In the summer of 2022, I gained insight into the British penal system when I was jailed for a month following direct action against Elbit—this is my prison diary (pt.4)
In the summer of 2022, I gained insight into the British penal system when I was remanded to Her Majesty’s Prison Eastwood Park. I was sent to jail for one month along with eight other activists following direct action in Bristol against Elbit Systems, Israel’s largest private arms company. During the month I spent in the penitentiary, I documented everything I saw, heard, felt, and thought as a form of resistance. This is my prison diary (pt.4).
May 24th 2022
I’ve woken up and begun to put order in the cell that is now my home. I’ve still didn’t hear about the results of the bail hearing, but by now I’m confident that the appeal was denied. How good are the opportunities that were granted to me by this rejection! I’m now occupied with planning my nutrition, to maintain my regular diet. and to be eating as healthy as possible. The food here is pretty decent, and I get nuts, cashew, and coconut chips, which make me happy. I must avoid eating bread as much as possible because it is destructive and makes me very tired, although carbohydrate is a crucial source of energy in here. I am grateful to have fresh fruits and oranges which I also apply to my face as a source of vitamin C and Margarine as a source of vitamin E – just like my home beauty routine!.
As it seems that I will stay here for a while, I must ask that my affairs be sorted out – I believe everything shall fall into place. I am happy that I didn’t acquire too many commitments for myself and happy I did not bear children in this world. When I was loaded onto the “Zinzana”, the prisoner’s transportation van thatdrove us to court, I was struck by the notion, the awareness, that I don’t want to bring children into a world where people design such a demonic device. We, the imprisoned comrades,were inside of the truck while people were walking down the streets and men and women crossed the road on the way to work without noticing the prisoner’s vehicle, without even looking. Such is the rats’ race in which they live – if you can even call it living: Oscillating between different unwanted, boring jobs, to make payments, only to raise capital to the members of the oligarchic elite. The working people are only a tool in their hands to valorize capital. Their lives have no value in the eyes of “the capital” and no value in the eyes of the pigs. Although the capitalist relations of power operate here as they do on the outside, we prisoners are exempt from the pursuit of success, for we have already lost the race and were sent to live outside society. Yet I breathe with a sigh of relief, and am happy to be removed from a society that promotes and funds abominable crimes as a matter of civil obligation. If I must endure this punishment, I will.
It is noon, and it seems I’ll stay here for a long time, and my heart doesn’t even skip a beat. Eagles and beautiful birds were flying above the ground while I was busy writing to my friends. How astounding are the sights of nature! How strong is the soul – it always seeks justice, and whoevers loves justice shall pursue it to be one with it, just like a lover seeks to be one with their beloved.
An early evening hour and I am the realization strikes me: we the people are given a choice between a comfortable material life and a life of spiritual richness. The two exclude each other. But as long as I escape the cold, the thirst, and the hunger, I’d be fine. I am proud of myself for overcoming yesterday’s anger relatively quickly and for practicing equanimity in the face of oppression.
I am thinking of R in the male prison, of how he’s probably practicing Vipassana and preaching to everybody about Palestine – he must be smiling at everybody and is indifferent to the circumstance. He masters that. “We be sitting in jail for a little while, and that will be it”, he wrote on a piece of paper down at the courthouse. If we were sitting next to each other in jail, doing time, we must have been signing now the children’s song: “I’m sitting in prison 6, la ladi la da da…”.
19 years old Lucia, who broke someone’s nose, has left the wing today. She gave me a bracelet she made herself, and I wore it. I’ve asked her to find good meaning in life and told her that I believe in her. She said she was going to cry. We held hands, and soon after she was moved to another building. Maybe I’ll see her there, who knows? The rest of the day I’ve spent writing. I’ve written so much that my hand hurts. Blessed is the prison’s clarity of thought!
May 25th 2022
I’ve spent the day writing letters to Abir and other friends – and the letters became essays. My hand aches from writing and copying these letters to preserve them. The pain shows me that philosophy is a living thing, showing me how same principles that govern the stars and heaven also rule the moral life. The only freedom we have is to surrender to reason, to what the Heraclitus called “Logos” or “Nous”. I’m not just Her Majesty’s prisoner, but also a prisoner of reason itself.
May 26th 2022
Sometimes, when sitting with the girls in the hallway to have lunch together, only if the guards allow us that, I hear about prison life and get valuable information of how to live here. Unlike in prison, on the so-called “outside”, we are left to guess who the perpetrator is, where the principle of Homo homini lupus governs everything. Paradoxically, prison can be a liberating place, far away from the norms of the outside world. The levels of security and control here are less severe than those on the street, and I feel less policed here than I was in the virtual world or on public spaces. Here I am feeling freer, although it’s obvious that I must keep my mouth shut and choose my words carefully. I understand that the internet and smartphones have stolen an important aspect of my life. I must never return to it and find another way to communicate instead.
The canteen lady has arrived to our corridor! I’ll open the hatch and see what she brought.
[2 minutes later…]
Well, something has indeed arrived, but the package was placed outside of the locked cell. It makes me laugh as I recall the myth of Tantalus, who was almost able to reach the trees’ bounty only to see it being taken away from him every time he tried to touch it. In any case, the products I ordered are simple: Stamps, envelopes, pens, and office equipment to allow me to continue writing. It seems that prison takes care of all other material needs (besides giving me my medicines), so I won’t have to spend much money.
Everything revolves here either around canteen or tea: Tea time, hot water, whiteners. The pursuit of tea brought the colonial economy into motion – this entire kingdom is built on it. It makes me laugh thinking that R and I didn’t only stand up to one imperial power complicit in apartheid and crimes against humanity, but went to rebel against a another, not less suppressive cruel and violent power – Britain. Not only that England has been the midwife of the Zionist colonialism in Palestine and enabled the colonial enterprise – Jews were white enough to colonize the Levant, but not white enough to be equal Europeans, as Kimmerling argues – but it is now also produces the means of war on its soil, within the imperial core, as a subsidy to its corrupt industry that is funded with the money of hard working people. It continues to protect and maintain the apartheid it helped build and further the global supply of deadly arms.
Before boarding the plane to the UK to take action, I was filled with contempt and felt physically appalled by the forcefulness of this regime, which is one of the most controlling and pervasive of civilian lives. I am glad that they removed me from this society. We must have really threatened the social order if we’re here. Soon I might be transferred out of this wing. I must begin preparing for that. The only thing I have left in my control here is myself; nothing else beyond that lies in my power.
May 27th 2022.
Today I was supposed to leave for Dali’s wedding in Cyprus. I didn’t imagine that I’d be locked up that long to miss the wedding. Before our arrest, I asked R if he thinks we’ll make it to the wedding. I would have been glad to be there now and take part in Dali’s joy, but there are things more important than a party. I didn’t know what gift to bring to Dali, so let this arrest and imprisonment be my present to her – a proper present for a bride!
The space in my notebook is about to end. I’ve noticed that at the beginning of the notebook, my handwriting was big and wide, and now it is small and narrow due to the lack of remaining space. Prison is an experience of a humbled existence. Learning how to live with little means, little space – even in things as trivial as finding paper and a pencil sharp enough to write with. I prefer it this way – the more my earthly life is minimised, the more space there is for the soul to expand. Long live freedom!
Today was a bright and stunning summer day, but a part of the 30 minutes we were allowed to run around in the yard, we were left locked up in our cells, and the sun could not reach us. I find comfort in thinking that there is a much bigger and brighter sun – the sun of freedom – which is eternal in its essence and surpassing the one shining above us. That sun shall always shine over the lovers of freedom.
When I was waiting in the holding cell to appear before the court, I’ve written on a piece of paper what I’ve taught in my philosophy course: “Justice is the virtue of the soul which enables it to fulfill its telos”. This is the Platonic thesis that echoed in my mind in those moments waiting for the judge, after having no sleep or proper food. The soul cannot fulfill its purpose without justice. Once I’ve realized that my sufferings here bear meaning, they ceased to be painful and became another step in the way leading to freedom.
