Released Palestinians Describe Worsening Abuses in Israeli Prisons

Palestinian boxer Muazzaz Abayat, 37, holds his 2-month-old son Mohammed and daughter Mira, 5, at home in the West Bank city of Bethlehem, Wednesday, July 17, 2024, days after his release from Israeli prison, frail, disoriented and with no initial memory of his family. (AP Photo/Maya Alleruzzo)
Palestinian boxer Muazzaz Abayat, 37, holds his 2-month-old son Mohammed and daughter Mira, 5, at home in the West Bank city of Bethlehem, Wednesday, July 17, 2024, days after his release from Israeli prison, frail, disoriented and with no initial memory of his family. (AP Photo/Maya Alleruzzo)
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Released Palestinians Describe Worsening Abuses in Israeli Prisons

Palestinian boxer Muazzaz Abayat, 37, holds his 2-month-old son Mohammed and daughter Mira, 5, at home in the West Bank city of Bethlehem, Wednesday, July 17, 2024, days after his release from Israeli prison, frail, disoriented and with no initial memory of his family. (AP Photo/Maya Alleruzzo)
Palestinian boxer Muazzaz Abayat, 37, holds his 2-month-old son Mohammed and daughter Mira, 5, at home in the West Bank city of Bethlehem, Wednesday, July 17, 2024, days after his release from Israeli prison, frail, disoriented and with no initial memory of his family. (AP Photo/Maya Alleruzzo)

Frequent beatings, overcrowding, withholding of basic rations. Released Palestinians have described to The Associated Press worsening abuses in Israeli prisons crammed with thousands detained since the war in Gaza began 10 months ago.

Israeli officials have acknowledged that they have made conditions harsher for Palestinians in prisons, with hard-line National Security Minister Itamar Ben Gvir boasting that prisons will no longer be “summer camps” under his watch.

Four released Palestinians told the AP that treatment had dramatically worsened in prisons run by the ministry since the Oct. 7 attacks that triggered the latest war between Israel and Hamas in Gaza. Some emerged from months of captivity emaciated and emotionally scarred.

A fifth prisoner, Muazzaz Abayat, was too weakened to detail his experience soon after his release in July following six months at southern Israel’s Naqab prison. Frail-looking and unable to focus, he could only muster the strength to speak for several minutes, saying he was regularly beaten.

Now at home outside Bethlehem, the 37-year-old can hardly leave his armchair.

“At night, he hallucinates and stands in the middle of the house, in shock or remembering the torment and pain he went through,” said his cousin, Aya Abayat. Like many of the detained, he was put under administrative detention, a procedure that allows Israel to detain people indefinitely without charge.

The AP cannot independently verify the accounts of the prisoners. But they described similar conditions, even though they were held separately. While Abayat was only able to speak briefly, the other four spoke to the AP at length, and one requested anonymity for fear of being rearrested. Their accounts match reports from human rights groups that have documented alleged abuse in Israeli detention facilities.

Alarm among rights groups over abuses of Palestinian prisoners has mainly focused on military facilities, particularly Sde Teiman, a desert base where Israeli military police have arrested 10 soldiers on suspicion of sodomizing a Palestinian detainee. The detention facility at the base has held most of the Palestinians seized in raids in the Gaza Strip since the war began.

The soldiers, five of whom have since been released, deny the sodomy allegation. Their defense lawyer has said that they used force to defend themselves against a detainee who attacked them during a search, but did not sexually abuse him.

The Israeli army says 36 Palestinian prisoners have died in military-run detention centers since October. It said some of them had “previous illnesses or injuries caused to them as a result of the ongoing hostilities,” without elaborating further.

According to autopsy reports for five of the detainees, two bore signs of physical trauma such as broken ribs, while the death of a third “could have been avoided if there had been greater care for his medical needs.” The reports were provided to the AP by Physicians for Human Rights-Israel, an Israeli rights organization whose doctors observed the autopsies.

Facing calls to shut down the Sde Teiman facility, the military has been transferring hundreds of Palestinians from the base to the prisons run by Ben Gvir’s ministry.

But according to Abayat and the others who spoke to the AP, conditions in those facilities are traumatic as well.

Munthir Amira, a West Bank political activist who was held in Ofer Prison, said guards regularly beat detainees for punishment or often for no reason at all.

He said he and 12 others shared a cell with only six beds and a few thin blankets, freezing during the winter months. When prisoners had to go to the bathroom, they were handcuffed and bent over, and they were let outside for only 15 minutes twice a week, he said. Amira was held in administrative detention, apparently over his Facebook posts critical of Israel.

He said he lost 33 kilograms (72 pounds) during his three months in detention because of minimal food.

The treatment drove some to the edge: Amira recounted a day when he and his cellmates watched through their cell window as another inmate tried to kill himself by jumping off a high fence. He said they banged on their door to get help. Instead, he said, soldiers with two large dogs entered their cell, bound their hands, lined them up in the corridor and beat them, including on their genitals.

He said that when he was first arrested in December, guards ordered him to strip naked and spread his legs, then beat him into submission when he refused. During the ensuing examination, one guard prodded his genitalia with a metal detector, he said.

The National Security Ministry said in a statement to the AP that it was not aware of the claims of abuse from the five released men. It said it follows “all basic rights required” for prisoners, and that detainees can file complaints that will be “fully examined.”

But it said it has intentionally “reduced conditions” for Palestinian detainees “to the minimum required by law” since Oct. 7. The purpose, it said, “is to deter ... terror activities.”

Since the war began, the Palestinian prison population has nearly doubled to almost 10,000, including detainees from Gaza and several thousand people seized from the West Bank and east Jerusalem, according to HaMoked, an Israeli rights group that gathers figures from prison authorities.

Those detained include alleged militants seized in raids in the West Bank and Palestinians suspected in attacks on soldiers or settlers. But others also have apparently been detained for social media posts critical of Israel or past activism, according to a report from the United Nations human rights office.

All four former detainees who spoke at length said hunger was perhaps their greatest challenge.

Breakfast was 250 grams (9 ounces) of yogurt and a single tomato or pepper shared among five people, said Omar Assaf, a Ramallah-based retired Arabic language professor, also held at Ofer. He, too, said he was interrogated over his social media posts.

For lunch and dinner, he said, each person received two-thirds of a cup of rice and a bowl of soup shared with others.

“You didn’t see the color of fruit ... not a piece of meat,” he said.

Harsher conditions were imposed immediately after Oct. 7, according to Mohamed al-Salhi, who at the time was serving a 23-year sentence in a Jerusalem prison for forming an armed group.

Days after the attack, he said, guards stripped his cell of everything, including radios, televisions and clothing. Eventually, the number of inmates in the cell grew from a half-dozen to 14, and curtains in the communal showers were removed, leaving them to wash exposed, he said. Al-Salhi was released in June after completing his sentence.

A half-dozen Palestinian families gathered outside Ofer one day earlier this month to await their relatives’ release. As the gate slid open, several emaciated-looking men, with unkempt hair and rough beards, walked out before dropping to the ground to pray.

Mutasim Swalim embraced his father. He said he spent a year in prison over a Facebook post.

“The taste of freedom is very nice,” he said.

Others declined to speak.

“I just spent two months in prison,” one said as he staggered by. “I don’t want to go back.”



In Gaza, Keeping the Internet on Can Cost Lives but Also Save Them

 Displaced Palestinians make their way as they flee the eastern part of Khan Younis following an Israeli army evacuation order, amid the Israel-Hamas conflict, in Khan Younis in the southern Gaza Strip August 8, 2024. (Reuters)
Displaced Palestinians make their way as they flee the eastern part of Khan Younis following an Israeli army evacuation order, amid the Israel-Hamas conflict, in Khan Younis in the southern Gaza Strip August 8, 2024. (Reuters)
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In Gaza, Keeping the Internet on Can Cost Lives but Also Save Them

 Displaced Palestinians make their way as they flee the eastern part of Khan Younis following an Israeli army evacuation order, amid the Israel-Hamas conflict, in Khan Younis in the southern Gaza Strip August 8, 2024. (Reuters)
Displaced Palestinians make their way as they flee the eastern part of Khan Younis following an Israeli army evacuation order, amid the Israel-Hamas conflict, in Khan Younis in the southern Gaza Strip August 8, 2024. (Reuters)

Forced to flee his home yet again as war raged across the Gaza Strip, Khalil Salim was desperate to get his family to safety but how could he be sure he wasn’t leading them deeper into danger?

He needed up-to-date information and so he went online and checked out the official social media accounts of the Israeli army and other online sources.

"We would take instructions from the internet. We couldn't assess the internal fighting ... so we would follow the news and channels and look at Facebook and see what people wrote," Salim said.

But when he could not get a signal or a connection, he was left in the dark, with no sure way of plotting a safe route.

"What was pitiful is that (the Israeli army) would put instructions on their Facebook and we wouldn't even have internet. It would be very difficult for us to find out that there were instructions to do this and not that. Sometimes we would spend two days, sometimes a week, without internet."

In the rubble of Gaza, it can be difficult and dangerous to get online but tech activists and Palestinian engineers are making sure the enclave does not go totally dark, securing a precious digital lifeline for thousands of people.

Preserving this connection comes at a price and the risks can be deadly for desperate users clambering to high ground to get a signal or engineers travelling to dangerous areas to repair damaged cables or telecoms towers.

In May, an Israeli strike hit a gathering of people outside a Gaza City shop that provides an internet signal for customers, killing at least three people and wounding more than 20, medics said.

Salim knows all too well what drove those people to that shop.

"Internet is life; without the internet, (life) has no meaning, it is like a prison," the IT engineer and pharmacist told the Thomson Reuters Foundation by phone from Al-Mawasi, an area on the western outskirts of Khan Younis where he now lives with his family after fleeing the border city of Rafah.

THE GIFT OF ACCESS

Israel launched its offensive on Gaza after fighters from the Hamas Islamist militant group attacked southern Israel on Oct. 7, killing 1,200 people and capturing 253 hostages, according to Israeli tallies.

Israel responded by assaulting the coastal enclave, vowing to annihilate the group. Almost 40,000 people have since been killed in Israeli strikes, according to Gaza’s health authorities, with thousands more bodies feared buried under the rubble.

Gaza's economy and infrastructure have been devastated by months of relentless bombing and conflict. Houses, roads, schools, and hospitals have been obliterated and around 70% of the infrastructure needed for communication and technology has been damaged or destroyed.

Tech entrepreneurs outside Gaza are using electronic SIMs, or eSIMs, to help strengthen Gaza's frayed digital lifeline.

An eSIM gives users the option of activating a mobile network's cellular data plan without actually having a physical SIM card. They can be activated using a QR code, allowing users to connect in roaming mode to a foreign network.

For example, Gaza Online, a volunteer group, provides free eSIMs to families to help them stay connected to each other. The group relies on in-kind donations of eSIM activation codes and matches them with families in Gaza through WhatsApp.

Early in the war, an eSIM allowed Salim to oversee the evacuation of his daughter, who was wounded in an Israeli bombing in October, to Egypt and then Tunisia. He was also able to advise doctors on her care.

Nadine Hassan, Gaza Online's chief operating officer who is based in Jordan, said her group’s work is becoming "more challenging every day" with funding a particular issue.

The group has been finding it increasingly difficult to buy eSIMs online as vendors keep closing down their accounts, saying they violated terms of service by buying in bulk.

Activating an eSIM requires a relatively new smartphone model and updated software, Hassan said, a tall order for people in Gaza who are preoccupied with securing access to food and clean water.

Another hurdle, and something of a mystery, is the fact that most of the eSIMs only seem to work at night.

"We have no idea why and we can't find an explanation for it," she said.

ENGINEERS RISK LIVES

Even before the war, telecoms services in Gaza were fragile; a World Bank report from earlier this year said the enclave was the only place in the world that still relied on "obsolete" 2G technology and had no mobile broadband coverage.

By February, the enclave's largest telecoms provider, Paltel, had reported more than 10 total collapses in service provision since Oct. 7. Even when its network has been partly working, it has struggled to maintain service in many areas because of the fighting.

Despite the ongoing battles between Israeli forces and Hamas militants, telecoms engineers have been working to restore services, with reports of several being killed while trying to fix damaged infrastructure.

Speaking to the Thomson Reuters Foundation in March, Hani Alami, who heads East Jerusalem-based internet service provider Coolnet, said one of his teams working in the center of Gaza was hit in February during a suspected Israeli attack, with two engineers killed and one injured.

Alami said he had coordinated his team's movements with the Israeli army before they headed out.

"They gave us the green light to move from the first point and while the vehicle was moving on its track, they bombed the vehicle," he said.

Asked about the alleged incident, the Israeli army said in a statement to the Thomson Reuters Foundation that it "follows international law and takes feasible precautions to mitigate civilian harm."

Some activists have called on Israel to observe a digital ceasefire as the war drags on.

In an article for the Thomson Reuters Foundation, Brett Solomon, former executive director of Internet advocacy watchdog Access Now, said "digital ceasefires must be annexed to traditional ceasefire agreements, encompassing everything from connectivity to censorship."

For now, as he tries to rebuild his life in a half-built house close to the sea, Salim feels more isolated than ever. He can no longer use his eSIM as he is too far from Israeli telecoms towers, he said.

Instead, he must make do with local providers who charge exorbitant fees to go online. It can also take up to a month to get the necessary approvals to get an Internet connection.

That's just too long for people who might have to flee the bombs and bullets again as the conflict waxes and wanes.

Salim would like to get his IT business up and running again so that he can provide for his family. But with no internet, there can be no work.

"If they see you cannot even do a meeting, they become convinced that you cannot do the job."