Freedom is Bittersweet for Palestinians Released from Israeli Jails

Palestinian former prisoner Khalida Jarrar (L), a prominent figure in the Marxist Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP), receives well-wishers at a Catholic church in Ramallah in the occupied West Bank, on January 20, 2025, hours after her release from an Israeli jail. (Photo by Zain JAAFAR / AFP)
Palestinian former prisoner Khalida Jarrar (L), a prominent figure in the Marxist Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP), receives well-wishers at a Catholic church in Ramallah in the occupied West Bank, on January 20, 2025, hours after her release from an Israeli jail. (Photo by Zain JAAFAR / AFP)
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Freedom is Bittersweet for Palestinians Released from Israeli Jails

Palestinian former prisoner Khalida Jarrar (L), a prominent figure in the Marxist Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP), receives well-wishers at a Catholic church in Ramallah in the occupied West Bank, on January 20, 2025, hours after her release from an Israeli jail. (Photo by Zain JAAFAR / AFP)
Palestinian former prisoner Khalida Jarrar (L), a prominent figure in the Marxist Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP), receives well-wishers at a Catholic church in Ramallah in the occupied West Bank, on January 20, 2025, hours after her release from an Israeli jail. (Photo by Zain JAAFAR / AFP)

When Dania Hanatsheh was released from an Israeli jail this week and dropped off by bus into a sea of jubilant Palestinians in Ramallah, it was an uncomfortable déjà vu.

After nearly five months of detention, it was the second time the 22-year-old woman had been freed as part of a deal between Israel and Hamas to pause the war in Gaza, the Associated Press said.

Hanatsheh’s elation at being free again is tinged with sadness about the devastation in Gaza, she said, as well as uncertainty about whether she could be detained in the future — a common feeling in her community.

“Palestinian families are prepared to be arrested at any moment,” said Hanatsheh, one of 90 women and teenagers released by Israel during the first phase of the ceasefire deal. “You feel helpless like you can’t do anything to protect yourself.”

Nearly 2,000 Palestinian prisoners are to be released as part of a deal to halt the fighting for six weeks, free 33 hostages from Gaza, and increase fuel and aid deliveries to the territory. Many of the prisoners to be released have been detained for infractions such as throwing stones or Molotov cocktails, while others are convicted of killing Israelis.

Hanatsheh was first arrested in November 2023, just weeks into the war triggered by Hamas' deadly attack on Israel. She was freed days later during a weeklong ceasefire in which hundreds of Palestinians were released in exchange for nearly half of the roughly 250 hostages Hamas and others dragged into Gaza.

She was detained again in August, when Israeli troops burst through her door, using an explosive, she said.

On neither occasion was she told why she’d been arrested, she said. A list maintained by Israel's justice ministry says Hanatsheh was detained for “supporting terror,” although she was never charged or given a trial and doesn't belong to any militant group.

Her story resonates across Palestinian society, where nearly every family — in Gaza, the West Bank and east Jerusalem — has a relative who has spent time in an Israeli jail. This has left scars on generations of families, leaving fewer breadwinners and forcing children to grow up without one or both parents for long stretches.

Since the start of the war 15 months ago, the number of Palestinians in Israeli jails has doubled to more than 10,000, a figure that includes detainees from Gaza, and several thousand arrested in the West Bank and east Jerusalem, according to Hamoked, an Israeli legal group.

Many prisoners are never told why they were detained. Israel’s “administrative detention” policy allows it to jail people — as it did with Hanatsheh — based on secret evidence, without publicly charging them or ever holding a trial. Only intelligence officers or judges know the charges, said Amjad Abu Asab, head of the Detainees’ Parents Committee in Jerusalem.

Under the terms of the ceasefire, the Palestinian prisoners released by Israel cannot be later rearrested on the same charges, or returned to jail to finish serving time for past offenses. Prisoners are not required to sign any document upon their release.

The conditions for Palestinian prisoners deteriorated greatly after the war in Gaza began. The country’s then-national security minister, Itamar Ben-Gvir, boasted last year that prisons will no longer be “summer camps” under his watch.

Several of the prisoners released this week said they lacked adequate food and medical care and that they were forced to sleep in cramped cells.

Men and women prisoners in Israel are routinely beaten and sprayed with pepper gas, and they are deprived of family visits or a change of clothes, said Khalida Jarrar, the most prominent detainee freed.

For years, Jarrar, 62, has been in and out of prison as a leading member of the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine, a leftist faction with an armed wing that has carried out attacks on Israelis.

Human Rights Watch has decried Jarrar's repeated arrests — she was last detained late in 2023 — as part of an unjust Israeli crackdown on non-violent political opposition.

At an event in Ramallah to welcome home the newly released prisoners, Jarrar greeted a long line of well- wishers. But not everyone was celebrating. Some families worried the ceasefire wouldn't last long enough for their relatives to be freed.

During the ceasefire's first phase, Israel and Hamas and mediators from Qatar, the US and Egypt will try to agree upon a second phase, in which all remaining hostages in Gaza would be released in exchange for more Palestinian prisoners, a complete Israeli withdrawal from Gaza and a “sustainable calm.” Negotiations on the second phase begin on the sixteenth day of the ceasefire.

For Yassar Saadat, the first release of prisoners was a particularly bittersweet moment. His mother, Abla Abdelrasoul, was freed after being under “administrative detention” since September, according to the justice ministry, which said her crime was “security to the state - other.” But his father — one of the most high-profile prisoners in Israel — remains behind bars.

“We don’t know if he’ll be released, but we don’t lose hope,” he said. His father, Ahmad Saadat, is a leader of the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine who was convicted of killing an Israeli Cabinet minister in 2001 and has been serving a 30-year sentence.

It’s unclear if he’ll be released and, even if he is, whether he’ll be able to see his family. The ceasefire agreement says all Palestinian prisoners convicted of deadly attacks who are released will be exiled, either to Gaza or abroad, and barred from ever returning to Israel or the West Bank.

The release of some convicted murderers is a sore spot for many Israelis, and particularly those whose relatives were killed.

Micah Avni’s father, Richard Lakin, was shot and stabbed to death by a member of Hamas on a public bus in 2015 and his killer's name is on the list of prisoners to be freed in phase one. While Avni is grateful that more hostages in Gaza are beginning to come home, he doesn’t believe it'll lead to long-term peace between Israel and Hamas.

“These deals come with a huge, huge cost of life and there are going to be many, many, many more people murdered in the future by the people who were released,” he said.

Israel has a history of agreeing to lopsided exchanges. In 2011, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu agreed to release more than 1,000 Palestinian prisoners in exchange for a single Israeli soldier, Gilad Schalit, taken hostage by Hamas.

One of the prisoners released during that deal was Hamas’ former top leader, Yahya Sinwar, a mastermind of the Oct. 7 attack who was killed by Israeli troops in Gaza last year.

Some Palestinians said the lopsided exchanges of prisoners for hostages is justified by Israel's seemingly arbitrary detention policies. Others said, for now, all they want to focus on is lost time with their families.

Amal Shujaeiah said she spent more than seven months in prison, accused by Israel of partaking in pro-Palestinian events at her university and hosting a podcast that talked about the war in Gaza.

Back home, the 21-year-old beamed as she embraced friends and relatives.

“Today I am among my family and loved ones, indescribable joy ... a moment of freedom that makes you forget the sorrow.”



‘Living in a Cage’: West Bank Checkpoints Proliferate After Gaza Truce 

Commuters wait in their vehicles at the Israeli Atara checkpoint on route 465 near Ramallah in the occupied West Bank on January 22, 2025. (AFP)
Commuters wait in their vehicles at the Israeli Atara checkpoint on route 465 near Ramallah in the occupied West Bank on January 22, 2025. (AFP)
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‘Living in a Cage’: West Bank Checkpoints Proliferate After Gaza Truce 

Commuters wait in their vehicles at the Israeli Atara checkpoint on route 465 near Ramallah in the occupied West Bank on January 22, 2025. (AFP)
Commuters wait in their vehicles at the Israeli Atara checkpoint on route 465 near Ramallah in the occupied West Bank on January 22, 2025. (AFP)

Father Bashar Basiel moved freely in and out of his parish in the occupied West Bank until Israeli troops installed gates at the entrance of his village Taybeh overnight, just hours after a ceasefire began in Gaza.

"We woke up and we were surprised to see that we have the iron gates in our entrance of Taybeh, on the roads that are going to Jericho, to Jerusalem, to Nablus," said Basiel, a Catholic priest in the Christian village north of Ramallah.

All over the West Bank, commuters have been finding that their journey to work takes much longer since the Gaza ceasefire started.

"We have not lived such a difficult situation (in terms of movement) since the Second Intifada," Basiel told AFP in reference to a Palestinian uprising in the early 2000s.

He said he was used to the checkpoints, which are dotted along the separation barrier that cuts through much of the West Bank and at the entrances to Palestinian towns and cities.

But while waiting times got longer in the aftermath of the October 2023 Hamas attack that sparked the Gaza war, now it has become almost impossible to move between cities and villages in the West Bank.

Commuters wait in their vehicles at the Israeli Atara checkpoint on route 465 near Ramallah in the occupied West Bank on January 22, 2025. (AFP)

- Concrete blocks, metal gates -

Left-leaning Israeli newspaper Haaretz reported that Israeli authorities ordered the military to operate dozens of checkpoints around the West Bank during the first 42 days of the ceasefire.

According to the Palestinian Wall Resistance Commission, 146 iron gates were erected around the West Bank after the Gaza war began, 17 of them in January alone, bringing the total number of roadblocks in the Palestinian territory to 898.

"Checkpoints are still checkpoints, but the difference now is that they've enclosed us with gates. That's the big change," said Anas Ahmad, who found himself stuck in traffic for hours on his way home after a usually open road near the university town of Birzeit was closed.

Hundreds of drivers were left idling on the road out of the city as they waited for the Israeli soldiers to allow them through.

The orange metal gates Ahmad was referring to are a lighter version of full checkpoints, which usually feature a gate and concrete shelters for soldiers checking drivers' IDs or searching their vehicles.

"The moment the truce was signed, everything changed 180 degrees. The Israeli government is making the Palestinian people pay the price," said Ahmad, a policeman who works in Ramallah.

Israeli military spokesman Nadav Shoshani did not comment on whether there had been an increase in the number of checkpoints but said the military used them to arrest wanted Palestinian gunmen.

"We make sure that the terrorists do not get away but the civilians have a chance to get out or go wherever they want and have their freedom of movement," he said in a media briefing on Wednesday.

Members of the Israeli security forces check vehicles at the Israeli Atara checkpoint on route 465 near Ramallah in the occupied West Bank on January 22, 2025. (AFP)

- 'Like rabbits in a cage' -

Basiel said that now, when the gates are closed, "I have to wait, or I have to take another way" into Taybeh.

He said that on Monday people waited in their cars from 4:00 pm to 2:00 am while each vehicle entering the village was meticulously checked.

Another Ramallah area resident, who preferred not to be named for security reasons, compared his new environment to that of a caged animal.

"It's like rabbits living in a cage. In the morning they can go out, do things, then in the evening they have to go home to the cage," he said.

Shadi Zahod, a government employee who commutes daily between Salfit and Ramallah, felt similarly constrained.

"It's as if they're sending us a message: stay trapped in your town, don't go anywhere", he told AFP.

"Since the truce, we've been paying the price in every Palestinian city," he said, as his wait at a checkpoint in Birzeit dragged into a third hour.

- Impossible to make plans -

Before approving the Gaza ceasefire, Israel's security cabinet reportedly added to its war goals the "strengthening of security" in the West Bank.

Israeli human rights group B'Tselem said in a statement on Tuesday that Israel "is merely shifting its focus from Gaza to other areas it controls in the West Bank".

A 2019 academic paper by Jerusalem's Applied Research Institute estimated that at the time Palestinians lost 60 million work hours per year to restrictions.

But for Basiel, the worst impact is an inability to plan even a day ahead.

"The worst thing that we are facing now, is that we don't have any vision for the near future, even tomorrow."