https://x.com/paolomossetti/status/1974769287228252648
If you read one thing today, make it this story by Italian journalist Lorenzo D’Agostino — captured aboard the Global Sumud Flotilla: beaten, blindfolded, mocked with homophobic slurs, and held half-naked in freezing vans and scorching cells.
According to D’Agostino and multiple accounts, Israeli forces subjected Greta to severe cruelty, forcing her to crawl and kiss the Israeli flag. “They did exactly what the Nazis did,” said Ersin Çelik, a member of the Global Sumud Flotilla. They publicly humiliated her and targeted her specifically because she’s a well-known figure.
It appears that the Italian state, government, and parts of the Church tried to stop the Flotilla not to prevent an armed clash with Netanyahu, but to avoid the media exposure of a country increasingly radicalized and indefensible — except through repressive laws — and to suppress reports of egregious human rights violations.
"We were intercepted at 1:58 a.m. on Thursday. On my boat, the Hio, part of the Global Sumud Flotilla mission, five Israeli soldiers boarded with rifles pointed at us, lasers aimed. Exactly one month after our departure from Barcelona.
On board, the soldiers allowed us to go to the bathroom, eat, drink, and smoke. Then they redirected the boat toward the port of Ashdod. We stayed moored for a couple of hours. Before letting us disembark, one soldier wanted to speak to our captain: “My friend, my friend, listen to me, you’ll like this one: when dwarfs cast long shadows, it means the sun is low.” That was the last thing he said.
As we disembarked, someone from the other boats shouted, “The police will be worse.” As soon as I stepped onto land, an officer grabbed my arm, twisting it behind my back to cause maximum pain. They made us sit on the ground, on a concrete esplanade.
Greta Thunberg was wrapped in the Israeli flag like a war trophy. They sat her in a corner; officers surrounded her, taking selfies.
Then they turned on another girl, Hanan, forcing her to sit in front of the flag so she’d have to look at it. They kicked people, ordered us to lower our heads and look at the ground — anyone who looked up was forced to kneel. An older activist wet himself. Anything associated with Palestine was ripped away, thrown to the ground, and trampled. They tore bracelets off everyone’s wrists; one girl was dragged because hers wouldn’t break. It wasn’t even the Palestinian flag — it was Somali.
We stayed on the concrete for hours. They asked for Italian passports and took us through immigration control. There they opened our bags: anything linked to Palestine was thrown in the trash. When they found a copy of the Quran in my bag, they went berserk — convinced I was Muslim. For two hours, every officer passing by mocked me.
In my toiletry bag they found pink wet wipes and laughed, saying “you’re a woman.” They slapped each other’s backs, amused. After border control, they forced us to strip down to our underwear. We went through two interrogations — only one with a lawyer present. They asked if we wanted to be deported. Then came the announcement: we were going to jail.
That’s when Itamar Ben Gvir, Israel’s Minister of National Security, arrived. He came to Ashdod to make sure we were treated as terrorists. He screamed it at us — that we were terrorists. Right in front of him, the police wanted to show their zeal: they blindfolded us and tightened plastic handcuffs around our wrists until they cut into the skin.
They loaded us into an armored vehicle wearing only light shirts. The air conditioning was blasting; it was freezing. A Scottish boy managed to loosen his cuffs and, with help from an Italian named Marco, released the others. When we saw the others getting off, their hands were purple. Some had been tied since the interception — traveling to prison with their hands bound from 2 a.m. to 4 p.m.
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"The first night, they wouldn’t let us sleep — waking us constantly, forcing us to stand, or blaring loudspeakers. The second night, they switched our cells. No bottled water, only hot tap water...
In the second cell, with me, was a former Turkish deputy foreign minister under Ahmet Davutoglu. His arm was broken and swollen; he bandaged it himself, denied any medical care. No medicine for anyone — not even an epileptic prisoner. We protested until consular assistance arrived. The Italian consul asked if we had been abused and said that if we signed the deportation papers, we’d be sent home the next day.
Many agreed to sign, but I don’t know what happened to those who didn’t — fifteen Italians remain imprisoned. I signed: it was a document waiving trial and agreeing to deportation within 72 hours. No admission of guilt.
They held new interrogations. A judge asked questions without a lawyer present. We requested one — they said it wasn’t necessary, “just a chat.” We stayed silent. I only said I was a journalist doing my job and wouldn’t answer further without legal or consular support. They asked why I wanted to go to Gaza, if I didn’t know there was a blockade. Others were asked more “political” questions — about the Muslim Brotherhood.
That night the guards were even more violent. The consul had just left, having gathered more deportation signatures, when special forces burst in. They stormed the cells, pointed rifles at us with laser sights, and called roll. In some cells, they unleashed dogs. In one, they found the word “Palestine” spelled out using scraps of pepper and water. To erase it, they poured bleach on the floor — prisoners slept on mattresses soaked with it.
That night, as punishment, they overcrowded the cells: from ten people to fifteen, leaving no space to lie down. We turned the mattresses sideways so we could all rest our heads. In my cell were Maso Notarianni and a Lombardy Democratic Party councilor, Paolo Romano.
I had the feeling I was in a truly barbaric place, and hoped this barbarity would soon end.
Yesterday morning, very early, they woke us up and loaded us onto the same armored vehicle. We thought we were going to the airport but peered through slits, fearing we might be taken to another detention center.
The trip lasted three hours, unbearably hot. We asked for water — they said we were “almost there.” At Eilat airport, they put us on a plane to Istanbul. There, we were greeted with cheers — Erdogan-style propaganda. A parliamentarian from his party handed out new clothes, shoes, and kefiyehs. That evening we boarded the final flight to Rome."
(Lorenzo D’Agostino
Investigative journalist specializing in border policies)
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