‘My only “crime” was being a doctor’: Dr. Ahmad Mhanna on his 22 months in Israeli detention

In the occupied Gaza Strip, Palestinian healthcare workers have been facing unprecedented dangers, with many detained under conditions that violate international humanitarian law. Amnesty International continues to document these systemic abuses, including Israel’s widespread use of torture and other ill-treatment against Palestinian detainees, while demanding the immediate and unconditional release of all those arbitrarily detained. Below, Dr. Ahmad Mhanna, former director of Al-Awda Hospital in northern Gaza, shares his harrowing testimony of survival.

In the occupied Gaza Strip, Palestinian healthcare workers have been facing unprecedented dangers, with many detained under conditions that violate international humanitarian law. Amnesty International continues to document these systemic abuses, including Israel’s widespread use of torture and other ill-treatment against Palestinian detainees, while demanding the immediate and unconditional release of all those arbitrarily detained. Below, Dr. Ahmad Mhanna, former director of Al-Awda Hospital in northern Gaza, shares his harrowing testimony of survival.

At around 4 pm on 16 December 2023, the Israeli military raided Al-Awda Hospital in Jabalia refugee camp. They handcuffed and blindfolded me before taking me to a house a short distance away while I was still wearing my surgical scrubs. I was left on a stairwell overnight, restrained the entire time.

At no point did the soldiers question me. In the middle of the night, the building began shaking violently from the sound of a nearby bulldozer. The dust was stifling, and I feared the house would collapse on me before the machine finally moved away.

By 8 am the following day, they had removed my restraints. A soldier ordered me back to the hospital, threatening: “If you refuse to cooperate, the gun will speak.” I told him we had nothing to hide; my priority was the safety of my patients.

We underwent the tashrifa (reception)—a ritual of beatings and humiliation where boiling water was thrown on us.

Dr. Ahmad Mhanna

I was forced to provide a list of everyone in the facility and to call out the names of all males between 16 and 60 for interrogation. They were ordered to strip down to their underwear in the extreme cold. Among those arrested was a patient with an amputated leg and several of my colleagues. Just when I thought it was over, a soldier gestured to me and said: “My colleagues in Tel Aviv want to have a drink with you.” I knew then I was being arrested indefinitely.

The journey into detention

We were transferred by truck through the Erez crossing. When soldiers noticed I had not been blindfolded, they violently punched me in the chest and restored the restraints, ordering me to keep my head down.

Upon arrival at the first facility, we were taken to the “disco room”. The floor was bare stone covered only by a yoga mat. A ventilator blasted cold air, and extremely loud Israeli music played continuously for 24 hours to deliberately deprive us of sleep.

During my first interrogations, which lasted hours, I was accused of providing medical treatment to fighters. A soldier identifying as a general, dissatisfied with my answers, threatened me with further violence. The interrogators beat and cursed me, threatening to break my bones.

We were then moved to Sde Teiman (an Israeli military base that doubles as a detention centre), where an interrogator threatened to harm my wife and daughters. Throughout those 24 days, I never appeared before a judge. At one point we were transferred to Al-Kallaba (the dog kennel), where my handcuffs were never removed as guards unleashed dogs on us – I vividly remember the weight of a dog lying directly on my back.

Engineered cruelty

Eventually, I was transferred to the Negev/Naqab (Ketziot) detention centre. We underwent the tashrifa (reception)—a ritual of beatings and humiliation where boiling water was thrown on us. I was held in this tented facility for one year and two months, with most of us sleeping on the floor.

The first time I appeared before a judge was three months into my detention, via a brief laptop video call. I was told I was being held on “secret evidence” under the Unlawful Combatants Law. Ironically, I was accused of affiliation with Hamas in one hearing and the PFLP (Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine) in the next. My only real crime was being a doctor.

In detention, hunger was engineered. It was designed to strip us of our humanity, reducing us to mere survival. The food was dirty, meagre, and sometimes mixed with cigarette ash. If guards discovered saved scraps, the entire cell was punished.

Hygiene was nonexistent. No soap, no toothbrushes, and no showers for six months led to widespread scabies. During those six months, we were not allowed to change our clothes. Two detainees died before my eyes. One died of ascites. I pleaded with the guards to bring antibiotics, telling them we could save him. The guard replied: “You are not a doctor here; you are a terrorist.”

A return to dignity

The first time a lawyer visited was seven months after my arrest; until then, my family did not know if I was alive. She told me my wife, Alaa, had left no stone unturned searching for me. That news made me feel human again.

Conditions remained severely overcrowded, with 40 people packed into a 50-square-metre tent. Finally, on 11 October 2025 the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) visited and informed me I was on a list of people who were to be released. They mentioned providing a “dignity kit.” To hear the word dignity after months of being treated like an animal was overwhelming.

I was released on a Monday and arrived at Nasser Hospital at 6 pm, where my colleagues welcomed me. Physically, I was exhausted and had lost 28 kilogrammes. I learned that Al-Awda Hospital was severely damaged and remains inaccessible behind the military’s “Yellow Line.”

The struggle continues through insomnia, anxiety, and trauma. However, despite everything, I still want to work. I was a doctor when they took me, and I am a doctor now that I have returned. My commitment to my patients remains the one thing they could not take away.

END ISRAEL’s Genocide in gaza

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