Mahmoud Issa, Al-Quds-born, architect of resistance, and the “dean” of Hamas prisoners, is among the most feared and steadfast leaders the occupation has ever tried to break. Born in Anata, northeast of Al-Quds, in 1968, Issa joined Hamas upon its founding and, with a cadre of Al-Quds youth, built the first Qassam cell in the city: Unit 101. Their mission, kidnap Zionist soldiers to exchange for Palestinian prisoners, became the new grammar of asymmetric warfare in occupied Al-Quds.
In December 1992, Issa led the legendary operation to capture Israeli soldier Nassim Tolidano, demanding the release of Hamas’s founder, Sheikh Ahmed Yassin. The occupation refused, so Unit 101 executed the soldier and dumped his body in the street, a move that triggered a massive, vindictive crackdown: thousands arrested across the West Bank and Gaza, and hundreds of resistance leaders exiled to Marj al-Zuhur in south Lebanon.
Issa’s cell continued its campaign: targeting Israeli soldiers in Khadera, eliminating police, and wounding officers in direct action throughout 1993. After six months of relentless pursuit, Mahmoud Issa and his closest comrades, Musa Akari, Mahmoud Atoun, and Majid Qutaysh, were captured in June 1993. The Knesset announced with relief the dismantling of the “most dangerous cell” in Al-Quds.
What followed was a saga of torture, deprivation, and calculated isolation. Interrogated for months in the notorious Moskobiya and Ramla detention centers, Issa refused to break or confess. He was sentenced to three life terms plus 46 years. He spent over 13 years in solitary confinement, denied most family visits, allowed to see his mother just five times behind glass before her death in 2021.
His father died while Issa was in prison. The occupation labeled him among its eight most dangerous prisoners, repeatedly refusing his inclusion in the 2011 “Wafaa al-Ahrar” and 2013 exchanges, citing his continued influence, recruitment of new cells even from behind bars, and a daring escape attempt after digging a 10-meter tunnel beneath Ashkelon Prison.
Despite all this, Mahmoud Issa transformed his years in isolation into a laboratory of resistance. He memorized the Quran, mastered Arabic calligraphy, and wrote a series of influential books, including his autobiography (The Tale of Saber), Reflections on the Quran, Resistance Between Theory and Practice, and works on conspiracy and political thought.
He organized and led collective hunger strikes, was repeatedly elected to the high leadership of the Hamas prisoners, and became a foundational figure in the movement’s imprisoned cadre, proof that even maximum-security walls can’t suppress will, intellect, or command.
Every attempt by Israel to silence him failed. They accused him of killing settlers before the Tolidano operation, of organizing military groups from inside prison, of plotting further escapes. He was subjected to endless interrogations and new sentences, yet each campaign only added to his stature among prisoners and the Palestinian street.
Today, as Mahmoud Issa finally prepares for release after more than 30 years, he returns not as a broken man but as a living archive: the field commander who gave Al-Quds its first Qassam unit, the organizer who refused all compromise, and the author whose story became blueprint and warning for generations to come.
No amount of isolation, exile, or repression could erase Issa’s legacy from Al-Quds. In every sense, military, intellectual, and spiritual, he is the echo of the city’s resistance, living proof that real leadership survives even the deepest cell.
• • •
Missing some Tweet in this thread? You can try to
force a refresh
“Israel prefers Hamas”, yet it has spent decades assassinating every generation of its leadership. From Sheikh Ahmad Yassin and Abdel Aziz al-Rantisi in 2004, through the commanders who built the movement’s endurance under siege, Salah Shehadeh, Ahmed al-Jaabari, Raed al-Attar, to the senior command martyred in Tufan al-Aqsa: Haniyeh, al-Sinwar, al-Arouri, and their comrades.
No colonial regime “prefers” the men and women who deny its permanence. It fears them. The Zionist state annihilated Gaza’s universities, bombed the camps, slaughtered entire families, and then celebrated the killing of every name on that wall of martyrs, proof that what it “prefers” is submission, not survival.
Every image of a fallen leader refutes that western fantasy. These were the same people who led Gaza through blockade, rebuilt tunnels under siege, held elections that the world refused to honor, and redefined endurance itself as political legitimacy.
What’s unfolded is the kind of inflection point that rewrites the operating system of occupation and resistance.
We watched, in real time, as the occupation threw the full weight of its military, surveillance, and diplomatic machinery at Gaza, total blockade, relentless bombardment, psychological warfare, and the full force of Western narrative discipline.
And still, after two years of siege layered atop a genocidal war, the resistance not only withstood the storm but forced a ceasefire on its own terms, wresting prisoner releases and surviving intact as an organized force.
The core lesson is the myth of Israeli omnipotence has been structurally shattered.
Not just by rockets or raids, but by the refusal to break, by the imposition of cost, and by the persistence of organized will.
The ceasefire is not a final peace or a full liberation, but a signal that the machinery of control can be stalled, that deterrence has fractured, and that the resistance remains an actor able to impose dilemmas and shape events.
For the resistance, this is a brutal proof of concept. Gaza’s endurance, the collapse of Israeli red lines, the unraveling of the “invincible army” narrative, and the forced negotiations over prisoners, all represent new leverage points for future battles, both military and psychological.
The region’s axis is shifting. Deterrence is now multidirectional, escalation dominance no longer rests with the occupier, and the world is forced to reckon with a population that cannot be erased.
Between October 2023 and September 2025, the United States delivered at least $21.7 billion in direct military aid to Israel, according to formal reporting streams. This aid includes $17.9 billion disbursed in the first year of war, with another $3.8 billion provided in the second year.
These numbers reflect congressional appropriations, Foreign Military Financing (FMF), offshore procurement for Israel’s domestic weapons industry, direct replenishment of U.S. stockpiles shipped to Israel, special funding for ammunition procurement, and outlays to boost U.S. arms production lines specifically to meet Israeli demand.
As a breakdown: $8.1 billion in FMF, $725 million for offshore procurement, $5 billion for missile defense (Arrow, Iron Dome, David’s Sling), $4.4 billion to replenish weapons already drawn down and transferred, $801 million for direct ammunition procurement, and nearly $200 million earmarked solely for expanding U.S. production capabilities to sustain the flow.
On the eve of October 7, 2023, operational orders for Al-Aqsa Flood flowed down the chain of command with precision: assemble every squad, verify equipment, test communications, and synchronize watches, no improvisation, no margin for error.
Each cell received its mission set, breach teams tasked to neutralize enemy surveillance, shock units cleared to storm fortifications, recovery squads ready to extract hostages, and technical cadres deployed to intercept and reroute communications inside occupied sites. The timeline was measured in minutes, with every maneuver clocked, and every phase locked to signal discipline. Fire support was on standby; command posts were established with redundancies across the sector.
The orders demanded not just force, but sequencing: infiltration at first light, hard breach on designated axes, systematic clearance of enemy positions, rapid exploitation of enemy disarray. Intelligence liaisons were embedded with assault teams, relaying live battlefield data to a central operations room. Target priorities were explicit, enemy command nodes, weapons caches, and digital control points were to be secured and held until relieved. Information blackout was absolute until objectives were achieved; outside comms were forbidden.
Resistance security units in Gaza have uncovered and dismantled a network of hidden surveillance cameras and espionage devices planted by the occupation along a main artery connecting Gaza’s governorates.
According to resistance sources, these devices were camouflaged as ordinary objects, even fake birds on tree branches, and are suspected to be linked to the notorious Blue Wolf system, part of the wider Israeli mass-surveillance matrix known as Wolfpack.
The Wolfpack system, comprised of Red Wolf, Blue Wolf, and White Wolf, is designed to index, monitor, and control Palestinian lives at scale. Blue Wolf operates via an app on soldiers’ devices, enabling them to photograph and scan the faces of Palestinians, without suspicion or cause, building a permanent database of every face, every movement, every interaction
Red Wolf brings facial recognition to checkpoints, with real-time signals controlling who passes and who is denied. The purpose is less about “security” and more about saturating daily life with surveillance, anxiety, and friction, forcing a population to live as numbers in a hostile database, afraid to speak, move, or even socialize freely.
Israel Hayom and Shabak outlets are scrambling to dress up what is, at its core, another humiliation for the Zionist security apparatus.
According to their own admissions, Iranian operatives posed as representatives for the Israeli singer Yuval Eliasi (“Saya”), sending messages in an attempt to meet with Hillel Ben Gvir, the 17-year-old daughter of occupation National Security Minister Itamar Ben Gvir. The supposed “concert booking” was nothing more than a pretext to demonstrate that the resistance’s intelligence reach can penetrate into the private lives of the regime’s most protected figures.
Shabak has been forced into damage-control briefings, summoning Ben Gvir’s staff and warning that his employees are also being targeted. The narrative in Israel Hayom is inflated into talk of “kidnapping,” but the actual exposure lies elsewhere: the occupation’s enemies can make its most extreme ministers and their families feel personally vulnerable with nothing more than a few crafted messages.