Gaza, February 19, 2010 (Pal Telegraph; by Pam Bailey) - "Gilad Shalit" is virtually a household name for anyone who follows Middle Eastern politics even somewhat cursorily. Shalit is an Israeli soldier of French nationality who was captured by members of the Palestinian Resistance Committees (various political factions, all resisting the Israeli occupation) on June 25, 2006, while he was serving in a combat mission near the border with the Gaza Strip.
The capture of the 19-year-old corporal came less than a year after Israel's unilateral disengagement from Gaza, in which it withdrew its 8,000 settlers but retained control over its borders. Shalit's captors snuck into Israel through an 800-yard tunnel that extended into the Palestinian territory captured in 1967. He was abducted into Gaza through the Karem Shalom crossing and has been held prisoner ever since. Today, tense negotiations for his release are ongoing, with Egypt acting as mediator between Israel, Hamas and other interested parties. His release is one condition named as the price for lifting the siege Israel has imposed on Gaza since the year of his capture.
What doesn't get much media coverage, however, is why he was kidnapped in the first place and what Hamas - the movement that governs Gaza - wants in return for his release: the freedom of thousands of its own citizens held in Israeli jails, many of whom (unlike Shalit) were not involved in armed aggression. Immediately after Shalit was kidnapped, the resistance committees demanded the release of all female Palestinian political prisoners (who numbered 32 as of January) as well as those under the age of 18 (306). In total, Israel is holding 6,381 Palestinians for political reasons - many for years. Three-hundred and thirty-five of the Palestinians are being held in "administrative detention" (meaning no charges have been brought and no trials have been held; think "Guantanamo"). Seven-hundred and forty-five of are from Gaza. All of them are held in Israeli jails, over borders their family members cannot cross - even for visits by children who haven't seen their parent since they were very small.
"My son (Ramy) was taken when he was only 15, still just a boy. He was walking near a settlement and was chased down (by the Israeli army)," said Mona B. through an interpreter. "At first, I could visit him. But I haven't seen him in eight years. He is 32 now! I only get some text messages, saying he is being tortured. My heart is breaking..."
Mona is among the crowd of mostly women and children who stage a "sit-in" every Monday morning in front of the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) office in Gaza City. They hold posters with photos of their missing children or husbands, chant slogans calling for their release, and give interviews and speeches to urge the media and other parties to keep their loved ones in the spotlight so they won't be forgotten.
"The need to free political prisoners is one of the few unifying causes among Palestinians that crosses all party lines," says Iyad Nasir, head of communications for ICRC in Gaza. "They can't see their loved ones, so they come here to sympathize with each other, exchange information on who has what information and talk to the media about their cause. It's like a form of group therapy."
Nasir says he welcomes the weekly demonstrations, instead of seeing them as a disruption to the agency's routine or as a criticism of the ICRC's effectiveness as a go-between for families. "I see providing families of prisoners with a forum for their grief and fears to be an integral part of our responsibility," says Nasir, recalling that he first started attending the "historic" sit-ins when he was just 10 years old. His parents brought him to the demonstration to show solidarity with their fellow Palestinians after the Sabra and Shatila massacres in Lebanon in the early 1980s. (The massacres were named after the two Palestinian refugee camps where thousands of residents were brutally killed by Lebanese Christians under Israeli supervision.) Nasir adds that the ICRC is building a new headquarters building in Gaza and has made adequate space for the sit-ins a priority for the design.
Visitations for families of Palestinian prisoners have always been problematic. In June 2007, however, when Israel tightened its siege, Israeli authorities blocked the program for Gaza detainees even while allowing families of West Bank prisoners to continue to visit. In December, relatives of 14 Gaza prisoners went to the Israeli high court to seek an end to the ban on prison visits. The Israeli court rejected the lawsuit, filed on their behalf by HaMoked - the Center for the Defense of the Individual, and Adalah - the Legal Center for Arab Minority Rights. In its decision, the court acknowledged that "it is true that the security prisoners are entitled to rights and these should not be withheld beyond what is necessary." Nevertheless, the court upheld the Israeli government's ban on prison visits, saying that such visits "are not a humanitarian need."
Most of the participants in the sit-ins have stories similar to Mona B.'s. They have sons (and a few daughters) who have been in jail for years with little to no ability to communicate with their families in Gaza. Invariably, their mothers say they were nabbed by the Israeli army during an incursion. Some say their sons had no connection to militant resistance factions and were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Others say their sons' actions were as minor as being a name-only member of Hamas. Still others admit to their sons' attempts to fight - and even kill - Israeli soldiers, but defend their actions as self-defense against an occupying power that controls virtually every aspect of their lives.
However, one particular story stands out. Ahmed Asfour, 19, was critically injured in both his hands and his abdomen during Israel's January 2009 offensive. Appropriate care could not be provided in Gaza, and as the occupying power, Israel had a responsibility under the Fourth Geneva Conventions to provide medical care. However, Israel makes accessing that care a bit like a game of Russian roulette. Over the past several years, says Nasir, "security concerns" on the part of Israel have prevented many Palestinians in Gaza from obtaining medical care in the West Bank, Jerusalem or Israel proper.
As a result, many Palestinians are instead sent to Egypt, where the care is often substandard. That was the case for Ahmed Asfour, who was first sent to Egypt and then back to Gaza when the care was insufficient. He was finally accepted into Israel for treatment three months ago, says his father, Samir. But then his story took an even more tragic turn. "Israel tried to get my son to collaborate with them against his own people," he said. "When Ahmed refused, he was arrested! He was accepted into Israel for treatment and instead he is behind bars."
The case of Ahmed Asfour is not an isolated one. In 2008, Physicians for Human Rights in Israel announced at a press conference that it had documented more than 30 cases of Gaza patients who needed treatment in Israel but were returned to the Strip when they refused to collaborate with Israeli security agents.
"We have objected to Israel about these practices, but cannot prevent Israeli arrests," responds Nasir of the ICRC, adding that the agency warns Palestinians of the risk before they travel to Israel. If arrests and detentions occurs, an ICRC team in Tel Aviv attempts to determine where they are being held and monitor whether proper procedures are followed. The team also visits the prisoners and helps convey reassuring messages back to their families.
Some of these prisoners will likely be released when an exchange deal is finally forged with Israel in return for freeing Gilad Shalit. However, thousands more will remain behind bars. The families will continue to wait, and every Monday, they can be found in front of the ICRC headquarters.





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