Will Hamas turn from war to politics?

On paper Ismail Haniyeh, assassinated in Tehran on July 31st, was Hamas’s supreme leader. When in 2022 he ran for a second term in that role, he was unopposed. But for the past ten months, since Hamas’s attack on Israel on October 7th, he has often looked more like a postman. The focus of leadership shifted to Gaza, while Mr Haniyeh ran the political wing from Qatar. The decision to continue war or seek a ceasefire has lain with the Qassam Brigades, the military wing led by Yahya Sinwar. Mr Haniyeh relayed messages.

In the short term the assassination tightens Mr Sinwar’s grip. But more pragmatic Hamas types think his decision to mount the attack in October squandered two decades of state-building. They want to reconstitute Hamas as a political movement and an arm of the Muslim Brotherhood, the Islamist group that is its ideological parent, rather than remain a band of jihadist guerrillas. In any event, Mr Haniyeh’s death is likely to spark a struggle within Hamas that could determine its future—and that of Palestine itself.

Much will depend on how Hamas reassesses the Gaza war. Start with Mr Sinwar’s supporters in the group. Although he unleashed his fighters on Israel with cavalier disregard for the consequences of Israel’s inevitable retaliation, some within Hamas still celebrate this as a military achievement. Never before had Palestinians seized land within the lines laid down in 1948, when Israel was born. Never before had they overrun army bases, killed so many Israelis and taken so many hostages. The attack, Hamas’s cheerleaders insist, punctured Israel’s aura of invincibility, while its retaliation sullied its standing. Mr Sinwar’s approach, they claim, has been vindicated.

It took Mr Sinwar years to build his authority. After a fractious internal election in 2017 he chased out civilian rivals, including Mr Haniyeh. Big decisions were thereafter made by the military command. Some 80% of recruits had to do military service, reckons an analyst close to the group.

Mr Sinwar has dabbled in politics, too. Like Fatah, Hamas’s secular Palestinian rival, he tried negotiating with Israel. In 2019 he offered Binyamin Netanyahu, the Israeli prime minister, a long-term ceasefire brokered by Egypt, which Mr Netanyahu at first accepted, then spurned. Only violence, concluded Mr Sinwar, would force Israel to make concessions.

His followers boast of facing down the region’s strongest army for ten months. By Israeli estimates, Hamas still fields a fighting force of more than 10,000 (the group’s figure is bigger). And Mr Sinwar is still alive. His fighters have killed hundreds of Israeli soldiers. Wherever Israel withdraws within Gaza, they reinsert themselves. As Mr Sinwar’s disciples tell it, Hamas has proved the most effective Palestinian fighting force since 1948.

Now consider those who question Mr Sinwar’s actions. Pragmatists lament that the assault has reduced their statelet to ruins. In the lead-up to October 7th, most Palestinians in Gaza had rarely had it so good—admittedly starting at a low bar. New roads and resorts had sprouted on their small strip of land. Israel let back in thousands of labourers from Gaza, for the first time in more than 15 years.

Now most Gazans, homeless and hungry, loathe Hamas. Their death toll is nearing 40,000, far greater than that of the nakba, or catastrophe of 1948. Gaza’s landmarks—its medieval hammams, mosques and handsome villas—are piles of rubble. “It’s the worst period in the history of Palestine,” says one Gazan in exile.

Hamas’s reputation for imposing law and order in Gaza has been shredded, too. Pillage is rife. Gunmen who may belong to Hamas have looted Gaza’s banks. Graffiti announce the verdicts of kangaroo courts, while thugs knee-cap the accused and toughs beat up critics. An opinion poll in June showed support for Hamas’s rule in Gaza had slumped to under 5%, compared with 39% in the West Bank. A day of reckoning may ensue when its fighters emerge from their tunnels: “He’ll be pummelled when he comes up,” says a writer in Gaza, referring to Mr Sinwar. And some fighters never will. Israel killed Muhammad Deif, the group’s military chief, in a strike in July.

Hamas has not made much diplomatic ground either. Many Arab governments ban it, just as Western ones do. Iran and its proxies have failed to rescue it—or to keep its leaders safe. If expelled from Qatar, it might struggle to find another haven. Iraq’s government, though close to Iran’s, has said no. Chaotic Yemen might offer one. Outside Gaza, criticism of Mr Sinwar’s decision for war courses through the ranks.

When the war stops, both Hamas and Gaza’s beleaguered people might want a new type of leader. Of the frontrunners to replace Mr Haniyeh, Khalil al-Haya is the closest to Mr Sinwar—and even he has suggested that Hamas could disarm. Another contender is Nizar Awadallah, a stalwart from Hamas’s inception who stood against Mr Sinwar for the group’s leadership.

The strongest candidate may be Khaled Meshaal, who headed the group until 2017, whereafter Mr Sinwar strove to marginalise him. A scholar raised in Kuwait with many diplomatic contacts, Mr Meshaal comes from the West Bank. He might want Hamas to come under the Palestinian Liberation Organisation, the national umbrella, even if it had to accept its previous agreements recognising Israel. In the past he has also advocated breaking with Iran and Hizbullah, its Lebanese proxy, and turning to Sunni Arab states for support.

Whether the Qassam Brigades would agree is unclear. Anyone hoping to rule Gaza after the war would need their backing. But most Gazans yearn for respite and reconstruction. “Hamas’s leaders realise that October 7th was a miscalculation,” says Muhammad Daraghmeh, a Palestinian journalist with good sources among Hamas’s leaders. Will the group’s next boss agree?■