I had the chance to converse with Arabs who support Hamas, probing whether Yahya Sinwar was aware that the murdered kibbutz residents in the Gaza region were peaceful individuals, some of whom even took risks by entering Gaza to transport the wounded and sick to hospitals in Israel. They responded with silence. I inquired if they knew that during Sinwar’s 22-year imprisonment in Israel, he underwent surgery in an Israeli hospital to remove a malignant tumor from his head. Again, they remained silent. I was curious about what might have happened if the doctor who performed that surgery had encountered Sinwar on October 7 in one of the kibbutzim around Gaza. “He would have been murdered like everyone else,” one respondent finally admitted. To truly comprehend the complexities of Sinwar’s character, we require not military and security commentators, but rather a psychiatrist. Sinwar often rationalized his brutal conduct by citing his childhood experiences in refugee camps. He claimed that the 1948 Nakba warranted acts of revenge proportional to the injustices he believed were committed by the Jews during the War of Independence. This was self-serving rhetoric. I doubt Sinwar has thoroughly studied the history of that war or explored the refugee issue in depth to justify a theory of unparalleled revenge. It seems history was merely a convenient excuse for him, driven by an insatiable urge that is grim and all too familiar—a compulsion to kill Jews. Palestinian history presents more than one twisted narrative. Figures like Dr. George Habash, founder of the Popular Front; his deputy, the hijacker Dr. Wadie Haddad; and Dr. Fathi Shaqaqi, founder of Islamic Jihad, all took the Hippocratic Oath but applied it selectively—toward non-Jews. Terrorist Dalal Mughrabi massacred passengers on a bus with a sinister smile, and poet Fadwa Tuqan vividly portrayed consuming an Israeli soldier’s entrails in her verses. Within Palestinian heritage, one finds numerous psychopathic personas who have cloaked their disturbed identities in false nationalism. Sinwar emerged from this milieu. His conduct from youth until his death underscored a man who seemed incapable of living without disrupting the lives of others, whether they were IDF soldiers, Israeli civilians, Palestinian collaborators, or mere passersby in Gaza who he deemed deserving of death. Gaza resident Rasmi Salim was killed simply because “he was told he deviated from Islam.” Rasmi was just one among hundreds. Sinwar infamously ordered suspects of collusion with Israel to be dragged through Gaza’s main street, chained to moving cars. He took a gun and shot interrogators dead because they would not “confess” their alleged crimes, and he claimed to be “helping them shorten the process.” What could be the outcome of Sinwar’s elimination? It might facilitate the return of hostages or hasten the end of Hamas’ rule in Gaza. But what about the Palestinian people? What will become of the millions, including educated academics, media figures, commentators, emerging leaders, and members of the older generation, who shared Sinwar’s vision of annihilating Jews, who endorsed him and his actions both openly and in thought? What will happen to those who viewed him as an irreplaceable leader? Do they comprehend that Sinwar sidelined the Palestinian issue from the international agenda for a prolonged period? For who in Israel would willingly choose to be a neighbor to rapists, arsonists, and child murderers? Undoubtedly, it will take considerable time for any meaningful change to occur. I fear that transformation might only be possible within Israel, leaving the Palestinian territories trapped in an enduring stasis. —Col. (res.) Dr. Moshe Elad (translated by Asaf Zilberfarb)
This holiday season, give to:
Truth and understanding
The Media Line's intrepid correspondents are in Israel, Gaza, Lebanon, Syria and Pakistan providing first-person reporting.
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