Ben-Gvir's Prisons: Where Cruelty Is Systemic, Not Accidental

When a Minister's Words Become Policy

Itamar Ben-Gvir is not just another politician. He is the architect of a prison system where cruelty has become normalized, where the dehumanization of Palestinian detainees is not an aberration but a state-sanctioned practice. When I watched his AI-generated video showing emaciated prisoners, I saw more than propaganda—I saw the chilling reality of what happens when political power meets institutionalized brutality.

"When a figure like that comes to the prisons, they don't show everything. What they do show is only certain video clips where the arrogance of that figure comes through."

My investigation into Palestinian detention facilities has confirmed what many human rights experts have feared: Ben-Gvir's tenure as National Security Minister has not merely worsened prison conditions—it has fundamentally transformed them into instruments of psychological and physical warfare.

The Numbers Tell a Story of Systemic Abuses

According to Addameer, the number of administrative detainees in Israel has more than doubled since October 7, 2023. Today, nearly 3,200 Palestinians are held without trial under these provisions. The numbers alone paint a stark picture—people are being detained en masse for indefinite periods with no legal recourse.

But it's not just about quantity—it's about quality. In the aftermath of October 7, family visits and Red Cross access were suspended. Lawyers were barred for months. Food, clothing, and even books were confiscated, leaving prisoners with only a single change of clothes. The deliberate starvation and isolation that followed is not incidental; it's part of a calculated strategy to break human spirits.

Personal Testimonies: From the Inside

I spoke with Muath Amarneh, a Palestinian photojournalist who has spent over a year in Israeli detention facilities. His experiences are a testament to what many prisoners endure daily.

Amarneh described being stripped of his prescription glasses for six months and forced to live in near-total darkness. Prisoners were denied basic hygiene products and often had to sit out in the rain after rare showers. Guards routinely referred to them as animals, cursing their mothers and wives while taunting that they should have been killed.

"I'm going to die here," Amarneh remembers thinking when his pain became unbearable.

These aren't random acts of violence; they are part of a coordinated effort to dehumanize and demoralize detainees. When medical care is minimal or nonexistent, and when someone like Amarneh's eye implant becomes dislodged due to inadequate treatment, the consequences are fatal—not just physically but spiritually.

International Law Ignored

The United Nations Working Group on Arbitrary Detention ruled in 2024 that Amarneh's first detention was unlawful and discriminatory. Yet, he was arrested again ten months later, with no change in the legal framework or public accountability.

This is not just about individual injustices—it's a systemic failure of international law to hold states accountable for crimes against humanity. As Sahar Francis, executive director of Addameer, explained: "At the end, it's an opinion — a decision that needs more political will in order to be implemented."

Francis pointed out a troubling double standard: while international courts have prosecuted officers for torture under Syria's regime, Palestinian cases remain unresolved. Ben-Gvir's actions could very well become part of a larger pattern that may one day reach the International Criminal Court.

The Dehumanization Protocol

Ben-Gvir's on-camera boasts that "I am directly responsible for everything" are more than mere political theater—they reflect his personal responsibility for creating and maintaining these conditions. This statement, if scrutinized properly, could carry weight in future ICC proceedings.

What strikes me most is the psychological toll these prisons exact. Amarneh now avoids leaving his home in Dheisheh camp, fearing arrest. He says being in prison is easier than living on the outside because the latter is filled with constant fear and uncertainty—psychological torment that rivals physical brutality.

"He wants the land without the people," Amarneh said. "Either I die here, or I live here. But he doesn't even want us to live."

This isn't about security—it's about control. It's about erasing entire communities through fear and oppression. And it is being done under the banner of national security, with a minister who takes pride in his role as overseer of this cruelty.

Conclusion: A Systemic Crisis

What we're witnessing in Israel's prison system isn't just the result of poor governance or oversight. It's the product of policy-driven malice—an ideological campaign that uses incarceration as a tool for erasure. The current leadership, particularly Ben-Gvir, has institutionalized a regime where prisoners are treated not as human beings but as objects to be manipulated and destroyed.

For years, journalists like Amarneh have been silenced, imprisoned, and vilified simply for reporting the truth. But the truth demands that we investigate further, document harder, and speak louder than ever before. These conditions must be exposed, challenged, and stopped—not only for the prisoners who are suffering today, but for the future of justice and humanity.