Clinton Bailey, an American-Israeli scholar and advocate for the culture and rights of Middle Eastern Bedouin tribes, lived a life immersed in curiosity, chance encounters, and a profound commitment to preserving a culture on the brink of rapid transformation. Bailey passed away at his home in Jerusalem on January 5 at the age of 88, leaving behind a legacy of academic and cultural preservation. His work offered not only a window into the Bedouin way of life but also a testament to the richness of oral traditions and their enduring value, even in the face of modernity’s encroachment.
Born on April 24, 1936, as Erwin Glaser, in Buffalo, New York, Bailey was the son of Jewish immigrants from Russia. From humble beginnings, his father, Benjamin, built a chain of gas stations in Buffalo, a family story of self-made success that perhaps inspired Bailey’s own wanderlust and independent spirit. After serving in the U.S. Navy following the Korean War, his path took a serendipitous turn aboard a ship, where he encountered a rabbi who introduced him to Jewish literature from Eastern Europe. This awakening led to a meeting with famed Yiddish writer and Nobel laureate Isaac Bashevis Singer and, eventually, to a love for Hebrew and Middle Eastern cultures.
Bailey’s intellectual journey was as eclectic as his life’s adventures. He studied sculpture in Norway, initially intended to study Yiddish at Yeshiva University, and found himself captivated by Hebrew instead. A pivotal encounter with an Israeli kibbutznik soon led to his decision to move to Israel in 1958, where he became deeply engrossed in the country’s rich cultural fabric. In 1959, he married Maya Ordinan, herself an immigrant who had fled World War II’s ravages to find refuge in Israel.
After completing his undergraduate studies in political science and Middle Eastern studies at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, Bailey’s desire to dive deeper into the complexities of the Arab world and its traditions sent him on a year-long sojourn in an Arab village in Galilee, teaching English while honing his colloquial Arabic skills. With this foundation, Bailey pursued his doctorate in Middle Eastern studies at Columbia University before returning permanently to Israel in 1967.
It was during this period that Bailey’s chance encounters would open new chapters in his life. At one point, while wandering around Tel Aviv, he found himself unexpectedly invited for tea by Paula Ben-Gurion, wife of Israel’s founding prime minister, David Ben-Gurion. This chance meeting blossomed into a friendship with the Ben-Gurions, ultimately shaping much of Bailey’s future. Ben-Gurion secured him a job teaching English at an academy in Sde Boker, a remote kibbutz in the Negev desert where the elder statesman later retired.
The stark beauty of the desert, the simplicity of kibbutz life, and chance interactions with Bedouin shepherds during his runs drew Bailey deeper into the Bedouin world. Intrigued by their way of life—a culture he described as reminiscent of survival stories from 4,500 years ago—Bailey began methodically documenting their oral traditions. Armed with a camera and tape recorder, he embarked on long adventures across the southern Israeli Negev Desert and the Sinai Peninsula, traveling by jeep and camel to reach remote tribes.
This work became a race against time. The few remaining links that tied Bedouin society to its ancient traditions were unraveling rapidly in the face of modernity. Mobile phones, transistor radios, and new borders imposed by governments disrupted the timeless rhythm of Bedouin nomadism. Bailey understood it was disappearing and set out on a mission to preserve it. “I decided to try to capture that culture,” he explained in a 2021 interview when he donated his vast archive to the National Library of Israel—an archive that included 350 hours of audio tape documenting a wealth of oral poetry, rituals, stories, negotiations, and legal wisdom.
Bailey’s urgent mission was deeply appreciated by the Bedouin themselves. Many viewed his work as “sacred,” preserving their traditions for future generations. One elder, Daham al-Atawneh from the Negev, credited Bailey’s collections of poetry for ensuring that younger generations of Bedouin, exposed to modern influences, would still have records to turn to when reconnecting with their roots.
But Bailey’s work went beyond recording Bedouin traditions. He also became an advocate for their rights, particularly amid ongoing land disputes with the Israeli government. Many Bedouin lacked formal documentation for land ownership, a reality that often left them disenfranchised. His advocacy for justice and understanding resonated with his deep respect for their way of life and his desire to bridge divides in the politically charged region.
Throughout his career, Bailey married scholarly focus with a knack for storytelling. In addition to several books analyzing Bedouin law, poetry, and proverbs, his 2018 book, Bedouin Culture in the Bible, offered insights connecting their traditional practices to biblical texts. Meanwhile, for nearly three decades, he also taught Middle Eastern politics and Bedouin culture at Trinity College in Hartford, Connecticut.
Bailey’s life, layered with serendipity, took yet another twist in 2016 at age 80. A decades-old film interview he had conducted with David Ben-Gurion in 1968—recorded over three days—was rediscovered. For years, the film and the soundtrack had been mistakenly stored in separate archives. The material became the foundation for Ben-Gurion, Epilogue, an acclaimed 2016 documentary. It featured an intimate and reflective Ben-Gurion discussing his life and contributions to Israel’s birth, showcasing the leader’s humility and thoughtfulness. The rediscovery struck a chord with audiences at a time when the yearning for integrity in leadership resonated deeply with the Israeli public.
This humility also formed the core of Bailey’s affection for Bedouin life. He often marveled at the contrast between their subsistence-level material possessions and their richness of spirit. He would recount stories for his modern friends to illustrate such values, like how tribesmen would generously scrape together a meal for an unexpected guest, even if it meant bartering for tea and eggs. “A Bedouin would wake up in the morning with nothing,” he observed, “and would consider himself fortunate if he had acquired something by bedtime.”
Bailey’s immersion in the Bedouin world also coincided with his involvement in some of the Middle East’s political trials. During his time as an adviser on Arab affairs for Israel’s Ministry of Defense in the 1980s, Bailey frequented southern Lebanon during Israeli occupation. Advocating for closer relations between Israel and Shiite Muslims in the region, he found his advice largely unheeded as the Israeli government aligned itself with Christian Lebanese militias. This decision led to the controversial massacres at Sabra and Shatila by the Phalangist forces and laid the groundwork for Hezbollah’s rise as a powerful adversary of Israel.
Even amid such fraught scenarios, Bailey remained focused on the enduring humanity he witnessed in desert life. In a way, the harsh and minimalistic realities of the Bedouin mirrored his affection for Ben-Gurion’s modest desert hut in Sde Boker—a reminder, perhaps, that simplicity can hold profound meaning.
Bailey’s death marks the end of a life spent as much in the world of ancient oral narratives as in modern political realities. He leaves behind his wife Maya, four sons—Michael, Daniel, Benjamin, and Ariel—and nine grandchildren, along with an enduring legacy that blends scholarship, cultural preservation, and a deep humanism. Whether capturing Bedouin poetry or piecing together lost film footage, Bailey’s life was one of preserving memory, enriching identity, and threading connections between past, present, and future.
