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And while Cairo humiliated them, someone else took note over the past few years: Al Qaeda. The Bedouins, ordinarily calm, hospitable and mildly religious, now lent an ear to foreign Islamists who arrived in their midst to tell them that the Riviera, besides abusing the Sinai’s indigenous inhabitants, is also religiously profane and worthy of the terror it soon faced with Bedouin involvement.
The region became a repository of hatred, encapsulating all the fixtures of Arab discontent: political corruption, social alienation, tribal abuse and fundamentalist opportunism.
These days, a falcon hovering above Mount Sinai can see the Bedouin revolt’s damage all around: in the east, half-empty Red Sea beaches and idle construction sites; in the northwest, blasted pipelines; east of there, smugglers handling machine guns, rockets, and missiles, and along the Sinai’s eastern flank, a new, nearly completed, 150-mile Israeli fence built to block the smuggled fruits of lawlessness — drugs, prostitutes and illegal migrants.
In ancient times, countless Near Eastern armies crossed the northern Sinai as they stormed each other’s empires. The nomads of the day made sure to follow those military expeditions from the safety of the mountains south of the Mediterranean coastline, where they could assess one power’s chances to rise and another’s to fall.
Now, like those ancient nomads watching through clouds of sand the passage of empires, and like the Bedouins watching through tears their robbed shoreline, we Israelis are watching through our fence how our wellspring of peace wilts in the Arab Spring’s heat.
In Cairo, presidential candidates promise to create Bedouin jobs within a remodeled Sinai police force and in a new Sinai-Gaza free-trade zone. Israelis have no illusions about the next Egyptian leader attracting them back the Sinai’s beaches, but they do hope he will at least deliver on his promises to its dwellers and restore their honor.
On Shavuot, Jews recall not Pharaoh, the despot who drowned off the Sinai’s shores, but the rest of his era’s kings. That royal multitude, according to the Talmud, was actually inspired by the Israelite lawgiver’s deeds, so much so that when Moses received the Torah, they ”trembled in their palaces and recited poetry.”
No one is asking Hosni Mubarak’s successor to tremble or wax poetic, but the entire world is asking him to focus on social dignity, opportunity and mobility, and if he can’t deliver these in all of Egypt all at once, then he may as well start where social justice first became law: Sinai.
Amotz Asa-El is the former executive editor of The Jerusalem Post, is a fellow at the Shalom Hartman Institute, in Jerusalem.