'They stopped treating us as humans': How Israeli prisons got more brutal after Gaza's war

Live updates: Follow the latest on Israel-Gaza It was a hot and windy day in Bethlehem on August 10, 2022. Firas Hassan's life as a father and a student would fall apart within hours, leaving him with memories that haunt him to this day. Mr Hassan, accompanied by his 10-year-old son, was on his way to Al Quds Open University in Ramallah, where he was studying for a master's degree. Upon reaching the Container checkpoint north of Bethlehem, Israeli soldiers stopped his car, took his ID card, and uttered in Hebrew, “This is him,"– words that Mr Hassan understood as he is proficient. That was when he knew that he would be taken, expecting that imprisonment would be the same as it had been in 2009 when he was last behind bars. But nothing could have prepared him for how far conditions would deteriorate, especially after October 7, when Hamas launched an attack on Israel that killed 1,200 people. A year and three months later, Mr Hassan would find himself starved, beaten, and bleeding – a harrowing experience that is far from unique to him. “We weren’t allowed to shower daily. Food comprised one egg, half a tomato, and two slices of bread for 24 hours,” he told The National . That is barely 300 calories. The treatment of Palestinian detainees, according to rights groups and detainees who spoke to The National, significantly worsened after October 7, particularly for those held under administrative detention. This allows prisoners to be held indefinitely based on undisclosed information, effectively denying them the right to a fair and transparent trial. This month, Israeli human rights group B'Tselem published a report titled Welcome To Hell , documenting the abuse and inhuman treatment of Palestinians held in Israeli custody since the war broke out. It interviewed 55 detainees, including women and four Israelis of Palestinian origin, revealing similar accounts of torture, starvation, medical neglect , and sexual violence inflicted by prison guards across prisons. At least 53 detainees have died in Israeli prisons and more than 10,000 Palestinians have been detained from occupied territories and Jerusalem since October 7, the UN said in a July report. This is due to “torture, starvation and medical neglect”, the Palestinian Prisoners Society said in a recent statement. However, the Israel Prison Service (IPS) told The National that “all prisoners are detained under the law. All basic rights required are fully applied by professionally trained guards”. In and out of Israeli prisons since 1998, Mr Hassan has endured the demolition of his home twice and the death of his brother during the second intifada . His involvement in the Palestinian Islamic Jihad (PIJ) was no secret, which he described as a natural consequence of his circumstances and the struggles of living under occupation. At the checkpoint, Mr Hassan, sensing what was about to happen, told his 10-year-old son that he would be taken. Holding his son tightly, he shared a few parting words, telling him he loved him very much and urging him to care for his mother and siblings. His son, tearful and unwilling to let go, clung to him. Shortly after, an Israeli intelligence official called Mr Hassan to inform him of his detention officially. Given his prominence in the PIJ, his arrest made headlines. First, he was taken for a medical examination and then transferred to the Gush Etzion interrogation centre, a de facto transit point for prisoners located on an illegal settlement between Hebron and Bethlehem, where he remained for seven days. Human rights activists and defenders have been raising alarms for more than decade, gathering testimonies and publishing exposes about the tragedies and suffering, particularly of minors, at the police station there. B'Tselem, for instance, filed at least 31 complaints with the Department for Investigation of Police between 2009 and 2013 on behalf of Palestinians who had suffered violence and threats from interrogators. From there, Mr Hassan would attend a short and frustrating hearing. “Based on the information presented and the lack of evidence, the presiding judge decided to grant me immediate release on a 2,000 Shekel ($530) bail,” Mr Hassan said. However, his file contained a crucial sentence in red: “wanted for administrative detention by order of the Shin Bet”. As a result, his lawyer was not provided with any evidence to contest his incarceration. “My lawyer told me: we, and the courts, are at the mercy of the Shin Bet, which is more powerful than all of us”. He remained in detention for 603 days – or nearly 20 months without clear charges. Before October 7, the relationship between detainees and the guards was largely based on mutual respect, Mr Hassan said. “Harassment and abuse were an absolute red line. There was an understanding that prisoners would return any abuse they received from a guard. And that was widely the case,” he told The National. Prisoners could remain outside of their cells for up to 12 hours and had representatives who would convey their concerns to the prison administration. Mr Hassan says things had improved since he was last incarcerated in 2009 and attributed these changes to the perseverance of Palestinian detainees and their defenders to bring light to their situation and conditions through protests, hunger strikes, and activism. But since October 7, things have taken a sharp turn for the worse. “It was like a different system, and that’s what we’ve seen in the last nine or ten months. It’s a policy of abuse, treated in systematic abuse, so prisoners from all facilities are subjected to starvation, deprivation, humiliation,” B'Tselem spokesman Shai Parnes told The National . On October 7, Mr Hassan was with fellow inmates watching one of five television channels he had access to for two hours daily. “That's when we found out.” It wasn't immediately clear to him what had happened, but tensions inside the prison walls began to grow. Radios were confiscated, the television was switched off, and inmates were taken back to their cells. “It was as if a tsunami had hit,” Mr Hassan said. “Guards with whom we had a once cordial relationship became masked and aggressive. They began to carry guns and brought in dogs and used batons.” Nothing stayed the same, he stated. “Everything was prohibited.” Roll call was taken three times a day. “Every time, we were ordered to kneel with our backs towards the cell door, and our faces towards the wall, with our hands behind our backs. We would never face them. We couldn't speak up. We couldn't ask for anything, including food or medicine. No medical treatment was available. We couldn't leave our cells for any reason.” The first inmate was beaten inside a cell on the third day since October 7. “It was a bad omen. Red lines were crossed”, said Mr Hassan. In a lengthy post on social media platform X on July 2, Israel's National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir said one of his “highest goals” was to “worsen the conditions of the terrorists in prisons, and to reduce their rights to the minimum required by law”. Mr Parnes calls this the “sadistic revolution” of the Israeli prison system. “It is inspired by the government and the minister who is in charge of the Israeli prison system,” he said. That was what Mr Hassan and others had witnessed. Personal belongings, including food bought from the canteen, and clothing, were confiscated, calls for prayer were prohibited, the amount and quality of food being served to inmates was barely enough, and the sick and injured were denied medical attention. When complaining to the guards about their hunger, Mr Hassan said he was told they were “giving us enough to keep us alive”. A week after October 7, Mr Hassan received his first beating. His cell, which he shared with 10 others, was stormed by masked men carrying firearms and batons, accompanied by police dogs. His face was severely beaten, he said. Cursing of inmates' mothers and verbal degradation was also common, he added. But when asked about incidents of torture and abuse, the IPS said it was “not aware of the claims described”. It added that “as far as we know, no such events have occurred under IPS responsibility”. Prisoners have a “right to complain”, the statement said, adding that better conditions have been ordered to be rolled back. “As instructed by Minister Ben-Gvir, the prison conditions of the national security prisoners have been made strict since October 7, 2023, in accordance with the minister's policy of stopping the improved prison conditions they have received in the past,” it said. One of the most haunting days for Mr Hassan was on November 9 – more than a month after the war in Gaza began. Prisoners were again told to kneel with their backs towards the masked guards carrying batons, firearms and police dogs. “They were also filming us. I saw the camera under my blindfold. They came in and just began to beat us. They were laughing. They cut my beard off. They beat me on my face, and I was bleeding. My eye was swollen. They saw the blood spilling from my face. I was screaming and calling for help and so were the others. They were focusing on our chest and rib cages. They would place their hands near our mouths so we can kiss them.” The beating lasted for more than half an hour, he said. After the guards were gone, Mr Hassan's cellmate confided in him, telling him that he had been sexually abused with a baton and that he was in pain and unable to move. “He was crying in pain. He was completely destroyed. I hugged him and held him and tried to comfort him. He couldn't even get up to use the bathroom.” Mr Parnes stressed that sexual violence is not unheard of among prisoners. “We've seen more than a few testimonies and complaints about this kind of behaviour in different facilities, both by males and females,” he affirmed, adding that the assault is not usually just committed during interrogations. “It's part of the routine. It can happen during the night or during the day. It's just a tool for being more cruel and torturing. It's not a matter of interrogation or to get more information about anything.” Since his release last April, Mr Hassan transformed his life, working as an official in the Palestinian Authority’s Ministry of Youth and Sports in Bethlehem. But he remains haunted by what he experienced and endured behind bars. “My children sleep next to me because they’re afraid something will happen to me.” Atef Awawdeh's son, Ahmed, was wanted by Israeli forces for joining the militant group Jenin Brigades. Mr Awawdeh himself had been trying to get in touch with his son to bring him back home even before Israeli soldiers stormed his home in Al Khalil [Hebron]. They arrested Mr Awawdeh, three of his sons and 11 of his neighbours and relatives, a tactic typically employed to put pressure on the wanted individual to hand himself over to authorities. Mr Awawdeh and his sons, Alaa, Wajih and Wajdi were also first taken to the Etzion detention facility, where they were kept for nine days on August 28, 2023. “It's not made to handle inmates so there were barely any services there – but up until that point, we were not beaten.” Then, like Mr Hassan, he was taken to Ofer where life seemed relatively stable. A few days later, in an interrogation with the Shin Bet, or Israeli intelligence, Mr Awawdeh said he was told to hand his son over to authorities. “I said: 'How can I do that if I'm over here? Give me a week and I'll go to Jenin to look for him.'” “'That's your problem', they said.” The day after October 7, Mr Awawdeh's wanted son was killed. “Naturally I should have been released. But they kept me there.” What Mr Awawdeh endured broke him. “I couldn't even tell my son goodbye. I couldn't see him before they killed him.” And what happened next inside Ofer only added to his misery. “All our rights were taken away. They stopped treating us as humans.” He was kept in a cell with sick and elderly inmates, including Mohammad Al Sabbar, who was suffering from Hirschsprung's disease, a birth defect that affects the intestine and causes problems in passing a stool. Mr Awawdeh would personally take care of Mr Al Sabbar – providing him with food, water and comfort. Once Mr Awawdeh was released on January 31, Mr Al Sabbar's health deteriorated and he was pronounced dead in February. He was the eighth prisoner to die in Israeli custody since October 7. “Al Sabbar was martyred as a result of medical negligence in Hadassah Hospital after he was transferred there from Ofer prison,” state news agency Wafa and the Prisoners' Affairs Authority and the Prisoners' Club said in a statement. “He needed a certain type of medication but the occupation authorities prevented him from taking it.” The long-term impact of their incarceration, the events they witnessed inside Israeli prisons, and the treatment they endured are not yet fully understood. “They're all traumatised,” said Mr Parnes, who interviewed some of the released detainees mentioned in B'Tselem's report . “Sometimes you're strong and you have something to wait for, but when you see another friend or inmate who is injured and helpless, it affects you. Sometimes just watching a horrific thing is more injuring to the soul than getting beaten yourself.” As of May 15, more than 3,000 Palestinians were being held in administrative detention without charges or a fair trial. According to the Physicians for Human Rights Israel group, this is “the highest figure to date”.

'They stopped treating us as humans': How Israeli prisons got more brutal after Gaza's war

At least 53 detainees have died in custody since the war with Hamas started, according to UN figures