The Ghost of Gaza: How Hamas Survived

On October 10, 2025, at 1:20 AM, a ceasefire took effect in Gaza ending two years of conflict that began with Hamas’s October 7 massacre. Israel’s cabinet, facing unprecedented pressure from President Donald Trump and internal political crisis, approved a framework that represents everything warned against in previous strategic analyses: negotiating with terrorists from a position of incomplete victory, releasing hardened militants in exchange for hostages, and accepting ambiguous promises of future demilitarization in place of present military defeat.

What comes next? The agreement’s first phase mandates Israel’s tactical withdrawal from Gaza City, the release of 48 remaining hostages within 72 hours, and the exchange of 250 life-sentence Palestinian prisoners plus 1,700 detainees. The second phase, scheduled to begin negotiations during the first phase’s implementation, supposedly addresses Hamas’s disarmament, complete Israeli withdrawal, and Gaza’s political future. Every historical precedent suggests Phase Two will collapse under the weight of its contradictions, leaving Israel worse positioned than before the ceasefire while Hamas reconstitutes its capabilities and declares strategic victory.

The fundamental error underlying this agreement is treating Phase One and Phase Two as sequential components of a unified plan when they are incompatible frameworks forced into artificial sequencing. Phase One assumes Hamas can be a reliable partner in hostage release and governance transition. Phase Two assumes Hamas can be coerced into disarmament and permanent political marginalization. These assumptions cannot simultaneously be true. Either Hamas retains sufficient power and legitimacy to function as a governing authority capable of releasing hostages—in which case it will never agree to complete disarmament—or it has been sufficiently defeated that it lacks capacity for governance, in which case Phase One’s mechanisms become unworkable. Israel has chosen the worst of both approaches: granting Hamas legitimacy through negotiation while lacking the leverage to compel compliance with the agreement’s stated objectives.

President Trump’s 20-point plan announced September 29 represents ambitious diplomacy addressing multiple dimensions simultaneously—hostage release, humanitarian relief, governance transition, regional security cooperation, and long-term economic development. The document’s sophistication is apparent; its implementability is not. The plan mandates that Hamas cannot have any role—direct, indirect, or in any form—in Gaza’s future governance while simultaneously requiring Hamas to release hostages, coordinate withdrawals, and accept technocratic replacement. This circular logic assumes Hamas will facilitate its own dissolution.

Consider the disarmament provisions. Trump’s framework demands complete demilitarization, with all military infrastructure destroyed under international supervision and weapons placed permanently beyond use. Hamas’s October 3 response accepted hostage release and governance transition, but made no mention of disarmament. Senior Hamas official Mousa Abu Marzouk stated explicitly: “We will hand over [our] weapons to the future Palestinian state, and whoever governs Gaza will have weapons in his hand.” When challenged that Israel had already destroyed most Hamas capabilities, Abu Marzouk responded: “If they destroyed 90% of Hamas’s military capabilities and killed most of Qassam’s fighters, as President Trump says, whose weapons are you going to disarm?”

This rhetorical question exposes the agreement’s central contradiction. If Hamas has been militarily defeated to the extent claimed, then disarmament becomes either redundant or impossible—redundant if capabilities no longer exist, impossible if weapons are buried under rubble or distributed among decentralized cells. If Hamas retains significant military capability, then it possesses leverage to resist disarmament and will use the ceasefire period to reconstitute. Either way, the disarmament provision exists on paper without enforcement mechanisms beyond resumed military operations, which would merely return both parties to the pre-ceasefire status quo.

The governance transition presents similar problems. Hamas was asked to step aside for a “technocratic Palestinian committee of qualified Palestinians and international experts” overseen by a “Board of Peace” chaired by Trump and including former U.K. Prime Minister Tony Blair. Hamas immediately rejected this structure. Abu Marzouk declared: “We will never accept anyone who is not Palestinian to control the Palestinians,” specifically objecting to Blair given his role in the 2003 Iraq War. The Palestinian Authority, supposedly positioned to assume control pending reforms, remains weak, corrupt, and deeply unpopular. President Abbas, 89 years old and serving the twentieth year of his four-year term, called Hamas members “sons of dogs” while lacking capacity to govern the territory they control.

The sequencing of Israeli withdrawal amplifies these contradictions. Netanyahu emphasized repeatedly in his October 5 interview that “Israel makes a tactical withdrawal, stays in Gaza.” Yet Hamas head Khalil al-Hayya demands complete withdrawal from the Gaza Strip with “real guarantees” that the war ends permanently. The Trump plan states withdrawal will be “based on agreed standards, milestones, and timeframes linked to demilitarization”—language that resolves nothing since demilitarization itself remains disputed. Israel will not fully withdraw until Hamas disarms; Hamas will not disarm until Israel fully withdraws. This is not a negotiable difference but an existential contradiction that no amount of diplomatic language can resolve.

Israel’s Operation Gideon’s Chariots II, launched September 15 with 60,000 reservists and three full divisions, represented the war’s most ambitious campaign—systematic seizure of Gaza City to force unconditional Hamas surrender. By October 1, the IDF had completed capture of the Netzarim Corridor, cutting Gaza City from central Gaza and dividing north from south. Defense Minister Israel Katz announced Israel was “tightening the siege” around Gaza City with “last chance” warnings for residents to evacuate south. Those remaining would be treated as “terrorists and terror supporters.”

The offensive’s military logic was sound: concentrate overwhelming force, isolate Hamas leadership, destroy remaining infrastructure, and compel surrender from a position of dominance. Between September 27 and October 3, Israel struck over 300 targets across Gaza City, with Netanyahu claiming, “50 terror towers brought down in two days.” Approximately 1,250 buildings were destroyed in Gaza City by September 30. Military pressure was yielding results—Hamas’s October 3 acceptance of Trump’s framework came directly from this battlefield reality.

Then on October 4, Netanyahu ordered the offensive halted following Trump’s public call for Israel to “immediately stop bombing Gaza.” The IDF shifted to “defensive operations only”—troops holding positions without advancing or withdrawing. This decision, made at the moment of maximum Israeli leverage, represents the war’s critical turning point. Rather than completing the operation and negotiating from a position of absolute dominance with Hamas leadership isolated and infrastructure destroyed, Israel accepted a ceasefire that preserves Hamas’s organizational structure and provides breathing space for reconstitution.

The military implications extend across multiple dimensions. Israel claims to have killed 17,000-23,000 Hamas militants, though Israeli intelligence’s own database as of May 2025 confirmed only 8,900 named Hamas and Islamic Jihad fighters killed. U.S. intelligence assessed that Hamas recruited approximately 15,000 new fighters during the war, suggesting the organization maintained recruitment despite losses. The IDF announced it dismantled 20 of Hamas’s 24 battalions, with Israeli forces controlling approximately 75 percent of Gaza Strip territory, leaving Hamas with effective control over only 20-25 percent of the territory.

These statistics can be interpreted differently depending on one’s perspective. From one view, Hamas suffered catastrophic degradation with senior leadership eliminated, command structure destroyed, and territorial control reduced to a quarter of the strip. From another, Hamas demonstrated remarkable resilience, recruiting as many fighters as it lost, maintaining organizational cohesion despite leadership decapitation, and forcing Israel to accept negotiations despite holding only 20-25 percent of its pre-war territory. The question is not which interpretation is accurate, but which matters more strategically. A degraded but intact Hamas that survives to fight another day represents a strategic success for the organization regardless of tactical losses.

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Consider the tunnel network—Hamas’s most valuable strategic asset and the infrastructure that enabled October 7. While Israel destroyed many tunnel entrances and shafts, comprehensive mapping and destruction of the entire network remained incomplete when operations halted. The ceasefire agreement mandates tunnel destruction under international supervision, but enforcement mechanisms remain undefined. Will international monitors have access to all suspected tunnel locations? Will they possess technical expertise to verify complete destruction? Will Hamas cooperate in identifying tunnels it spent decades constructing? More fundamentally, once Israeli forces withdraw and monitoring degrades, what prevents Hamas from reopening sealed tunnels or constructing new ones using the same expertise that built the original network?

The ceasefire leaves approximately 10-15 percent of Hamas’s pre-war rocket arsenal of 20,000 projectiles intact with sporadic launch capability. While degraded from the sustained barrages of October 2023, this residual capacity becomes strategically significant during reconstitution.

Hamas retained the technical knowledge, engineering expertise, and industrial infrastructure to manufacture rockets throughout the war despite Israeli bombardment.

The ceasefire provides time and space to rebuild production facilities, train new personnel, and restore capability. Unless the “decommissioning programs” mentioned in Trump’s plan involve physical destruction of every lathe, milling machine, and workshop in Gaza—an impossibility—Hamas will eventually restore rocket production.

Most critically, Izz al-Din al-Haddad—known as “The Ghost of Al-Qassam”—emerged as Hamas’s new military and administrative leader after Mohammed Sinwar’s death in May 2025. The mid-50s commander who speaks fluent Hebrew has survived six Israeli assassination attempts and lost two sons during the war while maintaining command. Israel offered $750,000 for information leading to his capture or death. Al-Haddad holds veto power over any ceasefire or hostage deal and is described as more pragmatic than predecessors regarding negotiations while remaining committed to armed resistance. The ceasefire leaves him alive, in command, and positioned to orchestrate Hamas’s reconstitution.

Wars end not when one side can no longer fight, but when it accepts it cannot win. This psychological dimension—the opponent’s belief that continued resistance is futile—matters more than battlefield metrics. Nazi Germany’s military was destroyed by late 1944, yet war continued another year until the Reich’s physical occupation and Hitler’s suicide shattered any hope of victory. Japan possessed capacity to continue fighting after Hiroshima and Nagasaki, but the emperor’s unprecedented radio address announcing surrender broke the population’s will. The Tamil Tigers controlled territory and commanded fighters until Prabhakaran’s death and military encirclement demonstrated conclusively that their cause was lost.

Hamas’s acceptance of Trump’s framework represents pragmatic adjustment to battlefield reality, not psychological defeat. The organization survived, its leadership cadre continues operating from Doha, its military commander remains alive in Gaza, and it successfully forced Israel into negotiations despite holding only a quarter of territory. From Hamas’s perspective, the ceasefire represents strategic success: they attacked Israel, killing 1,195 Israelis including 815 civilians, took 251 hostages, triggered a war that destroyed much of Gaza’s infrastructure, and yet emerged with capacity to negotiate terms and organizational survival intact.

The narrative Hamas will promote across the Arab and Islamic world is straightforward: they bloodied Israel’s nose on October 7, withstood two years of bombardment, forced IDF withdrawal from Gaza City through resistance, and negotiated the release of 2,000 Palestinian prisoners, including 250 life-sentence terrorists. The destruction of Gaza will be framed as heroic sacrifice in resistance to occupation. The civilian casualties—a direct result of Hamas’s use of human shields and embedding military infrastructure in civilian areas—will be blamed entirely on Israel by their propaganda machine.

Consider the fate of Hamas’s senior leadership. Yes, Israel eliminated Yahya Sinwar, Mohammed Deif, Mohammed Sinwar, Marwan Issa, and Ismail Haniyeh—the entire senior leadership that planned October 7. But from Hamas’s ideological perspective, these men achieved martyrdom advancing the cause. Yahya Sinwar died fighting Israeli forces, not surrendering. Mohammed Deif was eliminated while still commanding military operations. These deaths will be commemorated, streets named after them, and new recruits inspired by their example. The absence of public trials means no confrontation with their crimes, no forced acknowledgment of atrocities, no breaking of the martyrdom narrative. They died as terrorists rather than facing justice for their crimes.

The temporary five-member leadership committee based in Doha continues governing Hamas with Khaled Mashal, Khalil al-Hayya, and others operating openly in Qatar. Leadership elections postponed due to war will eventually occur, providing continuity. Unlike the Tamil Tigers, whose entire leadership was killed or captured, or the Shining Path, whose mystique broke when Abimael Guzmán was displayed in a cage, Hamas’s external leadership remains intact, well-funded, and treated as legitimate negotiating partners by various international actors. The precedent of Trump administration officials meeting with Hamas representatives and Arab mediators facilitating discussions grants the organization legitimacy it spent decades seeking.

The psychological effect on Palestinian society requires honest assessment. While some Gazans demonstrated against Hamas rule with chants of “out, out, Hamas out,” and May 2025 polling showed 48 percent approval for anti-Hamas demonstrations, the organization retains significant ideological support. Hamas’s propaganda machine will credit the ceasefire’s humanitarian provisions—surge of aid, reconstruction funds, restoration of services—to their negotiating success rather than Israel’s restraint or international pressure.

Israel’s stated objective entering this war was eliminating Hamas as a military and governing force. Two years later, Hamas governs nothing, but exists as a political-military organization capable of fielding fighters, negotiating agreements, and commanding loyalty. This represents the defeat of Israel’s war aims regardless of tactical military successes. When North Vietnam accepted the Paris Peace Accords in 1973, it had not defeated the United States militarily, but had survived long enough to outlast American political will. Two years later, Saigon fell. The parallel to Hamas’s strategic patience is obvious and ominous.

Hamas is far more than armed militants in tunnels. Over 18 years of governing Gaza since 2007, it built comprehensive institutional infrastructure touching every aspect of Palestinian life: education, healthcare, social services, religious institutions, media, civil administration, and economic activity. This institutional depth explains Hamas’s resilience despite leadership decapitation and military degradation. Destroying the organization requires dismantling these institutions and replacing them with alternatives that serve Gaza’s population without empowering terrorists. The ceasefire agreement assumes this transition can occur through technocratic replacement overseen by international monitors. Historical evidence suggests otherwise.

Consider UNRWA—the United Nations Relief and Works Agency that employed October 7 participants and whose facilities housed Hamas weapons. The Trump plan requires UNRWA’s permanent closure in Gaza with employees investigated and Hamas affiliates prosecuted. This is correct policy, but raises immediate questions: Who provides education, healthcare, and social services to two million Palestinians if UNRWA ceases operations? The Trump plan mentions new “non-politicized aid structures,” but creating these from scratch while UNRWA closes will create massive service gaps. Hamas thrived by filling service gaps when the Palestinian Authority proved ineffective. Criminal gangs and rival militias already filled power vacuums in areas where Hamas lost control. Unless replacement institutions are established simultaneously with Hamas’s removal, chaos rather than technocratic governance will prevail.

The educational system represents the most critical battleground for Gaza’s future. Hamas’s textbooks taught martyrdom and antisemitism to an entire generation. Teachers indoctrinated children. School facilities served as weapons depots and tunnel entrances. The Trump plan’s reference to technocrats developing new curricula emphasizing mathematics, science, and vocational training sounds sensible but ignores practical obstacles. Gaza’s teacher corps was educated under Hamas rule, employed by Hamas ministries, and in many cases actively collaborated with Hamas operations. Vetting every teacher is impossible; replacing them en masse means no schools operate. The alternative—accepting Hamas-trained teachers delivering “reformed” curricula under international monitoring—merely gives Hamas’s educational infrastructure new branding.

The mosque network used for recruitment and incitement presents similar challenges. Arresting imams who preached violence and demolishing mosques used as weapons depots sounds appropriate but creates immediate problems. Religious leadership in Gaza evolved over decades within frameworks Hamas controlled. Finding “new religious leadership, vetted for rejecting violence and extremism” requires identifying Palestinian Muslims who command respect, possess religious credentials, and oppose Hamas—a tiny population given Gaza’s political reality. Monitoring Friday sermons for incitement assumes a monitoring capacity that doesn’t exist and can’t be sustained. More fundamentally, the radical theology Hamas preaches is not unique to Gaza, but reflects broader extremist interpretations prevalent across the region. Changing Gaza’s religious culture requires generational transformation, not institutional shuffling.

The healthcare system Hamas used for military purposes, with hospitals hosting command centers and medical staff participating in Hamas activities, faces reconstruction under the ceasefire’s humanitarian provisions. The Trump plan rightly notes that only 14 of 36 hospitals remained partially functional as of October with zero fully operational.

International aid will rebuild facilities, train staff, and restore services. But unless Hamas-affiliated administrators are purged and medical personnel who participated in terrorism lose licenses, the rebuilt healthcare system merely restores Hamas’s infrastructure. The alternative—importing foreign medical personnel to replace Gazan doctors and nurses—is neither feasible nor sustainable. Gaza needs its own medical professionals; those professionals operate within the political-social networks Hamas spent years cultivating.

The governance vacuum created by Hamas’s agreed departure from formal administration creates opportunities for alternative power centers to emerge. Criminal gangs already filled vacuums in areas Hamas lost with the “fear barrier eroding” among Gaza civilians. Rival extremist groups more radical than Hamas compete for influence. Family clans and tribal structures reassert traditional authority. The Palestinian Authority, weak and corrupt, commands no respect. Into this chaos, the Trump plan injects a “technocratic Palestinian committee” overseen by an international “Board of Peace” that Hamas has already rejected. Even if established, what exactly does this committee govern? They control no armed forces, command no popular loyalty, possess no institutional depth, and depend entirely on external protection and funding. They are authorities whose legitimacy derives from foreign sponsorship rather than domestic consent.

The Trump plan leverages genuine Arab exhaustion with the Palestinian cause to build regional security architecture supporting the ceasefire. Egypt, which flooded Hamas tunnels and designated them terrorists, hosts critical negotiations in Sharm el-Sheikh. Qatar mediates despite hosting Hamas leadership in Doha. Jordan welcomes the framework. Saudi Arabia, the UAE, Morocco, and Bahrain—the Abraham Accords signatories plus the Saudis—all support the plan publicly. This regional consensus represents real diplomatic progress and addresses legitimate Israeli concerns about Gaza threatening regional stability in the future.
However, Arab support remains conditional, limited, and ultimately aligned with Arab rather than Israeli interests.

Consider Egypt’s role. President el-Sissi called the ceasefire a “historic moment that embodies triumph of will for peace,” and Egypt will establish a security presence in southern Gaza under the plan. But Egypt’s primary interest is in preventing Gaza’s chaos from spilling across the Sinai border while maintaining good relations with the incoming Trump administration. Egypt has no interest in governing Gaza, confronting Hamas militarily on Israel’s behalf, or accepting Gazan refugees. When Hamas seized Gaza in 2007, Egypt sealed the border and let Palestinians starve rather than open crossings. Egyptian “security cooperation” means preventing weapons smuggling and maintaining border security—valuable but insufficient for ensuring Hamas’s permanent defeat.

Jordan’s position is similar. Having crushed its own Palestinian uprising during Black September, Jordan understands Palestinian extremism’s threat. Jordanian intelligence cooperation in vetting administrators and security personnel helps identify Hamas infiltrators. But Jordan will not deploy forces to Gaza, govern Palestinian territories, or accept responsibility for Palestinian political outcomes. Jordan’s Palestinian-majority population makes the kingdom’s stability contingent on not being seen as suppressing Palestinian aspirations. Jordan cooperates from a distance, while ensuring Gaza’s problems remain someone else’s responsibility.

The Gulf states offer reconstruction funds with expectations of commercial returns. The UAE could rebuild Gaza’s port; Saudi Arabia could finance housing. These projects would provide employment, restore infrastructure, and demonstrate tangible peace dividends. However, Gulf funding comes with conditions, primarily that Palestinian governance reforms occur and security stabilizes. If Phase Two collapses and violence resumes, Gulf investment evaporates. Moreover, Gulf states increasingly prioritize economic development and Iranian containment over Palestinian issues. Their support for Trump’s plan reflects alignment with American policy and self-interest in regional stability, not commitment to ensuring Israel’s security against a Hamas resurgence.

Saudi Arabia’s position deserves particular attention. The kingdom was among “key Arab and Muslim states” from which Trump secured buy-in, joining a September 29 joint statement welcoming his efforts. However, Saudi Arabia maintains that normalization with Israel remains contingent on progress toward Palestinian statehood based on the Arab Peace Initiative, an end to the occupation, and Israeli withdrawal from occupied territories. These conditions are not met by Trump’s vague language about a “credible pathway to Palestinian self-determination” when PA reforms are complete. Saudi Arabia seeks American security guarantees, nuclear technology, and regional leadership—objectives advanced by supporting Trump’s plan regardless of the outcomes for Israel.

Turkey’s role reveals the regional consensus’s limitations most clearly. President Erdoğan, who describes Hamas as a “liberation group” rather than terrorist organization, stated on October 4 that “a window of opportunity has opened for lasting peace.” Turkey’s support for the plan reflects Erdoğan’s improving relations with Trump and desire for economic cooperation, not genuine alignment with Israeli security interests. Turkey will not pressure Hamas beyond what’s necessary to maintain Trump’s goodwill. Turkish intelligence shares no information with Israel. Turkish civil society organizations that will participate in Gaza reconstruction support Hamas ideologically and provide cover for continued Hamas influence.

The Abraham Accords nations—the UAE, Bahrain, Morocco—represent the most promising regional partners given their formal relations with Israel. However, these relationships remain conditional on Israeli policy alignment with Arab interests. The EU’s September sanctions package targeting certain Israeli individuals, though requiring unanimous EU approval to implement, signals growing international pressure. If Phase Two negotiations collapse and Israel resumes military operations, the Abraham Accords nations will face domestic pressure to distance themselves from Israel. Their support for the ceasefire reflects current political alignment; their support for Israel if the ceasefire fails is uncertain.

The ceasefire achieved remarkable international backing, with U.N. Secretary-General Guterres welcoming the deal, EU support for demilitarization principles, French President Macron thanking Trump for his “commitment to peace,” German Chancellor Merz calling it “the best chance for peace,” and U.K. Prime Minister Starmer describing it as a “significant step forward.” This diplomatic unanimity represents genuine achievement distinguishing October 2025 from previous failed attempts. Sustained international pressure from Trump administration officials, including Special Envoy Steve Witkoff and Jared Kushner participating directly in negotiations, proved decisive. Trump’s October 3 ultimatum warning of “all HELL” if Hamas rejected the plan, combined with his call for Israel to “immediately stop bombing Gaza,” demonstrated a willingness to pressure both sides.

The U.S. Central Command’s deployment of 200 servicemembers to Israel to establish a coordination center supporting ceasefire monitoring and humanitarian aid flow signals American commitment to the deal’s success. Critically, these are not combat troops and will not deploy to Gaza itself. American involvement remains strictly diplomatic and logistical, providing no security guarantees beyond political pressure for compliance. If Hamas violates the agreement, the U.S. response will be diplomatic condemnation, not military action. This limits American leverage to persuasion rather than coercion, sufficient perhaps for maintaining a ceasefire, but insufficient for compelling Hamas’s disarmament against its will.

The Trump administration’s personal stake in this agreement’s success creates both opportunities and constraints. Trump chairs the “Board of Peace” and has staked diplomatic reputation on achieving what previous administrations could not. This presidential attention provides sustained high-level engagement that might prevent the neglect that doomed previous agreements. However, it also means American policy flexibility is limited by Trump’s personal commitment. If Phase Two negotiations stall, Trump faces political costs in admitting the framework cannot deliver promised outcomes. The temptation to pressure Israel into accepting partial Hamas disarmament or vague commitments rather than acknowledging the plan’s limitations becomes significant.

International humanitarian organizations will flood Gaza with reconstruction funds, creating economic incentives for maintaining the ceasefire. The World Bank assessed $53 billion in direct physical damage as of February 2025, with 92 percent of residential buildings damaged or destroyed. Actual reconstruction costs could exceed $100 billion over 3-5 years. This represents an opportunity for transforming Gaza’s economy and improving living conditions. However, reconstruction funds flowing through Palestinian technocrats without robust anti-corruption mechanisms and Hamas monitoring will be siphoned for Hamas’s reconstitution.

International monitoring capacity is limited, and organizations like UNRWA have proven susceptible to Hamas infiltration. Money intended for schools and hospitals can fund tunnel reconstruction and weapons procurement.

The international community’s leverage over Israel remains primarily economic and diplomatic rather than military. Various international bodies and nations may apply pressure, but American military aid continues regardless of Israeli policy choices. The combined effect creates pressure sufficient to compel acceptance of a ceasefire when circumstances favor it, but insufficient to force Israeli policy alignment with international preferences if Israel’s government determines its security requires different approaches. This creates a problematic dynamic: international pressure prevents Israel from achieving decisive military victory, but cannot compel outcomes that genuinely end the conflict.

The 48 remaining hostages—20 believed alive, 28 deceased—represent Hamas’s final strategic asset and Israel’s emotional Achilles’ heel. Their release within 72 hours after Israeli withdrawal represents the ceasefire’s most immediate humanitarian achievement, and its most profound strategic cost. Israel will release 250 Palestinians serving life sentences for terrorism-related offenses, plus approximately 1,700 Palestinians detained from Gaza since October 7, including all women and children. This represents the largest prisoner release in Israeli history—larger even than the 2011 Shalit deal that freed 1,027 prisoners including Yahya Sinwar, who orchestrated October 7.

The moral calculus confronting Israeli leadership proves impossibly cruel: accept Hamas’s terms and bring hostages home, or maintain military pressure that might kill the hostages but avoids empowering future terrorism. Families of the hostages, gathered at Hostages Square in Tel Aviv, erupted in jubilation at the announcement, with Einav Zangauker, mother of hostage Matan, stating: “I have prayed for these tears ... Matan is coming home!” The emotional power of this moment is undeniable, and the humanitarian imperative to save lives is profound. No Israeli leader can easily tell these families their loved ones must remain captive for strategic considerations.

However, the precedent this exchange establishes virtually guarantees future hostage-taking. Hamas’s October 7 attack killed 1,195 Israelis and took 251 hostages. Despite two years of devastating military response that killed leadership, destroyed infrastructure, and reduced Hamas to controlling 20-25 percent of its pre-war territory, Hamas successfully negotiated release of 2,000 prisoners, including 250 serving life sentences. From Hamas’s perspective and that of other terrorist organizations watching, this exchange ratio validates hostage-taking as strategically effective. Future attacks will prioritize capturing Israelis knowing that sufficient hostages force negotiations regardless of military outcomes.

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The specific prisoners being released amplify these concerns. While the government confirmed that Marwan Barghouti—Fatah leader serving five life sentences and potential future Palestinian leader—will not be released, 250 other life-sentence prisoners will be let go. These are individuals convicted of planning or executing attacks that killed Israelis. Many possess technical expertise, operational experience, and ideological commitment that make them valuable Hamas assets. Some will return to terrorism directly; others will train new recruits, rebuild networks, and transfer knowledge. The 2011 Shalit deal’s lesson is instructive: Yahya Sinwar, released in that exchange, became Hamas’s Gaza leader and October 7’s architect. How many future Sinwars are included in the current 250?

The 1,700 Palestinians detained since October 7 present different concerns. These detainees include October 7 participants, Hamas operatives arrested during the war, and civilians detained in military operations. The Trump plan offers amnesty to Hamas members who commit to peaceful coexistence and decommission weapons, with safe passage to receiving countries for those wishing to leave Gaza. This assumes Hamas operatives will genuinely abandon their cause—an assumption contradicted by ideological commitment and family/social networks binding them to continued resistance. Most released prisoners will remain in Gaza or the West Bank, where they rejoin Hamas networks or establish new ones.

The 72-hour release window creates additional complications. Israeli intelligence assessments suggest Hamas may not know the location of 7-15 deceased hostages whose remains could be buried under heavy rubble in areas devastated by Israeli bombardment. Some hostages are held by groups Hamas doesn’t fully control, including Islamic Jihad and other factions. If Hamas cannot deliver all the hostages within 72 hours, does Israel consider the agreement violated and resume operations? The plan provides no mechanism for addressing this scenario. Alternatively, if Israel accepts partial hostage return, what incentive does Hamas have to locate remaining hostages later?

The emotional manipulation Hamas employed throughout captivity by releasing videos of hostages in deplorable conditions, showing severe malnutrition and psychological torture, successfully pressured Israel into negotiations. This technique will be replicated. Future terrorist organizations watching Hamas’s success will understand that holding hostages in sufficiently cruel conditions, releasing videos documenting suffering, and waiting for public pressure to force government concessions represents proven strategy.

The precedent moves terrorism away from immediate violence toward sustained hostage-taking as a primary tactic.

The alternative approach—maintaining military pressure without negotiating for hostages—seems impossibly harsh, but represents long-term deterrence logic. If hostage-taking consistently proves counterproductive because Israel responds with intensified military operations that kill hostage-takers without yielding concessions, future groups will avoid the tactic. Sri Lanka’s military operations against the Tamil Tigers continued despite civilian casualties and international pressure until the organization was completely destroyed. Russia’s approach to Chechen terrorists who took hostages in Moscow’s Dubrovka Theatre and Beslan school involved military assaults that killed terrorists and hostages rather than negotiation. These approaches prevented future hostage-taking by demonstrating it would fail.

Israeli society, however, cannot sustain such ruthlessness given democratic accountability and emotional bonds between citizens and soldiers. The Hostages and Missing Families Forum’s statement that “our struggle is not over—and will not be over—until the last hostage returns” captures public sentiment that no Israeli government can ignore indefinitely. This humanitarian impulse represents Israeli society’s moral strength, but creates strategic vulnerabilities terrorist organizations exploit. The moral hazard inherent in the exchange—saving these hostages encourages future hostage-taking—cannot be resolved through policy, but reflects the fundamental tension between democratic values and counterterrorism imperatives.

Phase One’s implementation over the next 72 hours will either proceed smoothly—all hostages released, prisoners exchanged, Israeli forces withdrawing to agreed lines, humanitarian aid flowing—or collapse immediately due to Hamas’s inability or unwillingness to deliver the hostages. If Phase One succeeds, attention shifts immediately to Phase Two negotiations scheduled to begin during Phase One’s implementation. This is where the ceasefire will either consolidate into sustainable agreement or collapse into renewed conflict.

The core issues requiring resolution in Phase Two are:

• Complete Hamas disarmament including destruction of remaining weapons, dismantling of production facilities, and permanent decommissioning of military infrastructure. Hamas made no commitment to disarmament in its October 3 response and stated explicitly it will not disarm until the establishment of a Palestinian state. Israel considers disarmament absolutely non-negotiable. This positions Phase Two negotiations as a zero-sum confrontation: either Hamas disarms and ceases to exist as a military force, or it retains weapons and remains a potential threat. No middle ground exists; partial disarmament means Hamas retains its capability for future operations.
• Complete Israeli withdrawal from Gaza including evacuation of the Philadelphi Corridor and security buffer zones. Hamas demands “complete withdrawal from the Gaza Strip” with “real guarantees” that the war ends permanently. Israel insists withdrawal is contingent on progress in demilitarization with permanent security arrangements ensuring Gaza poses no threat. Netanyahu stated repeatedly that “Israel makes a tactical withdrawal, stays in Gaza” with Israeli forces maintaining a security perimeter presence until Gaza is secure from terror threats. The Trump plan’s language linking withdrawal to “agreed standards, milestones, and timeframes linked to demilitarization” resolves nothing since the sequencing remains disputed.
• Governance transition from Hamas to Palestinian technocrats under international oversight. While Hamas agreed to relinquish governing authority, it rejected the “Board of Peace” structure with Trump and Blair, insisting only Palestinians can control Palestinians. The Palestinian Authority lacks the capacity and credibility to assume control. Who actually governs Gaza’s daily administration, provides services, maintains order, employs civil servants, and commands popular legitimacy remains unresolved. Without effective governance, criminal elements, rival militant factions, and Hamas operating covertly will fill vacuums.
• Palestinian statehood represents the ultimate political horizon that could provide durable resolution, but remains deliberately vague in Trump’s plan. The framework mentions only that “when the PA reform program is faithfully carried out, the conditions may finally be in place for a credible pathway to Palestinian self-determination and statehood.” Netanyahu has categorically and repeatedly rejected Palestinian statehood, calling it “the ultimate prize for terror” and stating at the U.N. on September 26: “Israel will not allow you to shove a terrorist state down our throats.” He emphasized this represents “the policy of the State and people of the State of Israel.” Hamas insists on eventual statehood encompassing all of historic “Palestine” with Jerusalem as its capital. This gulf between these positions cannot be bridged through negotiation.

Netanyahu’s domestic political crisis complicates Phase Two negotiations dramatically. His coalition holds only 60 seats in the 120-seat Knesset, lacking a parliamentary majority. National Security Minister Itamar Ben Gvir and Finance Minister Bezalel Smotrich both voted against the Phase One deal, with Ben Gvir declaring his party will leave government if Hamas is not dismantled in Phase Two. The deal passed only because opposition leader Yair Lapid offered a political “safety net,” providing votes to prevent a government collapse. This unprecedented cooperation between rivals when national interests align demonstrates Israeli democracy’s resilience, but creates unsustainable dynamics. Netanyahu must simultaneously negotiate with Hamas and manage coalition partners who consider any accommodation with Hamas intolerable.

If Phase Two negotiations produce agreement requiring further Israeli concessions—accepting partial Hamas disarmament, agreeing to complete withdrawal without ironclad security guarantees, or acknowledging pathways to Palestinian statehood—Ben Gvir and Smotrich will likely bring down the government. If Netanyahu resists Hamas’s demands and negotiations stall, international pressure will mount for Israeli flexibility while Hamas consolidates control over areas from which Israel withdrew. If negotiations collapse entirely and Israel resumes military operations, international criticism will return, amplified by accusations Israel negotiated in bad faith.

The most likely scenario involves prolonged Phase Two negotiations that produce partial agreements on secondary issues while core questions—disarmament, withdrawal, governance, statehood—remain unresolved. Hamas will implement enough reforms to maintain international support while preserving its capability for future operations. Israel will maintain security presence in some areas while withdrawing from others, creating ambiguous arrangements satisfying no one. Technocratic governance structures will be established on paper while Hamas influences any administration through patronage networks and intimidation. Both sides will claim progress while preparing for eventual confrontation.

Historical precedents suggest that ceasefire arrangements lacking genuine resolution of core issues eventually collapse. The November 2023 ceasefire lasted one week. The January 2025 ceasefire broke down in March. Both collapses featured mutual accusations of bad faith, with Israel claiming Hamas refused to comply, and Hamas accusing Israel of deliberately sabotaging agreements. The pattern suggests not that either side uniquely lacks trustworthiness, but that the underlying issues dividing them cannot be resolved through negotiated compromise. Either Hamas is defeated militarily and ceases to exist as threat, or it survives and eventually resumes conflict when circumstances favor it.

The October 10, 2025, ceasefire represents a hinge point in Israel’s longest war. The agreement brings tangible immediate benefits—hostages returning home, humanitarian relief provided, international pressure reduced, and military operations suspended, thereby allowing the Israel Defense Forces to reconstitute and prepare for future contingencies. These gains matter and should not be dismissed. Bringing even one hostage home alive justifies significant costs. Providing humanitarian relief to Gaza’s population serves both moral imperatives and strategic interests by demonstrating Israel’s commitment to minimizing civilian suffering while targeting Hamas terrorists.

However, the ceasefire’s strategic trajectory points toward renewed conflict rather than sustainable peace. The agreement’s fundamental contradictions—Hamas disarming itself, governance transition without functional alternatives, withdrawal contingent on security that won’t exist, statehood aspirations incompatible with Israeli policy—cannot be resolved through negotiation because they reflect genuinely irreconcilable positions. Hamas survives militarily degraded but organizationally intact. Its ideology—that Israel’s destruction is both possible and obligatory—remains unchanged. Its external leadership continues operating from Doha. Its military commander in Gaza survived. Its institutional infrastructure, though damaged, retains the capacity for reconstitution.

Israel’s strategic choice crystallizes in Phase Two negotiations. One path involves accepting partial outcomes—Hamas surrenders most but not all weapons, Israel withdraws from most but not all territory, governance transitions partially while Hamas retains informal influence, statehood remains a vague possibility. This path maintains the ceasefire, satisfies international opinion, and provides breathing space. It also ensures Hamas’s survival and eventual return to conflict when its capabilities are restored. The other path involves insisting on complete implementation of all Phase Two provisions—total disarmament, full withdrawal only after verification, absolute Hamas exclusion from governance, and explicit rejection of statehood for terrorist entities. This path likely collapses negotiations, triggers resumed military operations, and restores international criticism. But it potentially completes the mission of Hamas’s permanent defeat.

The choice is not between victory and compromise, but between decisive action and strategic drift. The Sri Lankan government faced a similar choice in 2009: accept power-sharing arrangements with the Tamil Tigers, thus preserving their capability, or complete military operations by destroying them entirely despite international pressure. Sri Lanka chose completion. Today, the Tamil Tigers do not exist. Peru faced a similar choice with the Shining Path: negotiate power-sharing or capture their leadership and break the movement. Peru chose to capture the leaders. Today, the Shining Path is a historical memory. Nazi Germany and Imperial Japan were not negotiated into moderation, but destroyed completely with reformed societies rebuilt from scratch. These historical examples succeeded not through diplomatic sophistication, but through sustained commitment to achieving genuine victory regardless of costs.

The current ceasefire provides Israel the opportunity to prepare for Phase Two collapse by strengthening its coalition government, securing international backing for potential operations resumption, maintaining military readiness, and developing alternative governance structures for Gaza that don’t depend on the Palestinian Authority’s capabilities. If Phase Two negotiations surprisingly succeed in compelling Hamas’s complete disarmament and permanent exclusion from governance, Israel should embrace that outcome while maintaining verification mechanisms to prevent Hamas’s covert reconstitution. If Phase Two collapses as expected, Israel must be prepared to complete operations decisively rather than accepting another ceasefire that preserves Hamas in weakened form.

The two years since October 7 demonstrated Hamas’s vulnerability to sustained military pressure. Its leadership was eliminated, military capabilities degraded, territorial control reduced, financial resources exhausted, and international support network disrupted. The organization survived, but barely. Completing its defeat requires perhaps another year of operations—comprehensive tunnel destruction, eliminating the remaining leadership, institutional dismantling, and replacing the governing establishment. This path incurs costs: additional IDF casualties, continued international criticism, prolonged military commitment, and domestic political stress. But the alternative—accepting Hamas’s survival and gambling that political-diplomatic arrangements will prevent its resurgence—guarantees future conflict under circumstances potentially less favorable than at present.

The fundamental lesson of October 7 is that deterrence based on mutual understanding fails against opponents whose ideology demands Israel’s destruction regardless of costs. Hamas’s attack was militarily irrational—it guaranteed a devastating Israeli response with no realistic path to strategic victory. Hamas launched it anyway because ideology trumped rational calculation. The belief that Hamas, having experienced Israeli military power, will now accept peaceful coexistence through technocratic governance arrangements mistakes tactical pragmatism for strategic defeat. Truly defeated enemies don’t negotiate terms; they surrender unconditionally or cease to exist.

Israel must decide: accept the ceasefire’s immediate benefits while recognizing it likely preserves rather than resolves the underlying conflict, or use Phase Two negotiations to insist on complete Hamas defeat understanding this may require resumed operations. Both paths carry profound risks. The wrong choice, however, is believing negotiated compromise can bridge the gap between Israel’s existence and Hamas’s ideology that demands Israel’s destruction. Some conflicts end through compromise, others through victory. October 7 demonstrated into which category this conflict falls. The question is whether Israel possesses the strategic clarity and political will to act accordingly.

The hostages will come home. Gaza will rebuild. The ceasefire will hold temporarily. Phase Two negotiations will begin with appropriate diplomatic gravity. And at some point—weeks, months, perhaps a year from now—the fundamental contradictions embedded in this agreement will surface as Hamas resists disarmament, Israel refuses complete withdrawal, governance structures prove inadequate, and both sides position for renewed conflict. When that moment arrives, Israel must choose between accepting an inadequate arrangement that preserves the terrorist threat, or completing the mission that October 7 made necessary. The choice today is preparing for that inevitable decision tomorrow.