A Blanket on Fire: Inside Egypt’s Silent Rebellion Behind Bars

It began with the smell of burning fabric. Inside the walls of Badr 3 Correctional and Rehabilitation Center—where silence is enforced by surveillance cameras, constant light, and isolation—a group of detainees set fire to their prison blankets. It was not an act of violence, but a desperate cry.

Hours earlier, political detainee Alaa Gamal had taken his own life. His death was the final spark in a facility already heavy with despair, hunger strikes, and months of silent suffering.

The incident was not isolated. It was the latest episode in what rights defenders describe as an expanding system of repression in Egypt’s prison network, particularly in Badr, Borg El Arab, and New Valley facilities. These prisons, often praised in official rhetoric as “modern rehabilitation centers,” have instead become symbols of inhumane treatment and psychological torment.

According to Women Journalists Without Chains (WJWC), Gamal’s suicide was the result of prolonged psychological and physical abuse, including the denial of visits and basic rights. His family had long warned of his deteriorating mental health under abusive detention conditions. His death, like others before him, did not come unexpectedly—it came after warnings were ignored.

Human rights groups have echoed these concerns, noting that Badr 3’s design seems to serve control more than rehabilitation. Detainees live under 24-hour surveillance, are denied access to sunlight, and are frequently cut off from contact with their families or lawyers. Remote court sessions have become a tool not of justice, but of isolation.

Since the prison’s inauguration in June 2022, at least 12 detainees have died in custody. Among them was Mohamed Hassan Hilal, who succumbed to injuries reportedly consistent with torture. Each death leaves behind unanswered questions—and a growing body of testimony that points to systematic violations rather than tragic anomalies.

Following Gamal’s suicide, detainees launched a coordinated hunger strike. Others set fire to their bedding in an act of protest that was met, almost immediately, by the deployment of Rapid Intervention Forces. The response was swift, forceful, and deeply telling of the state’s zero-tolerance policy for resistance, even in its most desperate form.

These events, WJWC asserts, reflect a pattern of violations that contravene Egypt’s constitution, the Prisons Regulation Law, and international standards such as the UN Convention against Torture, the Mandela Rules, and the Bangkok Rules for the treatment of female prisoners.

The organization is demanding an independent investigation into Gamal’s death and other cases in Badr 3, accountability for officials involved in mistreatment, and an immediate halt to the use of solitary confinement as punishment. It also calls for full access for UN experts and independent human rights organizations to Egypt’s prison system.

Beyond its legal and political implications, the crisis in Egypt’s prisons is a human one. Each name—Alaa, Mohamed, the dozens of others—marks a life crushed under the weight of a system that offers neither justice nor dignity.

As international silence persists, WJWC warns that impunity continues to endanger the very fabric of rights and freedoms in Egypt and beyond. The organization reiterates its commitment to amplifying the voices of the detained and documenting every abuse until justice is no longer a slogan, but a standard.