TIME: Almanac 1993/TIME Almanac 1993.iso/time/071690/0716006.000

Text File | 1992-08-28 | 5.6 KB | 120 lines

                                                                                WORLD, Page 34

MIDDLE EAST

Human Pawns in a Sordid Game


In southern Lebanon's notorious El Khiam prison, freedom is tied
to the fate of the Western hostages

By RON BEN-YISHAI/EL KHIAM


    Five men kneel motionless in the windowless cell as they
await inspection by the guards. Only a faint light glows from
the single electric bulb hanging in the corridor. Thin rubber
mattresses with small gray blankets cover the 10-ft. by 13-ft.
concrete floor, and the air reeks of sweat. There are no
personal effects, no furniture, only a small jar of water and
a big plastic can that alternates as a toilet and a washbasin.

    At El Khiam prison in southern Lebanon, 304 men and women
are held in such cells by the South Lebanon Army, the
Israeli-sponsored 2,500-man militia that rules Israel's
self-proclaimed security zone. Most of the prisoners are
Lebanese Shi`ites. Many are members of Hizballah, caught while
attempting to attack SLA positions and patrols or Israeli
border settlements. Some were arrested by the SLA security
apparatus for interrogation. None have ever been charged or
tried. Some will be released if their interrogators decide they
are innocent. But for most, the only chance to get out will
come when someone makes a deal to swap them for Israeli and SLA
soldiers -- and probably some of the Western hostages held by
Hizballah. And Hizballah is not considered likely to free the
remaining hostages in Beirut until the gates of El Khiam swing
open. There is no sign of a break in the impasse.

    Although El Khiam is under the formal control of the SLA and
its General Antoine Lahad, Israel holds the ultimate authority.
TIME's visit was only the second permitted to journalists in
six years. Israeli officials apparently hoped the publicity
would remind Hizballah that Israel and the SLA hold high cards
in the hostage game -- and are ready to deal.

    "I know I am a bargaining chip," says Ibrahim Bazi, 27, a
Hizballah recruit from the town of Bint Jebeil. Like all the
other prisoners, his black hair is cropped short and he wears
a dark blue uniform and plastic slippers. His unshaven face
reveals little emotion. "My only hope is that all hostages will
be released and that I will be part of the deal."

    El Khiam has a reputation for torture and abuse. The
Israelis deny any responsibility. "It is a Lebanese jail under
the authority of General Lahad," says Uri Lubrani, in charge
of Lebanese affairs for the Israeli Defense Ministry. "If we
ask him to provide us and some 120,000 Lebanese with security,
we have to let him do it his way." In its 1986 annual report,
Amnesty International quoted ex-prisoners as saying those held
at El Khiam were beaten with fists and thick electric cable
during interrogations. Prisoners were allegedly hooded and
handcuffed, stripped and soaked with water and subjected to
electric shocks.

    Well-informed Israeli sources say the report was accurate
through 1986, when Israel still occupied parts of Lebanon and
its officials looked the other way. But after Israel pulled out
and established the security zone, the politicians in Jerusalem
realized that the world was holding them responsible for the
behavior of their Lebanese proteges. The army sent experts to
teach Lahad's men how to run a proper jail and to instruct them
in sophisticated interrogation methods to minimize the use of
torture and physical force.

    Inmates describe their interrogation, which usually lasts
between 20 and 35 days, as the most difficult experience of
their life. Yet they seem curiously unbowed. Says Hassan
Mohammed Nasser, who describes himself as an active member of
a radical fundamentalist faction called Believers Resistance:
"I was beaten from time to time, but that was not hard for me."
He has been imprisoned for 19 months, but says he was not
tortured or humiliated.

    The interrogators contend that violence and force are
largely ineffective. "We can get the inmate to confess whatever
we want, but that is not what we need," says the chief
interrogator, a Lebanese Christian. "The best way to get
reliable intelligence is through dialogue and cooperation. We
show them how senseless it is and how harmful for them and for
their families it will be to withhold information from us." But
harsher methods are also common. "Since I have been here, no
one has been tortured or treated with electric shocks," says the
interrogator. "Beatings, yes. From time to time we beat them,
but this is on rare occasions, only with our hands, and never
in a way that makes the inmate a cripple or kills him."

    Even harder on the prisoners is their isolation. They are
not allowed to read or write. The only news from the outside
is brought by new detainees. "In the four years since I arrived
here I haven't heard a radio or read a paper or a book," says
Ali Ra`ad, 27, from the village of Jabah. "Sometimes I hear
shooting, sometimes I hear helicopters, but I don't know who
is fighting whom and why. I am completely cut off from the rest
of the world."

    Ali says he has been interrogated and beaten. He has told
his captors what little he knows. But for prisoners like him
there is little hope of freedom anytime soon. "Please ask
General Lahad to pardon me, or tell the leaders of Amal to do
something to secure my release," he pleads. But the guards put
a dark blue hood over his head and cuff his hands to lead him
back to his cell, where he will sit and wait until the lead
actors in the ugly hostage affair decide to play their cards.