HURA, Israel (AP) — He was a
quiet whiz kid at the top of his class in Israel, who overcame tough
odds in this minority Arab village to become a star medical student and
hospital intern.
Could Othman Abu al-Qiyan have been radicalized by Israel's conflict with the Palestinians — or something else?
No
one can quite explain what happened and why, but in his community in
Israel's southern Negev desert, where many even serve in the Israeli
army, his sudden transformation into a jihadi killed in Syria fighting
for the Islamic State group is treated as a dark and dangerous mystery.
In
three years of war in Syria, dozens of educated and seemingly
progressive Muslims from Western countries have been lured to what they
perceive to be a heroic jihadi battle against President Bashar Assad.
In
Israel, the phenomenon is still marginal. Israel's Shin Bet security
service estimates that only about 30 Arabs have departed for Syria to
take part in the fighting. Just a handful have joined IS — the extremist
group notorious for its beheadings of foreign journalists and aid
workers.
Abu al-Qiyan,
believed to be in his late 20s, is the first Bedouin to take that route.
His extended family — which has close ties to the Israeli establishment
and has produced many soldiers — has been quick to condemn and distance
itself from the act.
"I know
the father, I know the grandfather, they are good people," said Salim
Abu al-Qiyan, a distant relative who said the family has posthumously
disowned the deceased jihadi for shaming them.
"They have no idea why he
went there and how he did it. They invested a lot of money in him, they
taught him and made a doctor out of him and they were waiting to reap
the benefits. And this person showed no signs, he did not tell anybody,
he went on a normal trip."
The
Bedouin are among the most underprivileged communities in Israel, and
have become more religious in recent years. They have been particularly
enraged at the Israeli establishment over plans to resettle their
traditionally nomadic communities into government-recognized villages.
Even
so, IS seems a world away, especially for someone like Abu al-Qiyan. He
was a golden boy, described by those who knew him as a shy "genius" who
was equally devoted to medicine and Islam.
"He
was very smart, very sharp. The last person you would have suspected to
be violent," said Dr. Yosef Mishal, a department head at Barzilai
Medical Center who oversaw Abu al-Qiyan's internship. "He is the kind of
doctor any department head would want."
Abu al-Qiyan was set to start a further specialization at Beersheba's Soroka hospital in May when he vanished.
What
followed next remains unclear: Residents in Hura were hesitant to
discuss details openly either because of the shame it brought upon them
or for fear of angering his extended family, one of the two most
powerful clans in town.
Several family members said all they knew is that he left for
what he said was a vacation in Turkey with a cousin. They said Abu
al-Qiyan later called them from Syria, telling them where he left his
belongings and saying he would meet them next in paradise.
Some
traveled to Turkey in a desperate attempt to find him and bring him
back. Family members said they got an anonymous call in August saying
that he had been killed in the first wave of American air raids against
the Islamic State.
His exact role within IS, as a medic or perhaps
a fighter, is unknown. The relatives spoke on condition of anonymity
because they did not want to cause trouble in the family.
Locals
have speculated that Abu Al-Qiyan was radicalized while studying in
Jordan or that he was secretly recruited online. But no one has attested
to hearing him say anything that indicated that. Even the Shin Bet,
which closely monitors suspected extremists, is at a loss to explain a
motivation. It has arrested Abu Al-Qiyan's brother, Idris, on suspicion
of aiding him but said it has no further intelligence on the doctor or
his relative Shafiq, who accompanied him to Turkey and whose fate
remains unknown.
Bedouins
make up a small group within Israel's Arab minority, numbering about
180,000. Some live in organized townships like Hura, home to about
14,000 people, while others still reside in desert tents to stay closer
to their nomadic traditions. Historically, the Bedouin in Israel have
identified more closely with the Jewish state than other Arabs, and many
serve in the military, where they have their own combat battalion and
are highly respected as desert trackers.
While
some have expressed general support for the greater goal of an Islamic
caliphate espoused by IS, there have been no signs of overt backing for
the jihadis, said Suleiman Azbarga, a 29-year-old local businessman who
studied with Abu Al-Qiyan in Jordan.
He said he was shocked by the news about his old acquaintance, who he remembered as being extremely bright.
"It
is impossible to describe the feeling," he said, out of sight of
suspicious eyes in town. "There may be a few who feel pride in this, but
these are very, very few. The majority of people here feel
disappointment, and a sense of loss."
Yousef
Abu Jaffer, the Western-educated treasurer of the Hura municipality,
said there was "something there" that was attracting seemingly
successful youngsters to trade in a life of promise for a suicidal quest
in the name of religion.
"He
(Abu Al-Qiyan) is the right profile for success," he said. "No one will
answer the clear question: what happened there? But somebody has to do
that."
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