Prior to October 7, 2023, Israel held 5,200 Palestinian political prisoners in its jails. Among the prisoners were 170 children and 1264 women in administrative detention, meaning that they were held without trial or charge.
Since October 7, Israel has carried out numerous raids on Palestinian towns and villages in the West Bank, arresting dozens of Palestinians every day, for a total of 3,000 prisoners to date (November 20, 2023). According to some articles, Israel has arrested Palestinians from 1948-occupied Palestine following publications on social networks. Israel is also believed to have arrested thousands of Palestinian workers from Gaza, whose work permits were revoked after October 7. The number and status of these prisoners is unknown, as Israel has issued an order classifying them as “unlawful combatants”. This allows its administration to detain them indefinitely without effective judicial control. And according to the Palestinian Prisoners' Commission, Israel is now holding more than 10,000 Palestinian political prisoners; twice the number it held before October 7.
In addition, Israel has embarked on a harsh repressive campaign against Palestinian political prisoners, exercising systemic policies against them and their rights. They have completely cut off all family and Red Cross visits. Lawyers' visits have been severely restricted. They have also withdrawn the vast majority of rights and concessions won by prisoners over decades of struggle, including hunger strikes, disobedience and boycotts of military tribunals. Prisoners describe conditions in Israeli jails as similar to those in 1968. Israel has severely restricted access to food and water, closing prison canteens, confiscating cooking equipment and limiting meals to those provided by the prison administration. In a series of violent raids, the Israeli prison administration confiscated all prisoners' personal and communal belongings, including shoes, most clothing and cleaning materials. Electrical appliances were confiscated and electricity was cut off in the cells. Time spent in the yard has been limited to less than 15 minutes a day, and prisoners from different cells in the same wing are prevented from communicating.
During the embargo, 6 prisoners were killed: Omar Daraghmeh, Arafat Hamdan, Abdul Rahman Marei, Thaer Abu Asab, Majed Zaqoul and another prisoner from Gaza whose identity is not yet known. In addition, dozens of people, including the elderly, were seriously injured, without receiving any treatment.
The following testimonies have been compiled from accounts given by a number of prisoners during recent visits by lawyers and recently released prisoners. The prisoners' names and places of detention have been withheld to protect them from Israel's current campaign against them.
“October is a formula for mystery and affirmation”
“October 7th. The time is 6:20 a.m. Within half an hour, the news begins to crystallize. With all the noise, the prison service closed all the wards of the prison as the prisoners woke up happy and in awe of this important news. Everyone was happy; we were thrilled with feelings of strength and victory.”
With each piece of news that arrived, a sense of glory and pride resonated.
Even though the prison service had cut off all channels, there was still an antenna through which we tried to watch a local channel broadcasting Al-Jazeera. Everyone was shocked. The scenes were unfamiliar. It was so immense that the analysis was spread by all the media and analysts. The battle continued and the surprises came as they intensified, as did the Zionist intelligence services' feelings of fear and defeat. Joy has filled the entire nation and settled in our hearts and minds - the news of the arrest of so many makes us imagine the possibility of emptying the prisons completely.
“October 7th. It's 6:20 a.m. Within half an hour, the news began to crystallize. With all the noise, the prison service closed all the prison's quarters as the prisoners woke up happy and in awe of this important news. Everyone was happy; we were thrilled with feelings of strength and victory.”
With each piece of news that arrived, a sense of glory and pride resonated.
Even though the prison service had cut off all channels, there was still an antenna through which we tried to watch a local channel broadcasting Al-Jazeera. Everyone was shocked. The scenes were unfamiliar. It was so immense that the analysis was spread by all the media and analysts. The battle continued and the surprises came as they intensified, as did the Zionist intelligence services' feelings of fear and defeat. Joy has filled the entire nation and settled in our hearts and minds - the news of the arrest of so many makes us imagine the possibility of emptying the prisons completely.
Our cells now resemble dungeons.
We returned to primitive life, hand-washing what was left of our clothes.
We only realized the magnitude of the surprise and victory when we saw the faces of the jailers at the count. Their faces were filled with hatred and sadness. The signs of defeat were etched on their faces.
October 9, day three. The lock-down continues as usual. They barely let us out for a shower. Every time we tried to take an antenna outside to get some information, the guard would quickly cut the wire.
The situation was getting worse - there was more and more pressure. But the scenes we witnessed were heart-warming and mitigated that. They bring back our stolen dignity and pride. These scenes will add to a series of historic moments in October, a month in which the incredible courage of titans has repeatedly reaffirmed our founding narrative. This October adds to that narrative and presents a defining new model for our struggle against occupation.
October 10th. The morning is no exception, apart from the arrival of a research unit wreaking havoc in the cells. The repression makes us aware of the scale of the news and the extent of their losses. We are aware that any escalation is a response to resistance, which marks new gains and inflicts painful blows.
October 12. Measures are being stepped up and the pressure is reaching its peak this morning. In the morning, the repression unit stormed the nearby neighborhood, harassing prisoners in their cells. The shouting, noises and beatings have intensified. The food is very poor and undercooked - the chicken even still has feathers.
The meals provided would not even be enough for a bird.
The electricity has been cut off all this time; it only comes back on when the birds are counted three times a day.
October 13th. The situation hasn't changed significantly. In fact, it's becoming increasingly difficult and complex.
• • •
The reason for this gap of a few days is a lack of information, not a lack of repression or a change in circumstances.
• • •
October 19th. Tension mounts. The search units have begun their raids. All that worries me are a few photos; my source of energy and life in captivity, and a few scraps of paper.
October 21st. The prison administration has launched a new campaign - searches and harassment in the quarters and confiscation of all personal and community belongings. They take everything: they leave each prisoner with just two pairs of underwear, a towel and a blanket. No running shoes, only sandals. There's nothing left in the cells.
The jailers have seized everything, including the electric hob the prisoners used to cook and heat food, the pens and paper that were the only form of escape in the state of dispossession in which they live, and they are even deprived of the possibility of visiting clinics and undergoing medical examinations.
In one of the cells, the guards deliberately threw a lot of eggs to break them. This gave off an appalling smell in the cell and the one next to it. In addition, the cleaning tools were confiscated, so the smell persisted in the cell.
For those of us who have spent a lot of time in prison and lived through various events there, this is the first time such measures have been taken - the situation in the prisons is similar to that in 1968.
The inmates have had to resort to drinking polluted, foul-smelling water from the cell taps. The cell that previously housed 6 inmates now has 12.
“One of the worst days, October 23, 2023. At 9 a.m., law enforcement units entered the cell. The search continued late into the night, until 11pm. We were handcuffed, without electricity or water. We went back into the cell, and all we cared about was being able to hide a few papers and a pen. That was enough in the midst of the terrifying turmoil.
After the assault, the cell was filthy - broken eggs were strewn about, everything had been confiscated; the cell was completely bare, devoid of any objects. It was a different kind of Nakba. You could see the malice in their eyes as they broke everything.
We don't know what's going on outside. Nor do we know what means of repression and what measures the prison service will undertake next.
My body is exhausted - perhaps from sitting for long periods, sleeping in this cell (which measures about 5 by 3 meters) and the restrictions on time spent in the courtyard where we used to walk (the courtyard measures about 18 by 10 meters). I started exercising in the small space shared by 8 prisoners in the cell. It became the only space we had.
Showering has become an impossible task for prisoners. Previously, prisoners showered outside their quarters, in a designated area known as the “showers”. This is usually covered by a curtain, which the prison administration has confiscated. As a result, prisoners are obliged to shower in an open area, which they have refused, preferring to wash in their cells using plastic boilers.
There are no water brooms in the cells. We ask the guard for one, and either he brings one or the water remains scattered on the floor.
• • •
Since October 7, inmates have been denied daily access to the courtyard. Access is now limited to less than 15 minutes for each cell in the block. They also prevent inmates from different wings of the block from mixing.
When they finally allowed a lawyer to visit, Abu Nidal [the author's cellmate] used the lawyers' meeting room (which is no more than 4 square meters) instead of the courtyard to walk around.
Abu Nidal walks a little and smiles a little - a smile of victory and anticipation of freedom. He asked: will you be celebrating your wedding outside soon? How optimistic do you think our people are about our imminent freedom?”
• • •
As I read these last words, I remember asking Nidal on October 7 about a pile of books he was about to send to prison. At the time, he replied quickly: we don't need them now, my father will soon be reading them under a free sky.