> ## Content Index > Fetch the complete content index at: https://otherwise.ghost.io/llms.txt > Use this file to discover other available public pages before exploring further. # Ember and Ash: Two Captives, Two Tyrannies - URL: https://otherwise.ghost.io/ember-and-ash-two-captives-two-tyrannies/ - Published: 2025-11-29T18:34:19.000Z - Updated: 2026-10-17T13:42:40.000Z - Author: Khaled Salih - Tags: Newsletter, #Migrated-1792244264359, #Import 2026-10-17 14:38 29 November 2025 ![](https://storage.ghost.io/c/d6/2c/d62cdd13-a476-41c5-8f2c-29270c99d95d/content/images/2026/10/cb43d4ab-1404-4d91-a970-42a4c8a6b027_1434x1058-heic.jpg) To be taken prisoner is to learn, at bayonet-point, how thin the membrane of civilisation really is. In these pages, the courteous fictions of “law and order,” “resistance,” and “security” are stripped down to their steel bones, and we are left with two men staring back at us from the same abyss. One, a Kurdish revolutionary, is seized by the iron bureaucracy of Ba‘thist Iraq; the other, an Israeli father, is dragged from his burning kibbutz by men who do not even pretend to own a constitution. The first is processed by a state that tortures with forms and file numbers; the second is swallowed by a militia that tortures with chaos and God-talk. Between them lies the whole sordid spectrum of modern barbarism: targeted repression and random massacre, the “gym” of institutionalised torment and the tunnel of ad‑hoc sadism, the comradeship of organised dissent and the fragile fellowship of fellow victims. What this study proposes is not a contest of suffering, but an unflinching comparison of how different species of tyranny attempt the same thing: the unmaking of a human being, and the stubborn refusal of that human being to stay unmade. The experience of captivity is an assault on the very foundations of human identity. It is a state of profound rupture, where the certainties of life are violently stripped away, leaving an individual adrift in a sea of brutality, uncertainty, and fear. I shall examine this harrowing ordeal through the memoirs of two men from disparate backgrounds, captured by different forces in different eras, who nonetheless shared the fundamental human trial of being unmade and remade by their captors. Salam Abdullah, a Kurdish revolutionary, was arrested by Saddam Hussein’s state security apparatus in the 1970s. Decades later, Eli Sharabi, an Israeli civilian, was abducted from his home by Hamas terrorists on October 7, 2023\. Through a systematic, thematic comparison of their narratives, I seek to illuminate both the universal and the particular aspects of suffering, the distinct typologies of brutality employed by their captors, and the extraordinary, indomitable resilience of the human spirit. **The Moment of Rupture** The moment of capture is more than the beginning of an ordeal; it is a strategic act that fundamentally frames the captive’s initial experience and perception of their fate. The nature of the abduction—whether executed by the systematic apparatus of a state or the chaotic violence of a non-state terror group—immediately establishes the rules, or lack thereof, that will govern the prisoner’s world. This initial rupture dictates the psychological landscape of captivity, defining the boundary between a terrifying, state-sanctioned process and an abyss of pure, indiscriminate terror. **The State’s Iron Fist** Salam Abdullah’s capture was an act of calculated state power, executed with overwhelming and brutal efficiency. His arrest began not with stealth, but with a show of force designed to terrorise and paralyse: “!thirty or forty soldiers” swarming the roof of his house, storming the gate, and shouting commands. The violence was immediate and personal. “My mind froze as the soldiers hit me with bayonets and the butts of their rifles,” Salam recounts. The capture was cemented as a targeted operation against a known political adversary by the chilling words of a man in civilian clothes who identified himself as Sergeant Karim. His taunting question, “Do you know me?,” served as a declaration that Salam was not a random victim but a marked man, his identity and activities already catalogued within the state’s security files. This was not chaos; it was the cold, systematic application of state machinery, from the synchronised arrival of vehicles to the soldiers’ triumphant celebrations upon his capture. Salam was being processed, entered into a system of institutionalised violence designed to break political enemies. **Chaos and Carnage** In stark contrast, Eli Sharabi’s abduction was an act of indiscriminate terror, unfolding amidst the widespread massacre at Kibbutz Be’eri on October 7, 2023\. His capture was not a targeted arrest but a random plucking from a scene of mass slaughter. The terror was communicated not by a sergeant’s specific threat, but by the frantic, desperate pings of WhatsApp messages from neighbours witnessing the carnage in real-time. One message from a thirteen-year-old girl conveyed the horror: “They shot my mom!” Faced with this reality, Eli and his wife, Lianne, made the agonising decision not to resist, hoping to protect their two daughters, Noiya and Yahel. Their home was violently breached, and in a moment of pure chaos, Eli was dragged away from his family. As he was hauled outside, he saw his beautiful kibbutz reduced to carnage, his neighbours’ homes burning, and was engulfed by the “smell of smouldering ruins.” His final, desperate shout to his family—“I’ll come back!”—was a cry of hope into a whirlwind of violence that had consumed his entire community. His abduction was not the methodical work of a state but the brutal, opportunistic violence of a terror group engaged in a rampage. **Targeted vs. Indiscriminate Violence** ![](https://storage.ghost.io/c/d6/2c/d62cdd13-a476-41c5-8f2c-29270c99d95d/content/images/2026/10/9c889f1a-0d4c-429c-92ed-594a8582afec_1920x1080-heic.jpg) The significance of these differences is profound. A state’s arrest, however brutal, creates a terrifying but predictable framework of interrogation and imprisonment. The victim understands they are a political prisoner within a state system, however perverse its justice may be. In contrast, a terror abduction plunges the victim into a world of absolute chaos. Eli’s immediate ordeal was compounded by the agonising uncertainty of not knowing the fate of his wife, his daughters, or his neighbours, a psychological torment born from the indiscriminate nature of the violence that tore him from his world. This fundamental difference in the nature of their capture would directly shape the subsequent treatment they received at the hands of their captors. **The Face of the Captor** While both Salam and Eli were subjected to profound cruelty, the methods, motivations, and interactions with their prisoners differed significantly between the Ba‘thist regime and Hamas. The face of the captor is not monolithic; its expressions of inhumanity are shaped by ideology, objective, and environment. I shall shed some light on these differences to understand the varying manifestations of brutality, from the institutionalised torture of a state-run black site to the complex psychological warfare of a terrorist-operated tunnel. **Institutionalised Cruelty** The torture inflicted upon Salam was systematic, purposeful, and an instrument of the state. The regime’s goal was clear: to extract information, break his political will, and assert its absolute power. The methods were varied and methodical, ranging from savage beatings in a blood-stained room euphemistically called the “gym” to being hung upside down until he lost consciousness. The denial of water was a constant, basic form of torment that led him to a stark realisation about the nature of the regime: “Only in a country *where* there is law.” This physical abuse was complemented by psychological manipulation, such as the feigned kindness of officers who would offer polite conversation before sending him back for more torture. The cruelty was institutional, a standard operating procedure within a system designed for repression. The ultimate expression of this power was the swift, public murder of a fellow prisoner, the engineer Araz, who was beaten to death in the prison yard by the prison chief, Ra‘d, and his soldiers. This act demonstrated that the state held the power of life and death, and its application of violence was a calculated, casual tool of policy, not random rage. **The Duality of Terror and Proximity** Eli endured a more intimate and psychologically complex form of brutality at the hands of his Hamas captors. After the initial violence of his abduction, his long-term captivity in a family home and later in tunnels was characterised by prolonged deprivation, starvation, and humiliation, such as being forced to strip for searches. This torment was less about interrogation and more about psychological warfare; he was constantly taunted that he had been forgotten by his country and that his family had stopped campaigning for his release. The captor-captive relationship formed a complex social ecosystem. A brutal hierarchy was embodied by a senior commander the hostages nicknamed “Peaky,” whose authority was feared even by guards like “the Triangle.” Others, like “Smiley” or “Nightingale,” could display moments of kindness when alone, sneaking the hostages a piece of fruit or offering encouragement. In a group, however, they would revert to cruelty, competing to see “who can treat us worse.” This created a volatile environment where small comforts were unpredictable and trust was impossible. The ultimate brutality, however, was inflicted not upon Sharabi’s body but upon his life. The most devastating act of his captors was the murder of his wife, Lianne, and their daughters, Noiya and Yahel—a truth he would only learn upon his release on day 491, a torment that began after his physical ordeal had ended. **Instruments of Pain** The two narratives present a stark contrast in the methodologies of pain. The Ba‘thist regime used torture as a direct, if crude, tool for interrogation and political submission. The violence was an extension of the state’s power, expressed through dehumanising language such as calling prisoners “sons of dogs.” Its purpose was to break the captive and extract actionable intelligence. Hamas, in contrast, employed an evolving methodology that shifted from crude violence to prolonged deprivation, psychological warfare, and suffocating proximity as instruments of terror and control. Their goal was not primarily information, but the slow erosion of the hostages’ spirit. This was achieved through systemic starvation, the manipulation of hope, and the perverse intimacy of being held by men who might offer food in exchange for reciting the Quran one moment and mock them the next. Both systems were designed to strip the prisoners of their dignity, but the Ba‘thist regime sought to crush a political enemy through consistent physical force, while Hamas sought to terrorise a civilian population through a prolonged and psychologically manipulative siege. This distinction influenced the ways captives formed relationships among themselves. **Forging Bonds in Darkness** In the dehumanising void of captivity, where the individual is systematically atomised, prisoners invariably seek to rebuild their humanity by forming communities. This is not merely an act of seeking comfort, but a necessary act of social reconstruction. These bonds, forged under extreme duress, serve as a bulwark against despair and a testament to the social nature of the human spirit. This section will compare how communities were formed in a state-run political prison versus a terrorist-held hostage tunnel, analysing the vital role these bonds played in survival. **The Revolutionary Cell** Salam’s captive community was built on a pre-existing foundation of political allegiance. After solitary confinement, he was placed with his revolutionary companions: Mukhtar, Omar, Abdullah, and Sarwar. Their shared cause allowed for the rapid formation of a structured group, with the eldest, Mukhtar, naturally assuming the role of their “governor.” This community was an active revolutionary cell reconstituted within prison walls. When moved to the Hai’a holding cell, this core group expanded to include a diverse microcosm of Kurdish society under oppression. He met Khidir, an innocent villager arrested in a mass sweep; Marf, a smuggler with Peshmerga ties; Sharif, a respected elder; and Ghazi Awchi, a complex Turkmen informant. Despite their different backgrounds, they were united by a common enemy. They shared stories, supported each other through torture, and collaborated on a meticulous escape plan. Their bond was expressed through powerful rituals of defiance, most notably the *halparkê*, a traditional Kurdish dance they performed when they believed they were about to be executed. This community was a vehicle for active resistance, providing collective strength and organised opposition to their captors. **The Trauma Bond** Eli’s captive community was forged not from shared ideology but from shared, random trauma. Initially held with Khun, a Thai agricultural worker, Eli instinctively took on a protective role. Later, in the tunnels, he became part of a larger group of Israeli hostages—strangers torn from different walks of life, united only by the horror of October 7th. Their community was focused on psychological endurance. They created powerful rituals, such as making Kiddush with a cup of water on Friday nights and the daily practice of sharing “something good that happened.” These acts were essential tools for maintaining humanity. Yet, this trauma bond was also fragile. The intense pressures of starvation and suffocating proximity led to severe friction and internal divisions. As Eli poignantly observes: “We form camps. It’s amazing how four people trapped in impossible conditions can still split into factions.” This raw honesty reveals the immense difficulty of sustaining unity when survival itself is a daily, all-consuming struggle. **Unity in Purpose vs. Unity in Suffering** The core differences in the formation and function of these two captive communities highlight the distinct challenges each group faced. Basis of Formation. Salam’s community was rooted in the pre-existing political allegiance and shared revolutionary goals of its members. Eli’s was an *ad-hoc* community of strangers, bound together solely by the random, shared trauma of their abduction. Primary Function. Salam’s community was geared towards active resistance, information sharing, and a collective escape attempt—a continuation of their political struggle. Eli’s community was focused on psychological endurance and mutual support to simply survive the indefinite, monotonous passage of time in the tunnels. Internal Dynamics. The shared purpose of Salam’s group created a relatively stable hierarchy and cohesive unit. In contrast, the extreme stress, starvation, and lack of a clear endpoint led to volatile dynamics and internal conflicts that plagued Eli’s group. The comparison reveals two distinct models of captive community: one organised for active opposition and another for passive endurance. From this collective struggle for survival, the focus now shifts to the individual’s internal battle to withstand the psychological onslaught of captivity. **The Will to Endure** While external conditions of captivity are horrific, the ultimate battle for survival is often won or lost within the captive’s own mind. Maintaining a sense of self, purpose, and hope in the face of systematic dehumanisation is a monumental challenge that requires profound inner strength. This section will analyse the distinct psychological strategies employed by Abdullah and Sharabi to endure their ordeals, demonstrating that the will to live is a dynamic and deeply personal force. **Resistance as Lifeblood** Salam Abdullah’s core survival strategy was one of active and passive resistance. His fight was externalised; he saw his captivity as another front in his revolutionary struggle. During brutal interrogations, he consciously decided to “play dumb,” denying knowledge of his comrades and activities to protect his organisation. He maintained his resolve by constantly weighing his options and focusing on his political cause. His defiance was not only strategic but also symbolic. A key moment of reclaiming his dignity came when he was ordered to clean a filthy toilet, a task designed for humiliation. Salam made a conscious choice: “I had decided that even if they kill me for disobedience; I would not do it.” This refusal, a small act in the grand scheme of his imprisonment, was a powerful affirmation of his self-worth. For Salam, survival was inextricably linked to the goal of escape—a tangible objective that gave his suffering purpose and framed his ordeal as a temporary, if brutal, phase in a larger fight. **The Power of *Why*** Eli Sharabi’s survival strategy was a conscious and philosophical triumph of the mind over his circumstances. Facing an indefinite period of captivity with no clear endpoint, he adopted a mantra shared by his fellow hostage, Hersh: “He who has a why can bear any how.” Elli internalised this deeply, focusing on his *why*—his unwavering love for his family and for life itself. His approach was to focus only on what he could control. He channelled his energy into creating routines for mental and physical health, such as daily exercise and the practice of finding something good to be grateful for each day. He became a source of strength for others, particularly the younger hostage Alon, seeing their mutual support as essential. Eli’s resilience was not an act of physical resistance against his captors, but a profound internal victory of mental and spiritual fortitude. He built a psychological fortress based on routine, hope, and care for others, preserving his humanity in a void of despair. **The External vs. The Internal Battle** A direct comparison reveals two distinct models of psychological endurance, a difference reflected in the narrative construction of the memoirs themselves. Salam’s account is structured as a chronicle of action and resistance, his survival tethered to an external goal: to escape and rejoin the revolutionary fight. This objective provided a clear framework for his suffering, allowing him to endure the finite, though savage, process of imprisonment with a clear purpose. In contrast, Eli’s narrative is framed as a philosophical testament to internal endurance. He faced an indefinite period of deprivation, forcing him to turn inward and meticulously construct a psychological fortress built on routine, philosophy, and altruism. Salam fought to get *out*, while Eli fought to hold *on*. Both strategies were essential for their respective situations, demonstrating the remarkable adaptability of the human mind in its quest to survive. This struggle to endure leads inexorably to the final ordeal: re-entering the world. **The Ordeal of Freedom** For the long-term captive, “freedom” is not a simple ending but a complex, often painful transition into a world that has been irrevocably altered. The moment of liberation can be one of triumph or tragedy, fundamentally redefining the meaning of survival itself. This final section contrasts Salam’s daring and triumphant escape with Eli’s tragic release, exploring the profoundly different realities that awaited them. **The Flight to the Mountains** Salam Abdullah’s freedom was an act of agency, a continuation of the resistance that had sustained him. His escape from the military base was the culmination of meticulous planning and collective will. In the dead of night, he and his comrades slipped past a sleeping guard, acquired two additional rifles from the guard room, and made their tense, silent exit. The arduous journey across a hostile landscape was marked by hardships—fields of thorns, blistering heat, encounters with military helicopters. Yet, the entire ordeal was framed by a sense of purpose. His arrival in Sulaymaniyah and emotional reunion with his *Pêşmerge* comrades was not an endpoint but a restoration. He was transformed from a prisoner back into a fighter, his ordeal validating his cause and reinforcing his identity. His freedom was a successful liberation that allowed him to immediately rejoin the struggle, his survival a victory for himself and his movement. **The Return to Grief** Eli Sharabi’s release on day 491 was not a flight to freedom but an agonising descent into an unbearable truth. The process was fraught with false starts and psychological manipulation as he was moved between tunnels before the final handover. The moment of liberation, however, brought not joy but the most devastating blow of his life. An IDF officer delivered the news that his wife, Lianne, and his two daughters, Noiya and Yahel, had been murdered on October 7th. His stark, quiet realisation encapsulates the magnitude of his loss: “My Lianne, my Noiya, and my Yahel-they are not.” In that instant, his freedom was redefined not as a return to life, but as the beginning of a life sentence of grief. The immense inner strength that had enabled him to survive nearly 500 days of starvation and torment was immediately confronted by a loss so absolute that it rendered his personal survival a tragic paradox. **The Meaning of Being Free** The contrast between these two moments of freedom interrogates the very definition of survival. Salam’s liberation was a restoration of agency and identity because he survived *with* his world; the revolutionary cause that defined him endured his imprisonment and awaited his return. His story ends with the hope of a continued fight, his personal ordeal integrated into a larger political narrative of struggle and resistance. For him, survival meant rejoining the fight. For Eli, freedom marked the entry into a state of permanent loss because he survived the destruction *of* his world. His survival, a testament to his philosophical resilience, was met with the obliteration of the very *why*—his family—that had sustained him. His story concludes not with a return to his old life, but with the pivot to a new, tragic cause: honouring the memory of his wife and daughters and advocating for the remaining hostages. His survival meant bearing witness to an irreplaceable loss. Their experiences reveal that for some, the greatest ordeal begins only after the cell door opens. **The Indomitable Human Spirit** The harrowing narratives of Salam Abdullah and Eli Sharabi, though separated by decades, geography, and ideology, converge on a central, undeniable truth: the human capacity for resilience in the face of unimaginable cruelty is profound. Despite the vast differences in the nature of their capture, the methodologies of their captors, and the constitution of their captive communities, both men exemplify the will to preserve dignity and humanity against forces dedicated to their annihilation. Salam’s story is one of active, political resistance, where survival is synonymous with the continuation of a fight. Eli’s is a testament to an internal, philosophical fortitude, where survival is an act of mental and spiritual preservation against a backdrop of absolute loss. Together, their memoirs offer more than just accounts of suffering; they provide a powerful, comparative lens on the strategies of endurance. They illuminate how individuals forge communities out of shared purpose or shared trauma, how they build psychological fortresses against despair, and how the very meaning of freedom can diverge into triumph or tragedy. Ultimately, the accounts of Salam Abdullah and Eli Sharabi stand as a powerful testament to the strength required not only to survive an ordeal, but to endure its aftermath and continue to bear witness to the indomitable nature of the human spirit. By the end, the question “who survived?” turns out to be far more complicated than any release document or hostage-exchange footage would suggest. One man escapes to the mountains, weapon in hand, his freedom stitched back into the banner of a cause that outlived his captors; the other emerges blinking into daylight only to learn that the very reason he endured—the wife and daughters he carried in his mind like a secret amulet—have been erased. In one case, liberation restores the world; in the other, it arrives as an aftershock of annihilation. And yet both stories, in their utterly different outcomes, deliver the same verdict on their tormentors: the prisons failed. The regimes failed. The torturers failed. They could starve, hang, mock, and murder, but they could not finally dictate what these men would mean. That, outrageously and magnificently, remains outside their jurisdiction. Saddam, architect of a million terrors, ended not as a colossus but as a fugitive burrowed into a hole fit for a frightened rabbit. And Hamas’s leaders—those self-anointed prophets of tunnels and death—know perfectly well that there is no crevice deep enough to save them, not even the underground labyrinths where they tormented Eli and his fellow captives. Tyrants always imagine themselves as immortals; they always end by discovering the size of their own graves. **References:** Salam Abdullah, 2023, Ember Revival. Erbil: Khaney Culture. Eli Sharabi, 2025, *Hostage* (Kindle edition). Harper Influence, October 7, 2025\. Kindle edition. ISBN-13: 978-0063489783.