{"id":115906,"date":"2018-08-06T12:01:19","date_gmt":"2018-08-06T11:01:19","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/?p=115906"},"modified":"2018-08-02T16:14:10","modified_gmt":"2018-08-02T15:14:10","slug":"the-homecoming-how-ahed-tamimi-became-the-symbol-of-palestinian-resistance-to-israeli-oppression","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.transcend.org\/tms\/2018\/08\/the-homecoming-how-ahed-tamimi-became-the-symbol-of-palestinian-resistance-to-israeli-oppression\/","title":{"rendered":"The Homecoming: How Ahed Tamimi Became the Symbol of Palestinian Resistance to Israeli Oppression"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Ahed Tamimi, right, with her father, Bassem, and her mother, Nariman, arrive in Nabi Saleh following the womens\u2019 release on July 29, 2018. Photo: Samar Hazboun for The Intercept<\/p><\/div>\n

31 Jul 2018 <\/em>\u2014 As if anyone needed reminding, even on the day of her release from prison, Israeli authorities seemed to want to show Ahed Tamimi, her family, and her many supporters that they control Palestinian lives.<\/p>\n

Ahed and her mother, Nariman, were supposed to be freed on Saturday after serving an eight-month sentence in an Israeli military prison, but because Saturday is not a work day in Israel, their release was postponed. On Sunday, their family was told that they would be freed at 7 a.m. at a military checkpoint in the northern West Bank, nearly an hour and a half drive from their village, Nabi Saleh. When relatives and friends arrived there, the military sent them, as well as dozens of members of the press, to a different checkpoint, nearly two hours in the opposite direction. When they reached there, Bassem Tamimi was told, again, that his daughter and wife would be released at the first checkpoint. As the convoy of cars turned around one more time, they received another call telling them to head back to the second checkpoint.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey were playing cat and mouse; they were trying to break everyone,\u201d Manal Tamimi, Ahed\u2019s aunt, told The Intercept. \u201cThey don\u2019t need to give any justification. They just do what they want.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>\"\"<\/a>Relatives and journalists gather at the Tamimi home as they wait for Ahed’s arrival after being released.<\/strong>
\nPhotos: Samar Hazboun for The Intercept<\/strong><\/p>\n

Hours after Israeli officials confirmed that Ahed and Nariman Tamimi had been released from prison, Bassem Tamimi was still trying to figure out where they were. At one of the two checkpoints, where crowds had gathered to wait for the two women, a settler, flanked by soldiers, waved an Israeli flag, soon joined by others, yelling, \u201cAhed is a terrorist\u201d and \u201cdeath to Arabs,\u201d a relative told The Intercept. Ahed\u2019s supporters responded by singing and waving Palestinian flags<\/a>.<\/p>\n

Then someone spotted the two women in a military jeep, which didn\u2019t stop at the checkpoint but drove straight through toward Nabi Saleh. Everyone rushed to follow it.<\/p>\n

But if Israeli soldiers were hoping a show of force would remind Palestinians who\u2019s in charge, Ahed Tamimi responded much like she did last winter, when she slapped and pushed a soldier who had broken into her backyard. \u201cThe resistance continues,\u201d she declared shortly after her release, as she visited the family of another young member of the Tamimi family, killed in June by soldiers. Swarmed by hundreds of cameras that followed her every step, she then paid tribute to the grave of Palestinian leader Yasser Arafat, before returning to a village that had been decked out with dozens of\u00a0posters of her and her mother \u2014\u00a0but mostly her. Children, teenagers, and elderly relatives waited for her return among hundreds of activists and journalists, as music blasted from loudspeakers and relatives chronicled the family\u2019s long history of resistance to the Israeli occupation. When Ahed finally arrived home, the crowd broke into triumphant cheers, dancing, and hugs.<\/p>\n

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Bassem, Ahed, and Nariman Tamimi speak during a press conference in Nabi Saleh following the womens\u2019 release on July 29, 2018. Photo: Samar Hazboun for The Intercept<\/p><\/div>\n

Ahed Tamimi caught the world\u2019s attention when a\u00a0video<\/a>\u00a0showing her slapping\u00a0the\u00a0soldier went viral last December. The episode followed a day of heated protests in Nabi Saleh, during which soldiers shot her cousin Mohammed at close range with a rubber bullet, severely wounding him. Mohammed had part of his skull removed following the incident \u2014\u00a0as Israeli military officials falsely claimed<\/a> that the boy injured himself when he \u201cfell of his bike.\u201d<\/p>\n

Days after the slapping incident, which Ahed said in court was in response to the soldiers injuring her cousin, the military raided her home and arrested her. Shortly after, they arrested her mother and another cousin, Nour, also pictured in the video. In March, Ahed, who turned 17 in prison, agreed to a plea bargain and an eight-month sentence. Her mother was convicted of incitement<\/a> for sharing the video, and also sentenced to eight months in prison.\u00a0Several people have compared the\u00a0sentence\u00a0to that of\u00a0Israeli soldier Elor Azaria<\/a>, who served nine months in prison\u00a0for executing wounded Palestinian Abdel Fattah al-Sharif.\u00a0Leaving court after her sentencing hearing, Ahed defiantly declared, \u201cThere is no justice under occupation and this court is illegal.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ahed\u2019s story drew rare attention to the plight of Palestinian children held in Israeli military prisons \u2014 an overwhelming majority of them over stone-throwing incidents or for participation in protests \u2014 and the sham court proceedings, abuse and threat-filled interrogations<\/a>, and extracted confessions to which they are subject. In the weeks before Ahed\u2019s release, The Intercept spoke with more than a dozen formerly imprisoned children, parents of children currently in prison, attorneys and advocates, as well as several members of the Tamimi family. They shared similar stories of predawn raids during which soldiers separated children from their families, physically and verbally assaulted them, blindfolded and handcuffed them, and drove them to interrogation centers where \u2014 almost always without an attorney or parent present \u2014 they were subjected to further abuse and forced to confess, before being summarily sentenced to months in prison.<\/p>\n

The Israel Defense Forces, which were responsible for Ahed\u2019s arrest, prosecution, and incarceration, as well as the detention of hundreds of other Palestinian minors, declined to answer The Intercept\u2019s questions on the record.<\/p>\n

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A view of the Israeli settlement of Halamish as seen from Nabi Saleh. Photo: Samar Hazboun for The Intercept<\/p><\/div>\n

The Children of Nabi Saleh <\/strong><\/p>\n

Nabi Saleh, a Palestinian village of about 600 residents in the occupied West Bank, has long been at the forefront of what is arguably the greatest impediment to a peaceful resolution in the region: the ongoing encroachment of illegal Israeli settlements on Palestinian land. There are 129 Israeli settlements in the West Bank, and 101 additional outposts not recognized by the Israeli government, according to the settlement watchdog group Peace Now<\/a>. (These statistics do not include settlements in occupied East Jerusalem.) Up to half a million settlers live in the West Bank, alongside nearly\u00a03 million Palestinians. The Israeli government continues to approve the building of new settlements and recognize existing outposts \u2014\u00a0both of which are illegal under international law.<\/p>\n

Settlements are a common sight across the occupied West Bank, their tidy rows of red-roofed houses sitting atop hills, usually towering above Palestinian villages below and distinguishable by the fences and security towers that surround them, as well as the absence of the water tanks that are the hallmark of Palestinian rooftops. (Israel controls access to water, and Palestinians, who are plagued by shortages, get their water supplies delivered by trucks.) Over the decades, settlers have moved closer and closer to Palestinian villages, taking over more of the villagers\u2019 land. In Nabi Saleh, the nearby settlement of Halamish is so close that if you squint, you can almost look inside its backyards.\u00a0From Halamish, a surveillance aerostat watches over Nabi Saleh at all times.<\/p>\n

For years, Nabi Saleh\u2019s residents taught their children what to do should soldiers detain them. They brought lawyers to the village to explain to them their rights to silence and counsel, and former prisoners to share their experiences in detention. But in February, two months after Ahed\u2019s arrest and in anticipation of increased military activity against the village, they took the training a step further: They gathered a few dozen children in a hall used for community meetings, handcuffed them, blindfolded them, and blasted a recording of a real interrogation through loudspeakers. Then they removed the blindfolds and cuffs, asked the children how they felt, and talked to them about their rights.<\/p>\n

Just days after the training, the youngest child in the room that day \u2014\u00a013-year-old Suhaib \u2013\u00a0was detained by soldiers. Taken before interrogators, the child refused to speak. When a psychologist was brought in, per his lawyer\u2019s request, he again refused to speak. And when an Israeli activist close to the Tamimi family was allowed to call him to encourage him to speak to the psychologist, the child thanked him for his concern but told him he\u2019d exercise his right to silence.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Manal Tamimi, Ahed Tamimi\u2019s aunt, in Nabi Saleh following the release of the Tamimi women.
Photo: Samar Hazboun for The Intercept<\/p><\/div>\n

\u201cI wish that instead of giving them training about interrogations and their rights in prison and what to do if you get arrested, I wish I could take them to swimming training, or karate, or basketball,\u201d said Manal Tamimi, who has four children, including two currently in prison. \u201cBut this is our life, and they should be strong enough to deal with this life.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe most common question I get is, why are you putting your children in danger, you have to protect them, you are not a good mother,\u201d added Manal Tamimi, who is a well-known activist in Nabi Saleh and has often traveled to speak about the village to foreign audiences. \u201cWe tried to do everything we can, we tried to learn how to save children, but at the end, it\u2019s not about us. \u2026 I don\u2019t know what else we can do to protect them.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen they arrested Ahed, it was a lesson to the village,\u201d she said. \u201cWe\u2019re going to punish you through your children.\u201d<\/p>\n

In 2009, the residents of Nabi Saleh joined other villages similarly situated near expanding settlements and launched a nonviolent, popular resistance movement to protest the occupation and settlement expansion. Every Friday for nearly a decade, village residents, sometimes accompanied by foreign and Israeli activists, would march toward Halamish waving Palestinian flags, trying to reach a water spring that had once belonged to the village and was now annexed to the settlement. Every Friday, they were detained or turned back by soldiers, who fired tear gas and sometimes live ammunition at them.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Palestinian protesters raise a large Palestine flag in Nabi Saleh on Sep 11, 2015.
Photo: Mohammad Alhaj\/NurPhoto via Getty Images<\/p><\/div>\n

The residents kept tabs on the cost of their protest. Three people have been killed in Nabi Saleh since the weekly marches started. About 550 people were injured at least once, and many dozens of times \u2014\u00a0a tally that only takes into account hospital visits. Fifteen were shot at with live ammunition. Some 350 people were arrested in connection to the weekly protests, including more than 50 women, 48 children under 18, 10 children under 15, and two under age 12. By the end of 2016, when the protests started to lose steam and ultimately ended, 22 Nabi Saleh residents were in prison.<\/p>\n

Since the beginning, the children of Nabi Saleh \u2014\u00a0most of whom are related and share the Tamimi surname \u2014 took part in the protests. \u201cWhen we started, the first question in our mind was, what with the children?\u201d Ahed Tamimi\u2019s father, Bassem, told The Intercept. \u201cWe had two options: to keep them home and scared of the army, or to let them participate.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIf we scare them, they will be psychologically broken, in trauma, they may lose their self-confidence and their trust in their families. They won\u2019t be able to solve any problems they\u2019ll face,\u201d he explained, comparing the logic to the practice of immunizing children against snake bites by administering a small dose of poison. \u201cTo make them scared is more dangerous than to let them confront it. So we decided to let them be part of the struggle.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSometimes parents don\u2019t have any choice,\u201d he added, noting that even outside the Friday marches, soldiers regularly raided the village, barging into homes in the middle of the night, sometimes multiple times a week, and taking people away while leaving behind a cloud of tear gas. \u201cThere is no safe space in Palestine.\u201d<\/p>\n

And so Friday after Friday, and as the demonstrations periodically caught the attention of international audiences, \u201cthe world saw the Tamimi children grow up,\u201d said Manal. \u201cSince the beginning, the children were involved to break the wall of fear inside them.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

In Nov. 2, 2012, then 11-year-old Ahed Tamimi tries to punch an Israeli soldier during a protest in Nabi Saleh. Photo: Majdi Mohammed\/AP<\/p><\/div>\n

Raising Ahed <\/strong><\/p>\n

Ahed was just one of the many children of Nabi Saleh \u2014\u00a0but long before the video of her slapping a soldier went viral last winter, her encounters with the military had led to iconic moments\u00a0and earned her global fame.<\/p>\n

In 2012, when she was 11, Ahed waved her skinny fist at a soldier \u2014\u00a0a gesture that was caught on camera and captivated the world\u2019s attention. Three years later, at 14, she bit another soldier who was holding\u00a0her brother. That image, too, went viral.<\/p>\n

Her father, who was standing nearby when Ahed bit the soldier, was terrified but not surprised at his daughter\u2019s reaction and remembers the moment as one of his hardest as a parent, as he found himself paralyzed between wanting to intervene \u2014 putting the whole family at an even greater risk of violence \u2014\u00a0or walking away, thus\u00a0showing his children that he was powerless to protect them.<\/p>\n

But there were other moments, outside the spotlight, when Ahed showed her character, her father told The Intercept, his blue eyes beaming somewhere between pride and incredulity at his own daughter\u2019s strength. One evening, the family was held up at a military checkpoint into the village. As often happened, the soldiers aggressively kept them from going back to their homes. Ahed, who was 15 at the time, started calling the army commander at the checkpoint a \u201cterrorist.\u201d \u201cWhy are you holding these weapons? To kill all the children?\u201d her father recalled her asking. The commander replied that he had the weapons to defend himself and didn\u2019t want to kill anybody. Ahed shot back, \u201cAre you sure you\u2019re not going to kill anybody? So if I just go through, you won\u2019t shoot me?\u201d She then proceeded to walk across the checkpoint, astonishing both the soldiers and her parents. Her father joked, \u201cI told her, come back and get us!\u201d \u2014\u00a0then added that the commander was so stunned, he just let the whole family go.<\/p>\n

In 2012, after the raised fist incident, then-Turkish Prime Minister Recep Erdogan, invited Ahed to visit Turkey,\u00a0where she was met at the airport by scores of children wearing T-shirts with her face on them. When Erdogan told Ahed he stood with the Palestinians, she thanked him and then asked why she had needed a visa to travel to Turkey when Israelis didn\u2019t. Erdogan\u2019s face reddened, Ahed\u2019s father said with amusement. Relentless, Ahed asked Erdogan to go visit Syrian refugee camps with her.<\/p>\n

But last year\u2019s slapping incident catapulted Ahed into worldwide fame in ways that the earlier incidents had not. While she was in prison, a huge mural with her face was painted along the separation wall built by Israel around the Palestinian city of Bethlehem, and her photo was paraded at rallies in the United States and Europe.\u00a0(Two Italian artists who painted the mural were arrested by Israeli authorities on Saturday and ordered to leave the country.)<\/p>\n

Ahed was likened to Arafat and Che Guevara.<\/p>\n

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Ahed, at left, holds her brother after she and other Palestinian women fought to free him from an Israeli soldier during clashes between Israeli security forces and Palestinian protesters on Aug. 28, 2015. Photo: Abbas Momani\/AFP\/Getty Images<\/p><\/div>\n

In private, Bassem said, Ahed is not the way that people who have watched her on video expect her to be. She is shy, quiet, and protective of her three brothers. But she also has great self-confidence and poise, and a \u201cpoker face,\u201d which she inherited from her grandfather. \u201cYou cannot guess what she\u2019s thinking,\u201d he said, noting that she\u2019s also a typical teenager who will sometimes cry and fight with her parents. \u201cI can\u2019t control her, nobody can control anybody,\u201d said Bassem. \u201cShe is free. And she is brave. But that can be a danger to her.\u201d<\/p>\n

Speaking to The Intercept from Nabi Saleh a week before his daughter and wife\u2019s release, Bassem Tamimi alternated between his roles as lifelong activist for the Palestinian cause, and as a father and husband. He was renovating the family\u2019s stone house at the top of the village \u2014\u00a0a surprise for his wife \u2014\u00a0and joked about how he would be in trouble if the construction mess wasn\u2019t cleared before her return.<\/p>\n

But mostly, he worried about Ahed\u2019s future \u2014\u00a0anticipating the questions she\u2019d be faced with upon her release, while recognizing that she\u2019d have to make her own choices about how to handle them. Should she go greet Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas, he mused, noting that she would inevitably face criticism either way over a divisive figure in Palestine. \u201cIf she goes, it\u2019s a problem \u2013 if she doesn\u2019t, it\u2019s a problem.\u201d (On Sunday, Ahed did meet with Abbas, though she later said she requested a longer meeting with him in the future to discuss the needs of Palestinian political prisoners.)<\/p>\n

And where should\u00a0his daughter go to college? Ahed, who wants to be a lawyer, studied for her final high school exams while in prison, and used the time to read novels, improve her English, and work on a research project comparing her own interrogation and detention to the standards set by international law. Abroad,\u00a0where she has received scholarship offers, Ahed would be safer and get a better education, her father said. At Birzeit, a Palestinian university near Nabi Saleh, she would be closer to her family and her people, but she would also be more likely to be arrested again. Her older brother Wa\u2019ed, 21, is a student at Birzeit, but he is currently in prison, after being arrested by the Israeli military last May, his third time.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

The empty bedroom of Manal’s sons, Mohammad and Osama Tamimi.<\/p><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Their photos adorn a table in the family home.<\/p><\/div>\n

Photos: Samar Hazboun for The Intercept<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u201cShe\u2019ll be in more danger here, she\u2019ll be in jail again soon,\u201d Bassem said. \u201cI wish there was no occupation and she could be a dancer or a football player, or whatever she wants. \u2026 But it\u2019s hard to plan for the future here.\u201d<\/p>\n

Awaiting her return, Bassem mostly seemed to be coming to terms with his new role, as much of a spectator of his daughter\u2019s life today as he was when she bit the soldier as a 14-year-old. Ahed grew up before her age, he said, and she now would face the challenges that came with her symbol status. She would have to navigate people\u2019s opinions and agendas for her, and be watched closely by enemies and supporters alike. \u201cThis will bring more responsibility and more danger,\u201d he said. \u201cThey\u2019ll think she\u2019s even stronger than she is. She is a child.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI feel my responsibility now is to be an adviser,\u201d he added. \u201cShe needs me to support her, not to plan her life. She can decide, and I must be the person she trusts.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

An Italian activist paints a portrait of Ahed Tamimi on a portion of the Israeli separation wall in Bethlehem.
Photo: Samar Hazboun for The Intercept<\/p><\/div>\n

Hundreds of Aheds <\/strong><\/p>\n

If Ahed\u2019s story brought some awareness to the plight of Palestinian children in Israeli military jails, it didn\u2019t stop the detention, interrogation, and imprisonment of scores of others. At the end of May, 291 Palestinian minors<\/a> were held in Israeli prisons as \u201csecurity detainees,\u201d including 49 children under the age of 16, according to figures by the Israeli human rights group B\u2019Tselem. Between 500 and 700 Palestinian minors are detained by the Israeli military every year, according to Defense for Children International-Palestine, a human rights group that has long monitored abuses against Palestinian children at all steps of the detention process.\u00a0Since 2010, at least 8,000 Palestinian children have been detained and prosecuted in the Israeli military system.<\/p>\n

An overwhelming majority of these children are detained over offenses that range from participating in demonstrations and clashes, to social media posts or \u201cinsulting the honor of a soldier,\u201d said Ruba Awadallah, a research and advocacy officer with DCI. While some minors are arrested for more serious, violent offenses \u2014 like stabbings or attempted stabbings \u2014\u00a0most are accused of what has become the de facto symbol of Palestinian resistance: throwing rocks.<\/p>\n

In Nabi Saleh alone, about 50 people, including several minors and young adults, have been arrested since Ahed slapped the soldier, including Wa\u2019ed and Manal\u2019s two oldest sons. Fourteen of them, including three minors, remain in prison. Mohammed Tamimi \u2014\u00a0the cousin who was shot by soldiers at close range in December \u2014\u00a0was arrested in February despite his critical condition, and released only following public pressure. \u201cNow he\u2019s better, so we expect they\u2019ll come take him any day,\u201d said Manal.<\/p>\n

As Manal spoke, her husband Bilal unrolled a poster the family made, with photos of 19 recently detained members of the Tamimi family displayed as rays around the image of a sun and the words \u201cNabi Saleh\u201d and \u201cresist.\u201d One of those photographed, Wiam Tamimi, another 17-year-old cousin of Ahed, was released two days before my visit. I met him while he and other relatives FaceTimed with his father, who lives in New York. Wiam didn\u2019t talk much about his five-month stay in prison \u2014\u00a0but an uncle said that soldiers had barged into his home in the middle of the night and taken him away. It was his second detention by the army, but the first time he was sentenced to prison time. In prison, Wiam said, he was mostly bored. \u201cI wasn\u2019t scared,\u201d he said with a shy smile. \u201cI had heard what would happen from everyone else.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

(Above) The patch of ground and bullet holes in the wall showing where \u2018Iz a-Din Tamimi was killed.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Photos: Samar Hazboun for The Intercept<\/strong><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Palestinians carry the dead body of \u2018Iz a-Din Tamimi, during his funeral on June 06, 2018.
Photo: Issam Rimawi\/Anadolu Agency\/Getty Images<\/p><\/div>\n

The Tamimi children are not only experienced with interrogations and prisons: They have also watched Israeli soldiers kill some of their relatives. The latest, 20-year-old \u2018Iz a-Din Tamimi, was killed in June<\/a>, shot from the back as he fled after throwing rocks at soldiers who had come into the village. The Israeli military\u2019s open-fire regulations allow the use of lethal fire only when security forces or others are in mortal danger and no other alternative is available. B\u2019Tselem, which investigated Tamimi\u2019s death, said his killing failed to meet those standards, and was \u201cillegal and unjustified.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2018Iz a-Din was killed just outside Manal\u2019s home, at the entrance of the village. Her youngest children, 14-year-old Rand and 11-year-old Samer, were home at the time and ran outside when they heard the gunshots, to find a soldier kicking their cousin\u2019s body. The soldier pointed his weapon at Samer and told him, \u201cYou have one second and if you don\u2019t leave, I will shoot you like him,\u201d Manal said. So the kids went back inside and watched from the windows as the soldiers took the body away and threw stun grenades at the crowd that had gathered.<\/p>\n

Samer, who listened in as I spoke with Manal, has been having a hard time sleeping since that day, Manal said. \u201cNobody wants their 11-year-old child to see their cousin being killed and kicked and bleeding in front of him and being afraid that he\u2019ll be shot,\u201d she said. \u201cIt\u2019s not easy to see your cousin die in front of you. They are children.\u201d<\/p>\n

Then she added \u2014\u00a0\u201cIt\u2019s the worst thing to be a Palestinian mother.\u201d<\/p>\n

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Nisreen Masaeed holds a photo of her 16-year-old son, Mohammad, who is currently serving 10 months in prison. She has been sleeping in his bed, pictured here, since he went to prison. Photo: Anthony Tucker for The Intercept<\/p><\/div>\n

Children in Prison\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

As Ahed\u2019s story captivated the world, Nabi Saleh saw an outpouring of international solidarity, even if it was sometimes based on questionable premises. A senior Israeli official \u2014\u00a0who had called the Tamimis \u201cpaid actors<\/a>\u201d \u2014\u00a0said that Ahed was chosen because of her striking, long blond hair. Manal dismissed the notion as ridiculous, but agreed that Ahed\u2019s looks helped her popularity.<\/p>\n

\u201cTo me this feels racist,\u201d she said, noting that she received many messages from Europeans and Americans telling her that Ahed looked like their daughter. \u201cTo feel sympathy or solidarity with a child just because she\u2019s blond, and turn a blind eye to other children\u2019s suffering, this is racism.\u201d<\/p>\n

On Sunday, after Ahed\u2019s release, Manal said that while she was elated to have her niece home, her return also brought about \u201cmixed feelings\u201d \u2014\u00a0not least because Ahed\u2019s brother, and Manal\u2019s two sons, remained in prison. Another young Palestinian woman, Yasmin Abu Srour, was released<\/a> from an Israeli prison last week, also after serving an eight-month sentence.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut nobody cares about her,\u201d said Manal. \u201cWe are not the only family that has prisoners.\u201d<\/p>\n

In fact, if Nabi Saleh has become a symbol of Palestinian resistance and a recipient of international attention and solidarity, stories like Ahed\u2019s and her cousins\u2019 are common across the West Bank and East Jerusalem \u2014\u00a0though most remain virtually unknown to the outside world.<\/p>\n

Nearly half of all detained children are arrested by soldiers who break into their homes in the middle of the night, according to DCI\u2019s documentation. Sometimes children are separated from their parents in their own homes; other times, the parents are there but prevented from intervening. \u201cIt\u2019s the beginning of breaking the parent-child relationship,\u201d said Awadallah. \u201cBecause children feel that, my parents are not able to protect me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Sleep-deprived, alone, blindfolded, and handcuffed, children are then driven away \u2014 often forced to sit on the metal floor of military jeeps. Many describe that first journey as one of the most traumatizing phases of their detention, and the time when they are more likely to be verbally and physically assaulted.<\/p>\n

The next step is an interrogation \u2014 sometimes the first of several. According to Israeli military law, children have a right to legal consultation before they are interrogated, but in practice that rarely happens. \u201cSometimes they will tell them, \u2018You have a right to talk to a lawyer,\u2019 but they won\u2019t usually wait for the lawyer,\u201d Yael Stein, B\u2019Tselem\u2019s research director, told The Intercept. \u201cThey\u2019ll say, \u2018Do you have the number of a lawyer? No? So no, it doesn\u2019t matter.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n

Detained children are required by law to appear before a judge within 96 hours of their arrest (adults can wait weeks to see a judge). That\u2019s when they get to see their families for the first time, though relatives sit across the courtroom and are not allowed to speak to them or touch them. Children come into court wearing brown prison wear, their feet in shackles, and all court proceedings are in Hebrew \u2014\u00a0with an interpreter translating into Arabic only questions posed directly to the child.<\/p>\n

Most children are sentenced to between three and 12 months in prison, plus fines and probation. If their families can\u2019t pay the fines, they get longer sentences. Probation, too, is problematic, because many of the children who enter the Israeli detention system live near checkpoints or the separation wall, where clashes and demonstrations are frequent. A child walking home from the store can easily be photographed by one of the many military watchtowers, and the military can then use the image as evidence he was in the streets during protests \u2014\u00a0a probation violation, said Awadallah. \u201cIt really restricts their life.\u201d<\/p>\n

After sentencing, most of the abuse ends. Children are given access to education in prison, though the lessons don\u2019t follow the Palestinian curriculum \u2014\u00a0a 10th grader interviewed by The Intercept said the classes he attended in prison were \u201cfirst-grade level.\u201d Detained children receive no science instruction. \u201cThey\u2019re thinking of these children as terrorists or bad people or so on, so maybe they\u2019re thinking, \u2018What would happen if we teach Palestinian children in prison chemistry?\u201d said Awadallah. Often, children drop out of school after their release, and many are arrested again.<\/p>\n

Mohammed Masaeed, a 16-year-old from the Aida refugee camp in Bethlehem, was 14 when he was arrested the first time, along with his 13-year-old brother Anas. The boys were accused of throwing stones at soldiers who had raided the camp. They were fined and sentenced to three months in prison. A year later, last January, Mohammed was walking to a sneaker store near his house when soldiers arrested him again. There had been clashes in the camp and again, soldiers accused him of throwing stones. Because Mohammed was on probation, he was sentenced to 10 months in prison, which he is currently serving.<\/p>\n

His mother, Nisreen Masaeed, told The Intercept that on the day of his arrest, she rushed to the entrance of the camp to find him and other children on their knees with their hands tied behind their back. When the children fidgeted, a soldier would hit them in front of their parents. (Later, when Nisreen visited Mohammed in prison, he told her that he had been beaten on his legs and knees during the arrest, making the forced kneeling even more painful).<\/p>\n

But despite the longer sentence and the fact that Mohammed would be forced to miss 10th grade, Nisreen said the first arrest had been harder on the family \u2014\u00a0because at the time they had no understanding of the military court system, and they were unfamiliar with the long waits and curt treatment they\u2019d receive during court hearings and prison visits. The first imprisonment, she added, transformed her children\u2019s personalities. Mohammed never talked about it, and when his younger brother said he had been beaten, and that he had cried, he would deny it.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s his personality to hide his true feelings,\u201d said Nisreen. \u201cHe always says he\u2019s fine.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not normal life,\u201d she added. But then she recalled what a school counselor told her youngest son, whose grades dropped as he reacted to his brothers\u2019 first arrest. \u201cAs Palestinians, this is the situation we live in. You have to get used to it.\u201d The family, she said, was getting used to it.<\/p>\n

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Israeli soldiers detain a Palestinian boy in Hebron on Dec. 15, 2017, during a protest against U.S. President Donald Trump\u2019s decision to recognize Jerusalem as the capital of Israel.
Photo: Nasser Shiyoukhi\/AP<\/p><\/div>\n

Soldiers Don\u2019t Lie\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

Israeli military courts boast an astonishing 99.7 conviction rate. But the majority of those convictions, advocates say, are based on confessions extracted during interrogations. For both children and adults, verbal and often physical abuse at the hands of the soldiers who first detain them are followed by psychological abuse, intimidation, and threats by interrogators with Israel\u2019s security services, the \u201cShabak.\u201d<\/p>\n

In 2017, DCI documented the cases of 161 detained children \u2014\u00a0an incomplete list \u2014 including\u00a0six under the age of 13. Of those, 74 percent reported physical violence and 61 percent reported being subjected to verbal abuse, intimidation, and threats \u2014 with interrogators routinely telling them that they would arrest their family members or demolish their homes. Many reported being strip-searched, denied food and water and access to a toilet, being forced into stress positions, and held in solitary confinement. Most had no lawyer or parent present during their interrogation, and more than half were made to sign papers in Hebrew,\u00a0a language most Palestinians can\u2019t read. By that point in an interrogation, said Awadallah, \u201cmany children confess because they just want this traumatizing experience to end.\u201d<\/p>\n

Nasser Nassar and Usayed Mazyad, two 16-year-old cousins from the town on Anabta, in the northern West Bank, were detained in February while walking in the hills behind Usayed\u2019s home, a quiet stretch of olive trees and rocky terrain. In separate interviews, the boys told The Intercept that they heard voices speaking in Hebrew, and before they knew it, they found themselves surrounded by two dozen soldiers, who pushed them to the ground, and handcuffed and blindfolded them. (In sworn statements later obtained by The Intercept, the boys also said the soldiers called them \u201cdog\u201d and \u201cson of a whore,\u201d and that they kicked and slapped them \u201cwhenever they felt like it.\u201d) The soldiers then drove the cousins to a police station in a nearby settlement. During the transport, the abuse continued. At one point, a soldier stepped on Nasser\u2019s feet shackles, making him fall onto the floor.<\/p>\n

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Usayed Mazyad<\/p><\/div>\n

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Nasser Nassar.<\/p><\/div>\n

Photos: Anthony Tucker for The Intercept<\/strong><\/p>\n

At the police station, adult Palestinian prisoners, noticing Nasser and Usayed\u2019s young age, asked soldiers to give them water or let them use the bathroom. They didn\u2019t. The cousins were finally brought before interrogators, alone, in the middle of the night.<\/p>\n

Nasser said that the interrogator asked him why he was throwing rocks, slamming his fists on the table and pacing around him \u201cto create an atmosphere of fear,\u201d he said. When the boy replied that he hadn\u2019t been throwing rocks, the interrogator \u201cgot up and slapped me and said soldiers did not lie and that they said in their statements they saw us throwing stones,\u201d Nasser said in his sworn statement. When he told the interrogator that he wanted to file a complaint against the soldiers who beat him, the man responded that \u201cthe defense soldiers are polite and treat people well and act in accordance with the law.\u201d<\/p>\n

Usayed said he told the interrogator that he wouldn\u2019t speak unless his handcuffs and blindfold were removed, and he could speak with a lawyer. The interrogator removed the blindfold but not the handcuffs, and told him he\u2019d get to call a lawyer \u201cwhen I\u2019m done with you,\u201d the boy told The Intercept. Then the interrogator handed him a piece of paper and told him, \u201cThese are your rights.\u201d The boy read on the paper that he had a right to stay silent and told the interrogator that he would do that \u2014\u00a0but the interrogator started yelling at him, asking him, \u201cWhy do you think I brought you here? You have to say something.\u201d<\/p>\n

The boys didn\u2019t see their parents until their first court appearance. There, Nasser\u2019s mom worked up the courage to ask her son from across the courtroom how he was doing, but soldiers cut her off.<\/p>\n

After the sentencing \u2014\u00a0to six months in prison and the equivalent of a $1,600 fine \u2014 the fear and mistreatment subsided, turning into boredom. Informal agreements with prison administrators allow adult Palestinian prisoners to care for the kids. Families can\u2019t visit their children for the first three months \u2014\u00a0the average length of time it takes to obtain permits through the International Committee of the Red Cross \u2014\u00a0and even then, they can only see their children through a glass. \u201cHe looked so tired,\u201d Nasser\u2019s mom said about her first visit. \u201cI just wanted to hug him.\u201d<\/p>\n

Nasser and Usayed blushed and sometimes chuckled as they told their stories, looking younger than their 16 years. They talked about the huge party held in their honor when they were released: a convoy of cars packed with friends paraded them through town as at a wedding. Nasser was a bit more talkative, while Usayed mostly nodded his answers. His mother said that when his older brother came home from prison, he didn\u2019t want to talk about it. \u201cHe thought that if he tells us the details, we\u2019ll be very sad,\u201d she said. But when Usayed came home, she added, the family barraged him with questions about the way he was treated. \u201cBecause in our mind, he\u2019s the baby.\u201d<\/p>\n

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Ahmad Shamaly, photographed at his home in Bethlehem.
Photo: Anthony Tucker for The Intercept<\/p><\/div>\n

Justice Under Occupation\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

Like Nasser and Usayed, many of the children interviewed by The Intercept denied throwing stones or participating in demonstrations \u2014\u00a0but others readily admitted they did.<\/p>\n

Ahmad Shamaly, a 16-year-old from Bethlehem, told The Intercept that when soldiers arrested him last January, he at first denied throwing stones. When interrogators showed him two videos that appeared to show him doing just that, he again denied it. Then, he said, an interrogator warned him, \u201cIf you don\u2019t confess, we\u2019re going to use another method.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ahmad had heard from friends that he would be held in solitary confinement until he confessed \u2014 or worse. \u201cI knew the other method,\u201d he said. \u201cSince I knew what happened to other people, I said I\u2019ll take the shortcut.\u201d He asked to see the videos again and confessed to throwing stones only in the instance in which the video evidence against him was undeniable. He ended up serving four months in prison, getting out on the first day of his finals, which he passed without studying.<\/p>\n

When I asked him whether he thought the punishment had been fair or proportionate, Ahmad hesitated. Then his older brother, who had listened in on the conversation, butted in. \u201cYou\u2019re under occupation. You\u2019re on your own land. You\u2019re not guilty of anything.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019re not saying that all Palestinian children are innocent; we\u2019re not saying that no Palestinian child has ever thrown a stone or stabbed a soldier,\u201d said Awadallah, noting the irony that the children of Israeli settlers frequently throw stones or attack Palestinians, often under the eyes of Israeli soldiers who do nothing to stop them.\u00a0(Even though they live in the West Bank, settlers committing crimes are prosecuted under the Israeli criminal justice system, not the military one used for Palestinians.)<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat we are saying is that, no matter what they did, no matter their innocence or guilt, no child should be treated this way.\u201d<\/p>\n

In 2009, following a series of reports critical of Israel\u2019s treatment of Palestinian children, Israel instituted a separate military court for minors \u2014\u00a0but rights groups slammed it as a cosmetic change intended to appease public criticism. At Ofer, the military base in the West Bank where many court proceedings take place, the juvenile courtroom was virtually indistinguishable from the nearby adult ones. Like the others, it was held in an unceremonious structure that resembled a shipping container.<\/p>\n

Stein, of B\u2019Tselem, said the Israeli public hailed the creation of the court as proof of the country\u2019s humane values and human rights standards. \u201cWhen you get to the military juvenile court, it doesn\u2019t do anything,\u201d she said. \u201cIt looks better. The courtroom is bigger. The atmosphere is nicer. But it stops there. \u2026 But Israel is still proud of that. They do not let the facts bother them.\u201d<\/p>\n

As with adults, Stein noted, proceedings for minors rarely see the introduction of evidence or witnesses. Sentences are almost always decided in plea bargains, and extension of detention proceedings \u2014 by which the military extends children\u2019s pretrial detention in order to obtain confessions or force a plea \u2014\u00a0continue to happen in adult courts. \u201cAll the cases are based on either the admission of the minor or framing by somebody else, usually another minor that was detained and interrogated and threatened,\u201d said Stein. \u201cIt\u2019s a twisted system. It\u2019s hard to call it a justice system. \u2026 It\u2019s called a court, but it\u2019s something else.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAll the military courts represent the interests of the Israeli occupation, not Palestinian society,\u201d she added, noting systemic due process issues were only a reflection of a much broader problem with the courts\u2019 very legitimacy. \u201cA child who is throwing stones shouldn\u2019t go to jail.\u201d<\/p>\n

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Ahed takes a phone call after journalists and relatives left her house after post-release festivities wound down. Photo: Samar Hazboun for The Intercept<\/p><\/div>\n

On Sunday, Ahed and her mother called on the public not to forget about the hundreds of Palestinian children who remain in Israeli prisons \u2014\u00a0and those otherwise impacted by the occupation.<\/p>\n

\u201cOur children are the future, they are the future of our struggle, and we should always make sure that we support them in pursuing their freedom and in pursuing their rights,\u201d Nariman Tamimi said at a press conference hours after her release. \u201cBecause the children are the salt of the earth, because they are our future, we need to stand behind them, and we need to make sure that they have the strength to continue and move forward.\u201d<\/p>\n

But in line with her message, she let her daughter do most of the talking.<\/p>\n

\u201cOf course, I felt extremely happy to be released from prison,\u201d Ahed told the crowd, visibly exhausted by the emotions of the day, but powering through unperturbed, a natural\u00a0in the spotlight. \u201cBut my happiness was not full because I have brothers and sisters who remain in prison.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMy happiness will be fulfilled when they are released.\u201d<\/p>\n

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Related:<\/em><\/p>\n