A Legal and Psychological Reading of the Draft Law to Execute Palestinian Prisoners

At a moment when law is supposed to be a fortress of justice, a regulator of violence, and a protector of human dignity, in some contexts, it transforms into a tool for reproducing killing under a legitimate guise. This is clearly evident in the draft law to execute Palestinian prisoners, which cannot be read as a mere legal text, but rather as a complex structure where legal, political, and psychological dimensions intertwine, revealing a deep crisis in the very concept of justice. From a legal perspective, this project raises fundamental problems related to its explicit contradiction with the principles of international humanitarian law, especially the Geneva Conventions, which impose strict restrictions on the treatment of prisoners and emphasize the guarantee of their basic rights, including the right to life and a fair trial. The approval of the death penalty in the context of a conflict of a political and colonial nature cannot be separated from the will to transform law into a tool of collective deterrence, targeting identity as much as it targets the act itself. Here, law ceases to be a standard of justice, but rather becomes an extension of coercive sovereignty, where it is employed to legitimize what is, in essence, an act of revenge. The danger lies not only in the punishment itself, but in the logic that establishes it; a logic based on dehumanizing the prisoner, transforming them into an cancellable entity that does not deserve full legal protection. From a psychological angle, this law reveals a troubled psychological structure, nourished by a deep fear of the other, and a desire for absolute control. Execution here is not merely a punishment, but a psychological message directed at an entire society, implying that resistance will be met with annihilation, and that life itself can become hostage to a sovereign decision. However, this message carries an inherent contradiction; the excessive use of legal violence essentially reflects internal fragility and a chronic feeling of threat. The authority that resorts to the utmost degrees of punishment indirectly declares its inability to manage the conflict by balanced political or legal means. Here, law transforms into a mirror reflecting existential anxiety, not confidence in justice. At the level of Palestinian collective consciousness, this law can only deepen the feeling of injustice and reproduce the narrative of oppression, thereby strengthening the cohesion of the resistant identity, rather than dismantling it. History teaches us that extreme punishments, when applied in colonial contexts, do not extinguish resistance, but rather reshape it into more solid and complex forms. What is happening is a redefinition of justice, making it subject to power balances, not to standards of right. This shift carries long-term risks, not only for Palestinians, but for the entire international legal system, which loses its credibility whenever its blatant violations are overlooked. In essence, we are facing a philosophical question that transcends the limits of the legal text: Can law remain law when it loses its moral essence? And can justice that ends in execution in an unequal context be called justice? The answer to these questions concerns not only the fate of Palestinian prisoners, but the fate of the idea of law itself. If law can transform into a tool of killing, then there is an urgent need to rethink its foundations and the guarantees that prevent its deviation from its original purpose. In conclusion, the draft law to execute Palestinian prisoners cannot be viewed in isolation from its broader context; it is an expression of a complex crisis, legal, political, and psychological, revealing a deep flaw in the structure of justice under occupation. Between the text of the law and the spirit of justice, the chasm widens, leaving the question hanging: Who judges whom, when the law itself is in the dock?