I met Hamzeh Sawari in Rajai Shahr Prison. He had been arrested and imprisoned since 2005, when he was only 19 years old. In 2007, his two brothers were executed.
Hamzeh himself was also under a death sentence until it was later commuted to life imprisonment. Now, as I write these lines, the number of years he has spent in prison – 20 years – has already exceeded the number of years he lived outside prison, even counting his infancy and childhood.

If I wanted to describe the horrific conditions he has endured over these years in various prisons, I would have to put a warning label on this text saying it contains material that might be distressing for some readers.

But… I came to know a young man, without exaggeration, who was deeply kind-hearted and noble in character, and who had tried over the long, bitter years of imprisonment to use every small opportunity for personal growth. He once told me that for some time he had shared a cell with Saeed Madani.
Hamzeh, not just outwardly but as a result of sustained personal effort and increasing maturity, despite all the hardships he had suffered, had come to believe deeply that the good of society would never come through violence.

If I were to think of people who would be justified in hating their oppressors, and for whom there would be no blame if taking revenge brought them satisfaction, I believe Hamzeh would certainly be one of the most justified among them. Yet, to my surprise, I never saw in him even a trace of a desire for revenge.

I have read books with Hamzeh, debated with him, played football and volleyball with him, and more. In him, I saw a young man who, despite losing the years of his youth, remained deeply committed, extremely trustworthy and honest in financial matters, and highly responsible in social matters. If he sensed that any injustice was being done even in the personal relations among prisoners, he would try to do whatever he could to help resolve it.
He never forgot to feed the cats in the prison yard, and in cold weather he would sometimes bring newborn kittens into his cell to keep them safe.

Hamzeh has done me many kindnesses and offered me much help during my own time in prison — things I will never forget. Now… he, like a number of other Ghezel Hesar prisoners, has been taken to solitary confinement and is being kept under extremely inhumane conditions; his “crime” is persisting in the human act of the Tuesdays Against Execution campaign, and standing in solidarity to prevent the exile of one of his fellow inmates.

I do not just want to request or hope that this difficult temporary period in that infamous ward will end soon; I want to say that if the security apparatus could free themselves from the shell of their misguided and ineffective cycle of over-securitization, they would realize that releasing someone like Hamzeh Sawari aligns fully with the public good. Hamzeh is a threat to no one; he is a young man who has found the path of growth even in such terrifying circumstances.

I do not know if the continuation of so much injustice might eventually break his spirit. I do not know if I will ever see the day when he is freed. And I do not know if, when that day comes, the long and crushing injustices he has endured will have changed him so much that I can no longer recognize his thoughts.
If that were to happen, I could do nothing but lower my head in shame and say to him, You are right… you are right…

But something inside me tells me: the Hamzeh you knew may very well still surprise you, even on that day.