The Al‑Qassam Brigades, the armed wing of the Islamic Resistance Movement (Hamas), announced in a statement on the afternoon of Monday, December 29, 2025, the martyrdom of their spokesperson Hudhayfah al‑Khalut, known as Abu Ubaida, alongside a number of its senior leaders, including Muhammad al‑Sinwar, Chief of Staff of the Al‑Qassam Brigades; Muhammad Shabana, “Abu Anas,” commander of the Rafah Brigade; the senior commander Hikmat al‑Isa, “Abu Omar,” who held several positions, most notably head of training and the Military Academies Authority; and Sheikh Rida Saad, “Abu Muadh,” head of munitions production and former operations chief.

In a filmed statement, the new spokesperson of Al‑Qassam who adopted Abu Ubaida’s name, keffiyeh, and mannerisms said: “Today we proudly and honorably deliver to you a magnificent constellation of the sons of our people and of the heroic fighters who met their fate after the occupation breached the ceasefire and resumed its criminal war last March, joining the long procession of righteous martyrs.

We especially remember a number of our stalwart Qassam leaders who fell on the battlefield and in command centers while at their posts, performing their jihadist duties without weariness.”

About the martyr Abu Ubaida, the new spokesperson of Al‑Qassam said: “As we stand before you in this moment, we cannot but pause in reverence and respect for this figure who has long appeared before you with his commanding voice, sincere words, and awaited proclamations.

The masked man whom millions loved and awaited with passion, whom they saw as a source of inspiration, and whose red‑patterned keffiyeh became an icon for all the free people of the world the great commander and spokesperson of the Al‑Qassam Brigades, Abu Ubaida.”

He added: “Today we send him to our nation and our people by his given name and real kunya the great commander Hudhayfah Samir Abdullah al‑Khalut, Abu Ibrahim, who dismounted after two decades of vexing the enemies and uplifting the spirits of the faithful, meeting his Lord in the best of states.

And what greater sign of sincerity with God is there than that God elevates his mention among the worlds and grants him acceptance on earth?

He dismounted after leading Al‑Qassam’s media apparatus with great capability and with his brothers etched an honorable record seen by both friend and foe alike.”

Palestinians, Arabs, and broad audiences around the world knew Abu Ubaida by his distinctive appearance: a masked face beneath a red keffiyeh and a resonant voice delivering strong, coherent messages filled with conviction and purpose. He was not merely a military spokesman but an icon of resistance and a symbol whose rhetoric offered a renewed beacon of hope.

He occupied a special place in the hearts of millions, and his name and image were present in every arena and gathering indeed in every free conscience as expressions of resistance and symbolism.

Hudhayfah al‑Khalut, Abu Ibrahim, was therefore the man behind the mask: a son of the Jabalia Refugee Camp, a scion of revolution and resistance; a fighter in the field and a member of the Northern Brigade of the Al‑Qassam Brigades before becoming its military spokesperson.

Today he takes his place alongside a constellation of resistance leaders who ascended on the altar of freedom in confronting the Al‑Aqsa Flood and resisting the war of annihilation, mourned as a martyr ascending to the heights of glory, with his words remaining a beacon and guide.

The announcement of the martyrdom of Abu Ubaida, Commander Hudhayfah al‑Khalut, comes in one of the darkest and most brutal phases of the Palestinian cause as the Israeli occupation continues to pursue its destructive and eliminationist plans. The resistance finds itself facing precise calculations to preserve its sustained presence and its core idea, with priority given to protecting the cause.

This has coincided with abandonment at its extreme limits by publics, parties, and regimes whom the military spokesperson had long addressed urging them to mobilize, rise, and support the Palestinian people until his final address contained what was considered a break that transcended mere reproach when he said: “You are our adversaries before God.”

From “Days of Rage” to “Sword of Jerusalem”

Over two decades, Abu Ubaida, the Al‑Qassam Brigades’ spokesperson, grew in stature as the resistance in the Gaza Strip expanded, and his symbolism increased alongside the expansion of its field actions and political rhetoric.

On September 29, 2004, the occupation launched a major military operation in the northern Gaza Strip, deploying more than one hundred military vehicles, led by Merkava tanks, under the name “Days of Regret.” The stated objective was to dismantle the growing resistance structure and eliminate locally manufactured rocket capabilities, whose range did not then exceed ten kilometers, targeting primarily the settlement of Sderot.

The operation continued until October 16 but encountered epic resistance that halted the incursion and thwarted its attempt to reach the heart of the Jabalia Camp. It bore significant strategic implications for future resistance actions and resilience.

In response to the Israeli designation of the operation, the resistance crafted its own narrative, dubbing the confrontation “Days of Rage.” From the heart of Jabalia, a young masked man rose to read the first statement on behalf of the Al‑Qassam Brigades, announcing a new voice that would later become an iconic voice of resistance: Abu Ubaida. His first appearance was on December 14, 2004, when he delivered the first Al‑Qassam statement during the Days of Rage battle.

Subsequent major milestones followed. In the 2006 “Dispersed Illusion” operation, Abu Ubaida announced the resistance’s responsibility for the capture of Israeli soldier Gilad Shalit, affirming that releasing him would only come through a prisoner exchange restoring freedom to Palestinian prisoners.

From that moment, the military spokesperson’s rhetoric crystallized as one of the pillars of the Palestinian narrative infused with resolve and confidence, wrapped in a sound military persona crowned by the historic red keffiyeh once worn by the martyr Imad Aqel before his death.

During the 2014 aggression, his presence reached its peak. To this day, Palestinians recall his words when he announced behind‑enemy‑lines landing operations, the resistance’s responsibility for capturing soldier Shaul Aaron, and the loss of contact with the group that captured Hadar Goldin. His famous declaration during the ground invasion “You threaten us with what we await, O son of Judaism” remains a defining moment.

Over the years, his role solidified and advanced as he led the resistance’s military media, developing rhetoric that united word and action and translated battlefield heroism into a compelling narrative.

He was most notable during “Sword of Jerusalem,” when he announced the deadline given by general commander Mohammed Deif to the occupation forces to withdraw from the Al‑Aqsa Mosque and halt attacks, warning of resistance retaliation. When the deadline passed, resistance rockets surged, stopping Tel Aviv “on a single leg.”

The Al‑Aqsa Flood: Rhetoric and Psychological Warfare

With the launch of “Al‑Aqsa Flood,” Abu Ubaida emerged as the foremost voice expressing the resistance’s position recounting heroic field exploits, calling for mobilization, and rebuking the hesitant. His robust and cohesive rhetoric formed a bulwark against the Israeli propaganda machine, which sought to craft an alternative narrative to justify genocide and tarnish the image of resistance.

As Israel marketed the “Daeshization” of the resistance and painted it as terrorist before international public opinion, the resistance held firmly to its moral rhetoric and its natural right to resist occupation.

The occupation deployed its media arsenal in broad collaboration with Western and international outlets in a massive campaign of deception, but the battlefront of narrative was no less important than the battlefield. Here, Abu Ubaida played the primary role in presenting the Palestinian story, confidently articulating the resistance’s perspective on prisoners, clearly defining the ethical stance toward civilians, and backing this with serious humanitarian proposals to release foreign nationals in exchange for keeping soldiers as leverage for a comprehensive exchange deal.

He also presented the resistance’s narrative regarding the motivations behind the Al‑Aqsa Flood and its historical and political context, countering the Israeli and Western narratives that sought to depict October 7 as the starting point of the conflict, ignoring decades of occupation and bloodshed against Palestinians.

But leading the resistance’s media in such an expansive war of annihilation was not easy. The occupation leveraged all its lethal, intelligence, and technical tools from military artificial intelligence to cutting communications and the internet to isolate Gaza and conceal its reality from the world.

Between managing field media, documenting events on the ground, maintaining integrated rhetoric aligned with policy and the battlefield, and waging psychological warfare against the occupation and its domestic front, Abu Ubaida and his team navigated a complex and difficult task one they managed with remarkable fortitude.

Military media became one of the most prominent features of the resistance’s success in this war. The footage emerging from the field documenting fighters’ courage and their ability to raise the cost of occupation on every front did more than dismantle the enemy’s narrative; it proved that the command, control, and communications network between field units and operations rooms remained resilient and cohesive.

It was no surprise that the occupation included the assassination of the military media commander on its list of “achievements,” holding him responsible for psychological warfare tools that shook its internal front. The video clips related to prisoners and Abu Ubaida’s statements whose accuracy was confirmed on the ground enjoyed credibility even among the Israeli public more than the speeches of their political leaders.

These messages helped spark protests by families of detainees, pressuring a government that avoided a prisoner exchange for narrow political calculations.

Thus, Abu Ubaida became the truest expression of the coherence and integration of the Palestinian narrative in the largest and longest battle the Palestinian people have fought confronting an annihilationist Zionist war seeking to end their existence on the land.

An Icon Complementing the Historical Narrative

Israeli targeting of Palestinian icons was not born of the moment but has long been part of its attempts to solidify deterrence and melt Palestinian consciousness by striking at symbols and guerrilla leaders, aiming to shatter the great values that nourish the resistance approach.

From this perspective, the occupation assassinated Palestinian writer Ghassan Kanafani, who served as the official spokesman of the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine and editor‑in‑chief of Al‑Hadaf. Kanafani was a central gateway for shaping a resistant Palestinian narrative against attempts to bypass historical rights and propagate defeatist ideas.

His symbolism grew when he spearheaded press conferences during the “Revolution Airport” operation (September 1970), in which the Popular Front hijacked four planes and held Israelis to demand a prisoner exchange and bring the Palestinian narrative to the world.

His symbolism multiplied further after the Lod Airport operation (May 30, 1972) carried out by members of the Japanese Red Army. On July 8, 1972, the occupation sensed the danger of this symbolism and assassinated Kanafani and his niece Lamis Najm in Beirut by bombing their car.

In the same vein, the occupation pursued the Palestinian narrative in Europe through “Wrath of God” a campaign of assassinations initiated by Golda Meir targeting writers and thinkers who carried the resistant discourse, such as Dr. Basel Kbeissi, Muhammad Boudia, Mahmoud al‑Hamshari, and Wael Zaiter, recognizing the danger of their role in recruiting global solidarity with Palestine.

Extending this criminal mindset, the occupation’s intelligence and public opinion measuring tools were well aware of the extent of symbolism that Abu Ubaida had woven into collective consciousness not only Palestinian but Arab, Islamic, and global as well.

His image, with masked features, keffiyeh, and steadfast rhetoric, became a concentrated icon of the Palestinian resistance no less threatening in the occupation’s calculations than the resistance’s actual acts.

This symbolism, which the occupation has sought to assassinate since the 1970s, found new expressions in new bodies and icons that have become revolutionary global symbols similar to historical international struggle icons.

From this perspective, the occupation sensed the danger of this image, which draws legitimacy from Palestinian armed struggle and became a point of international convergence expressing solidarity with Palestinians’ right to resist and exist.

From this viewpoint, the occupation assassinated the spokesperson of Saraya al‑Quds, Abu Hamza, and assassinated the Al‑Qassam Brigades’ spokesperson Abu Ubaida — within a broad exterminationist campaign targeting not only human beings and land but voice, image, and word in the widest process of “consciousness forging” not only for the Palestinian people but for all free people in the world.

History’s Lessons Speak Louder Than Missiles

For Abu Ubaida, death was never absent from calculations; it was present in his person and rhetoric, masked or unmasked, as part of the inevitable outcomes of an open battle with an occupation that does not hesitate to kill any Palestinian when given the chance.

This war has claimed the best leaders of the resistance and has driven Gaza and its people to lose tens of thousands of martyrs on the road to freedom. In every alley and clash, leaders left their imprint and laid the foundations for a generation that will not be easily uprooted a generation whose bullets have not ceased in confronting occupation assaults on every sector of the Strip.

The Palestinian people bleed with every martyr, and their hearts tear with every leader the occupation succeeds in assassinating. Nevertheless, symbolism remains broader than individuals, and heroism deeper than charisma. In the case of Abu Ubaida, who remained behind the mask for two decades, his presence was a collective expression of the unknown Palestinian fighter confronting the most formidable and brutal army in the region and his martyrdom will cement that symbolism rather than extinguish it.

Abu Ubaida’s speeches were not mere military communiqués but the voice of a people facing annihilation daily. His calls were echoes of what every besieged Palestinian feels in the face of abandonment watching audiences applaud the symbolism of resistance and glorify it, then denying their individual role in mobilizing the streets and stopping the massacre.

His final address, laden with the harshest words of reproach, remains a testament and indictment to all who fell short or wavered.

Leaders rise, fighters ascend as martyrs, and Gaza advances with its children confronting a U.S.‑backed Israeli killing machine. But the march does not break, the oppressed people never raise a white flag, and there is always someone to carry the banner.

From Ghassan Kanafani, Majid Abu Sharar, and Mu’in Bseiso, to Abu Ubaida and Abu Hamza, it is a struggle that does not stop at borders constantly reinventing its rhetoric to the world and translating it into new acts by its heroes on the ground until this people seize its inevitable freedom.

The Israeli occupation army had announced in a joint statement with the General Security Service (Shabak) on Sunday, August 31, 2025, that it had assassinated “the head of the propaganda apparatus of the armed wing of the Hamas movement and its official spokesman,” known as Abu Ubaida.

Simon Levy, also known as Shimon Levy, occupies a singular place in the history of Moroccan Jewry. Born in the city of Fez to a Jewish family, he was a leftist political activist who fought against French and Spanish colonialism in Morocco.

From within this struggle, he became involved in movements that would come to define Morocco’s political memory. At the same time, he emerged as a staunch defender of his Moroccan Jewish identity, a chronicler of his community’s heritage in a country celebrated for its cultural diversity. Loyal to Jewish collective memory and firmly opposed to Zionism, Levy rejected the ideology that linked the fate of many Moroccan Jews to emigration to Israel after 1948.

He remained a Jew by culture and religion, a Moroccan by nationality and patriotism, a communist by ideology, and a champion of just causes foremost among them, the Palestinian cause.

Life and Trajectory

Born in Fez in 1934, Simon Levy was raised in a traditional Moroccan Jewish environment shaped by complex ties with both the Arab-Islamic world and the French colonial presence. He was educated in French schools while also receiving traditional religious instruction. His academic interests gravitated toward languages and linguistics, culminating in a degree in Spanish and Portuguese literature in 1956.

From a young age, Levy was committed to Moroccan national causes. He joined the nationalist movement against colonial rule in 1954 and later became active in labor unions, student movements, and the Moroccan Communist Party which later evolved into the Party of Progress and Socialism. His political activism placed him at odds with colonial forces and led to repeated confrontations.

He was arrested on March 23, 1965, along with several other leftist activists, and endured brutal torture in detention. Yet, this ordeal only strengthened his resolve to stand with the Moroccan people in their national and social struggles.

Levy’s refusal to accept French citizenship which had been extended to Jews in the Maghreb—left him stateless for over 24 years, until the enactment of Morocco’s nationality law in late 1958.

He served as editor-in-chief of the weekly newspapers Al-Oumma and Al-Jamahir between 1958 and 1959, contributed for years to the daily Al-Bayan, and taught in the Department of Languages at Mohammed V University.

His academic work focused on the study of Moroccan Jewish language and culture, particularly their relationship to Amazigh and Arab contexts and their integration into broader Moroccan society.

His doctoral dissertation, The Arabic Dialects of Moroccan Jews, supervised by the eminent scholar Haïm Zafrani, became a cornerstone of his scholarly legacy. He dedicated many years to this research, successfully documenting a vast portion of the cultural and religious heritage of Moroccan Jews.

Guardian of Jewish Memory in Morocco

Beyond writing and academic inquiry, Levy played a pivotal role in preserving Morocco’s Jewish memory. In 1996, he founded the Jewish Museum in Casablanca, aiming to collect documents, testimonies, and artifacts that chronicle Jewish history in Morocco, preserve its literary and musical heritage, and safeguard its synagogues ensuring that this memory remained vibrant within the national cultural landscape.

He also served as Secretary General of the Foundation for Moroccan Jewish Cultural Heritage, which he helped establish and lead. Through the foundation, he worked tirelessly to restore synagogues, cemeteries, and Jewish archives across the country.

Levy institutionalized his advocacy, elevating the preservation of Jewish memory to a national cultural priority an effort later encouraged and supported by King Mohammed VI after his ascension to the throne.

This institutional role enabled Levy to safeguard the material and intellectual traces of Jewish life in Morocco its rituals, languages, and patterns of coexistence. In doing so, he crafted a narrative that bridged past and present while challenging the erasure or reduction of Jewish Moroccan history.

This endeavor was a natural extension of his anti-Zionist stance: for him, preserving Jewish memory within Morocco refuted the notion that it needed to be relocated elsewhere.

A Voice Against Zionism

Simon Levy remained deeply committed to his Moroccan national identity. This was evident in his public rejection of attempts to subordinate Jewish identity to foreign political agendas. His background helps explain his transformation into a vocal critic of Zionist policies that encouraged Moroccan Jews to emigrate to Israel after 1948 an exodus that he viewed as a cultural and demographic rupture.

He believed this migration was a historical mistake that harmed Morocco’s social fabric. He argued that the creation of a Jewish nation-state in Palestine, and the subsequent identification of Arab Jews with it, was a detachment from their authentic, localized histories rather than an affirmation of their diverse identities.

He maintained that the State of Israel was not a true expression of Judaism but a political entity that endangered Jewish historical experiences. For Levy, Jewish life in the diaspora including in Morocco represented a deeper, more enduring understanding of Jewish identity that transcended modern nationalism.

In an interview, he explained that the essence of Judaism had been shaped by the diasporic experience, developed over millennia in culturally and religiously diverse societies where Jews lived as minorities. This fostered a unique consciousness and cultural distinctiveness.

He stressed that the contemporary concentration of Jews in a single state—as in Israel—does not necessarily reflect the traditional meaning of Judaism as it evolved in exile. Many of Israel’s citizens, he noted, come from backgrounds outside traditional Jewish heritage, creating new social and political dynamics.

Levy saw the characteristics of diaspora Jews as fundamentally different from those of Israeli Jews, whose identity was shaped within a dominant political majority and institutional power. This, he argued, marked a departure from the historical nature of Jewish belonging and consciousness.

Although Levy’s anti-Zionist positions were in line with the Moroccan left and the Communist Party both vocal supporters of the Palestinian cause and critics of Israeli policy his voice held particular resonance as that of a Moroccan Jew who firmly rejected the conflation of Judaism, as a religion and culture, with Zionism, as a modern political ideology.

He consistently emphasized that anti-Zionism was not anti-Semitism, but rather a legitimate critique of occupation and colonial settlement policies.

Levy’s stance was especially pronounced in 2009, during Israel’s assault on Gaza, which he described as “horrific.” He declared that this violence contradicted his understanding of Judaism and placed humanitarian values above political or nationalistic allegiances.

He expressed unambiguous solidarity with the Palestinian people, asserting that their suffering violated the ethical and spiritual core of Judaism and called on the international community to intervene.

His rhetoric served as a reminder that opposition to Israeli policies is not limited to Arabs or Muslims it is also a principled stance shared by many Jews around the world. Leaders of the Party of Progress and Socialism confirmed that Levy frequently raised the issue of the Palestinian people and their right to justice, condemning Zionism’s colonial roots, which he considered part of imperialist designs dating back to World War I.

Simon Levy passed away on December 2, 2011, at the age of 77 after a long illness. His funeral was attended by prominent Moroccan political figures, including then-Prime Minister Abdelilah Benkirane and royal advisors André Azoulay and Omar Azziman.

King Mohammed VI sent a condolence letter to Levy’s family, praising his early contributions to the national movement, his cultural and intellectual achievements, and describing him as “a distinguished intellectual and progressive activist who dedicated his life to highlighting the place of Moroccan Jewish heritage within the country’s inclusive national identity.”

In the summer of this year, the city of Suwayda witnessed one of the most dramatic episodes of tension in Syria, when local skirmishes between armed men led by Sheikh Hikmat al-Hijri—one of the Druze sect's spiritual leaders—and Bedouin residents escalated into a direct confrontation with Syrian security forces.

While Damascus appeared confident in its military superiority, its adversaries held a potent trump card capable of tipping the balance: the influence of Sheikh Muwaffaq Tarif, the highest spiritual authority for the Druze community in the occupied Palestinian territories. A religious leader cloaked in the spiritual garb of a "Ruhani," Tarif also acts as a political figure who skillfully leverages the symbolism of his position to serve a complex web of interests—even summoning Israel's air force at will.

In this context, Tarif's turban has transcended its spiritual symbolism to become a tool of political pressure in a game that exceeds sectarian boundaries. But beneath this image lie disquieting questions: Is he a spiritual leader trying to shield his community from erosion in a volatile region, or a pragmatic politician serving a broader Israeli agenda that views the Druze as a strategic asset?

Is his outreach beyond Israel an attempt to unify a scattered community, or merely a bid to cement his status as a supreme religious authority—even at the cost of subordinating himself to the occupation?

The Grandson Who Inherited the Druze Leadership

Muwaffaq Tarif was born in 1963 in the village of Julis in the Galilee, northern Israel. He descends from a well-known religious family historically tied to the leadership of the Druze sect. He succeeded his grandfather, Sheikh Amin Tarif, who led the Druze community in Israel for 65 years and was known for cultivating strong ties with the Israeli state from its inception.

Muwaffaq assumed leadership in 1993 based on a written will from his grandfather, who designated him as successor. He also took over custodianship of key religious shrines—including the tombs of Prophet Shu‘ayb and al-Khidr, and the Julis Khalwa—after serving as his grandfather's aide for 15 years, a process emblematic of the hereditary nature of Druze religious authority.

He completed his religious studies at the Higher Druze Religious School in Al-Bayada, Lebanon, and earned a law degree from Ono Academic College in Israel. In 2010, he was awarded an honorary doctorate from the University of Haifa.

On the institutional level, Tarif was elected head of the Supreme Druze Religious Council in 1997. He became an appellate judge in the Druze religious court in Acre in 2002 and was appointed chief judge in 2016.

His role extends beyond religious leadership and guardianship of holy sites; he also represents the Druze community in religious matters before Israeli institutions.

Over time, this status evolved into a form of political capital that Tarif has used to position himself as the community’s de facto spokesperson. Most Druze-related demands and negotiations now pass through him or his office, which has significantly expanded his unofficial power.

From Inherited Leadership to Political Influence

Tarif’s inherited authority and religious traditions have not only granted him symbolic legitimacy within the Druze community but also sustained his longstanding relationship with the Israeli state.

Since assuming leadership, he has maintained constant communication with various state bodies including the government and military—to defend what he calls "the rights of the Druze" and to promote their integration into Israeli society.

These connections include meetings with top Israeli officials. He is among the most prominent non-Jewish religious leaders to regularly meet with Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, who has expressed interest in empowering the Druze through socio-economic policies.

Beyond his repeated meetings with the Israeli defense minister, former Air Force Commander Major General Amikam Norkin visited Tarif at the Druze House in Julis on December 28, 2018. Norkin affirmed, in his words, "Israel and its military's commitment to protecting Druze people wherever they are."

Such a statement, coming from the highest echelons of the military, was not merely a gesture of reassurance. It was a clear political signal that Israel views the Druze as a strategic asset, with Tarif serving as a conduit for advancing this narrative—far beyond his spiritual mandate.

This increasingly open relationship with the Israeli state has led some members of his community to accuse him of playing a dual role: combining the mantle of spiritual leadership with political justification for the Druze’s integration into Israel’s security and military apparatus. Critics argue that such alignment is rare among Druze clergy, both within and beyond Israel.

This dual role has gradually transformed the turban—traditionally a symbol of spiritual purity—into a political badge, granting Tarif access to decision-making circles in Tel Aviv and allowing him to play roles in matters well beyond his village or sect.

A Political Role Beyond Religious Leadership

Unlike his grandfather, who focused on internal community affairs, Tarif has aspired to broader roles that extend beyond religious authority. His outreach is not limited to Israeli institutions; he has also established consistent lines of communication with Russia. These moves suggest his desire to position himself as the Druze’s sole link to key regional players and to secure influence beyond Israel.

His repeated meetings with Russian Ambassador to Israel Anatoly Viktorov were more than ceremonial. They were part of an effort to use Russia’s influence in Syria to bolster his role in Druze affairs there. Critics interpreted these moves as more about enhancing his personal clout than sincerely advocating for Druze interests.

In December 2018, Tarif asked the Russian ambassador to deliver a message to Russian forces in Syria, urging coordination between the Assad regime and Druze leaders. The move appeared to position him as an indispensable mediator in any deal involving the Druze.

Two years later, he traveled to Moscow carrying a working paper on the Druze’s rights and future role in Syria. However, this visit sparked controversy, as critics pointed out that he had no mandate from Syrian Druze to speak on their behalf, and that his actions ventured far beyond his religious jurisdiction.

Nevertheless, the following year he proposed, during another meeting with the Russian ambassador, a mechanism for transferring aid from Druze in Israel to Suwayda via Russian mediation. The move was seen as an effort to establish political legitimacy outside Israel, backed by Moscow’s weight.

Despite his enthusiasm for building ties with Russia, most of his requests have remained confined to diplomatic communiqués and ceremonial meetings, never materializing into real outcomes. In effect, he has become more of a symbolic figure serving Russian interests than a player wielding substantive influence.

Tarif is also active on the global stage, frequently appearing at international forums where he presents himself as the voice of the Druze, especially in Syrian affairs. Yet this visibility also serves to solidify his personal influence, positioning him as a "global representative" of the Druze, and simultaneously as a back-channel for Israeli interests.

This became evident during his recent visit to Paris, where he met with the Druze diaspora in France and held talks with US Special Envoy for Syria Tom Barak. This meeting occurred just hours before Barak met with Syrian Foreign Minister Asaad al-Shibani and Israeli Strategic Affairs Minister Ron Dermer.

The timing of these meetings—the second of their kind in less than a month—suggests that Tarif’s activities are not merely personal or sectarian initiatives, but part of a broader web of unofficial communications facilitating Israel’s penetration of the Syrian scene and its outreach to international stakeholders.

Safeguarding the Druze or Subservience to the Occupation?

Tarif presents himself as a protector of the Druze community, but the Syrian uprising of 2011 revealed another side to his role. He leveraged the regional upheaval to expand his influence, casting himself as an intermediary between the Druze of Mount Lebanon and Israel. This role earned him the label of a "transnational representative," yet he went further, openly calling for Israeli military intervention in Syria to "protect the Druze."

Such calls sparked widespread debate about the limits of his religious authority, with critics questioning whether he truly serves the community or merely ties it to the occupation. Detractors argue that his stance makes Syrian Druze vulnerable to accusations by the Assad regime of collaborating with Israel.

Following the fall of Bashar al-Assad in Syria, on March 14, 2025, Tarif coordinated a visit by around 60 Druze religious figures from Syria to Israel—crossing the armistice line in the occupied Golan Heights. It was the first such visit in over half a century.

The visit raised numerous questions about its motivations and consequences, especially amid escalating Israeli efforts to woo the Druze and the accompanying divisions among spiritual leaders and Druze factions in response to Syria’s new political landscape.

When violent clashes erupted again in Suwayda in July, Tarif made frequent appearances in Israeli media, urging the Israeli military to intervene in Syria under the pretext of protecting the Druze and supporting his ally, Sheikh Hikmat al-Hijri, in their fight against the Syrian government.

His lobbying served as both justification and a moral cover for Israel to deepen its incursions into Syria. Israeli forces bombed multiple targets in central Damascus, including military headquarters near Umayyad Square—sparking a storm of criticism and accusations against both al-Hijri and Tarif.

While Tarif publicly frames his efforts as humanitarian, some Druze see things differently. In Lebanon, for example, political leader Walid Jumblatt accuses him of being backed by Zionist forces and pursuing a divisive agenda aimed at fragmenting the Druze community.

Serious questions arise about the nature of Tarif’s ambitions. He claims to advocate for Druze integration in Israeli society while preserving their religious and cultural identity. But his critics argue that his project aligns with an agenda that doesn’t represent the Druze at large and instead serves to cement his own standing with the Israeli establishment.

Many Druze in Syria view his close relationship with the Israeli authorities as a threat to their national identity. When he visited Suwayda in September 2018, some residents saw his presence as a betrayal due to his Israeli citizenship.

They argue that Tarif’s visibility during moments of crisis harms their reputation and undermines the national narrative the Druze have embraced since the Syrian uprising. They fear that his ties to Israel could cast doubts on their loyalties, especially amid the ongoing occupation of the Golan and Palestinian territories.

Even some Israeli circles acknowledge that direct involvement in Druze conflicts in Syria could drag Tel Aviv into sectarian strife, which would not serve Israeli interests. Nonetheless, Israel continues to use Tarif as a tool to advance its objectives in Syria, while he, in turn, leverages the relationship to pursue his ambition of becoming a regional Druze leader.

In July, the Israeli daily Yedioth Ahronoth revealed that Druze leaders in Israel had been urgently summoned to a meeting with top military and intelligence officials, including Deputy Chief of Staff Tamir Yadai and Northern Command head Uri Gordin—a scene that highlighted the deep intertwining of religious and military institutions.

But some attendees, such as Daliyat al-Karmel Mayor Rafik Halabi, left disappointed by what they saw as empty Israeli rhetoric, suggesting a growing rift between the state's assurances and the reality of Druze subordination.

Israel’s Preferred Pragmatist

The gap between Muwaffaq Tarif’s rhetoric and actions is glaring. Though he is portrayed as a spiritual leader, many see him as a pragmatist who ensures communal interests through his closeness to the Israeli establishment—a relationship that brings the Druze security, economic opportunities, and public services.

Why does Israel treat him with such distinction? Because Tarif serves as a symbolic exception: a minority religious leader embraced by the state as proof of Druze loyalty to the Zionist project. By showcasing him, Israel attempts to draw the Druze into regional conflicts in which they have no stake.

Israel portrays Tarif as the head of a "loyal, fighting minority," granting him honors usually reserved for Jewish leaders such as participation in military and civil ceremonies. Mandatory conscription further cements this image, turning him into a symbol of minority allegiance, which serves both domestic and international Israeli narratives.

In April 2018, Tarif was chosen to light a ceremonial torch during Israel’s 70th Independence Day celebration a role underscoring his openness to state events, despite the identity-related challenges this poses for the Druze.

This symbolic coronation fits into Israel’s long-standing narrative of coexistence and loyalty—a narrative dating back to the 1950s, when the so-called "blood pact" was coined to describe the alliance between Jewish and Druze soldiers in the Israeli army.

While Sunni Arabs and Christians were excluded from conscription, many Druze leaders helped enforce it, driven by the promise of improved socio-economic conditions and a stronger position within Israeli society.

Unlike other Palestinians in Israel, the Druze have been integrated into a unique security and political relationship with the state. Whenever Israel needs a strong Druze figure to uphold this dynamic even in times of internal dissent, like during the 2018 Nation-State Law protests Tarif is there to temper unrest.

Despite widespread Druze outrage over the law, which they saw as enshrining second-class citizenship, Tarif pushed for dialogue and restrained protest, thus helping manage the crisis in ways that aligned with state interests.

More importantly, Tarif remains Israel’s most convenient figure for justifying intervention in Syrian affairs. His voice resonates in Tel Aviv’s political and military circles, largely because of his influence over Druze populations in both the Galilee and Golan.

But his role is increasingly under scrutiny. Domestically, he faces rising opposition from young Druze who see his cooperation with Israeli authorities as putting the community at the service of an exclusionary Jewish state. Regionally, his efforts to become the paramount Druze leader clash with deep skepticism among Druze in Syria and Lebanon.

Marwan Barghouti was never an ordinary leader in the Palestinian struggle; he has always remained intricately connected to the aspirations of his people, and to their direct suffering. From his youth, he engaged in every phase of the uprising shifting arenas of resistance until the occupation’s prisons and solitary confinement cells became his main battlefield over the past two decades, as Israel sought to erase his presence and diminish his symbolic potency as both a fighter and a national icon.

Israel’s revenge, flagrantly disregarding international law and humanitarian norms regarding detainees, reached performative extremes meant to intimidate a key figure of Palestinian leadership. This reached a climax in the widely circulated video of far‑right minister Itamar Ben‑Gvir storming into Barghouti’s cell, threatening him in a deliberate violation of his symbolism and national significance.

Since his re-arrest in 2002 and sentencing to five life terms, Marwan Barghouti, alongside his fellow prisoners, has become a cross-factional national emblem. He remains the leader who blends field-based resistance with political leadership in the Palestinian Liberation Organization and Fatah.

You cannot understand Barghouti's journey without acknowledging the interplay between street mobilization and political acumen, nor without recognizing how his prolonged imprisonment has transformed his symbolic weight and significance.

From Kobar: The Cradle of His Early Struggle

The village of Kobar, northwest of Ramallah, symbolizes a wellspring of resistance—a “reservoir of heroism”—from which numerous martyrs and imprisoned leaders have emerged. Located about 10 kilometers from Ramallah and nearly 20 kilometers from occupied Jerusalem, with vistas of both Jerusalem and al‑Aqsa Mosque overshadowed by settlements, Kobar shaped Barghouti.

Born there on June 6, 1959, he was raised in an environment steeped in family ties to early armed cells in the West Bank, some of whom were among Israel’s first prisoners serving life terms.

Marwan did not linger in childhood. Long before most peers, he immersed himself in the struggle, showing early signs of leadership. He joined Fatah at age 15 and was first imprisoned in 1976 for two years for his involvement, followed by further arrests and intermittent releases until 1983.

He completed his high school education at Al‑Prince Hasan School in Birzeit during these cycles of detention and study disruptions. In prison, he learned Hebrew and developed proficiency in French and English, enriching his general knowledge.

By 1986, Israel began actively pursuing him; during the 1987 First Intifada, he rose to prominence until he was arrested and expelled to Jordan under Defense Minister Yitzhak Rabin’s policy of exile. He later resettled in Tunisia, earning a B.A. in History and Political Science and an M.A. in International Relations, before being re-arrested in April 2002 while lecturing at Al‑Quds University in Abu Dis.

In prison, particularly in solitary at Hadarim, he clandestinely pursued a Ph.D. in Political Science at Cairo’s Institute of Arab Research and Studies completing his dissertation and smuggling it out with his lawyer’s help around 2010.

Barghouti has authored several important works, including The Promise, Resistance of Captivity, A Thousand Days in Solitary Confinement, and National Unity: The Law of Victory. On April 18, 2017, he succeeded in sending an article to The New York Times on Palestinian Prisoners’ Day, denouncing Israeli brutality in prisons.

He also published his doctoral dissertation, titled Legislative and Political Performance of the Palestinian Legislative Council and Its Contribution to the Democratic Process in Palestine (1996–2006).

Known as "Abu al‑Qassam," he is married to attorney and social activist Fadwa Barghouti, who has emerged as his political and media advocate both within Palestine and internationally.

Between Student Activism and Imprisonment

Following his early imprisonment spells from 1976 to 1983, Barghouti immediately enrolled at Birzeit University where he was elected student council president for three consecutive terms. He was instrumental in founding the Fatah Youth Movement (Shabiba) in the early 1980s, which played a central role in the mass mobilization of the First Intifada.

Despite continued Israeli repression—including arrests in 1984 and 1985, harsh interrogations, house arrest, and administrative detention—his prominence grew. In the Intifada’s unified national leadership, he became a central figure and was subsequently exiled.

A Young Face in Fatah Leadership

In Tunisia, Barghouti worked closely with Salah Khalaf (Abu Jihad) and held leadership roles in the PLO’s Upper Committee of the Intifada and Fatah’s Western Sector leadership. At Fatah’s 1989 General Congress, he was elected to the Revolutionary Council—the youngest member among some 1,250 delegates.

Returning to the Occupied Territories in 1994, he quickly rose to become deputy to Faisal al‑Husseini and Fatah’s secretary in the West Bank. He then spearheaded a massive organizational revitalization of Fatah, overseeing over 150 regional conferences that reshaped its internal structures and laid the groundwork for increased democracy and the Sixth General Congress.

Elected to the Palestinian Legislative Council in 1996 with over 12,716 votes in Ramallah and al‑Bireh and becoming its youngest lawmaker, he played an active role in parliamentary committees and anticorruption work.

He also fostered grassroots ties through community meetings and infrastructure-focused initiatives, especially for girls’ schools. Barghouti co-founded and chaired the first French–Palestinian parliamentary friendship group, enhancing bilateral relations.

Second Intifada and Renewed Resistance

Following the collapse of the Oslo process and the outbreak of the Second Intifada in September 2000, Barghouti called for continued popular and political resistance, stating emphatically, "Fatah’s arms remain present—and they will be maintained until freedom and independence are achieved."

He was omnipresent in demonstrations, funerals, and media discussions, criticizing security coordination and advocating protection for civilians and activists. By 2001, Israel had accused him of leading the al‑Aqsa Martyrs' Brigades and allegedly organizing attacks, including an attempted assassination in August that killed his aide.

A year later, on April 15, 2002, he was captured in Ramallah during Operation Defensive Shield—soon followed by provocative remarks from senior Israeli officials celebrating his arrest with deadly rhetoric.

A New Arena of Struggle

After prolonged interrogations and trial, Barghouti was convicted in 2004 under the doctrine of “general responsibility,” as Fatah’s secretary in the West Bank, holding the group accountable for actions by the Brigades.

The Tel Aviv Central Court sentenced him to five life terms plus forty years the maximum penalty. In his closing statement, Barghouti called the verdict unlawful and likened it to a war crime.

In September 2024, he sustained severe injuries from guard violence in Megiddo prison adding to his total of 28 years incarceration.

From Prison Cell to Presidential Contender

Despite decades behind bars, Barghouti has remained politically dynamic. In 2003, he proposed a ceasefire initiative that paved the way for political achievements like the 2006 Cairo agreements and legislative elections. He led Fatah’s list in those elections and advocated internal party reform, democratic leadership elections, and the ousting of corruption.

He was elected to Fatah’s Central Committee in 2009 but was later blocked from becoming deputy leader in the 2016 General Congress despite winning some 70% of votes, a move his wife called capitulation to Israeli pressure.

In January 2021, he announced his intent to run for the presidency after electoral dates were set, positioning himself as a serious challenger to President Mahmoud Abbas. Polls repeatedly show him leading potential three-way contests, and international mediators and Hamas regard him as a heavyweight figure in prisoner-swap negotiations. Despite this, Israeli and Palestinian Authority officials opposed his release.

In mid‑August 2025, the controversial prison visit by Itamar Ben‑Gvir was widely condemned as a provocation and symbol of the fear Barghouti inspires: despite appearing frail and exhausted, he remains unshaken—and his leadership potential unsettles both the Israeli right and those invested in preserving the PA’s status quo.

In the city of Sweida, where Syrian security forces have clashed with armed groups labeled as “outlaws” by the government in a bloody confrontation, a familiar colonial rhetoric has resurfaced. The Israeli occupation has revived the language of “protection” in place of occupation, exploiting a moment of chaos to expand its influence under the pretense of defending “minorities.”

What is striking, however, is how shockingly this rhetoric mirrored recent statements by Sheikh Hikmat al-Hijri, one of the most prominent religious authorities among the Druze community in Syria.

Al-Hijri has made a series of public attacks on the Syrian government, issuing appeals for international intervention to foreign leaders, including Donald Trump and Benjamin Netanyahu—himself accused of war crimes. This political escalation raises many questions about al-Hijri’s position and historical allegiances.

This report explores the spiritual and political trajectory of Sheikh Hikmat al-Hijri, from his assumption of the Druze spiritual leadership in 2012 to his evolving role as a political actor amid Syria’s post-Assad landscape.

Origins and Social Background

Hikmat Salman al-Hijri was born on June 9, 1965, in Venezuela, where his father was working at the time. Soon after, the family returned to Syria, where he completed his primary and secondary education. He was raised in a prominent religious family in Sweida, long associated with the spiritual leadership of the Druze. His father, Sheikh Salman al-Hijri, was one of the community's leading clerics.

In 1985, he enrolled in the Faculty of Law at the University of Damascus, graduating in 1990. After returning to his hometown, he eventually settled in the town of Qanawat in 1998. His legal background and familial status positioned him to take on advanced communal roles, leveraging his wide network across Jabal al-Arab.

Al-Hijri assumed the role of spiritual leader of Syria’s Druze in 2012, following the death of his brother Sheikh Ahmad al-Hijri in a car crash that same year—an incident some allege was orchestrated by the Assad regime due to Ahmad's stance on Druze defections during the 2011 uprising. Ahmad had succeeded their father in 1989, marking three successive generations of the Hijri family in the role.

His succession faced unprecedented challenges, mainly due to his swift and vocal support for Bashar al-Assad. He issued several statements backing the regime amid rising anti-government sentiment in Sweida, which severely damaged his popularity—even tarnishing the broader reputation of the Hijri family as historic spiritual authorities.

This triggered deep divisions within the Druze community, raising contentious debates about religious and political leadership in Jabal al-Arab. The spiritual leadership split into two camps: one led by Sheikh Hikmat al-Hijri in Qanawat, and another led by Sheikh Yusuf Jarbou' and Sheikh Hammoud al-Hanawi based at the Ain al-Zaman shrine—the community’s most revered religious site.

Relationship with Assad and Position on the Revolution

Since becoming the Druze spiritual leader in 2012, al-Hijri maintained a clear pro-Assad stance. In his first public appearance after his brother’s death, he delivered a speech during Assad’s condolence visit to Qanawat, declaring: “You are hope itself, Bashar the hope, Bashar of the homeland, Bashar of Arabism and the Arabs. May God prolong your life.” It was a striking expression of loyalty.

According to a 2020 report by the Jusoor Center, al-Hijri repeatedly aligned himself with the Syrian regime. He hosted delegations from Iraq’s Popular Mobilization Forces and, in March 2015, issued a statement calling for the arming of Druze youth. He also coordinated directly with the presidential palace on administrative matters, including reinstating dismissed public employees.

In November 2018, following a kidnapping operation by ISIS, he urged Druze youth to fulfill mandatory military service. He also oversaw the formation of an armed faction in coordination with Military Intelligence—laying the groundwork for what would become his militia.

Despite mounting protests in Sweida and fatal crackdowns by regime forces, al-Hijri remained loyal to Assad. Activists accused him of being a full-fledged regime ally, especially after the toppling of a Hafez al-Assad statue in central Sweida—arguably the most symbolic act of defiance in the city’s revolutionary history.

Al-Hijri’s support for the regime extended beyond rhetoric. In 2015, he joined other clerics in issuing a decree from the Druze leadership expelling Sheikh Wahid al-Balous—founder of the anti-Assad "Men of Dignity" movement—and other dissenting clerics, accusing them of deviating from religious principles.

Sheikh al-Balous, widely popular and a key anti-regime figure, was assassinated in a car bombing in Sweida, followed by a second explosion targeting the hospital treating him. In 2021, his son Laith al-Balous accused Iran and Hezbollah of orchestrating the killing.

Less than a year after the incident, al-Hijri defended General Issam Zahreddine—a Republican Guard officer from Sweida accused of severe human rights violations—in a media interview, describing him as “devoted to serving his nation and army.”

A pivotal moment came in early 2021 when al-Hijri was publicly insulted by a Military Intelligence officer, sparking outrage across Sweida. Damascus later issued a formal apology.

This event marked a shift in al-Hijri’s stance. He began voicing increasing criticism of regime policies and, by 2023, expressed open support for protest demands calling for radical political change and regime withdrawal from the province.

His Role in the Current Political Crisis

After Bashar al-Assad fled in late 2024, al-Hijri found himself sidelined in the emerging political order. The interim government led by Ahmad al-Shara’ did not recognize him as the legitimate representative of Syria’s Druze, curbing his influence and excluding him from official delegations visiting Damascus and meeting the new president.

Instead, official recognition went to national figures such as Suleiman Abdel Baqi, commander of the "Free Druze Gathering," and Laith al-Balous, son of Sheikh Wahid and leader of Muthafaat al-Karama. Both were featured in meetings with the new government, signaling an effort to dismantle the Hijri family’s long-standing dominance.

In response, al-Hijri escalated his rhetoric. He rejected the outcomes of the National Dialogue Conference and issued repeated criticisms of government policies. Eventually, he called for international intervention to guarantee a “political transition.”

On February 17, 2025, he issued a statement framing the relationship with the new government as a “partnership”—a belated attempt to reassert his relevance.

Then, on March 6, Sweida witnessed protests in which demonstrators raised al-Hijri’s portrait and Druze flags, chanting against the Shara’ administration. The protests included groups like the Syrian Brigade Party, the Sweida Military Council, and secular and federalist movements calling for autonomy or secession.

Amid this turmoil, on March 15, al-Hijri declared that “no reconciliation or agreement” was possible with the current government, labeling it “extremist and wanted for justice,” and warning that the country had reached a “do or die” moment.

His public appeals for foreign intervention—and, most controversially, his outreach to foreign leaders including Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu—marked the most dangerous turn in his trajectory. Under the pretext of “protecting the Druze,” al-Hijri opened the door to direct Israeli involvement, which soon included airstrikes on Damascus. The resulting backlash among Syrians—Druze included—was fierce.

In this transformation, al-Hijri has moved beyond the role of a local religious figure to become entangled in foreign agendas that threaten national unity. His shift from Assad loyalist to opponent of the new government appears less a move toward independence than a strategic alignment with regional interventions now leveraging him as an internal front under the guise of sectarian representation—while ultimately targeting Syria’s sovereignty.

On July 17, French courts ordered the release of Lebanese activist George Ibrahim Abdallah, 74, who has been imprisoned in France since 1984 for his alleged involvement in the assassinations of American and Israeli diplomats.

Celebrations erupted in Paris’s Place de la République following the announcement. Tens of thousands gathered, joined by political and human rights groups, as well as French and international media, marking a significant moment after decades of pressure campaigns demanding Abdallah’s release.

But who is George Abdallah—the man the French authorities refused to free for over 40 years? What ideologies and movements did he embrace or help establish? And how did his imprisonment become a symbolic and legal battle against imperialism and Western dominance?

Roots and Radicalization

George Ibrahim Abdallah was born on April 2, 1951, in the heart of Qoubaiyat, a Maronite Christian town in northern Lebanon. After graduating, he worked as a high school teacher but soon chose to abandon the confines of the classroom for a broader struggle—one that transcended sect and village and aligned with the heartbeat of Arab nationalism and the fight to liberate Palestine.

Lebanon in the 1970s was a nation torn apart by a civil war riddled with sectarian and class dimensions. Beneath it all lay a crisis of national identity, encapsulated by the question: "Who does Lebanon belong to?" This turbulent context gave birth to movements and ideologies striving for larger causes.

Amid this upheaval, Abdallah’s political consciousness matured. In 1978, as Israeli tanks stormed through southern Lebanon—leaving behind decimated villages, bloody massacres, and thousands of displaced people—Abdallah was wounded.

The trauma of the invasion and its aftermath marked a turning point in his life, awakening within him a deep awareness of what he saw as Western complicity. That realization propelled him into the path of armed resistance.

In that same year, he shifted allegiance from the Syrian Social Nationalist Party to the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP), transitioning ideologically from pan-Arab nationalism to Marxist-Leninism—a move that reflected strategic, not incidental, commitment to revolutionary ideals.

His transformation—from a Christian Maronite teacher to a militant revolutionary—illustrates his ideological fluidity. In 1979, Abdallah founded the Lebanese Armed Revolutionary Factions (FARL), a group that included other Maronites trained by the PFLP, underlining his rejection of the narrow sectarian lens through which the Lebanese Civil War is often viewed.

Instead, Abdallah embodied a broader struggle, joining others across ideological lines in fighting Western imperialism and colonial violence, especially in Palestine.

The Armed Struggle

In 1979, George Abdallah and a small circle of friends and relatives established FARL, a group rooted in Marxist-Leninist ideology and committed to anti-imperialism and absolute solidarity with the Palestinian cause.

Their goals extended beyond slogans: they envisioned a Lebanon free of foreign domination—be it French, American, or Israeli—and the establishment of an independent Palestinian state.

FARL’s operations were few but targeted. Between 1981 and 1982, the group carried out five attacks—four of them in France. The most well-known were the assassinations of U.S. military attaché Col. Charles R. Ray and Israeli diplomat Yaakov Bar-Simantov.

The group also claimed responsibility for the 1984 attempted assassination of American Consul Robert O. Homme in Strasbourg. FARL justified these attacks as acts of “armed resistance” in retaliation for the U.S.-backed Israeli invasion of Lebanon.

FARL wasn’t an isolated entity. It built strong ties with other far-left European groups like France’s Action Directe, Italy’s Red Brigades, and Germany’s Red Army Faction. These links were not coincidental—they represented a global movement of revolutionary resistance against imperialism, with shared ideological tenets and common enemies: Western capitalism and Zionist imperialism.

The Trial

In October 1984, French police arrested George Abdallah in Lyon, initiating a trial process that continues to provoke debate about the nature of French justice.

Initially, he was charged with passport forgery (Algerian and Maltese documents), illegal weapons possession, and involvement in criminal conspiracies. In 1986, he received a four-year sentence.

But the ordeal intensified. After what authorities claimed were “newly discovered” pieces of evidence, he was tried again in 1987 for complicity in the 1982 assassinations of Ray and Bar-Simantov. He was sentenced to life imprisonment, effectively a 15-year minimum term.

The second trial was plagued by controversy: there were allegations of fabricated evidence and a stunning revelation from Abdallah’s former lawyer, Jean-Paul Mazurier, who admitted to being a French intelligence informant under the codename “Simon” between 1984 and 1986. This confession, broadcast on national TV in 1987, seriously undermined the integrity of the judicial process.

Though Abdallah became eligible for parole in 1999, all requests were denied. In 2003, a French court granted him conditional release, but the prosecution appealed—reportedly under intense political pressure. U.S. and Israeli authorities strongly opposed his release and lobbied the French government.

This pressure was palpable in repeated appeals by French justice ministers and in then-Interior Minister Manuel Valls’s 2013 refusal to sign Abdallah’s deportation order, despite court approval. WikiLeaks later revealed that Hillary Clinton had personally urged the French Foreign Minister to block his release.

A Battle Over Narrative

After decades in prison, Abdallah emerged as a symbol of global resistance. His case came to represent the broader struggle against Western and Zionist domination. Many dubbed him “the Arab Nelson Mandela,” emphasizing his status as a political prisoner and freedom fighter.

His story reflects a deep ideological war over who controls the narrative. While Abdallah was jailed for over 40 years for engaging in armed struggle against imperialism and colonialism, European militants from groups like Action Directe and the Red Brigades were released long ago.

Abdallah’s unwavering refusal to “repent” or renounce his beliefs played a key role in the West’s determination to keep him imprisoned.

The dominant Western narrative labeled Abdallah and others like him as “terrorists,” citing their use of violence against the French state. Authorities insisted that his release posed a threat to public order and security.

His freedom was thus conditional upon immediate deportation to Lebanon, in hopes of preventing him from galvanizing political support in France—especially amid current global outrage over the war in Gaza.

Over the years, Abdallah became a symbol for a new generation. Despite immense state repression, activists across France, Lebanon, Palestine, and beyond held annual rallies outside Lannemezan Prison and invoked his name in pro-Palestine protests. Murals, petitions, and banners in universities and labor unions added to the mounting pressure on French courts.

The Return of a Revolutionary

“To the heroes of resistance, a thousand salutations. You are the true guardians of national sovereignty against Zionists, their masters, and all who collude with them. Now, more than ever, we need greater Palestinian-Lebanese unity.”

This was Abdallah’s message from prison after October 7 and the eruption of war in Gaza and Lebanon.

On July 25, he is set to arrive in Lebanon, deported from France. His return marks the homecoming of a man who never strayed from his path. Large crowds—especially young people from across Lebanon’s political spectrum—are expected to greet him as a hero. Celebrations will likely continue for days.

Yet his return is also tinged with melancholy. Lebanon is no longer what it was when Abdallah left. The days of Café Faisal, of revolutionary meetings with figures like George Habash and Wadie Haddad, are long gone.

The Syrian Social Nationalist Party barely functions as a political force. The Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine survives mostly in murals and the occasional image of Ghassan Kanafani in neglected refugee camps like Shatila.

Today’s Lebanon is far removed from the intellectual, organizational, and journalistic hub it once was. The country has become a consumerist playground—not only of goods, but also of ideas.

Political discourse is reduced to sectarian mobilization and the entrenchment of historical grievances. Since the Taif Agreement, warlords and capital have been locked in a cold war over power and influence.

The Left, too, has collapsed. It now exists only as the occasional lecture by historian Fawwaz Traboulsi, a melancholic oud melody in a dimly lit bar, or a ticketed “cultural” panel discussion.

Still, Abdallah won’t be surprised. From his prison cell, he has followed developments in the Arab world—regime changes, revolutions, wars, the rise and fall of comrades. One thing, however, has not changed: Israeli bombardment.

The same violence that led to his imprisonment over four decades ago is still unfolding, and it reminds him—perhaps even reassures him—that he served those long years for a cause that remains tragically unresolved.

"My condition is unlike that of any other human, and I don’t want it to resemble theirs—or at least that’s how I’ve understood and felt it. I am on the right path."

This is how Abdullah Öcalan described his life in Imrali Prison in the Sea of Marmara in 2004. While he may be correct in claiming his situation is unique, we cannot say the same for his belief in being on the right path, given his responsibility for the deaths of thousands under the pretext of establishing a Greater Kurdistan.

Öcalan’s dream of achieving justice for the Kurdish people, who long lived as an oppressed minority, led him and his comrades to found the Kurdistan Workers' Party (PKK). The party soon attracted a broad swath of Kurds aspiring to the same goal. But under Öcalan’s leadership, the PKK chose a path unlike other Kurdish movements: it made armed struggle its primary vehicle.

For years, the PKK was the defining force in one of Turkey’s bloodiest historical chapters. Even after Öcalan's arrest, he continued directing the party from prison, maintaining his influence and the party's threat.

This article revisits Öcalan’s own account of his life, deconstructs pivotal stages that led to his exceptional status, and tracks the evolution of his ideology—from founding the PKK to ultimately calling for its disarmament and dissolution.

The Search for Identity

Born on April 4, 1948, in the village of Ömerli in the Hilvan district of Şanlıurfa province, southeastern Turkey, Öcalan was the third of nine children in a poor farming family. He completed elementary school in nearby Cebin and moved in 1963 to attend middle school in Nizip, Gaziantep, where his sister lived. He studied there for three years.

His impoverished and harsh upbringing shaped his combative personality. His mother, known for her fiery temperament, fostered in him a spirit of vengeance. One anecdote describes her encouraging his first act of violence during a childhood altercation.

Öcalan recalled: "I told my mother: you committed a grave mistake by bringing me into this world. If you can't provide for a child or raise him with honesty and strength, how can you face him as a mother? I confronted her and decided, as a child, to live alone—a life to be won through struggle."

The 1960 military coup left a lasting impact on him, linking power with militarism from an early age. Although he failed the entrance exams for military high school, he carried the disappointment for life. In 1966, he enrolled in a vocational school in Ankara, where his political thinking began to form.

By the end of high school, he embraced socialism after reading Leo Huberman's "The ABC of Socialism," declaring: "Muhammad lost; Marx won."

He then worked in Diyarbakır as a land registry technician while preparing for university. Admitted to Istanbul University's law faculty, he soon transferred to political science at Ankara University in 1971, seeking deeper ideological engagement.

The Turkish Left: Political Awakening

In the midst of ideological polarization, Öcalan aligned with the left. At Istanbul University, he joined leftist student circles and observed the activities of the Eastern Revolutionary Cultural Associations (DDKO), which had broken away from mainstream Turkish leftist groups.

He was deeply influenced by Mahir Çayan, leader of the People's Liberation Front of Turkey, who advocated for Kurdish rights. Çayan's death in a 1972 shootout and the execution of three socialist youth leaders profoundly affected Öcalan.

Öcalan led protests after Çayan's death and was arrested on April 7, spending six months in Mamak military prison. Upon release, the student movement saw him as a natural leader, filling a void left by the assassinated icons. But he soon became disillusioned with the Turkish left's reluctance to prioritize the Kurdish issue.

Though early on he leaned toward Turkish leftism, he found the Kurdish left's approach lacking. He criticized the DDKO's elite-driven Kurdish nationalism as hollow and overly class-based.

Frustrated by their limited vision, which reduced the Kurdish issue to infrastructure needs and deemed self-determination premature, Öcalan began envisioning a new political movement.

Birth of the PKK

The idea of the PKK took shape after Öcalan’s prison release. He gathered like-minded activists, including Kemal Babur and Haqi Karar. Their sense of alienation from other leftist groups bonded them.

Within six months, they held a foundational meeting in April 1973 at the Çubuk Dam, a stage the party would later call the "attempt to create the group."

By 1975, a draft party program had been written, outlining a Marxist-Leninist path to Kurdish national liberation. This would become the foundation for the 1978 PKK manifesto: "The Road to the Kurdish Revolution."

Though not yet formally appointed, Öcalan's leadership was clear—the group became known as "Apocular," after his nickname Apo, meaning "uncle" in Kurdish.

The PKK held its first congress on November 27, 1978, in Fıs village, Diyarbakır. Öcalan was elected secretary-general. The congress adopted key principles:

• Establishing a unified, independent Kurdistan

• Achieving this through Marxist-Leninist revolution

• Embracing revolutionary violence as legitimate

• Adopting protracted people's war strategies from Vietnam, China, Angola, and Latin America

• Structuring the party into three pillars: party, front, and army

Meanwhile, the Turkish state cracked down, arresting PKK members and intensifying tensions with Kurdish tribes and rival organizations. Despite the instability, the PKK launched its first armed attack against the Boğac Tribe, initiating open conflict with Kurdish tribal leaders.

In 1979, the arrest of PKK member Şahin Donmaz exposed internal secrets, prompting Öcalan to flee Turkey and seek refuge abroad.

Exile in Syria and Party Consolidation

Just days before the 1980 Turkish coup, Öcalan fled to Syria, which became the PKK’s safe haven. From 1979 to 1984, the party built armed training programs in Lebanon's Beqaa Valley and infiltrated Turkey from Syria and Iraq.

The PKK expanded its international reach and built diplomatic ties. The party's third congress cemented Öcalan’s grip, though it revealed internal dissent, especially from imprisoned cadres critical of his authoritarianism.

On August 15, 1984, the PKK launched armed attacks in Siirt and Hakkari, killing Turkish soldiers. Ankara retaliated, sparking a prolonged war.

The 1980s and 1990s saw severe human rights violations by both sides. The PKK committed village massacres to instill fear. In 1985, Turkey responded by forming "village guard" militias, later accused of abuses against pro-PKK civilians.

Toward Negotiation

Despite years of bloodshed, moments of political opening emerged. In 1993, Öcalan declared a unilateral ceasefire, aligning with President Turgut Özal’s reform efforts. The truce collapsed after Özal’s death.

Following his 1999 capture and death sentence—later commuted under European pressure—Öcalan again declared a ceasefire. Many PKK fighters withdrew to Iraq. In 2003, the PKK launched the Democratic People’s Congress (Kongra-Gel) as a civilian front.

Peace talks in Oslo (2009–2011) failed, but led to the 2013 peace process. That March, Öcalan's Nowruz message called on PKK fighters to withdraw:

"We’ve reached a point where weapons must fall silent and thoughts and politics must speak."

In 2005, he had formally abandoned the dream of a Kurdish state, proposing instead "democratic confederalism."

The process lasted until 2015, when an ISIS bombing in Suruç killed 32 Kurdish activists. The PKK killed two Turkish police officers in retaliation, ending the ceasefire.

In late 2024, Nationalist Movement Party leader Devlet Bahçeli—a longtime enemy of Öcalan—stated he was open to Öcalan addressing parliament if he dissolved the PKK.

On February 27, 2025, Öcalan issued a prison statement urging disarmament. On May 12, the PKK announced plans to dissolve its armed wing, ending a 40-year insurgency.

Öcalan and the Assad Regime

During his Syrian exile, Öcalan leveraged tensions over water rights and the Hatay province to gain protection from Hafez al-Assad. He didn’t meet Syrian officials until 1992, when Vice President Abdul Halim Khaddam engaged him in political discussions.

By 1998, Turkish threats of war forced Syria to expel Öcalan. Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak mediated, leading to the Adana security agreement. Khaddam later recalled:

"I said goodbye to him with tears in my eyes. It’s not easy to tell a man: Go to your death."

Despite Assad's support, Syria denied Kurdish identity domestically, stripping thousands of citizenship and repressing Kurdish activism.

After 2011, the Assad regime covertly backed the PKK’s Syrian branch (YPG), granting autonomy in exchange for loyalty. In April 2011, Öcalan wrote to Bashar Assad: "Give us autonomy and we will support you."

As the revolution became more Islamist, the PKK became wary. In May 2011, Öcalan warned:

"If the Muslim Brotherhood comes to power, there will be massacres against us."

He urged YPG to pursue diplomacy with Assad, showing willingness to support the regime in exchange for Kurdish rights.

After leaving Syria, Öcalan sought asylum in Greece, Russia, and Italy—but no country wanted him. Under U.S.-Turkish intelligence coordination, he was denied refuge.

On February 15, 1999, Turkish agents captured him in Nairobi, Kenya. He was flown to Turkey and imprisoned on Imrali Island.

On June 29, 1999, a Turkish court sentenced him to death. Following EU criticism and massive protests, Ankara commuted the sentence in 2002 to life imprisonment.

Iraq: Strategic Base

Öcalan never limited his ambitions to Turkey. In 1982, he met Masoud Barzani, who allowed PKK camps in northern Iraq.

Post-Gulf War chaos in 1991 enabled the PKK to entrench in the Qandil Mountains. Initially cordial, PKK–KDP relations soured as Barzani feared the PKK’s growing influence. A Kurdish civil war erupted from 1994 to 1997, with Jalal Talabani’s PUK siding with the PKK and Turkey backing Barzani.

In 2000, Öcalan, from prison, endorsed fighting the PUK. A PKK insider said the motive was to keep fighters combat-ready.

He described Barzani and Talabani as "cartoonish Saddams" and declared: "They are arms and legs; I am the brain."

Still, Kurdish parties later mediated Turkey–PKK negotiations. In 2020, as tensions rose again, Öcalan called for restoring the 1982 spirit of cooperation.

Israel: Political Tool

Öcalan opposed Israeli occupation from early on and reportedly fought alongside the PFLP in the Golan. Turkish leftists trained in Palestinian camps during the 1970s–80s.

He believed Israeli intelligence pressured Syria to expel him and even warned of Israeli plots to control or eliminate him.

After his capture, PKK supporters blamed Mossad and protested in Berlin, where three Kurds were killed.

From prison, Öcalan denounced Kurdish–Israeli ties in Iraq as a "second Zionism." But divisions existed within the PKK: Murat Karayılan advocated for ties if Israel apologized for its role in Öcalan’s capture.

A PKK official told Israeli press in 2019: "The region needs Israeli expertise. Let’s break barriers and build mutual understanding."

Still, no formal relations emerged. In a leaked meeting transcript, Öcalan warned of an Israeli five-step plan to dominate the region:

"Gaza, Lebanon, and Syria are finished. Only Iran and Turkey remain."

He feared Kurdish regions might become the "next Gaza."

Yet journalist Ruşen Çakır argues that Öcalan isn’t driven by hatred of Israel, but by resistance to regional domination—using his stance as leverage in Turkish negotiations.

Symbol and Legacy

Though imprisoned, Öcalan remains the PKK’s spiritual and ideological leader. His pronouncements, even from isolation, dictate the group’s direction.

His influence transcends Turkey, shaping Kurdish politics in Syria, Iraq, and Iran. The Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF) regard him as their ideological father.

In every peace effort, he is the central figure. In 2013–2015, he called for abandoning armed struggle. In 2025, he brought the PKK to its end.

He has reshaped his vision from separatism to democratic autonomy. Though his actions led to bloodshed, his final act may define a new political future.

Returning to his own words:

"My condition is unlike any other—and I am on the right path."

History, perhaps, will be the judge of whether that path was truly the right one.