
BY_ JAMIE DETTMER
FROM_ THE DAILY BEAST
JUN 1 2012
The dictator’s
death didn’t end the country’s human-rights abuses. Jamie Dettmer on conditions
inside the prisons.
Najat Taweel’s
jet-black eyes fill with tears as she describes seeing her jailed brother,
Abdul Taweel, shortly after his arrest. The Libyan mother of three had managed
to talk her way into Tripoli’s notorious Ain Zara prison where 29-year-old
Abdul was being held, charged with killing a fellow revolutionary this past
February. Najat, 41, holds up photographs she says a fellow prisoner took of
her brother, using a smuggled mobile phone. The pictures show a man whose back
is covered with deep bruises and ugly wounds. Najat, 41, says Abdul told her he
had signed a confession, but only because he couldn’t take the beatings anymore—and
because his interrogators had threatened to rape and kill his family.
Libyan
revolutionaries captured and killed Muammar Gaddafi more than seven months ago,
but the dictator’s brutal tactics and antidemocratic ways live after him.
Human-rights workers say that’s true not only within the high walls of the
dictator’s former Ain Zara torture center but at other jails and penitentiaries
across the country. Abdul is among at least 20 Ain Zara inmates whose relatives
accuse guards of subjecting detainees to severe and regular beatings with
everything from fists to sticks, metal rods, and chains. Family members say
some of the prisoners have been repeatedly beaten on their genitalia, a form of
punishment that—in addition to being excruciatingly painful—could leave its
victims infertile. Others, according to relatives, have been tortured with
Taser-style electroshock weapons.
Part of the
problem may be that the country’s transitional government is only gradually
managing to assert its authority over the patchwork of rival militias that
overthrew the Gaddafi regime. Ain Zara remained under the control of one of
those militias until less than four months ago. At the Feb. 2 handover
ceremony, the facility’s new director—himself a former political prisoner at
Ain Zara under the dictatorship—promised that the prison would break from its
dark past and shake off its grisly reputation. “We no longer hit the detainees,”
Burawi al-Guebaili declared, and he boasted of improvements such as hot meals
and stalls with doors being added in the restrooms. Since then, journalists and
human-rights investigators have visited the prison, but they have not been
given the opportunity to speak alone with the 50 or so accused Gaddafi
loyalists held there or any of the other inmates.
Najat Taweel
insists her brother is innocent. She has affidavits signed by witnesses
claiming he did not fire the fatal shot in a Feb. 17 gunfight between two rival
militia groups in Tripoli’s Gargarish district. (Similar turf battles were a
regular occurrence this past winter in the capital, and they’re not uncommon
even now.) Nevertheless, Abdul was seized by judicial police soon after the
shootout and taken to the state security headquarters formerly used by the
Gaddafi regime. “What they are doing in Ain Zara to Abdul is inhumane,” Najat
says. “I have to speak out.” She and other family members of Ain Zara inmates
have dared to stage demonstrations outside the offices of the ruling National
Transitional Council. The accused Gaddafi loyalists’ families are too fearful
about the safety of their imprisoned relatives to join the protests.
In any case,
the outcry seems to have accomplished nothing. There’s no evidence that the
authorities are looking into the claims of abuses at Ain Zara, according to
Amnesty International researcher Diana Eltahawi. Meanwhile, she says, the
guards who have been named by the inmates’ families continue to work at the
prison. Eltahawi says this isn’t unusual. “They say they will investigate and
then don’t,” she says. Amnesty has documented 20 deaths in custody in Libya
since August.
Officials of
the transitional government insist that the only prisoner mistreatment is
taking place at those detention centers outside their control. Eltahawi says
she suspects that the worst abuses are occurring at those facilities—but, she
says, there are problems at government prisons, too, not only at those run by
militias. At least 19 other Libyan prisons remain in the hands of various
militia groups that have balked at relinquishing control of them, according to
General Director for Relations and International Cooperation Abdul Monem
Ettunsi. Human-rights groups believe there are more. The government has listed
60 detention centers around the country, and transitional officials claim to
control 30 of them. Eltahawi isn’t so sure. When she asked for a list of
government-run prisons, she was supplied with a list of just eight.
“We no
longer hit the detainees,” the prison’s new director declared, and he boasted
of improvements such as hot meals and stalls with doors being added in the
restrooms.
Monem
Ettunsi acknowledges that the official numbers may be off. “I can’t even tell you
how many militias there are,” he says. “I have no idea.” The total number of
detainees is likewise mysterious. Libyan authorities have estimated 8,000, but
international human-rights activists believe the true figure is even higher.
But the system’s flaws go far beyond such questions. Human-rights groups say
the government has failed to establish clear judicial procedures until a
post-Gaddafi constitution can be drafted, and arbitrary arrests continue. “Part
of the problem is a lack of accountability,” Eltahawi says. “Even on the
government side, the lines of authority are not clear. And the farther you get
away from Tripoli, the more confused it becomes.”
The
situation in Tripoli is anything but good. Najat Taweel says she has not been
allowed to visit her brother in jail since that one time, more than three
months ago. Other than that, she has only managed catch fleeting glimpses of
him twice, when he was brought to a prosecutor’s office in central Tripoli. “He
looked bad,” says Abdul’s sister. “Ghostly.”
Manu Brabo / AP Photo