New rule: It's alright to restrain if the victim is disabled

Doron Almog may have won the 2016 Israel Prize and amassed a horde of friends in high places. But I have photos of the bedrooms in the Jerusalem branch of ADI, a large, closed institution for children and young adults with disabilities in which he plays a lead role. They are damning.

A notice was circulated last week by the Director General of Israel's Ministry of Welfare. It's entitled (my translation from the source Hebrew) "Tools and procedures for identification, prevention and response/remedy for challenging, dangerous behavioral situations in facilities of the Disabilities Administration" 

Dated May 23, 2022 and downloadable (in Hebrew) from here, the circular formally declares the use of the "crib-beds" in which Almog's people have been been enclosing ADI's institutionalized residents to be banned.

I made an unannounced visit to ADI Jerusalem (then known as Aleh Jerusalem) in 2018. See "Making history: After the raid". During that visit, we were shown beds, one of them occupied, that are best described as "cages". The person in the bed below was photographed at 12:30 pm, the middle of the day. 

2018: Bed-cages in use at the ADI Jerusalem institutional residence

This is not to say that the Ministry of Welfare's other regulations were welcomed by defenders of the human rights of people with disabilities. In fact those with whom I was in touch were infuriated. Disturbingly wide discretion is granted to staff members in institutions to restrain the movement of residents. The regulations say they may do so "only in unusual instances, and only to prevent actual, immediate danger to a person or to another and only to the extent that is required for that purpose."

Included specifically in that carte blanche is the use of hand splints for 45 minutes; fastening to chairs during meals; and locking up and isolating residents in a "protection room" for up to an hour at a time. 

These measures may be used on anyone with disabilities aged 6 years or more, who engages in "challenging, dangerous behavior" (again my translation of the Hebrew).

The new regulations will go into effect in six months from now. Among other reasons, this is to enable institutions to prepare for their implementation.

Here's what Adv. Naama Lerner of the Movement for Independence (a group I mentioned in this earlier post a week ago) wrote in reaction to the new regulations (again my translation from the source Hebrew):

"I urge you to read this circular with great interest. It permits harsh restrictions on people in institutions with "challenging behavior". It permits fastening to a chair, isolation, tying up, in very pretty words and with 'professionalism'. For now, this is for your information. In the future we intend to act forcefully against these regulations."

Too bad all those well intentioned donors to ADI institutions have never seen these bed-cages.

The shootings in Texas

May 26, 2022: Uvalde, Texas (NY Times)

The harrowing nightmare tormenting parents of the massacred Uvalde children stirs up painful memories.

 
That frantic search for our daughter Malki in the local hospitals. The rage on learning that her death might have been prevented by authorities who gave petty concerns priority over decisive actions to halt the two terrorists heading for their target - a Sbarro pizzeria.

These facts reached us via a parliamentarian, MK Meir Shitreet, who revealed them to the public with no compunction. Here, however, no heads rolled afterwards. 

Nobody was excoriated for failing.to warn Jerusalemites that two terrorists traversed the the city's streets. 

Nor for their failure to order Jerusalemites to shelter in place. 

No "powers that be" were ever criticized for pleading with their "buddy" Yasser Arafat to help prevent the impending disaster. To nobody's surprise, he refused. 

Our hearts are broken with those of the Uvalde parents whom we heard pleading with the police to be admitted into the school to rescue their children. 

Shame on all those who conduct themselves incompetently in the face of evildoers. None of these mass-murderers deserves to live free and protected the way our child's murderer does as I write this.

Are we seeing a sea change?

The front gate of Neve Ram

Over the past month or so, the disability sector of Israel's population has been rocked by several cases of neglect and abuse. Tragically, a few were fatal. 

One at the start of this month involved three deaths of residents from food poisoning. 

And the most recent one - two nights ago - involved the food poisoning and hospitalization of four institutionalized people with disabilities at Neve Ram in Rechasim (near Haifa).

In the past, such events elicited some media attention, a few interviews with activists and then a return to "business as usual". But there is a sense that a sea change has finally been triggered. Protest demonstrations are growing common. Activists are being interviewed on mainstream TV and radio news programs more frequently. Some have gained access to senior politicians including the prime minister.

Hatnua's logo [source]

 
One of them, Noa Kfir Dohav, mother of a child with disabilities and founding member of HaTnua L'Atzma'ut, (in Hebrew: התנועה לעצמאות) also known as the Movement for Independence, wrote about her meeting with prime minister Naftali Bennett along with several other activists (my translation from the Hebrew source):

For an hour he was with us. Entirely interested in the personal accounts, giving respect to the youth with their disabilities and special needs. Riveted to the story Chezi tells about his brother and to the possibilities that Roni presents to him when she tells about her sister. He asks questions, conducts discussions, and delves into the most sensitive point - money - and then returns very quickly to the understanding that the current situation is bad. 'I can't imagine living even one day like this', he says when he's told about the institutions. 'And I wouldn't wish this on my children and so not on any other person", he adds at one point. He understands what we're talking about... that change must come.

A key sign of progress is the now oft-repeated demand for the closure of all institutions. 

Previously, few uttered that drastic word "closure". Criticism focused on the dire conditions in those institutions, on the need for tighter supervision, more frequent surprise inspections, higher salaries for staff and stricter vetting of potential employees.

But now, most go further. Here is what Adv Na'ama Lerner, one of the founders of Hatnua L'atzma'ut, also known as Movement for Independence, insisted after that meeting with the prime minister in which she too participated (my translation again):

"I have been in the field for 35 years and don't recall an accumulation of so many incidents that reveal the rot/decay in Israel's institutions. We need deeds. Actions. Funding that will bring the total closure of institutions and that will enable thousands of people to live with respect and independence."

The text of the Hebrew poster on the right, taken from the group's Facebook page, in my English translation: 

People with Disabilities Exit to Freedom: From Institutions to the Community
Again Food Poisoning in an Institution for People with Disabilities
This Time in Neve Ram
Only Miraculously Did it not End in Death
The Next Disaster is Written on The Wall
What Else Must Happen for the State of Israel to Close the Institutions?

It's the right question. 

Remembrance Day - and remembering Malki

Malki's tiny handwriting in the diary she left behind

I was called last week by a young woman who asked me to speak about Malki to a group of teenage students who are on the verge of dropping out of school. She is doing her internship in education with these girls.

My knee jerk response was "No, that would be too difficult", even though she noted that her older sister had been a friend of Malki's. 

But then she added "Malki and Michal [the friend who was murdered with her] had decorated her sister's bedroom to welcome her home from an overseas trip on that day."

So I did a 180. Because on their last morning alive, Malki and Michal stood at my bedroom door to let me know about the room-decoration plan. I was in bed nursing one of my whopping migraines. I didn't even open my eyes to look at them - but it was the last time we spoke in person. 

But to this day, I can't forgive myself for passing up on that last chance to see my Malki's face.

And so I spoke about her earlier this week to six 15 year olds - the same age as Malki was when Ahlam Tamimi decided that she, Michal and 13 other Jews must die. 

I told them what a gifted flautist she was; how her music brought tears to my eyes at every concert of hers that I attended; about her devotion to her profoundly disabled younger sister and to other children with disabilities with whom she volunteered. 

I told them that often, as her sister was and remains, they were not only non-verbal but barely responsive at all. Few adults are capable of doing the work she did. 

 

I remembered how uplifted she was as she described the smile she had brought to a neighbor's child, dying of Canavan's Disease, when she sang him a song. She spent one summer helping out his single mother.

I told the six girls that Malki cherished her friendships, both at school and in her youth group, Ezra.  And mentioned the children there for whom she was a counselor in her last year of life and with whom she spent every other Shabbat in Ma'ale Adumim during her last year on earth. 

The mostly shredded new diary in Malki's bag

I showed them her diaries - the last one she wrote, kept in her microscopic handwriting to enable her to pack in the maximum text. And the new one which was found in her back-pack. It was void of entries and pummeled by the 10 kg bomb's nails.

I showed them photos of Malki and concluded with a very brief mention of our struggle to get Tamimi extradited from Jordan to the US. It isn't an issue I felt I could delve into for this audience. 

Afterwards, it was question time. They only asked one - which I couldn't really answer. "What have you learned, taken with you, from Malki?" 

After a pause I told them: "As her mother, I haven't learned from her. She was my child. What I am left with is only pain and grief. As I'm sure you have heard, the loss of a child is incomparable to any other.  But Malki's friends have told me that they did learn lessons from her. In particular, they carry with them her joy of living, her passion for life."

Thus began for me the difficult week of Yom Hazikaron - Remembrance Day.