Bryce Braegger

Legal Systems Very Different From Ours – Fall 2013

Bedouin law

Introduction

            This paper examines the legal system of the Bedouin. Bedouin society is organized into hierarchical kinship groups, which determine the scope of oneÕs responsibilities in the feud-based legal system. Although the Bedouin legal system is based on feud, it has mechanisms for resolving disputes peacefully, including through trial by ordeal. Finally, this paper also looks at some of the interactions between Bedouin law and the modern state.

            There is no single Bedouin legal system, although some aspects of it are widely shared. The most extensively studied of these systems is that of the Sinai-Negev Bedouin,[1] and much of the information in this paper therefore also focuses on this system. However, it also contains examples from the legal systems of the Bedouin in EgyptÕs West Desert, Palestine, Syria, and Yemen, and references to those of Iraq and Saudi Arabia.

The Bedouin

            The Bedouin are nomads who have lived in the Middle East and North Africa for at least two thousand years.[2] The name Bedouin comes from the Arabic word badawi; the word for desert or steppe is badiya, and so a badawi is one who dwells in the badiya.[3] Historically, the name Bedouin signified a way of life, nomadism, which stood in contrast to that of the sedentary people, the fellaheen.[4] It is only relatively recently that the name Bedouin has come to signify a distinct identity.[5] Even some early twentieth-century writers, like Kennett, use the names Bedouin and Arab interchangeably.

 

Social Structure

            Bedouin society is organized into hierarchical groups. An individual is part of a bayt, or extended family that shares a herd of livestock (traditionally camels, but increasingly sheep or horses).[6] Related families form a khamsa, or clan.[7] Several khamsa form a tribe, and multiple tribes make up a confederation.[8] A confederation has a fixed territory, which it defends against outsiders (the Bedouin term for a confederation is gebila, which literally means Ōbattle lineĶ).[9] Within this territory, tribes, khamsa, and families migrate in search of water and pasture.[10]

            Each tribe has a leader called a sheikh.[11] Generally, a sheikhÕs duties are limited to representing his tribe in its dealings with outsiders.[12] While a sheikh may often act as a judge in a dispute, this is due to his experience and knowledge of customary law, not his position as sheikh per se. He does not create or enforce tribal law, and his position within the tribe may seem inconspicuous to an outside observer.[13] However, this varies across the Middle East; Stewart states that Iraqi sheikhs, for example, exercise much more authority over their own tribes than do their counterparts in other areas.[14]

            The method for choosing a sheikh and his relationship with the state varies greatly across time and space. In early Israel, sheikhs were appointed by the government and all Bedouin had to be officially affiliated with a sheikh to receive ration and travel permits.[15] In colonial Egypt, sheikhs were chosen by their tribes but received a salary from the British government.[16] And in French Mandatory Syria, sheikhs were elected by the elders of a tribe.[17] After the end of French administration, the Syrian government officially abolished the tribes, but continued to tacitly recognize their authority.[18]

            In Sinai, in addition to a tribal sheikh, each khamsa also has its own leader called a kebir.[19] His duties are largely analogous to those of a sheikh, but at a smaller scale. Several sources[20] situate the sheikh as the leader of a khamsa, but it is unclear whether this is due to different terminology, different social structures, or the authorsÕ conflating tribes and khamsa.

Collective Responsibility and Feud

            These hierarchical social groups, and above all the khamsa, are at the heart of the Bedouin legal system. Khamsa, the Bedouin word for clan, is also the Arabic word for ŌfiveĶ and its use here refers to five generations.[21] All individuals who are related to each other within five generations (in other words, through a common great-great-grandfather at most) are legally responsible for each otherÕs acts.[22] As Kennett puts it, Bedouin law requires ŌÕan eye for and eye and a tooth for a tooth,Õ whose eye or whose tooth being immaterialÉ.Ķ[23]

            To illustrate, consider two Bedouin, Ahmed and Bilal, whose last common ancestor was their great-great-grandfather. They are thus part of the same khamsa and are liable for each otherÕs acts. Ahmed now has a son. His son is liable for his relatives back to five generations, but not to Bilal or BilalÕs relatives, because their last common ancestor is six generations removed. Of course, AhmedÕs son and Bilal may travel together and pitch their tents together out of habit or convenience, but they are not legally responsible for each other.

Like the Somali diya-paying group, the khamsa is responsible for paying the blood-money owed by its members, and it shares the blood-money owed to one of its members (and blood-money is also called diya in the Bedouin legal system).[24] Also like the Somali system, if diya is not paid, any male member of the khamsa may be killed as revenge for a murder perpetrated by one of his relatives. Unlike the Somali system, this collective liability extends beyond acts of physical violence.[25] A common example of this is theft. One of the British governmentÕs priorities in its colonies was to stamp out what it saw as a never-ending cycle of thefts and counter-thefts, with the size of each tribeÕs camel herd ultimately remaining more or less the same.[26]

Of course, some disputes need not involve the entire khamsa and the victim and his closest relatives may be able to resolve it on their own. On the other hand, some disputes may be more than a single khamsa can handle, and the victim may ask for assistance from another khamsa or the larger tribe. This process is called Ōspreading the blood.Ķ[27] Before any of these outside allies may take revenge, the victim must send witnesses to the perpetratorÕs khamsa to warn them that the blood has been spread.[28] This ensures that the khamsa knows that an act of these allies is in retaliation and not an independent act that would be grounds for revenge. Of course, these outside allies likely will not give their support to the victim for free. Among the Sinai Bedouin, one arrangement is for the victim or one or more of his relatives to join the supporterÕs khamsa if they are successful in pursuing the feud.[29]

              Among the Bedouin of EgyptÕs West Desert, a khamsaÕs collective responsibility may also be modified by written contracts.[30] The families within the khamsa may decide that they will not be liable for each otherÕs debts incurred through, for example, theft, but will continue to be responsible for each otherÕs diya.

            A final noteworthy aspect of the khamsa group is that it is only concerned with patrilineal relationships and that a womanÕs khamsa does not change when she marries.[31] In other words, a woman always remains a part of her fatherÕs khamsa and her father is responsible for protecting her (or, if her father is deceased, her nearest male, patrilineal kin).[32] This means that if a woman is involved in a dispute (or even a fight) her husband has no legal responsibility to intervene. This also means that if a khamsa plans to move far away from its traditional territory, a woman who married into the khamsa may choose whether to go with them or remain with her fatherÕs khamsa.[33]

Peaceful Dispute Resolution

            This system of kin-based collective responsibility and of what Bailey calls Ōsweeping retaliationĶ[34] seems like it would lead to chaos and bloodshed, or at least to constant fear of being attacked as revenge for the acts of a distant relative. However, violence is the exception, not the rule, in Bedouin society. Most disputes are settled peacefully through legal proceedings.[35]

            Before discussing these legal proceedings, it is worth considering how a perpetrator can be compelled to take part in them in the first place. After all, at least in the case of most intentional offenses, the perpetrator committed the offense because he thought he was strong enough to get away with it. How then, can the seemingly stronger party be compelled to join the weaker party in legal proceedings, rather than defying the law or simply disappearing into the desert?

            There are several mechanisms for compelling participation in legal proceedings. First, the perpetratorÕs khamsa will pressure him to participate out of fear that one of their innocent members (by our standards) will be the object of revenge. Second, there is always the possibility that the perpetrator will find himself outmatched by a larger tribe if the victim chooses to spread the blood. Third, feuds are suspended and violence is prohibited while legal proceedings are underway, at least among the Sinai Bedouin.[36] In contrast, a Bedouin of the West Desert must obtain his tribeÕs permission to pursue a feud,[37] which may not be forthcoming if a peaceful settlement of a dispute is a real possibility.

            Finally, the victim himself can try to compel participation by publicly calling the perpetratorÕs honor into question. In Yemen, this is done in a very specific way. A man who feels he has been wronged or is owed something will raise a black flag and a white flag near his tent or in the market and will announce who the flags are for and why they have been raised.[38] If the accused fulfills his obligation, the claimant will take down the black flag, leaving the white flag as a symbol of gratitude. If not, he will take down the white flag. The black flag then tells the world that the accused has no honor and is to be treated as an outcast by all.[39] The same symbolism exists widely across Bedouin societies,[40] but its particular use differs. In Sinai, the black cloth is placed on the accusedÕs tent.[41] And in North Africa, an agreement is formalized by exchanging turbans; if the agreement is not fulfilled, the aggrieved party dyes the otherÕs turban black and sends it to him as a sign of reproach.[42]

            The legal proceedings themselves also contain a mechanism for encouraging participation and enforcing judgments: the use of guarantors. The Arabic word for guaranty is kafala, which means Ōtwofold.Ķ[43] This word also has a twofold meaning itself. First, the guarantor, at the request of one of the parties, agrees to be liable for that partyÕs obligations, which ensures two chances for compliance with a judgment.[44] Second, a breach of a guarantee entitles the injured party to double damages among the Sinai tribes.[45] Other tribes allow for triple or even sevenfold damages for a breach of a guarantee.[46] Multiple guarantors may participate in a single case: each party may have a guarantor to ensure his appearance before the judge; the plaintiff may have one to ensure that his khamsa does not take revenge on the defendantÕs kin during or after the proceedings; and, the defendant will certainly have a guarantor to ensure the payment of any damages.[47]

            A practice similar to the use of guarantors is dakhala - asking for anotherÕs protection. Although Bailey makes no mention of dakhala in Sinai, this practice seems well known in Syria, Jordan, and Palestine. Under this practice, one who fears for his safety can ask for the protection of another person (and that personÕs kin).[48] Furthermore, if the claimant is inside, or within a certain distance of, the would-be protectorÕs tent, he must be given protection or else the tentÕs owner will risk losing his honor.[49]

Even one who has committed an offense may ask for dakhala, and, in fact, that seems to be a typical use for it.[50] The offender and his kin will flee to a distant tribe and ask for their protection.[51] By granting him their protection, the tribe minimizes the risk of violence by ensuring that any act of revenge will enlarge the conflict. After tempers have cooled (sometimes years later), legal proceedings can begin in order to resolve the conflict. After the proceedings end, the judge may assign the offenderÕs family a new protector from among the victimÕs kin.[52] This ensures that any act of revenge taken by the victimÕs kin becomes a new, separate claim against them.    

            The form of legal proceedings differs widely across the Middle East. However, one basic principle underlying all of them is submitting the dispute to a neutral third party for resolution. In the West Desert, it seems that the position of mediator is permanent and parties would know even before a dispute began who would hear a case.[53] Outside the West Desert, however, parties generally are free to submit their case to any agreed-upon third party.[54] In practice, though, certain individuals may come to be seen as experts in certain areas of the law, and the task of judging these cases may even become semi-hereditary (but only by virtue of sons watching their fathers resolve cases, not by virtue of their relationship per se).[55] In British colonies, the use of a three-judge panel was common.[56] The plaintiff and defendant would each select a judge and the government would select the third.[57] In more recent times in Sinai, the selection procedure is more complex. The defendant nominates judges, subject to the plaintiffÕs veto, until three judges are agreed upon.[58] From these three, the plaintiff selects a judge who will hear his appeal if he loses, and the defendant does the same. The remaining nominee becomes the trial judge.[59]

            Once the proceedings begin, the judges will hear testimony and receive evidence. There are differences in how much weight is accorded to testimony. In some societies, even hearsay is allowed,[60] while in others any sort of testimony is viewed with some suspicion.[61] In the West Desert, judges may call upon tribal elders to explain, under oath, what the applicable law is.[62] In Sinai, the proceedings are rather complex, and what we would call the pleadings must be delivered in formulaic, rhyming expressions.[63] For this reason, a plaintiff may choose, or even hire, someone to speak on his behalf.[64] Once he has done so, however, he cannot fire or even gainsay what his ŌlawyerĶ says.[65] The following are the pleadings from a case of theft (required words are bolded):

By God, what is your judgment, o judge

About one who attacked my camels and took them

Moving them from pasture to where they were hid

Camels that never carried a heavy load nor plied a long road

God willing, IÕll have him fined and condemned

As though IÕd put him in fire or a stormy sea.[66]

            If, after hearing the case, the judge cannot decide who is in the right he may ask the defendant to take an oath or undergo an ordeal to prove his innocence. Among the West Desert Bedouin, a defendant in a homicide case needs fifty or fifty-five family members to swear an oath with him in order to be cleared of the charges.[67] If the defendantÕs clan does not have fifty adult male members, some of them are allowed to swear twice to make up the difference.[68] Oaths were traditionally taken on the tomb of a saint,[69] but are increasingly taken in a mosque or on a Quran.[70] Like other religious oaths, they rely on fear of both supernatural punishment and social disapproval for their effectiveness. Bailey reports that the Bedouin are generally hesitant to take oaths at all.[71]

Trial by Ordeal

            The Bedouin trial by ordeal is called bisha. It requires the defendant to lick a red-hot piece of metal, and if his tongue is burned he is deemed guilty.[72] Like many other societies, the Bedouin attribute symbolic meaning to fire; to them, fire is the revealer of truth.[73] The mubashsha (one who administers the bisha) is one judge whom the parties to a dispute cannot fix by agreement, unlike other aspects of Bedouin legal proceedings. In the Sinai-Negev area, only two tribes, the Bili and the al-Ayayda (or al-Ayadi as al-Krenawi calls them[74]) have the authority to perform the bisha, although the position is not necessarily hereditary.[75] Similarly, in other areas, only certain tribes may administer the ordeal.[76] This means parties to a dispute may have to travel long distances to participate in the ordeal, which could enhance the gravity of the proceedings.

            Once a judge decides to refer a case to the mubashsha, and the defendant agrees to undergo the ordeal (he may, of course, plead guilty to avoid it), both parties travel to the mubashshaÕs tent. He then prepares a fire and inserts a piece of metal (usually a ladle-like utensil used for making coffee) into it. Both parties then relate their case to the mubashsha. Once he has heard both sides and is satisfied that the metal is hot enough, he gives the defendant water to rinse his mouth and then holds out the heated metal. According to some sources, the mubashsha merely holds out the metal and the defendant licks it,[77] while others say that the defendant sticks out his tongue and the mubashsha applies the metal to it.[78] In any case, the mubashsha then waits one to fifteen minutes before inspecting the defendantÕs tongue. If it is burned, he is deemed guilty; if not, he is deemed innocent.

            Sources disagree on why the bisha works, but they all agree that it has about a fifty percent acquittal rate.[79] According to the pseudoscientific explanation, fear causes a guilty defendantÕs mouth to dry up, increasing the likelihood of sustaining a burn.[80] The obvious problem with this explanation is that an innocent person may be just as nervous to undergo the ordeal as a guilty person. On the other hand, this may only seem like an obvious problem to an outside observer; a Bedouin who has faith in the bishaÕs effectiveness truly may not be afraid of it.

            In GlubbÕs view, however, the true lie-detector is not the piece of hot metal itself, but rather the mubashsha.[81] The mubashsha hears both sides of the case and decides for himself who is telling the truth. He then structures the ordeal – in how long he leaves the metal in the fire, how hard he presses on the defendantÕs tongue, and how long he waits to examine it – in such a way as to acquit the innocent and condemn the guilty.[82] Of course, this explanation partly depends on whether the mubashsha applies the heated metal to the defendantÕs tongue or whether the defendant licks it himself.

            In any case, what really matters is that the bisha works (in the sense of definitively ending disputes). As long as the Bedouin believe in the effectiveness of the bisha and accept its results, it ŌworksĶ even if it does not uncover the truth.[83] In one case, a familyÕs herd was stolen and a line of tracks led from their pasture to another manÕs. The defendant underwent the bisha and emerged unscathed. The plaintiffs accepted the not-guilty verdict despite the circumstantial evidence of guilt.[84]

            Use of the bisha, however, was falling into disuse even at the beginning of the twentieth century in many parts of the Middle East.[85] Perhaps the only place where it is still regularly practiced is Sinai. In the 1980Õs, Stewart reported that the bisha had largely been abandoned in Syria, was suppressed in Saudi Arabia, but was administered seven days a week in the vicinity of the Suez Canal.[86]

Punishments

            Although Bedouin law requires an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth, punishments are converted into monetary damages.[87] Traditionally, damages were calculated in camels, but as early as the turn of the twentieth century (and possibly earlier) the West Desert Bedouin were paying damages in cash.[88] And although most Bedouin are Muslims, Bedouin law does not follow the sharia system for paying diya and other forms of damages. Rather than a fixed punishment for certain offenses, damages are assessed on a case-by-case basis. There is even a specialized type of judge whose expertise is in evaluating wounds and calculating damages.[89]

            Bedouin judgments can be extremely harsh, but it is also common practice for a successful plaintiff to waive the damages.[90] It is more important for a plaintiff to be seen as having his honor restored. However, this does not significantly reduce the deterrent effect of a judgment because the decision to waive damages remains solely in the plaintiffÕs discretion.

            A 2005 Palestinian case illustrates the above principles. A non-Bedouin man attempted to sexually assault a Bedouin girl, and the parties agreed to submit the case to a Bedouin judge (who, however, also happened to be a professional attorney) rather than submit it to the local authorities, which were in a state of disarray at the time.[91] The judge found the defendant guilty and ordered that both of his eyes be put out, his tongue cut out, and his right foot cut off, that he pay the girlÕs family twenty camels and 1,280,000 Jordanian dinar* for the act of chasing her, 100,000 dinar for making her lose her sandals, another 100,000 dinar for making her lose her shawl, and 100,000 dinar for her fear.[92] The judge ordered the corporal punishments be converted into monetary damages (and later said that such punishments never would have been carried out).[93] The judge then waived one-third of the total damages because the defendantÕs family acknowledged his guilt and left the parties to negotiate over the rest.[94] After negotiations, the defendantÕs family paid 100,000 dinar on the spot.[95] The girlÕs father then said that no amount of money could make up for what had happened, but that he would donate the payment to a refugee camp and disclaimed the rest of the damages.[96] According to some, however, the 100,000 dinar was actually returned to the defendantÕs family.[97]

            The chief Islamic judge in Palestine harshly criticized the Bedouin judgeÕs ruling. While he recognized the role that traditional legal proceedings can play in contemporary society, he said that the verdict did not conform to sharia. Specifically, he criticized the heavy penalties as an improper remnant of jahiliyya – the pre-Islamic time of pagan ignorance.[98]

Interaction with the modern state

            The above descriptions of Bedouin law represent, of course, a somewhat idealized version of Bedouin society. In reality, Bedouin law has often interacted with other legal systems, from the Ottoman Empire to the settled fellaheen societies and the European colonial governments to the modern state. Several intersections of Bedouin law and the legal systems of modern states are noteworthy.

            First, states differ in their recognition of Bedouin law and even the Bedouin themselves. Virtually every state with a sizable Bedouin population had at one time or another specialized courts for facilitating Bedouin legal proceedings.[99] Today, however, these courts have all been abolished.[100] This makes some sense from a historical perspective – when statesÕ control over the desert was weak, one of the only ways to maintain some semblance of authority over the Bedouin was to cooperate with them (this can also be seen in non-legal contexts, such as the British governmentÕs use of Bedouin army units to patrol the desert).[101]

            Generally speaking, the modern trend of states seems to be to deny official status to Bedouin legal proceedings, but to tacitly tolerate them. For example, Palestinian law authorizes sharia courts to impose diya after state court proceedings are over, but it does not recognize customary Bedouin law (although it does recognize out-of-court settlements).[102] However, as of 1980, Layish had found no instances of Palestinian Bedouin taking matters of diya to these courts, although they sometimes submitted less serious matters to them for arbitration.[103]

            As mentioned above, Syrian law goes so far as to officially deny the existence of the Bedouin tribes. Although these laws are still on the books, the government clearly tolerates the tribesÕ continued existence and in some cases even unofficially cooperates with them.[104] As another example, Saudi Arabia imposed sharia on the Bedouin in 1953,[105] but if these other examples are any guide, some traditional practices likely still persist outside the reach of the state.

            Second, a common practice of modern states has been to sever the tribesÕ connection to the land. For example, Israel has a policy of forced sedentarization. In 1948, those Bedouin who had not fled to Gaza as refugees were forcibly settled in a military zone around Beersheba.[106] In later years they were moved to planned settlements, although some refused to move and remained behind in shantytowns.[107] The French Mandatory government in Syria assigned specific grazing and water rights to tribes,[108] and the Syrian government later confiscated their lands.[109] And the Egyptian government does not recognize claims to desert land.[110]

            Apart from official state policies, there are other forces pushing the Bedouin into sedentary lifestyles. These include jobs in the oil industry, the introduction of cash crops and ranching-style agriculture, and government-supplied water sources.[111] Of course, there are also forces working in the opposite direction: trucks have made a nomadic lifestyle easier to pursue,[112] and earnings from higher-paying jobs allow some Bedouin to support their families and herds out in the desert.[113]

            One result of increased sedentarization has been the weakening of the practice of dakhala.[114] With fixed residences, it becomes harder for a family to seek protection from another tribe.

            Finally, Islam is playing a larger role in Bedouin society. This is partly the result of gaps in Bedouin law being exposed by contact with non-Bedouin society. For example, written contracts were rarely used (outside of the West Desert), so when an outsider insisted on formalizing a contract with a Bedouin, sharia stepped in to fill the gap.[115] Of course, the influence of Islam on Bedouin society is hardly a linear process. For example, Bedouin are aware of both the ban on interest under sharia as well as the ways around the ban, but sometimes choose to ignore one or the other when it suits them.[116]

            And the possibility often exists of playing one legal system off the other. On the one hand, a litigant might go to a Bedouin judge if he has no faith in the official or sharia courts, as the Palestinian example above shows. On the other hand, a litigant can also use the threat of going to the authorities to enforce a Bedouin judgeÕs ruling, which might otherwise be unenforceable.[117]             



* One Jordanian dinar currently is about $1.40.



Notes

 

[1] Stewart, F., Tribal Law in the Arab World: A Review of the Literature, International Journal of Middle East Studies 19(4), 1987, p. 474.

[2]Al-Krenawi, A. and Graham, J., Conflict Resolution through a Traditional Ritual among the Bedouin Arabs of the Negev, Ethnology 38(2), 1999, p. 165.

[3] Cole, D., Where Have the Bedouin Gone?, Anthropological Quarterly 76(2), 2003, p. 237.

[4] Id.

[5] Id.

[6] Chatty, D., The Bedouin in Contemporary Syria: The Persistence of Tribal Authority and Control, Middle East Journal 64(1), 2010, p. 30.

[7] Bailey, C., Bedouin Law from Sinai & the Negev: Justice without Government, Yale University Press, New Haven, Conn., 2009, pp. 12-13.

[8] Id.

[9] Id.

[10] Id.

[11] Id. See also Kennett, A., Bedouin Justice: Laws & Customs Among the Egyptian Bedouin, Cambridge University Press, New York, 1925, p. 19; Beckerleg, S., African Bedouin in Palestine, African and Asian Studies 6, 2007, p. 297; and Chatty, p. 31.

[12] Bailey, p. 15.

[13] Id.

[14] Stewart, p. 481.

[15] Beckerleg, p. 297.

[16] Kennett, p. 20.

[17] Chatty, p. 37.

[18] Id., pp. 43-44, 46.

[19] Bailey, p. 12.

[20] See, e.g., Kennett.

[21] Bailey, p. 64; and Kennett, p. 56.

[22] Id.

[23] Kennett, p. 30.

[24] Bailey, p. 60.

[25] Id.

[26] Some Bedouin Customs and Traditions: Recounted by ŌGlubb Pasha,Ķ available at http://www.jordanjubilee.com/meetfolk/glubb.htm [accessed November 4, 2013].

[27] Bailey, p. 95.

[28] Id.

[29] Id., p. 96.

[30] Kennett, p. 15.

[31] Bailey, p. 78.

[32] Id.

[33] Id., p. 79.

[34] Id., p. 68.

[35] Id., p. 158.

[36] Id., p. 174.

[37] Kennett, pp. 37-38.

[38] Dresch, P., Placing the Blame: A Means of Enforcing Obligations in Upper Yemen, Anthropos 82, 1987, pp. 428-29.

[39] Id.

[40] Id., p. 429

[41] Bailey, {need page number}

[42] Dresch, p. 432.

[43] Bailey, p. 40.

[44] Id.

[45] Id., p. 42.

[46] Khalaf, S., Settlement of Violence in Bedouin Society, Ethnology 29(3), 1990.

[47] Bailey, pp. 40-42.

[48] Khalaf.

[49] Id.

[50] Id.

[51] Id.

[52] Id.

[53] Kennett, p. 36.

[54] Bailey, p. 160.

[55] Id.

[56] Kennett, p. 37.

[57] Id.

[58] Bailey, p. 172.

[59] Id.

[60] Kennett, p. 46.

[61] Bailey, p. 189.

[62] Kennett, p. 13.

[63] Bailey, p. 180.

[64] Id., pp. 178-79.

[65] Id.

[66] Id., p. 181.

[67] Kennett, p. 41.

[68] Id.

[69] Bailey, p. 196.

[70] Layish, A., Challenges to Customary Law and Arbitration: The Impact of Islamic Law upon Settled Bedouin in the Judean Desert, 5 Tel Aviv U. Stud. L. 206, 1980, p. 214.

[71] Bailey, p. 196. See also Kennett, p. 45.

[72] Al-Krenawi, p. 167.

[73] Id., p. 166.

[74] Id.

[75] Bailey, pp. 166-67.

[76] Id.

[77] Al-Krenawi, p. 167.

[78] Some Bedouin Customs and Traditions: Recounted by ŌGlubb PashaĶ

[79] See, e.g., Kennett, p. 112.

[80] Id.; and al-Krenawi, p. 170.

[81] Some Bedouin Customs and Traditions: Recounted by ŌGlubb PashaĶ

[82] Id.

[83] Al-Krenawi, p. 171.

[84] Id., pp. 168-69.

[85] Some Bedouin Customs and Traditions: Recounted by ŌGlubb PashaĶ

[86] Stewart, pp. 476-77.

[87] Bailey, p. 225.

[88] Kennett, p. 50.

[89] Bailey, pp. 159-60.

[90] Id., p. 225.

[91] Welchman, L., The Bedouin Judge, the Mufti, and the Chief Islamic Justice: Competing Legal Regimes in the Occupied Palestinian Territories, Journal of Palestine Studies 38(2), 2009, pp. 6, 18.

[92] Id., pp. 12-14.

[93] Id., p. 14.

[94] Id., p. 13.

[95] Id., p. 14.

[96] Id.

[97] Id.

[98] Id., p. 16.

[99] Stewart, p. 480.

[100] Id.

[101] Some Bedouin Customs and Traditions: Recounted by ŌGlubb PashaĶ

[102] Welchman, p. 16.

[103] Layish, p. 217-18.

[104] Chatty, p. 46.

[105] Bailey, p. 12.

[106] Beckerleg, p. 297.

[107] Id., p. 298.

[108] Chatty, p. 34.

[109] Id., p. 36.

[110] Cole, p. 251.

[111] Id., pp. 241, 245.

[112] Chatty, p. 48.

[113] Cole, p. 245.

[114] Id., p. 251.

[115] Layish, p. 215.

[116] Id., p. 216.

[117] Welchman, p. 20.