AS THE genocidal attack on Gaza intensifies and Israel expands its crackdown, thousands of Palestinian civilians, including medical workers, labourers and journalists, have found themselves detained in recent months.
Many have endured harsh interrogations, physical abuse and deplorable conditions, with little or no transparency regarding their status or whereabouts.
Their experiences paint a deeply troubling picture of systematic mistreatment and a near-total disregard for due process, leaving families and communities desperate for information and relief.
Since October 2023, observers have documented a dramatic increase in the number of Palestinians detained by Israeli forces in and around Gaza. The true scale remains unclear.
With ongoing hostilities and the near-total blockade on information, exact figures are elusive. What is evident, however, is that the pattern is neither isolated nor contained.
Hospitals have been raided and besieged, while civilians fleeing bombardment have been seized en route to supposedly safer areas.
One of Gaza’s largest medical facilities, al-Shifa Hospital, has stood at the centre of these events. It has been repeatedly targeted by Israeli forces, culminating in a two-week siege in March 2024.
During this siege, medical staff and volunteers faced not only the overwhelming challenge of treating countless injured patients but also the threat of detention and abuse.
Among them was 24-year-old medical student and volunteer, Khalil Skeik.
In late March, he and several doctors were summoned for interrogation by Israeli soldiers who had besieged the hospital for four days.
For Skeik, the decision to volunteer at al-Shifa at the outbreak of hostilities in October 2023 was driven by a sense of duty.
He had witnessed a healthcare system buckling under the sheer volume of casualties and had stepped up to help in any way he could.
His reward was detention and violence. After a ‘harsh’ interrogation that yielded no incriminating evidence, soldiers inexplicably allowed him to leave the hospital grounds.
As soon as he tried to exit, however, he came under fire. He believes it was a deliberate act meant to wound rather than kill. Shot by tank fire, Skeik lost his right thumb.
Then, on 23 March, Israeli forces ordered the evacuation of all patients who could walk. Because Skeik’s name did not appear on a pre-prepared patient list, he was detained despite his severe injury.
‘I was shackled and blindfolded, taken to a detention centre in the Negev desert,’ Skeik recounted. ‘Upon arrival, I was beaten. I remember hitting the ground face-first, smelling blood, and feeling a boot on my face.’
Skeik’s injuries worsened in custody. He suffered a fractured jaw and required surgery. He was transferred to Soroka Medical Centre but was forced to sign surgery consent forms alone, without any family member present. Post-surgery care was non-existent.
He was returned to detention and forced to endure conditions that made even eating impossible. After 40 days, on 2 May, he was released. Today, he lives with permanent injuries and severe emotional scars.
Not only medical staff have been targeted. Ordinary labourers have also found themselves caught in a net of suspicion, especially those working within the 1948 boundaries of what is now Israel, often referred to by Palestinians as historic Palestine.
Thirty-four-year-old construction worker, Ahmad al-Ghazali, had planned to return to Gaza just before the events of 7 October 2023. He delayed his trip to help train a friend, Ahmad Nasr, who had just secured a rare Israeli work permit.
In the chaos following the outbreak of the conflict, the two men found themselves trapped, trying to remain out of sight and weathering the mounting suspicion directed towards anyone from Gaza.
Discovered by local residents and fearing for their lives, the pair were temporarily rescued by their employer, who sheltered them for a night despite neighbours’ protests.
Eventually, they managed to reach the southern West Bank via the Tarqumiya checkpoint. With little money and no stable refuge, they moved from one place to another.
They ended up in a small apartment in Hebron and then at a tourist resort called Dream Land in the Hebron area, joining other Gaza labourers also trying to evade arrest.
Their luck ran out in November, when the Israeli army raided the location. Eleven men were detained on 10 November.
Al-Ghazali was beaten severely for trying to hide. Taken to Ofer military prison near Ramallah, he was interrogated repeatedly.
The questions revolved around his home in Gaza City and whether he knew any Hamas members or sympathisers. He answered truthfully: He was just a worker attempting to earn a living.
Interrogations were accompanied by psychological and physical abuse. Soldiers forced al-Ghazali to sit on cold stones for hours in light clothing, exposed to biting winds.
They threatened him with execution, mocking his fear by counting down while pointing a rifle at his head. Food and water were scarce, and conditions were squalid.
After days of torment, al-Ghazali was finally released at the Kerem Shalom crossing and told to walk ‘home’. But ‘home’ is now largely inaccessible.
He cannot return to his wife, Huda, and their three children in Gaza City, due to the ongoing military offensive and the destruction of infrastructure.
He shelters with relatives in Deir al-Balah, awaiting a moment when it is safe to attempt to reunite with his family.
Journalists, too, have not been spared. Their role in documenting the conflict, exposing human rights violations and disseminating information has long made them targets. This latest conflict has only intensified that pressure.
In mid-November 2023, heavy bombardment forced journalist Muhammad Obeid from his home in the Sabra neighbourhood of Gaza City.
Attempting to move to a safer area, he carried only a white cloth to show he posed no threat. Within minutes, soldiers stopped him. He was ordered to strip, bound, blindfolded and dragged across rough ground.
Soldiers accused him of being affiliated with the armed wings of Palestinian factions, repeating the same set of questions: ‘Where were you on October 7?’, ‘Do you know where the tunnels are?’, ‘Where are the rockets hidden?’
Obeid’s attempts to explain that he was simply at home, that he was a journalist, fell on deaf ears.
He was forced to stand for six hours in freezing, rainy conditions, wearing only underwear. Interrogators mocked and threatened him, sometimes forcing him to laugh on camera with an Israeli flag behind him.
On another occasion, they made him wash the blood from his face before filming. These staged scenes seemed designed to create propaganda narratives, painting detainees as dangerous combatants or, at best, unwilling props for manipulative media productions.
After 40 days, Obeid was released. Surprised to find his name on the release list, he was nonetheless relieved at the opportunity to leave. The day before release, conditions improved abruptly.
Detention officials offered clean clothes and even chocolates and water in front of waiting cameras, aiming to project an image of humane treatment.
Once released at Kerem Shalom, however, he faced the same war-torn Gaza he had left, with no guarantees of finding his family unscathed.
Key to these stories is the near-total absence of accountability. Detainees are rarely, if ever, charged with specific crimes. They are not brought before courts. Families cannot locate their loved ones, who may be held in undisclosed facilities.
Human rights groups have long criticised Israeli administrative detention policies, which allow individuals to be held indefinitely without charge.
In the past 14 months, these practices have surged, dragging ordinary civilians into a system built on secrecy and intimidation.
The lack of transparency, coupled with difficult access for lawyers and humanitarian agencies, means abuses often go unreported or are only revealed after release.
The suffering of detainees and the catastrophic toll on Gaza’s civilian population have prompted renewed calls for international intervention.
Human rights observers, journalists and non-governmental organisations have urged the International Committee of the Red Cross and other bodies to intervene, demanding that Israel abide by international humanitarian law.
They stress that civilians, including medical workers, journalists and labourers, must be protected at all costs.
The United Nations and various European and international bodies have condemned the targeting of civilian infrastructure and repeated calls have been made for independent investigations into allegations of detainee abuse.
Yet meaningful action has been limited. Israel’s military continues to operate with impunity, and the diplomatic community has struggled to exert effective pressure to halt violations.
For detainees, release does not necessarily bring a return to normal life. Many have suffered serious physical injuries. Others bear invisible scars, such as trauma and anxiety.
They emerge into a Gaza that has changed immeasurably: Homes destroyed, entire neighbourhoods levelled, families scattered or killed.
The sense of hopelessness is profound. Skeik, the medical student who survived detention, told how his injuries and experiences have left him devoid of any sense of joy.
‘I walk the streets while the sounds of planes and bombings echo around me,’ he said. ‘The war only intensifies, and my friends are still detained.’
Each detainee’s story is unique, yet all share a common thread of injustice and despair.
Although the intensity and specifics of these detentions reflect the current crisis, the underlying pattern is longstanding.
Palestinian detainees have long complained of torture, mistreatment and lengthy administrative detentions without charge.
Critics argue that the current situation is simply an escalation of tactics that have been quietly permitted for years.
As the international community looks on, the plight of these detainees stands as a stark reminder of the cost of impunity. If no steps are taken to safeguard their rights, the cycle of suffering will continue unabated.
The accounts of Skeik, al-Ghazali and Obeid are among the few that have managed to surface. They are just three cases out of thousands.
Their stories illustrate a broader reality: A system in which arbitrary detention, physical abuse and psychological torment are routinely deployed, targeting individuals who, more often than not, are simply trying to survive under impossible conditions.