On 3rd Anniversary, Beirut Port Blast Probe Blocked by Intrigue and Even the Death Toll Is Disputed

 A view shows the partially collapsed grain silos, damaged in the August 4, 2020 Beirut port blast as Lebanon marks third anniversary of the explosion on Friday, in Beirut Lebanon August 2, 2023. (Reuters)
A view shows the partially collapsed grain silos, damaged in the August 4, 2020 Beirut port blast as Lebanon marks third anniversary of the explosion on Friday, in Beirut Lebanon August 2, 2023. (Reuters)
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On 3rd Anniversary, Beirut Port Blast Probe Blocked by Intrigue and Even the Death Toll Is Disputed

 A view shows the partially collapsed grain silos, damaged in the August 4, 2020 Beirut port blast as Lebanon marks third anniversary of the explosion on Friday, in Beirut Lebanon August 2, 2023. (Reuters)
A view shows the partially collapsed grain silos, damaged in the August 4, 2020 Beirut port blast as Lebanon marks third anniversary of the explosion on Friday, in Beirut Lebanon August 2, 2023. (Reuters)

Three years after Beirut’s massive port blast, attempts to prosecute those responsible are mired in political intrigue, the final death toll remains disputed and many Lebanese have less faith than ever in their disintegrating state institutions.

As the country marks the anniversary Friday, relatives of some of those killed are still struggling to get their loved ones recognized as blast victims, reflecting the ongoing chaos since the Aug. 4, 2020 explosion. The blast killed at least 218 people, according to an Associated Press count, wounded more than 6,000, devastated large swaths of Beirut and caused billions of dollars in damages.

Among those not recognized as a blast victim is a five-month-old boy, Qusai Ramadan, a child of Syrian refugees. His parents say he was killed when the explosion toppled the ceiling and a cupboard in his hospital room, crushing him. The parents have been unable to get the infant added to the official death list, a move that could have made them eligible for future compensation.

They accused the authorities of discriminating against victims who are not Lebanese.

Meanwhile, the blast anniversary brought renewed calls for an international investigation of those responsible, including top officials who allowed hundreds of tons of highly flammable ammonium nitrate, a material used in fertilizers, to be improperly stored for years at a warehouse in the port.

Lebanese and international organizations, survivors and families of victims sent such an appeal to the UN Rights Council, saying that “on third anniversary of the explosion, we are no closer to justice and accountability for the catastrophe.”

Maan, a Lebanese group advocating for victims and survivors, put the death toll at 236, significantly higher than the government's count of 191. The authorities stopped counting the dead a month after the blast, even as some of the severely wounded died in the subsequent period.

Among those listed by Maan Initiative is Qusai, the Syrian infant.

Qusai had been undergoing treatment for a severe liver condition and was transferred to a government hospital near the port about a week before the explosion. Hospital staff said the infant needed a liver transplant and was in critical condition.

On the day of the blast, Qusai’s aunt, Noura Mohammed, was sitting at his bedside while his mother rested at home. The aunt said the staff ordered everyone to evacuate immediately after the explosion, and that she found the infant dead, crushed by fallen debris, when she returned.

Hospital officials said Qusai died an hour after the explosion, with the death certificate listing cardio respiratory arrest as the cause. The family buried him a day later.

“We asked them (the authorities) to register my son among the victims of the blast,” his mother, Sarah Jassem Mohammed, said in a recent interview in a small tent in an orchard in the northern Lebanese village of Markabta where she lives with her husband, two sons and one daughter. “They refused.”

Lebanon is home to more than 1 million Syrian refugees, who make about 20% of the country’s population. A Lebanese group, the Anti-Racism Movement, said that among those killed in the blast were at least 76 non-Lebanese citizens, including 52 Syrians.

Meanwhile, many in Lebanon have been losing faith in the domestic investigation and some have started filing cases abroad against companies suspected of bringing in the ammonium nitrate.

The chemicals had been shipped to Lebanon in 2013. Senior political and security officials knew of their presence and potential danger but did nothing.

Lebanese and non-Lebanese victims alike have seen justice delayed, with the investigation stalled since December 2021. Lebanon’s powerful and corrupt political class has repeatedly intervened in the work of the judiciary.

In January, Lebanon’s top prosecutor Ghassan Oueidat ordered the release of all suspects detained in the investigation.

“The political class have used every tool at their disposal - both legal and extra legal - to undermine, obstruct, and block the domestic investigation into the blast,” said Aya Majzoub, deputy chief for the Mideast and North Africa at the rights group Amnesty International.

Makhoul Mohammed, 40, a Syrian citizen, was lightly injured in the blast in his Beirut apartment while his daughter Sama, who was six at the time, lost her left eye.

Mohammed, who settled in Canada last year, said he plans to sue those responsible for the explosion in a Canadian court.

“The (domestic) investigation will not lead to results as long as this political class is running the country,” he said.



Told to Fix Notorious Prison, Israel Just Relocated Alleged Abuses, Detainees Say 

Israeli security personnel stand outside Ofer military prison in the West Bank on Feb. 8, 2025. (AP) 
Israeli security personnel stand outside Ofer military prison in the West Bank on Feb. 8, 2025. (AP) 
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Told to Fix Notorious Prison, Israel Just Relocated Alleged Abuses, Detainees Say 

Israeli security personnel stand outside Ofer military prison in the West Bank on Feb. 8, 2025. (AP) 
Israeli security personnel stand outside Ofer military prison in the West Bank on Feb. 8, 2025. (AP) 

Under pressure from Israel’s top court to improve conditions at a facility notorious for mistreating Palestinians seized in Gaza, the military transferred hundreds of detainees to newly opened camps.

But abuses at these camps were just as bad, according to Israeli human rights organizations that interviewed dozens of current and former detainees and are now asking the same court to force the military to fix the problem once and for all.

What the detainees’ testimonies show, rights groups say, is that instead of correcting alleged abuses against Palestinians held without charge or trial — including beatings, excessive handcuffing, and poor diet and health care -- Israel’s military just shifted where they take place.

"What we’ve seen is the erosion of the basic standards for humane detention," said Jessica Montell, the director of Hamoked, one of the rights groups petitioning the Israeli government.

Asked for a response, the military said it complies with international law and "completely rejects allegations regarding the systematic abuse of detainees."

The sprawling Ofer Camp and the smaller Anatot Camp, both built in the West Bank, were supposed to resolve problems rights groups documented at a detention center in the Negev desert called Sde Teiman. That site was intended to temporarily hold and treat fighters captured during Hamas’ Oct. 7, 2023, attack on Israel. But it morphed into a long-term detention center infamous for brutalizing Palestinians rounded up in Gaza, often without being charged.

Detainees transferred to Ofer and Anatot say conditions there were no better, according to more than 30 who were interviewed by lawyers for Hamoked and Physicians for Human Rights-Israel. AP is the first international news organization to report on the affidavits from PHRI.

"They would punish you for anything" said Khaled Alserr, 32, a surgeon from Gaza who spent months at Ofer Camp and agreed to speak about his experiences. He was released after six months without charge.

Alserr said he lost count of the beatings he endured from soldiers after being rounded up in March of last year during a raid at Nasser Hospital in Khan Younis. "You’d be punished for making eye contact, for asking for medicine, for looking up towards the sky," said Alserr.

Other detainees’ accounts to the rights groups remain anonymous. Their accounts could not be independently confirmed, but their testimonies – given separately – were similar.

The Supreme Court has given the military until the end of March to respond to the alleged abuses at Ofer.

Leaving Sde Teiman

Since the war began, Israel has seized thousands in Gaza that it suspects of links to Hamas. Thousands have also been released, often after months of detention.

Hundreds of detainees were freed during the ceasefire that began in January. But with ground operations recently restarted in Gaza, arrests continue. The military won’t say how many detainees it holds.

After Israel's Supreme Court ordered better treatment at Sde Teiman, the military said in June it was transferring hundreds of detainees, including 500 sent to Ofer.

Ofer was built on an empty lot next to a civilian prison of the same name. Satellite photos from January show a paved, walled compound, with 24 mobile homes that serve as cells.

Anatot, built on a military base in a Jewish settlement, has two barracks, each with room for about 50 people, according to Hamoked.

Under wartime Israeli law, the military can hold Palestinians from Gaza for 45 days without access to the outside world. In practice, many go far longer.

Whenever detainees met with Hamoked lawyers, they were "dragged violently" into a cell — sometimes barefoot and often blindfolded, and their hands and feet remained shackled throughout the meetings, the rights group said in a letter to the military’s advocate general.

"I don’t know where I am," one detainee told a lawyer.

Newly freed Israeli hostages have spoken out about their own harsh conditions in Gaza. Eli Sharabi, who emerged gaunt after 15 months of captivity, told Israel’s Channel 12 news that his captors said hostages’ conditions were influenced by Israel’s treatment of Palestinian prisoners.

Regular beatings

Alserr said he was kept with 21 others from Gaza in a 40-square-meter cell with eight bunk beds. Some slept on the floor on camping mattresses soldiers had punctured so they couldn't inflate, he said. Scabies and lice were rampant. He said he was only allowed outside his cell once a week.

Detainees from Ofer and Anatot said they were regularly beaten with fists and batons. Some said they were kept in handcuffs for months, including while they slept and ate — and unshackled only when allowed to shower once a week.

Three prisoners held in Anatot told the lawyers that they were blindfolded constantly. One Anatot detainee said that soldiers woke them every hour during the night and made them stand for a half-hour.

In response to questions from AP, the military said it was unaware of claims that soldiers woke detainees up. It said detainees have regular shower access and are allowed daily yard time. It said occasional overcrowding meant some detainees were forced to sleep on "mattresses on the floor."

The military said it closed Anatot in early February because it was no longer needed for "short-term incarceration" when other facilities were full. Sde Teiman, which has been upgraded, is still in use.

Nutrition and health care

Alserr said the worst thing about Ofer was medical care. He said guards refused to give him antacids for a chronic ulcer. After 40 days, he felt a rupture. In the truck heading to the hospital, soldiers tied a bag around his head.

"They beat me all the way to the hospital," he said. "At the hospital they refused to remove the bag, even when they were treating me."

The military said all detainees receive checkups and proper medical care. It said "prolonged restraint during detention" was only used in exceptional cases and taking into account the condition of each detainee.

Many detainees complained of hunger. They said they received three meals a day of a few slices of white bread with a cucumber or tomato, and sometimes some chocolate or custard.

That amounts to about 1,000 calories a day, or half what is necessary, said Lihi Joffe, an Israeli pediatric dietician who read some of the Ofer testimonies and called the diet "not humane."

After rights groups complained in November, Joffe said she saw new menus at Ofer with greater variety, including potatoes and falafel — an improvement, she said, but still not enough.

The military said a nutritionist approves detainees' meals, and that they always have access to water.

Punished for seeing a lawyer

Two months into his detention, Alserr had a 5-minute videoconference with a judge, who said he would stay in prison for the foreseeable future.

Such hearings are "systematically" brief, according to Nadia Daqqa, a Hamoked attorney. No lawyers are present and detainees are not allowed to talk, she said.

Several months later, Alserr was allowed to meet with a lawyer. But he said he was forced to kneel in the sun for hours beforehand.

Another detainee told the lawyer from Physicians for Human Rights that he underwent the same punishment. "All the time, he has been threatening to take his own life," the lawyer wrote in notes affixed to the affidavit.

Since his release in September, Alserr has returned to work at the hospital in Gaza.

The memories are still painful, but caring for patients again helps, he said. "I’m starting to forget ... to feel myself again as a human being."