignity'

Baraa, a 23-year-old who requested to be identified by her first name only, originally from the unrecognized Bedouin village of Umm Numila, north of Rahat, relocated with her family to Lehavim, an upscale, predominantly Jewish town north of Beʻer Sheva, six years ago. "We moved in search of a better life, away from the struggles that define unrecognized villages, whether it's home demolitions, poor infrastructure, or the absence of schools and basic services," she explains.

Yet despite the conveniences Lehavim offers, Baraa says she often feels more comfortable in her village. "Being an Arab in a majority-Jewish town brings unwanted attention that can feel intrusive and uncomfortable," she says. "Back in the village, there's a sense of familiarity — my family, our culture — that makes me feel safer. But at the same time, that idea of 'safety' has become confusing."

Although she moved away from her community, Baraa is committed to the boycott. "Any form of action, whether it's a protest or a boycott, can amplify our voices and spotlight our problems," she says. "It can help educate the people around us, and even those far removed."

While she's unsure whether such actions will bring immediate change, she remains hopeful. "Even if we don't see results on a state level, and the demolitions and displacement continue — which is sadly very likely — at the very least, more people will become aware. And that, in itself, is an important goal."

For Baraa, these struggles are far from new. "The state has been demolishing Bedouin homes since Israel's establishment," she says. Equally, resistance has taken many forms. "The boycott of businesses complicit in the Israeli occupation of Palestinian land, has been going on in different forms for more than two years," she says (Baraa uses the word occupation, that usually refers to the Israeli occupation of the Palestinian territories, to describe its policy toward Bedouin citizens in the Negev).

Still, she expresses mixed feelings: "It's unfortunate that many are only now learning about our suffering, and that some remain completely unaware. But we can't pass on this opportunity."

On Tuesday, a group of Bedouin representative bodies, including the High Steering Committee for the Arabs of the Negev, the Regional Council for Unrecognized Villages, and the Forum of Arab Local Authorities in the Negev, published a joint statement, escalating the boycott campaign. Steps include refusing all meetings with government officials during Eid, supporting the local Bedouin markets in holiday celebrations, aiding displaced families, filing legal petitions, and holding a mass protest in Beʻer Sheva next Thursday. They warn of further escalation, including a major demonstration outside the Prime Minister's Office.

While reaffirming their “peaceful resistance” against what they call a “systematic campaign of displacement,” the leadership calls for solidarity and international attention, stressing “this is not just political — it’s a fight for survival and dignity in the only homeland we have.”

Portrait of a woman in carbon pencil, white charcoal, and gel pen on tinted paper

Every few years, a Silicon Valley gig-economy company announces a “disruptive” innovation that looks a whole lot like a bus. Uber rolled out Smart Routes a decade ago, followed a short time later by the Lyft Shuttle of its biggest competitor. Even Elon Musk gave it a try in 2018 with the “urban loop system” that never quite materialized beyond the Vegas Strip. And does anyone remember Chariot?

Now it’s Uber’s turn again. The ride-hailing company recently announced Route Share, in which shuttles will travel dozens of fixed routes, with fixed stops, picking up passengers and dropping them off at fixed times. Amid the inevitable jokes about Silicon Valley once again discovering buses are serious questions about what this will mean for struggling transit systems, air quality, and congestion.

Five years ago, the Union of Concerned Scientists released a report that found ride-share services emit 69 percent mo

re planet-warming carbon dioxide and other pollutants than the trips they displace — largely because as many as 40 percent of the miles traveled by Uber and Lyft drivers are driven without a passenger, something called “deadheading.” That climate disadvantage decreases with pooled services like UberX Share — but it’s still not much greener than owning and driving a vehicle, the report noted, unless the car is electric.

Khosrowshahi insists Uber is “in competition with personal car ownership,” not public transportation. “Public transport is a teammate,” he told The Verge. But a study released last year by the University of California, Davis found that in three California cities, **over half of all ride-hailing trips didn’t replace personal cars, they replaced more sustainable modes of getting around, like walking, public transportation, and bicycling. **

https://archive.ph/xcnRy

Second upload today cuz I felt like it! Melodeath band just happened to play a thrash track right in the latter half of their weakest (imo) album. But this track ain't that bad, just a tad short. Probably better off with a recommendation to check out the track Nemesis from the next album Doomsday Machine. Anyways lol I always love sharing stuff with you guys on the very edges of our extreme subgenres.

Tidal, Bandcamp, RateYourMusic, Encyclopaedia Metallum

Left to Right: Shala Nyx (Sciel), Jennifer English (Maelle), Maxence Cazorla (Esquie), Ben Starr (Verso), Kristy Rider (Lune), & Rich Keeble (Monoco)

Bill Atkinson (1951–2025) created (among many other technologies) HyperCard, an early hypermedia system which helped inspire the web.

There is a (machine-generated) transcript of this interview on youtube here.

his other appearances on TWiT are here.

Dave is the black horse and Joey is the brown and white one. Joey is always trying to get her attention, but she doesn't care about boys. She just wants to have a good time on her own lol.

I sponged her off today and she did not like it and was doing some grazing in the pic while I got a drink and rinsed the bucket.

We both got lots of good exercise in during the sponging because she kept doing the "it's gonna eat me dance" when I'd use the sponge and I wasn't giving up on the endeavor because I went through all the trouble of getting the stuff ready.

She eventually calmed down and I got a second round of sponging in and she was much less skittish that time. Maybe someday she'll get an actual bath. 🥲