The Scales of Justice: Israel’s Supreme Court Confronts a Policy of Deliberate Deprivation in Prisons 

In a significant ruling amid the ongoing war, Israel’s Supreme Court unanimously found that the government had failed to provide adequate food to Palestinian security prisoners, ordering authorities to ensure nutrition for their “basic level of existence.” The decision challenged a policy implemented by far-right National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir, who had boasted of reducing conditions to the “bare minimum,” and came amidst widespread documented abuse in detention facilities, including the starvation-related death of a teen. While rights groups hailed the verdict as a critical enforcement of the rule of law, Ben-Gvir denounced it as a defense of Hamas, highlighting a deep clash between the judiciary’s upholding of fundamental human obligations and the government’s hardline political stance.

The Scales of Justice: Israel’s Supreme Court Confronts a Policy of Deliberate Deprivation in Prisons 

Meta Description: In a landmark wartime ruling, Israel’s highest court orders the state to stop starving Palestinian security prisoners, creating a profound clash between law, morality, and hardline politics. Explore the deep implications. 

Introduction: A Judicial Rebuke in a Time of War 

In a nation still reeling from the trauma of October 7th and deeply entrenched in a prolonged military conflict, Israel’s institutions often operate in a state of heightened nationalism. It is within this charged atmosphere that a ruling from Israel’s Supreme Court on September 7, 2025, landed not as a mere legal verdict, but as a seismic ethical challenge. 

The court unanimously declared that the Israeli government was failing in its most basic duty to thousands of individuals in its custody: providing enough food to survive. This wasn’t a ruling about comfort or rights; it was a ruling about the bare minimum required for “a basic level of existence.” By directly confronting a policy championed by a powerful far-right minister, the court drew a stark line in the sand, asserting that even during war, even for those deemed the worst of enemies, a state governed by law cannot resort to deliberate starvation. 

The Policy of “Bare Minimum”: A Political Stance Masquerading as Law 

To understand the weight of this ruling, one must examine the policy it struck down. Following the outbreak of war, National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir, who oversees the prison system, publicly and proudly announced a drastic reduction in conditions for “security prisoners”—a term predominantly referring to Palestinians detained on suspicions related to terrorism. 

Ben-Gvir, leader of the ultranationalist Otzma Yehudit party, framed this not as a punitive measure, but as a rigid adherence to “the most minimal conditions stipulated by the law.” His rhetoric was clear: why should Hamas militants enjoy any comfort while Israeli hostages suffer in Gaza tunnels? This argument, powerful in its emotional appeal, effectively reduced a complex legal and humanitarian obligation to a simplistic equation of vengeance. 

However, as the Supreme Court’s ruling reveals, the implementation of this “bare minimum” policy crossed a legal red line. The state’s obligation, as defined by the court, is not to provide the minimum it can politically get away with, but to ensure that all prisoners, regardless of their crimes, receive sustenance that guarantees basic subsistence. The state, the justices found, was failing this fundamental test. 

A Pattern of Abuse: Beyond Just Hunger 

The food policy was not an isolated incident but part of a well-documented pattern of deteriorating conditions. Human rights groups like the Association for Civil Rights in Israel (ACRI) and Gisha, which brought the petition, have compiled extensive testimonies depicting a systemic crisis within Israeli detention facilities. 

These accounts describe: 

• Insufficient Healthcare: Denial of or long delays in access to medical treatment for chronic illnesses and injuries. 

• Poor Sanitary Conditions: Overcrowding, lack of hygiene products, and inadequate sanitation facilities, creating a breeding ground for disease. 

• Physical Abuse: Reports of beatings and other forms of physical mistreatment during arrest, transfer, and incarceration. 

• Psychological Torment: Prolonged isolation, sensory deprivation, and constant uncertainty. 

The most tragic testament to this systemic failure was the death in March of a 17-year-old Palestinian boy in an Israeli prison. Medical professionals who reviewed the case stated that starvation was likely the primary cause of death. His death transformed abstract legal arguments about calorie counts into a matter of life and death, undoubtedly weighing heavily on the justices’ minds. 

The Court’s Reasoning: Law Versus Political Brinksmanship 

The three-justice panel’s ruling was a masterclass in navigating a political minefield with legal precision. They sidestepped the inflammatory political rhetoric and focused on a core, incontrovertible principle: the state’s legal obligation to people in its care. 

The court’s language was deliberate. They spoke of “indications” and “real doubts”—phrasing that is judicially cautious yet unmistakably damning. They did not need to prove deliberate malice; they simply had to determine that the state was not meeting its statutory and basic human responsibilities. By ordering the prison service to “take steps to ensure the supply of food that allows for basic subsistence conditions,” the court reasserted the primacy of the rule of law over political posturing. 

This is a classic function of an independent judiciary in a democracy: to protect vulnerable minorities—even despised ones—from the tyranny of the majority and the excesses of the executive branch. It is a check on power, a reminder that a state’s character is defined not by how it treats its friends, but by how it treats its adversaries in its control. 

The Backlash: “Torture Camps” vs. “Defending Hamas” 

The reaction to the verdict was immediate and highlighted the deep fissures in Israeli society. 

The petitioners, ACRI, issued a statement that pulled no punches, declaring that the prison service had “turned Israeli prisons into torture camps.” Their powerful assertion—”A state does not starve people. People do not starve people — no matter what they have done”—was a direct appeal to universal human morality beyond the confines of the conflict. 

On the other side, Minister Ben-Gvir’s outrage was equally visceral. He framed the court’s decision as an act of national betrayal, juxtaposing the plight of Israeli hostages with the court’s “defense” of Hamas militants. This rhetoric is potent because it weaponizes the very real and raw pain of the hostages’ families to justify policies that a court has deemed illegal. It creates a false dichotomy: either you support punishing Hamas members or you support the hostages. The court’s ruling implicitly argues for a third path: you can demand justice for hostages and adherence to the law at home simultaneously. 

The Bigger Picture: What Does a State Owe Its Captives? 

This case transcends the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. It forces a universal question: what are the non-negotiable obligations a state has towards any human being it deprives of liberty? 

International human rights law, including the UN Standard Minimum Rules for the Treatment of Prisoners (the Nelson Mandela Rules), is unequivocal. The principle of humane treatment is absolute and non-derogable. This means it cannot be suspended, even during a state of emergency or war. Adequate nutrition, healthcare, and sanitary conditions are not privileges; they are the bedrock of this principle. 

When a state intentionally fails to provide these basics, it crosses a line from incarceration into a form of collective punishment and cruel, inhuman, or degrading treatment. It violates not only its own domestic laws but also international norms that form the foundation of civilized society. This erosion of standards has a corrosive effect on the state itself, normalizing brutality and damaging the moral authority of its institutions. 

Conclusion: The Long Shadow of the Verdict 

The Supreme Court’s ruling is a significant moment, but it is not an endpoint. The critical question is whether the Ben-Gvir-led prison service will comply in good faith or seek loopholes and delays. The implementation will be the true test of the rule of law in Israel. 

This case serves as a stark reminder that the machinery of justice must sometimes operate against the tide of popular sentiment. It is a difficult, often unpopular, but essential function. Upholding the rights of the despised is the ultimate stress test for a democracy’s values. 

The verdict affirms that a line exists. A line that says, “Here, and no further.” A line that says that even in the darkest moments of conflict, a state must hold onto its humanity. By ruling that the government cannot starve prisoners, the Israeli Supreme Court didn’t just mandate more calories; it fought to uphold the very principle that law, not vengeance, must have the final word.