Published on Alternet (http://www.alternet.org)
Home > Inside Israel's Kangaroo Courts, Where Children are Held and
Sentenced
________________________________________
Inside Israel's Kangaroo Courts, Where Children are Held and Sentenced
By Jennifer Bing [1] / AlterNet [2]
October 1, 2015
I have often felt that the worst aspect of Israel's prolonged military
occupation of the West Bank, including East Jerusalem, and the Gaza Strip is
how official procedures strip people of their dignity. Oppressive processes
have become so routine that people just expect them. People tell me "This is
our life" when I express outrage at the system of Israeli military
checkpoints, permit and military courts lacking fundamental due process
protections. Israel's Ofer military court provides a singular vantage point
from which to observe the human impact of Israel's occupation of the
Palestinian territories.
I knew the military court was not going to resemble a "Law and Order"
courtroom or be like one of my visits to Chicago's Cook County courtrooms,
but as I saw Ofer's barbed wire and concrete walls I knew I was stepping
into the heart of the occupation. It is where the state of Israel puts
children on trial after they are kidnapped by armed soldiers, and it is
where they will be sentenced to prison terms of as long as 20 years under a
new law [3] that defines stone throwing as a form of terrorism.
To enter Ofer military prison, all Palestinian visitors must walk a nearly
half-mile stretch between military checkpoints. I went to Ofer accompanied
by a lawyer from Defense for Children International Palestine (DCIP). As an
American with a U.S. passport, I was allowed to ride in a car down this
stretch, reinforcing the fact that the no-car rule applies only to
Palestinians.
After parking our car in the space reserved for legal staff, we proceeded to
the court entrance, which resembles a military checkpoint. Families and
friends wait outside near a small building in an open area with a tin roof.
Israeli soldiers sitting behind tinted bulletproof glass summon visitors to
approach and have their identity cards checked. Visitors are then
unhurriedly ushered through a series of other checkpoints.
My name was called and I walked through a locked steel door to a metal
detector. I was then subjected to a body search. I could carry nothing
beyond this point except a notebook and pen. I walked down a barbed wire
alleyway to meet the DCIP lawyer who would accompany me to the court
proceedings.
In front of me were several small trailers, numbered to indicate which
"courtroom" one was entering. I entered trailer number four. Inside the
small air-conditioned space, I was asked to sit in the back, which had six
chairs allotted for family members. I settled in to observe the proceedings.
I was struck by the youthfulness of those involved. The Israeli army judge
could not have been 30 years old, and the stenographer and prosecutor (both
women) looked like they were still possibly doing their military service
(18-21 years old). The detained young men, all clad in brown prisoner
uniforms except one young man (who I told was just taken out of
interrogation and thus has not yet been in prison), were the same age of the
people handing out their sentences. Private security guards - many, I am
told, Palestinian citizens living in Israel - were stationed in the corners
of the small room and accompanied each shackled prisoner as he entered.
Lawyers arrived in the trailer holding sheets of paper listing the names of
the clients they were to represent that day in court. This is often the
first time the lawyer sees the client, and while talking is prohibited in
the court, the lawyers typically try to whisper questions to the prisoners
to get any relevant information that might help their cases. The proceedings
took place in Hebrew with a translator reading from the stenographer's notes
(posted on a computer screen) in Arabic. The cases were read out by the
judge, who then immediately made a sentence, sometimes with a quick plea
from one of the lawyers to lessen the fine or sentence.
As I watched this surreal scene, in walked the mother of the detained young
man dressed in civilian clothes. She gasped as she saw her son and was
quickly ordered by the guards to sit in the corner next to me. Her son
looked our way and began to mouth words of encouragement: "I'm OK," "Thanks
to God, he will protect me, don't worry," "Send my love to my sisters and
brothers." She anxiously replied in a whisper, "But are you OK?" "Are you
eating?" "Do you see anyone you know?" As her questions continued, the young
man's eyes turned red and began to water, and within minutes I noticed that
the mother sitting beside me was silently weeping, tears streaming down her
face. No one seemed to notice. The court cases continued without
interruption.
I was relieved when it was time for the judge to take his lunch break, as I
don't think I could have kept silent much longer. All detainees were led
handcuffed back to the holding cells or back into detention (none were
released that day; the young man in civilian clothes was remanded to another
15 days of interrogation, then he will be brought back into the court for
sentencing). The trailer was cleared and we were escorted back through the
maze of barbed wire alleys to the entry point, where we received our
identity cards on exiting. The mother of the detained son from our courtroom
made her journey back to Jericho, telling us she hopes she has the funds to
travel to return to see her son again.
As the coordinator of a new campaign, Israeli Military Detention: No Way to
Treat a Child [4], I knew it would help my advocacy efforts if I actually
witnessed the process that Palestinian children, some as young as 12 years
old, go through if they are detained and brought to a military court, often
on the charge of throwing stones. Our campaign has highlighted the five
stages of detention (arrest, transport, interrogation, sentencing,
imprisonment; see graphic here [5]) to show the way the Israeli military
routinely violates the rights of Palestinian children. Military courts, not
civilian courtrooms, are where all Palestinians living in the West Bank are
tried and sentenced by army judges and then locked in detention centers and
prisons, often inside Israel in violation of the Fourth Geneva Convention.
According to Addameer, a prisoner support and human rights association based
in the West Bank, "Since the beginning of the Israeli occupation of
Palestinian territories in 1967, over 700,000 Palestinians have been
detained by Israel. This forms approximately 20% of the total Palestinian
population in the Occupied Palestinian Territories (OPT). Considering the
fact that the majority of those detained are male, the number of
Palestinians detained forms approximately 40% of the total male Palestinian
population in the OPT."
Aside from the tears shed by the detainee's mother, the entire experience at
the military court was devoid of any human compassion. Welcome to life under
military occupation. May we all resolve to bring its end.
Jennifer Bing works at the American Friends Service Committee in Chicago.
She coordinates the advocacy campaign, "Israeli Military Detention: No Way
to Treat a Child". For more information go to,
http://www.nowaytotreatachild.org [6].
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________________________________________
Source URL:
http://www.alternet.org/world/inside-israels-kangaroo-courts-where-children-
are-held-and-sentenced
Links:
[1] http://www.alternet.org/authors/jennifer-bing
[2] http://alternet.org
[3] http://mondoweiss.net/2015/09/behind-netanyahus-throwers
[4] http://www.nowaytotreatachild.org
[5] http://www.nowaytotreatachild.org/new-page-1/
[6] http://www.nowaytotreatachild.org%29
[7] mailto:corrections@xxxxxxxxxxxx?Subject=Typo on Inside Israel's
Kangaroo Courts, Where Children are Held and Sentenced
[8] http://www.alternet.org/
[9] http://www.alternet.org/%2Bnew_src%2B
Published on Alternet (http://www.alternet.org)
Home > Inside Israel's Kangaroo Courts, Where Children are Held and
Sentenced
Inside Israel's Kangaroo Courts, Where Children are Held and Sentenced
By Jennifer Bing [1] / AlterNet [2]
October 1, 2015
I have often felt that the worst aspect of Israel's prolonged military
occupation of the West Bank, including East Jerusalem, and the Gaza Strip is
how official procedures strip people of their dignity. Oppressive processes
have become so routine that people just expect them. People tell me "This is
our life" when I express outrage at the system of Israeli military
checkpoints, permit and military courts lacking fundamental due process
protections. Israel's Ofer military court provides a singular vantage point
from which to observe the human impact of Israel's occupation of the
Palestinian territories.
I knew the military court was not going to resemble a "Law and Order"
courtroom or be like one of my visits to Chicago's Cook County courtrooms,
but as I saw Ofer's barbed wire and concrete walls I knew I was stepping
into the heart of the occupation. It is where the state of Israel puts
children on trial after they are kidnapped by armed soldiers, and it is
where they will be sentenced to prison terms of as long as 20 years under a
new law [3] that defines stone throwing as a form of terrorism.
To enter Ofer military prison, all Palestinian visitors must walk a nearly
half-mile stretch between military checkpoints. I went to Ofer accompanied
by a lawyer from Defense for Children International Palestine (DCIP). As an
American with a U.S. passport, I was allowed to ride in a car down this
stretch, reinforcing the fact that the no-car rule applies only to
Palestinians.
After parking our car in the space reserved for legal staff, we proceeded to
the court entrance, which resembles a military checkpoint. Families and
friends wait outside near a small building in an open area with a tin roof.
Israeli soldiers sitting behind tinted bulletproof glass summon visitors to
approach and have their identity cards checked. Visitors are then
unhurriedly ushered through a series of other checkpoints.
My name was called and I walked through a locked steel door to a metal
detector. I was then subjected to a body search. I could carry nothing
beyond this point except a notebook and pen. I walked down a barbed wire
alleyway to meet the DCIP lawyer who would accompany me to the court
proceedings.
In front of me were several small trailers, numbered to indicate which
"courtroom" one was entering. I entered trailer number four. Inside the
small air-conditioned space, I was asked to sit in the back, which had six
chairs allotted for family members. I settled in to observe the proceedings.
I was struck by the youthfulness of those involved. The Israeli army judge
could not have been 30 years old, and the stenographer and prosecutor (both
women) looked like they were still possibly doing their military service
(18-21 years old). The detained young men, all clad in brown prisoner
uniforms except one young man (who I told was just taken out of
interrogation and thus has not yet been in prison), were the same age of the
people handing out their sentences. Private security guards - many, I am
told, Palestinian citizens living in Israel - were stationed in the corners
of the small room and accompanied each shackled prisoner as he entered.
Lawyers arrived in the trailer holding sheets of paper listing the names of
the clients they were to represent that day in court. This is often the
first time the lawyer sees the client, and while talking is prohibited in
the court, the lawyers typically try to whisper questions to the prisoners
to get any relevant information that might help their cases. The proceedings
took place in Hebrew with a translator reading from the stenographer's notes
(posted on a computer screen) in Arabic. The cases were read out by the
judge, who then immediately made a sentence, sometimes with a quick plea
from one of the lawyers to lessen the fine or sentence.
As I watched this surreal scene, in walked the mother of the detained young
man dressed in civilian clothes. She gasped as she saw her son and was
quickly ordered by the guards to sit in the corner next to me. Her son
looked our way and began to mouth words of encouragement: "I'm OK," "Thanks
to God, he will protect me, don't worry," "Send my love to my sisters and
brothers." She anxiously replied in a whisper, "But are you OK?" "Are you
eating?" "Do you see anyone you know?" As her questions continued, the young
man's eyes turned red and began to water, and within minutes I noticed that
the mother sitting beside me was silently weeping, tears streaming down her
face. No one seemed to notice. The court cases continued without
interruption.
I was relieved when it was time for the judge to take his lunch break, as I
don't think I could have kept silent much longer. All detainees were led
handcuffed back to the holding cells or back into detention (none were
released that day; the young man in civilian clothes was remanded to another
15 days of interrogation, then he will be brought back into the court for
sentencing). The trailer was cleared and we were escorted back through the
maze of barbed wire alleys to the entry point, where we received our
identity cards on exiting. The mother of the detained son from our courtroom
made her journey back to Jericho, telling us she hopes she has the funds to
travel to return to see her son again.
As the coordinator of a new campaign, Israeli Military Detention: No Way to
Treat a Child [4], I knew it would help my advocacy efforts if I actually
witnessed the process that Palestinian children, some as young as 12 years
old, go through if they are detained and brought to a military court, often
on the charge of throwing stones. Our campaign has highlighted the five
stages of detention (arrest, transport, interrogation, sentencing,
imprisonment; see graphic here [5]) to show the way the Israeli military
routinely violates the rights of Palestinian children. Military courts, not
civilian courtrooms, are where all Palestinians living in the West Bank are
tried and sentenced by army judges and then locked in detention centers and
prisons, often inside Israel in violation of the Fourth Geneva Convention.
According to Addameer, a prisoner support and human rights association based
in the West Bank, "Since the beginning of the Israeli occupation of
Palestinian territories in 1967, over 700,000 Palestinians have been
detained by Israel. This forms approximately 20% of the total Palestinian
population in the Occupied Palestinian Territories (OPT). Considering the
fact that the majority of those detained are male, the number of
Palestinians detained forms approximately 40% of the total male Palestinian
population in the OPT."
Aside from the tears shed by the detainee's mother, the entire experience at
the military court was devoid of any human compassion. Welcome to life under
military occupation. May we all resolve to bring its end.
Jennifer Bing works at the American Friends Service Committee in Chicago.
She coordinates the advocacy campaign, "Israeli Military Detention: No Way
to Treat a Child". For more information go to, Error! Hyperlink reference
not valid. [6].
Error! Hyperlink reference not valid.
Error! Hyperlink reference not valid.
Report typos and corrections to 'corrections@xxxxxxxxxxxx'. [7]
Error! Hyperlink reference not valid.[8]
Source URL:
http://www.alternet.org/world/inside-israels-kangaroo-courts-where-children-
are-held-and-sentenced
Links:
[1] http://www.alternet.org/authors/jennifer-bing
[2] http://alternet.org
[3] http://mondoweiss.net/2015/09/behind-netanyahus-throwers
[4] http://www.nowaytotreatachild.org
[5] http://www.nowaytotreatachild.org/new-page-1/
[6] http://www.nowaytotreatachild.org%29
[7] mailto:corrections@xxxxxxxxxxxx?Subject=Typo on Inside Israel's
Kangaroo Courts, Where Children are Held and Sentenced
[8] http://www.alternet.org/
[9] http://www.alternet.org/%2Bnew_src%2B