The commemoration of Palestinian Prisoners’ Day on April 17 is perhaps more pertinent this year than ever before. On March 30, 2026, the Israeli Knesset passed a law imposing the death penalty as the default punishment for Palestinian prisoners convicted by Israeli military courts of carrying out fatal attacks labeled as terrorism.1

Palestinians in East Jerusalem and the rest of the West Bank went on strike on April 1 to protest this extreme legislation. For Palestinians, the law that seemingly targets prisoners in fact targets all Palestinians, because Israeli authorities continue to detain Palestinians at an increasingly alarming rate, with charges of terrorism levied readily and with scant evidence or due process of law.

The law blatantly violates Palestinian human rights and exposes the state’s clear apartheid practices. Indeed, many Palestinians find that this brutal measure is part and parcel of Israeli military law, which has always applied only to Palestinians.

It is worth recalling that after October 7, 2023, Israel imposed an “emergency policy” granting the army further powers to detain Palestinians, even on grounds of suspicion alone (see, for example, “Raise Your Hands and Give Us Your Phones!” Palestinian Jerusalemites Silenced in Their Private and Public Spaces). Since then, “Israel has dealt with Palestinian Jerusalemites with an iron fist policy, resulting in unprecedented and varied arrest cases.”2

Pushed by Israel’s National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir, these policies have led to increased intimidation, harassment, detention, and prosecution of Palestinians through arbitrary and invasive surveillance mechanisms3 In fact, Ben-Gvir was filmed jubilantly celebrating the passing of the death penalty law by popping a bottle of champagne at the Knesset.4

Palestinians in the West Bank, including Jerusalemites, know that Israeli military law targets any and all of them. A 2025 report showed that one million Palestinians have been jailed by Israel since 1967 at a rate of 47 Palestinians per day.5 Amid heightened draconian surveillance measures, Palestinians can be detained for simply posting something on their social media accounts. With the new law in place, it is not far-fetched to imagine that merely angering an Israeli police officer could get a Palestinian charged with "inciting terrorism" and then hanged.6

In an interview with Jerusalem Story, a leading figure from the Family Committee of the Jerusalemite Prisoners noted that the Israeli procedures levied against Palestinians in Jerusalem—a “frontier” zone of sorts where the state is determined to assert its permanent sovereignty over a population that makes up nearly half the city—are more than twice as severe as those used in the West Bank.7 The state’s selective enforcement policies include exclusionary taxes and excessive fines, but they also entail arbitrary sentences and administrative detentions, all entailing the complete denial of fundamental human rights.

According to HaMoked—Center for the Defence of the Individual, Israel holds 9,560 “security” inmates.8 At the end of 2025, 351 of those held in detention or imprisoned on “security” grounds were minors.9 Meanwhile, 3,532 administrative detainees are held without trial.10 This is the highest proportion in the prisons compared to sentenced prisoners, those awaiting trial, and those classified as “unlawful combatants.”11

Today, 500 of the Palestinian prisoners held in Israeli jails are from Jerusalem, and 35 of them are held in administrative detention, explained Rami Saleh of the Jerusalem Legal Aid and Human Rights Center (JLAC).12 Administrative detention can be renewed by the state virtually indefinitely, if it so chooses. Renewable administrative detention orders are issued against Palestinians without charge, legal counsel, or due process, often based on undisclosed “secret” evidence, in blatant violation of international law. Lawyers therefore often attend their clients’ trials unaware of the alleged crimes. It could take years before they finally find out, Saleh explained.

“Palestinian Jerusalemites are navigating a minefield due to restrictions on freedom of expression,” shared the expert from the Family Committee of the Jerusalemite Prisoners who preferred to remain anonymous, further demonstrating the level of suppression and intimidation under which Palestinians today must live. He said that “too many lips are sealed,” and that various Jerusalemite journalists have been prosecuted.

He himself had been detained because he once shared a photo on his social media account of a young man getting beaten by the Israeli police. His caption read: “May Allah bring the criminals to justice.” As he described it, the “way that Palestinians may use terminology or express joy and grief could be misinterpreted as incitement or terror.”

He gave the example of the word shahid (pl. shuhada), the Arabic word for martyr. Although most people use it to help cope with the loss of a loved one, “the word shahid is no longer acceptable [to Israeli authorities]. One could get banned from al-Aqsa Mosque, if not taken into administrative detention, if they use this term, or even if they had used it 10 years ago.”

Even when detainees are released, he explained, they are prohibited from expressing joy: “There was one guy who got detained, because he publicly brought baklava to celebrate his friend’s release from prison. There were cases of houses getting raided and demolished merely because their inhabitants expressed the human instinct of celebrating.”

During Ramadan this year, 30-year-old Areen al-Za‘anin from the Wadi al-Joz neighborhood was expelled from al-Aqsa Mosque and banned from carrying out his lifelong community work as a musaharati in Jerusalem. In mid-March, Israeli authorities threatened him with detention if he performed his traditional role. The musaharati, stemming from the word suhur, is the drummer and chanter who wakes fasting Muslims for suhur, the predawn meal during Ramadan before the day’s fast until sunset. This traditional role is centuries old and enacted throughout the Muslim world.

Al-Za‘anin had been passionate about his role as a musaharati since he was 13 years old. Knowing that this would be the last sip of water or bite of food that fasters would get until next evening, his aim was to make that time more delightful—especially for old people and children looking from the windows of their homes. Over the years, he began wearing a folkloric costume and chanting poetic verses to maintain the old local traditions. “Surely, people can wake up for suhur on their own by setting their phone alarms, but this is a tradition I cherish; it fosters community and sharing,” he described.13

“Wadi al-Joz is a Muslim neighborhood, and the people love the musaharati!” he explained. “How could it be illegal, a security issue, or even disturbing? No one’s complaining! There are no settlers in our neighborhood, and the few Christians who live here don’t complain about it. In fact, they take photos of me and appreciate the local heritage!”

Al-Za‘anin said that Palestinians often get punished for doing social work that encourages appreciation for Palestinian heritage and fostering of social connections, building community. He explained that this year, authorities even banned Palestinian residents from installing traditional Ramadan lights or decorations, or even from bringing family meals to al-Aqsa Mosque’s courtyards to break their fasts together, an old Jerusalemite custom (see The First Days of Ramadan in Jerusalem Bring Sadness and Joy for Palestinians Near and Far). “People could get massive fines, or potentially get arrested for such acts,” he added.

Detained for over five years himself, al-Za‘anin recalled bitter memories of being held in Israeli prisons. He shared that the food given to Palestinian detainees was so scant, it bordered on starvation. He said that when he and other detainees were fasting during Ramadan, they would collect all the food provided to them throughout the entire day, and it barely consisted of a quarter of a meal. “It was hardly enough for a cat,” he described.

“The total food in one day consisted of some rice, a piece of bread, a little yogurt, and a cucumber.” He added: “The guards would refuse to tell us what time it was, or they would lie about the time of day, so that we would have no clue when iftar was.”

Al-Za‘anin also mentioned how detainees most craved medicine, “or any type of painkiller to relieve the pain. Those with diabetes were also deprived of insulin or basic medication.” He mentioned that Israeli prison guards beat him so severely, they broke his leg, but he had to wait for almost two weeks with his leg swollen and no treatment provided.

A Jerusalemite doctor who preferred to remain unidentified spoke about the critical condition of his brother after he had been taken into administrative detention for four months: “What can I tell you about my brother? He had been like a rock, very strong and physically fit. In those four months, he lost 30 kilograms and looked like he had also lost his spirit. He has gotten so frail, so unrecognizable. My sisters still cannot believe it is him.”14

In January 2026, B’Tselem shared a report titled “Living Hell,” an update to an earlier report, “Welcome to Hell,” which documented how Israeli prisons have transformed into torture camps for Palestinians. The report defined the systematic abuse, including deaths, sexual assaults, forced starvation, and denial of medical care. Fifty-five of the testimonies collected were from Palestinian detainees, including from East Jerusalem, held without charge.15

Tasneem Odeh, 22, a law student from the Shu‘fat refugee camp in Jerusalem, is being held in Damon Prison,16 located in the Carmel Mountains near Haifa. Odeh was arrested during what Israeli police described as “Operation Capital Shield for Jerusalem”;17 she did not know why. She was first taken to the al-Moskobiyya detention facility in Jerusalem in December 2024, where she was held for 14 days. Then she was moved to HaSharon Prison and finally, to Damon. She was severely beaten.18

Eighty-four Palestinian women and girls are held in Damon Prison. In a recent advocacy campaign coordinated by Friends of Sabeel North America’s “Friends of Palestinian Detainees”19 —an initiative that calls for the release of female prisoners and accountability for their treatment in Israeli detention—hundreds of people across the United States sent personalized postcards addressed to the women held in Damon Prison to help their morale amid the suffering. However, the handwritten postcards never arrived. Israeli prison authorities intercepted them.

Palestinian detainees are not only deprived of mail but also of books, including for study and worship. The Mahd AlMashreq Initiative20 explained that two Christian Palestinian detainees asked for Bibles, which Israeli prison authorities denied. The detainees were also refused their rights to receive the Sacrament of Confession and the Holy Communion, shared Saleh.

The harrowing narratives of Palestinian detainees in Israeli prisons reflect the arbitrary, discriminatory, and brutal policies of the Israeli state. As the death penalty bill moves ahead in the Israeli legislative system, many are deeply alarmed by what lies ahead for the millions of Palestinians living under Israeli apartheid rule.