Khalida Jarrar, like many Palestinian political prisoners, was abducted under the pretext of administrative detention, a policy that allows the Israeli Occupation Forces to hold individuals indefinitely without charge or trial, writes Samar Saeed. [GETTY]
When Khalida Jarrar was freed on January 19, her appearance shocked many Palestinians who had eagerly awaited her freedom. She emerged unrecognisable: pale, malnourished, and with white hair–a direct consequence of the years of physical and psychological violence she endured under the Israeli colonial carceral system. Journalist Lama Ghosheh captured Jarrar’s disoriented state and she muttered, “I can’t… I just left solitary confinement.” Shortly after, her husband, Ghassan, also a former political prisoner, embraced her. “You are the crown on my head,” he said. This captured reunion went viral on social media. However, mainstream media outlets have largely ignored it.
Jarrar, like many Palestinian political prisoners, was abducted under the pretext of administrative detention, a policy that allows the Israeli Occupation Forces (IOF) to hold individuals indefinitely without charge or trial. In a post-release interview, she described the brutality she endured, stating that since 1967, the conditions in Israeli prisons have never been more violent. She recounted her six-month placement in solitary confinement, the repeated attacks on detainees, the physical abuse, and the use of gas.
For Jarrar, the increased violence is directly linked to Ben Gvir’s policy of treating Palestinians “as if they were not human.” According to her, the cruelty, beating, and humiliation continued unabated until their release.
Over the years, Israel incarcerated Jarrar multiple times for her unwavering belief in Palestinian liberation and as a leading figure within the Marxist Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP). It was her revolutionary ideas, tireless advocacy for political prisoners, and her prominence in Palestinian society that made her a constant target for the Israeli state.
“Khalida Jarrar nurtured us in prison…She prepared the girls for their final high school exams…taught them international law. We would sit, talk, laugh. We learned how to deal with the most intricate details inside detention. We learned so much from her. I love that woman, all the girls in the prison love her. She gave us strength when we needed it,” said freed political prisoner, Isra Jaabis.
Jarrar embodies that kind of love, care, and commitment to her land and people that Israel views as a threat. She serves as a constant reminder of Palestinian Sumud (steadfastness) and the insistence on freedom.
Jaabis was sentenced to 11 years for an alleged “attempted murder”- a charge she denies. In 2015, her car caught fire, and when she sought help at a checkpoint, the IOF locked her inside, causing severe burns covering 60% of her body. Jaabis’ experience is another horrific story of incarcerated Palestinians that rarely gets covered in Western mainstream media
Torture and abuse of prisoners
Among the recently released prisoners 22-year-old Amal Shujaiya, 22, from Ramallah, who spoke of the near-constant abuse: daily strip searches, room searches, confiscation of belongings, and the dehumanising treatment designed to crush their spirits. Dunya Ishteyeh, a 20-year-old student from Nablus, was released in a hysterical state. Embracing her mother, she tearfully described how the carceral system nearly broke her: “They were killing me inside.” She was held without a charge or a sentence.
Released political prisoners have urged the world to act and protect Palestinian detainees who remain in Israeli prisons, tortured and humiliated. Abla Rimawi Saadat, the wife of incarcerated PFLP leader Ahmed Saadat, explained: “The conditions are entirely inhumane. Everything is terrible on all levels. They try to break the prisoner’s morale. They try to crush a person’s spirit and dignity. The humiliation that prisoners endure is unprecedented in all periods of occupation.”
But how can the world heed their call when the plight of political prisoners remains largely concealed or downplayed? Western media outlets barely cover the torture, sexual abuse, rape and violence that the IOF inflicts on Palestinians (which is well documented), let alone share the stories and experiences of Palestinian political prisoners.
The recent coverage of the exchange was selective, often humanising Israeli soldiers released as “hostages” rather than illegal occupiers, while Palestinian women and children are merely referred to as “prisoners.”
Ussama Makdisi pointed out, “the Israelis who are released are returning to their ‘’families” whereas the vastly greater number of Palestinians released are not given the same headline space. As if they don’t have families.” He added that this repeated editorial decision results in humanising one group while dehumanising the other, with the former receiving compassion and empathy and the latter being denied it.
As videos and images to the prisoner exchange circulated, stark comparisons between the conditions of released Palestinian women and Israeli female soldiers were immediately drawn. The latter appeared healthy, well-fed, and well-dressed, while the former seemed exhausted, malnourished, and burdened. The same was true for Palestinian men: the signs of torture, malnutrition, and exhaustion were glaring. Mohammed Sabah, who had been incarcerated as a 14 year-old and released at the age of 20, bore visible marks of starvation and scabies.
Political prisoners
The media’s referral to Palestinian prisoners simply as “prisoners,” effectively criminalises their struggle for liberation. The term “political prisoner” is crucial here. As Palestinian human rights lawyer Tala Nasir from Addameer explained: “We call every Palestinian detained in Israeli prisons based on their political activity a political prisoner. So all the 7,000 Palestinian prisoners inside prisons are political prisoners.” Nasir added that Palestinian detainees, including children, are tried in military courts with a conviction rate above 99%, with no fair trial guarantees, and many are held without a charge or trial, indefinitely.
Indeed, it is Palestinian political prisoners who are the true hostages – captives of a settler colonial state.
Another key point to highlight is Palestinian joy, a sentiment Israel has repeatedly attempted to suppress––yet failed to do––while mainstream media has largely ignored it. Videos of freed political prisoners flooded social media, capturing emotional reunions: children embraced, mothers hands kissed, long-separated loved ones reunited, and many lifted on shoulders. These scenes capture more than personal joy: they reflect a deep political commitment to both liberating their land and freeing political prisoners.
Palestinians deeply understand the violence embedded in the Israeli carceral system. They also know that their land’s liberation is inseparable from the struggle of political prisoners––who were incarcerated either for fighting for that liberation or for simply existing on their ancestral land.
According to Adameer, since Israel’s colonisation of Palestinian land in 1967, “more than 800,000 Palestinians have been detained under Israeli military orders. [This constitutes] 20% of the total population in the Occupied Palestinian territories, 40% of the total male Palestinian population. It also includes approximately 10,000 women jailed since 1967, as well as 8,000 Palestinian children arrested since 2000.”
These images and videos of Palestinian joy threaten Israel’s colonial project. It renders visible the failure of its settler-colonial aim to subjugate Palestinians and break their will. In its attempt to suppress these moments, the IOF have gone to extreme lengths–– blocking Palestinian cities and villages from one another, surrounding the homes of freed political prisoners to prevent visitors and journalists from reaching them. Yet Palestinians continue to defy these measures, asserting their right to celebrate their loved ones.
A friend of mine shared a powerful story about her aunt visiting Khalida Jarrar in Ramallah after her release. Despite the checkpoints, hundreds of people made their journey to see her––many walking miles to celebrate her freedom. This act of kinship is reminiscent of the funeral of journalist Shireen Abu-Akleh, who was assassinated by IOF in 2022. Despite Israel’s efforts to block mourners, Palestinians from all corners of historic Palestine gathered in Jerusalem to bid Abu-Akleh farewell.
History teaches us that colonised peoples always resist oppression and find ways to express joy, no matter the cost. Even when faced with the overwhelming violence of settler-colonialism and its attempts to erase them, they know that even the smallest crack in its walls can ultimately lead to liberation and freedom. Palestinians are no exception. As freed Abla Saadat aptly put it, “the moment of release is something I wish for every political prisoner. Freedom is truly priceless.”
Samar Saeed is a Ph.D. candidate in the History Department at Georgetown University.
Follow her on Twitter (X): @Samarsaeed
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Opinions expressed in this article remain those of the author and do not necessarily represent those of The New Arab, its editorial board or staff.
