By
Abdullah Alaoudh
Dec. 30,
2020
On Monday,
a court in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, sentenced Loujain al-Hathloul, the Saudi
activist, to five years and eight months in prison. Ms. al-Hathloul, who
campaigned for the right of women to drive, was convicted of “trying to harm
national security” and advancing “a foreign agenda.” She has already been in
prison for two and a half years. A combination of time served and partial
sentence suspension could lead to her release in a month or so.
‘Sadly, my father is by no means the only individual who faces the death
penalty on trumped-up charges.’ Photograph: Salman Al-Odah/Facebook
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Ms.
al-Hathloul’s case has attracted international attention and condemnation from
United Nations human rights experts, the U.S. House of Representatives and
numerous rights organizations. Rightly so. But there are hundreds of other
political prisoners in Saudi Arabia who have been similarly arrested,
imprisoned and put on trial.
My father
is one of them. On Nov. 18, my siblings hugged my father in the same
Specialized Criminal Court in Riyadh that sentenced Ms. al-Hathloul. My family
could neither visit him in his Saudi prison nor receive a phone call between
May and late September, when they were allowed to speak with him, a glass
barrier between them. That much-needed hug came after six months.
My father,
Salman Aloudah, is a 63-year-old reformist scholar of Islamic law in Saudi
Arabia, who has been held in solitary confinement since his arrest on Sept. 10,
2017. Disturbed by increasing regional tensions after Saudi Arabia, Bahrain,
the United Arab Emirates and Egypt imposed a blockade on Qatar, my father
obliquely expressed his desire for reconciliation in a tweet. A few hours
later, he was taken into custody.
After
holding him without a charge for a year, Saudi authorities proffered numerous
charges against him when they began his trial in September 2018 in an
off-camera court in Riyadh: from inciting people against the ruler and calling
for change in government to possessing banned books. Attorney General Saud
al-Mojeb of Saudi Arabia is seeking the death penalty for my father on 37
charges.
During the
Arab Spring in 2011, my father was a high-profile supporter of the petition
signed by thousands of Saudis demanding a national transition toward a
constitutional monarchy with elections, basic liberties and democratic
institutions. King Abdullah bin Abdulaziz, who ruled from 2005 until his death
in January 2015, allowed the Saudis to speak out to some extent and make some
demands because the kingdom was keen to avoid public unrest. My father was
banned from traveling outside Saudi Arabia.
In 2013,
when Prince Salman bin Abdul Aziz — now King Salman — was already the crown
prince and Prince Mohammed bin Salman had been named head of his court, with
the rank of minister, my father urged the Saudi government to release several
reformists, who founded the Saudi Association for Civil and Political Rights.
The activists had been arrested and convicted on broad charges of trying to
“distort the reputation of the kingdom,” “breaking all allegiance with the
ruler” and “setting up an unlicensed organization.” My dad’s calls were
ignored, but there was no retribution.
Around that
time, Crown Prince Salman introduced Prince Mohammed, his young son, to various
influential public figures in Saudi Arabia who were talking about reforms.
Crown Prince Salman and Prince Mohammed met my father and sought his advice on
the nuanced process of political reform.
In 2015,
after King Salman succeeded King Abdullah, my father wanted to remind the king
of his promise of reforms in Saudi Arabia. While appearing on Saudi national
television, my father recounted how Crown Prince Salman had told him that
political reforms and rights which my father long championed would be at the
top of his agenda when he became king.
Three
months after King Salman took over, his son, Deputy Crown Prince Mohammed bin
Salman introduced the Saudi Vision 2030, which promised social and economic
reforms. Two years later, in 2017, when Prince Mohammed was appointed crown
prince, our hopes of political reforms or greater civil rights turned out to be
a mirage.
Prince
Mohammed, who is known as M.B.S., established his authority through crackdowns
on competitors among the vast royal family; the space for dissent was
obliterated; the kingdom was involved in the war in Yemen, led the blockade of
Qatar and my father was arrested over a tweet.
During the
Nov. 18 court proceeding in Riyadh, my siblings were struck by how
significantly weaker and emaciated our father was. Having lost half of his
hearing and vision in prison, he was incoherent and had difficulty hearing and
seeing them clearly. They felt that our proud, determined father seemed
completely submissive and nodded at whatever he was told. They feared that in
his precarious state, he could be forced into signing any kind of confession.
My father’s
physical and mental decline has accelerated over three years of abuse and
isolation. During the first three to five months of his detention, in Dhahban
prison in Jeddah, guards shackled his feet with chains and blindfolded him
while moving him between interrogation rooms and his cell. Interrogators
deprived him of sleep and medication for many days in succession, he told our
family during visits.
On one
occasion, the guards threw a plastic bag of food at him without removing his
handcuffs. He was forced to open the bag and remove the food with his mouth,
causing considerable damage to his teeth. Following this prolonged mistreatment,
in January 2018, he was hospitalized for a few days for dangerously high blood
pressure.
Medical
negligence and malpractice are common in Saudi prisons. In April 2020, the
Saudi government was responsible for the mistreatment and eventual death of
Abdullah al-Hamid, one of the most prominent reformers in the Kingdom, who
collapsed and slipped into a coma while in prison. For weeks, Saudi authorities
denied Mr. al-Hamid a long-overdue cardiac catheterization. He collapsed on the
floor of al-Ha’ir Prison in Riyadh and lay there for hours before the
authorities took him to al-Shumaisi hospital, his fellow prisoners told Amnesty
International.
About three
months after Mr. al-Hamid’s death, Saleh al-Shehi, a prominent journalist, died
of an undisclosed disease shortly after his release from prison. Mr. al-Shehi
had been arrested in January 2018 and sentenced to five years in prison for
“insulting the royal court” after he criticized the office of the crown prince
and accused it of corruption.
Solitary
confinement is torture. It has had a profound and dangerous impact on my
father. The mistreatment in the darkness of his prison cell suggests that the
Saudi authorities are intent on killing him slowly. Prison officials do not
reveal what he is being fed or what “medications” he receives.
I call upon
the Biden administration to raise its voice and rescue my father before it is
too late. Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman does care what the international
community thinks of him and Saudi Arabia.
President-elect
Joe Biden has vowed that the United States will insist on “responsible Saudi
actions" and impose consequences for reckless ones. Getting the Saudi
government to release my father and other political prisoners in the Kingdom
would be an important step from the incoming administration.
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Abdullah
Alaoudh is director of research for the Gulf Region at Democracy for the Arab
World Now and co-founder of the Saudi National Assembly Party.
Original
Headline: Saudi Arabia Is Slowly Killing My Father
Source: The New York Times
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