With Gaza in ruins ¹ and most of Hamas leadership assassinated ², it is more pertinent than ever to penetrate the “demonisation campaigns [that] rely on flattening or eliding the substantial and relevant political history of the targeted national liberation movement” ³ embodied in Hamas, under the influential leadership of Yahya Al-Sinwar, a “pivotal figure in Palestinian politics.” ⁴

A familiar tactic to accomplish the required levels of demonisation is to ascribe movements that resist western diktats as “terrorists”, in particular “jihadi terrorists,” if resisters reside in or originate from Muslim lands. The utility of the “terrorism” label emanates from its effect of reducing any meaningful and complex resistance movement to a singular dimension, namely “illegitimate and barbaric” violence. ³ Another key implication of the terrorism narrative is the absence of a political solution, leaving military or surveillance policing options as the only available alternatives.

Even “among those practicing peace negotiations, it’s [a] well established [fact] that the notion of ≫terrorism≪ hinders the possibility of a [negotiated settlement].” ³ Most importantly, a focus on terrorism elides the right to resist occupation, despite UN resolutions and international law affording Palestinians every right to do so, even violently:

“Legitimacy of the struggle of peoples for independence, territorial integrity, national unity and liberation from colonial domination, apartheid and foreign occupation by all available means, including armed struggle;” ⁵

“Of course, [the right to resist using armed struggle] is limited by obligations on fighters not to harm civilians, and any intentional targeting of civilians constitutes a war crime.” ³ Howbeit, as the terrorism label renders all violence as illegitimate and barbaric, resistance and violence against Israeli soldiers is delegitimised as a consequence, serving the dual purpose to (1) dehumanise the other side, whilst at the same time (2) obscuring the state terror and barbarism enacted by Israel’s armed forces.

The disdain exhibited against the Hamas movement by The Collective West and its client states is extraordinary. Howbeit, the rhetoric as part of a despicable Israeli Hasbara campaign that is deployed against its leadership, in particular Yahya Al-Sinwar, is strikingly abhorrent, hysterical, and incendiary. “The main headline in the daily Yedioth Ahronoth (Israel’s largest paid newspaper by sales and circulation) called him ≫the devil from Gaza.≪ TV newscasters competed in their use of foul language, calling him the arch-enemy, the despicable murderer, the arch-murderer. They compared him to Adolf Hitler and called him a rat.” ⁶ The Washington Institute for Near East Policy writes that the assassination of Sinwar, “the long-elusive Hamas leader”, is “an opportunity, not a tragedy,” further elucidating that this assessment is based on the recognition that “Sinwar was no ordinary terrorist”, as he was feared and “renowned for his brutality towards Gaza’s and Israelis alike,” referred to “as the ≫Butcher of Khan Younis≪ in the 1980s among fellow Gazans for his singular savagery punishing Palestinians accused of collaborating with Israel.“ ⁷

Perhaps unsurprisingly to anyone familiar with previous “wars on Terror” aiming to eradicate “the evil scourge of terrorism,” a plague spread by “depraved opponents of civilization itself” in “a return to barbarism in the modern age,” (Secretary of State George Shultz) there are two ways to approach the study of terrorism. “One [way is to] adopt a literal approach, taking the topic seriously, [another is to adopt a] propagandistic approach, construing the concept of terrorism as a weapon to be exploited in the service of some system of power.” ⁸ Hence, “we begin with the thesis that terrorism is the responsibility of some officially designated enemy. We then designate terrorist acts as ≫terrorist≪ just in the cases where they can be attributed (whether plausibly or not) to the required source (i.e., Hamas, Yahya Sinwar); otherwise they are to be ignored, suppressed, or termed ≫retaliation≪ or ≫self-defence≪ (i.e., Israel). It [then] comes as no surprise that the propagandistic approach is adopted by governments generally, and by their instruments in totalitarian states.”

Breaking out of the propagandistic approach by taking the topic seriously, is not impossible, as “accessible and thorough primers grounded in genuine expertise” about “understanding Hamas and why that matters,” ³ are readily available. On the topic of Yahya Sinwar, his book “The Thorn And The Carnation,” provides a stark contrast to the propagandistic depiction of his persona as the most barbaric monster of human history, by demonstrating his acute awareness of the plight and dire situation of the Palestinian people as a result of the many decades long occupation, as he narrates the agony inflicted on so many via wanton administrative detention, economic hardship, a system of apartheid and state terror. His work offers “a raw and unfiltered glimpse into the daily struggles” of Palestinians, representing “a profound testament” of Gaza’s enduring spirit, exposing the philosophies that remain crucial to the narrative of resistance and autonomy in the region. ⁴ The following excerpts from early chapters exemplify Sinwar’s ability to reflect on the harsh realities of occupation and resistance, “serving as a clarion call to comprehend the Palestinian reality:” ⁴

Administrative Detention

(p.48-50 ⁴)

[My aunt’s husband] was sentenced to six months of administrative detention without any charges, while [his friend] Abu Ali received a five-year sentence based on the confessions obtained from some of the young men who weren’t resilient enough to withstand the interrogation ordeal.

This marked the beginning of my aunt’s journey into a new world — the world of prisons. She started visiting her husband once a month. On the day of the visit, she would wake up early, prepare her child, and set off, carrying him in her arms until she reached the village center.

From there, she would take one of the few cars passing through the village to Hebron. Upon arrival, she would walk a long distance to reach the building (the headquarters of Hebron prison and the military governor’s office). There, she would find hundreds of people who had come to visit their sons and relatives in prison. Standing among the women in line, she would hold her identity card, hoping her turn would come in this batch of visitors. Sometimes, the guards would announce that the batch was complete, and she would have to wait for the next one.

Reaching a small opening in the wall, she would hand her ID card to the guard behind the wall for verification and registration. Then she would be allowed into the women’s section, where a woman would conduct a provocative search. My aunt would contain her anger, not wanting to lose the opportunity to visit [her husband], who was undoubtedly eagerly awaiting her and their son, Abdul Rahim. She knew there was no point in getting upset over the demeaning treatment by the contemptible soldier.

After the search, the visitors were gathered in a room and then led through long corridors and dimly lit hallways to the visitation area. There was a wall with window-like openings covered with iron mesh. Behind each window stood a prisoner, and the visitors would search for their relatives among them. When they found them, they would rush to the window, tears in the eyes of a father who could see his child through the bars but couldn’t embrace or play with him. Tears also flowed from the eyes of wives or mothers seeing their husbands or sons behind bars, not knowing what they endured within those merciless walls.

Before the visitors could recover from the fatigue of travel, waiting, and the humiliating search, and before they could fully inquire about the well-being of their husbands, sons, and relatives, the guards would start clapping and shouting that the visit was over. They would begin pulling the prisoners away behind the iron doors. The visitors would be pushed out of the visitation area. My aunt’s husband would try to hold his tears, not wanting the guards to see them and take pleasure in his misery. He would gather his emotions, encouraging his wife that the ordeal would soon be over, just five more months. He would ask her to take care of Abdul Rahim, their home, and to convey his greetings to family and neighbors. She would wipe her tears with the edge of her white embroidered headscarf, assuring him, “Don’t worry, just stay strong. Take care.”

Economic Hardship

(p.49-52 ⁴)

The poor economic situation of most people, which Israel’s leaders saw as a potential driver for more people to join the resistance (or “sabotage activities”), along with their need for labor to build the nascent state, led them to consider gradually opening up employment opportunities for the local population, with strict security screening. … This decision sparked intense debate among various segments of the Palestinian population. … People were divided in their opinions. Some were vehemently opposed, asking how we could allow ourselves to build the enemy’s state and strengthen its foundations while their soldiers trained and prepared for war against our people and nation. Some viewed working for Israel as a form of betrayal. However, the realists among them recognized that reality had imposed itself, and Israel’s existence wouldn’t be affected by hundreds or thousands of workers refraining from employment there.

The reality was that there were homes in need of basic necessities like bread and milk for children, which were hard to come by. Therefore, working in Israel, despite its difficulties and bitterness, was seen by some as a national duty to support the resilience of our people in their camps and villages, rather than forcing them to leave due to hardship.

In the shop of Hebron, the acceptance of work in Israel was more commonplace. The people there understood the economic aspects much better, viewing it as a numbers game. Opening up job opportunities for the people was seen as a way to economically flourish the country, which would raise its standard in various fields and strengthen the residents' resolve to stay on their land until Allah decreed a practical change.

However, resistance fighters, especially in refugee camps like the Beach Camp, saw this as a crime. They began collecting information about those who obtained work permits, gathering these permits from workers and destroying them after explaining the dangers and how it contradicted national allegiance. Sometimes, the permit holder would be hit with a cane on the forehead, slapped on the face, or harshly reprimanded.

One of these workers, trying to resist handing over his permit, would point to his eight children behind him, who often went hungry because the aid provided by the UNRWA was insufficient. He would plead with the resistance fighters who wanted to take his permit to consider his situation and allow him to keep it and work. But they would insist on taking the permit, tears in their eyes as they witnessed the vast contradiction between the bitter reality with its needs and the requirements and the ceiling of national aspirations. They might discuss this among themselves after tearing up the man’s permit, feeling embarrassed and conflicted about the situation.

Duty to Resist

(p.46 ⁴)

These incidents always reflected a disbelief among these segments of the population in the feasibility of resistance and the practical benefits that could come from it, fearing more harm than good. Their primary concern was to improve their standard of living, economic gain, and wealth development. The prevailing belief was that all the Arab armies combined had failed to stand against the Israeli army, so how could groups of fedayeen with their simple weapons and limited capabilities stand a chance?

“What do we have to do with this matter? Leave the creation to the Creator, and God will bring what is best.”

[However, there were those who] believed that even if the resistance wasn’t effective in liberating the homeland or repelling the occupation, it was undoubtedly a fulfillment of the national duty at the very least.

They would engage in conversations about the occupation, the necessity of resisting it, and the importance of not just accepting the status quo or focusing solely on making money, developing wealth, and building a home[, concluding that one] couldn’t remain idle without doing the minimum of his duty.

‌ (p.26-27 ⁴)

Opinions varied, but the dominant sentiment was the necessity to stand firm. The common refrain was, “What do we have to lose? We only have our chains and the UNRWA houses. Why fear?” Every conversation ended with the same conclusion: “A minute of living with dignity and pride is better than a thousand years of a miserable life under the boots of the occupation.”