Muhannad Al-Khmur was fifteen when Israeli soldiers first
came to fetch him. At three o’clock in the morning they entered his home in
Bethlehem and ordered him outside.
“Just for ten minutes”, they added, but the boy wasn’t fooled. “I don’t know when you’ll see me again”, he told his mother.
“Just for ten minutes”, they added, but the boy wasn’t fooled. “I don’t know when you’ll see me again”, he told his mother.
The ten minutes turned out to be fifteen months. And even
then the army didn’t let go of him. He was arrested a second time and sentenced
to eight months imprisonment and a 2000 shekel fine.
It must have been a harrowing two-year interlude in his adolescent life, inflicted upon him for the relatively minor offence of throwing stones.
Still, the now 20-year-old student seems to have recovered surprisingly well. Fashionable grey cardigan, hands playing with a slick iPhone: it’s a confident looking young man presenting himself at the community centre of a refugee camp near Bethlehem.
Almost immediately he bursts into a swift, even mildly humorous account of his experiences with the Israeli military.
 |
| Israeli police abducting a Palestinian boy |
How the soldiers forced him into a jeep, blindfolded him and tied his wrists behind his back with those dreaded plastic cuffs that cut deep into the flesh.
How he was transferred from one military prison to another.
How, during many hours of interrogation, chairs were thrown at him and he had
to endure punches in his sides, even after he mentioned his kidney problem.
How
he kept denying accusations and came up with witty retorts. Like when they
threatened to imprison his mother: “Please do, I miss her.”
Why was he worth all the hassle, if he really had done
nothing more than throw a handful of stones?
“They weren’t used to not getting anything out of a fifteen year old.
They couldn’t accept that. They took things so far there was no turning back.’’
One could be forgiven to cast some doubt on the truthfulness
of this account, but the fact is that Muhannad’s nonchalant delivery is
punctured by tellingly wavering moments. When the forty or so days he says he
spent in isolation are mentioned, his smooth verbal torrent stalls, his
breathing gets heavier, his voice falters.
Sometimes, he says, a “beautiful lady” entered his desolate niche and offered him consolation. In his dreams.
He felt “very sad” in that small,
windowless cell, he says timidly. Everything was dirty: the mattress, the
toilet, the walls, even the food. When they took him out for the umpteenth
interrogation session, it almost felt like being rescued from a choking state
of non-being.
Muhannad falls mute. An uncomfortable silence ensues. Then
his face lits up: sometimes, he says, a “beautiful lady” entered his desolate
niche and offered him consolation. In his dreams.
The treatment of Palestinian minors by the Israeli military
didn’t get much attention until now, but this may be changing.
Take the
Netherlands, one of Israel’s staunchest allies: a Christian Democrat MP
questioned the foreign minister this year about the issue. A report by British
lawyers, published last June, prompted him to do so.
Coming from a Dutch
Christian politician, that’s a first.
The British document is hardly unique, though. In 2011 and
2012 the Israeli human rights organisation B’tselem, Defence voor Children
International (DCI) and Save the Children issued similar reports on
frequent abuses during the arrest,
interrogation and detention of minors on the West Bank, 500 to 700 of whom are
apprehended yearly, mostly on the suspicion of throwing stones.
In a UNICEF
report in March similar findings were published, and recently human rights
workers released a document concerning alleged mistreatment of children in
Hebron in February, March and April this year.
Each report mentions that the army frequently arrests
children during nightly raids and transfers them to an unknown place for
interrogation – blindfolded, their wrists tied behind their backs.
The arrests
often involve verbal and physical abuse, and unlike their Israeli
contemporaries, Palestinian children are denied accompaniment by a parent and
legal assistance prior to interrogations.
What renders the legality of confessions especially
questionable is the solitary confinement imposed on an estimated 12% of the
children: an unacceptable practice according to UNICEF and other UN-experts,
since the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child stipulates that only in
extreme cases may the judiciary treat children the same as adults.
During the last four years, the Palestinian section of
Defence for Children collected 59 affidavits of boys who claim to have spent
between one and 24 days in isolation. Often ‘cell 36’ in the Jalameh prison in
Israel is evoked: a windowless room measuring two by three meters, with walls
of which the rough surface stings in the back.
The Israeli Security Service
Shin Bet rejects all accusations, but it is unlikely that testimonies about
‘cell 36’ and rough walls that deter leaning could have been collectively
fabricated without experienced organisations like B’tselem and DCI getting wind
of it.
When you exert physical pressure on a suspect, he will muster all his energy to resist. But when you put him in isolation, you paralyse him, undermine him mentally
Ayed Abu Eqtaish of the Palestinian DCI section even
suspects Israel of a growing penchant for solitary confinement. He mentions the
case of a boy who, after 22 days in isolation, called his interrogator “the
kindest man I ever met”.
“Look, when you exert physical pressure on a suspect, he
will muster all his energy to resist. But when you put him in isolation, you
paralyse him, undermine him mentally,” says Ayed. “This is especially true for
children, who in general are more vulnerable than adults. That is why this
method is very effective to extort confessions.”
Theoretically, there have been some positive developments,
too. In 2009, juvenile courts were introduced in the West Bank. And in 2011,
the age of maturity for Palestinians was raised from 16 to 18.
Abu Eqtaish says
that hardly anything has changed in practice. “It doesn’t make any difference
for 16 and 17 year olds, since there has been no change in sentences.’’
According to Eqtaish, it’s the occupation itself that lies
at the heart of the problem. There are two judicial systems: one for Israelis
and one for Palestinians in the occupied territories. What Eqtaish finds
particularly vexing is that it does not even occur to the Israelis there may be
other interests than their own to consider.
“For instance, it is virtually
impossible for a Palestinian to be released on bail. The Israelis will
generally only allow this on condition that the Palestinian judiciary pursues
the prosecution. As if the suspect also has an issue with the Palestinians,
instead of just with Israel.”
In response to the British report the Israeli embassy in
London pointed out that Palestinian youth is politicised, which explains its
frequent involvement “in acts of
militancy and violence”.
It is certainly true that Palestinian children were
the stone throwing foot soldiers of the first intifada (1987-1993), and that to
this day they often lead demonstrations against the military powers.
Nabi Saleh, situated high in the hills north of Ramallah,
shows where this can lead. In this at first glance insignificant village of 500
people, garlands of empty teargas canisters cynically decorate streets and
gardens.
On a hazy spring afternoon the neat outlines of the Jewish settlement
Halamish can be discerned on a slope opposite. In the valley in between lies a
well that used to belong to Nabi Saleh but which settlers confiscated in 2009,
with the apparent consent of the occupying powers.
 |
| Empty teargas canisters cynically decorate streets and gardens in Nabi Saleh |
Each Friday after prayers, residents of Nabi Saleh gather in
protest against this situation. Children – some very young – often lead the
marches in the direction of Halamish: waving flags, chanting slogans (‘one two
three four, occupation no more’), and yelling at the soldiers blocking their
way.
The most vocal and defiant ones are proudly displayed on YouTube.
Naturally, stone throwing is part of the ritual. The army responds with tear
gas, rubber coated steel bullets, or live fire.
The situation seems to have evolved into a feud between the
Israelis and a Palestinian family, at the expense of children. Most villagers
are called Tamimi; the 45-year old teacher and activist Bassem Tamimi is the
most celebrated amongst them.
For twenty years now he has been taunting the
occupiers and he was imprisoned twelve times, mostly on the accusation of
“inciting to stone throwing and organising demonstrations without permission’’.
The European Union considers Tamimi a human rights defender.
Four posters, depicting men of whom only he is still alive,
adorn a wall in the living room of Bassem and his wife Nariman. With the
unperturbedness that characterises many Palestinians when asked about personal
tragedies, she tells how in December 2011 her brother-in-law Mustafa was killed
in the village when a teargas grenade was fired at his face, and how her
brother Rushdi died in November 2012, not far from her home, after being shot
in the back.
An uncle killed earlier completes this sad portrait gallery,
under which 13-year old Ahed Tamimi has now flopped down onto a couch. From the
way she studies her freshly painted nails, one would never guess her status of
national heroine.
The YouTube video in which she loudly lectures soldiers, with
a defiantly clenched little fist, earned her an audience with the Palestinian
president Abbas and a Courage Award in Turkey.
 |
| Nariman Tamimi with daughter Ahed |
Pro-Israeli media call this “the cynical manipulation of a
child by her parents and politicians”, but the Palestinian side claims there
was nothing staged or unnatural about Ahed’s harangue: she had just witnessed
her 15-year old brother Waed being taken away blindfolded.
That her anger was
videotaped was not surprising: the Israeli human rights organisation B’tselem
provided Palestinians with video cameras for the purpose of showing the world
their plight.
Whatever the outcome of the argument, Israel will keep on
depicting Bassem Tamimi as an unscrupulous organiser of battalions of
indoctrinated stone throwing minors.
When the message of acquittal finally arrives, there’s little time for tears.
Unfortunately, this is not a good day to
ask critical questions. Nariman’s mobile is stuck to her ear; any moment her
husband can be released from yet another stay in prison, in which case he will
be home in a few hours.
When the message of acquittal finally arrives, there’s
little time for tears. Soon, celebrating villagers mount a poster of Bassem
above the front door and plant flags on the roof. The living room gets crowded
with relatives.
Aheds 15-year old brother Waed looks like he's 11. It is not uncommon to see underdeveloped children in Palestine. Waed had also been brought before the court. Unlike his old
man, the boy got away with a 2000 shekel fine for, yes, stone throwing. He was
released within a week, but claims he has been mistreated. A doctor visited
him, but when Waed told him his arms hurt badly, the doctor said this was not
his ‘’responsibility.’’
 |
| Posters and flags celebrate Bassem Tamimi's release |
Anan Tamimi (17), too, was incarcerated at the same time as
his father, a brother of Bassem. The soldiers ‘released’ him after questioning
– handcuffed, and in the middle of the night, in settler territory. Stumbling
and trembling with terror Anan found his way home.
The yield of three years and four months of resistance in
Nabi Saleh: al lot of rhaz (teargas), mattat
(rubber) and rassas (bullets). Two martyrs and 117 arrests: dozens of
them minors.
That grown ups actively involve children in the protests is a
fact. That the army targets these children is equally indisputable: it is
relatively easy to apprehend them and wrest confessions from them, which in
turn facilitates the arrest of adults, since this often happens on the basis of
what children blurt out when brought to the brink of mental and physical
exhaustion.
Is there a way out of this infernal cycle? Maartje Berger of
the Dutch section of Defence for Children, who visited Nabi Saleh, vests her
hope in the Child Convention.
You can’t isolate children from politics when these affect them directly
“It offers the opportunity to extend the issue
beyond politics and hence confront Israel with the violation of children’s
rights. Palestinian parents can similarly be made aware of their
responsibilities through the convention.’’
But in a highly politicised environment, this legalistic
approach will surely fall on barren soil for years to come. “You can’t isolate
children from politics when these affect them directly,” Maartje Berger’s
Palestinian colleague Abu Eqtaish says. “And why shouldn’t they be allowed to
express what they feel?”
Many Westerners who consider politics a waste of time and
safety the be all and end all (especially for children), may find it hard to
grasp that Palestinians see themselves primarily as a community – or nation –
in resistance, with no real differentiation between children and adults.
Around
750.000 Palestinians have been imprisoned, every single family has been
affected. Prison careers often start early in the troubled province of
Palestine, prematurely putting an end to childhood.
The visit to Nabi Saleh is concluded in the cavernous, icy
cold living room of another, heartbreakingly miserable Tamimi home. Enters
Islam (16), who gives yet another account of a nightly arrest, brutal
questioning, three months in an Israeli prison, threats of deportation to
Ramallah, and finally house arrest.
How did he endure all this? Does he have bad dreams?
On the face of the boy, that didn’t betray any emotion until then, an
expression of fathomless disdain appears. “La,’’ he says: no.
Comments
Post a Comment