Why peace with Hamas remains an elusive dream

Few entities embody the fusion of radical religious ideology and unrelenting terrorism as starkly as Hamas. Formed in 1987 in the context of the First Intifada, Hamas is short for Harakat Al-Muqawama Al-Islamia, or Islamic Resistance Movement. However, this resistance is aimed not at coexistence but toward the annihilation of Israel and the Jewish people worldwide. Grounded in Sunni fundamentalism and Palestinian nationalism, Hamas’ charter and actions reveal a worldview where peace with Israel is theologically forbidden. It’s origins, covenant, social apparatus, tactics, and recruitment strategies, show that peace with Hamas is impossible because the group’s religious dogma demands apocalyptic jihad, seeing any compromise as a violation of divine will.

Hamas emerged from the fertile ground of the Muslim Brotherhood, an Islamist organisation founded in Egypt in 1928 to replace secular governance with an Islamic theocracy. In Palestine, Brotherhood cells, led by the quadriplegic cleric Sheikh Ahmed Yassin, first focused on charitable works in Gaza’s refugee camps. Yassin studied at Egypt’s Al-Azhar University, where he adopted Brotherhood ideals. By 1973, he established the Islamic Centre in Gaza as a Brotherhood hub. But the 1987 Intifada saw Hamas invert the Brotherhood’s gradualist approach—prioritising Islamic law domestically before addressing Palestine—opting instead for immediate jihad. As the group’s founding charter declares: “Allah is its goal… the Qur’an is its law, jihad is its path and death on behalf of Allah is its highest aspiration.” This shift transformed a welfare network into a terrorist vanguard, committed to obliterating Israel as a religious imperative.

Yassin’s unyielding opposition to peace crystallised Hamas’s ethos. He viewed Palestine as an Islamic waqf—a consecrated trust for Muslim generations until Judgment Day—rendering any territorial concession to “infidels” a mortal sin. “Palestine is Muslim land consecrated for future Muslim generations,” he insisted, demanding Israel’s erasure from the map through martyrdom or victory. Jailed by Israel in the 1980s, Yassin divulged secrets under interrogation but was released in a 1997 prisoner swap, before perishing in a 2004 Israeli airstrike. His legacy endures in Hamas’s operational base: Gaza, where it seized power in 2006 after electoral victory, expelling Fatah rivals in bloody purges. Though the Palestinian Authority (Fatah-led) governs the West Bank, Hamas’s Gaza fiefdom has ensured a divided Palestine, with terror attacks and rocket barrages into Israel punctuating any fragile truces.

The Hamas Covenant of 1988 lays bare its incompatibility with peace, blending apocalyptic theology with genocidal objectives. Article 6 enshrines the motto above, elevating jihad to existential duty. On Israel’s legitimacy: “Israel will exist and will continue to exist until Islam will obliterate it, just as it obliterated others before it.” Compromise is unthinkable because “The land of Palestine is an Islamic Waqf… it, or any part of it, should not be given up.” It sees “… no solution for the Palestinian question except through Jihad. Initiatives, proposals and international conferences are all a waste of time.” Even more chilling is its antisemitism, invoking a hadith: “The Day of Judgement will not come about until Muslims fight the Jews (killing the Jews), when the Jew will hide behind stones and trees. The stones and trees will say O Muslims… there is a Jew behind me, come and kill him.” Peace processes, the charter scoffs, empower “infidels” as arbiters over Muslim lands—a sacrilege. These tenets aren’t rhetorical flourishes; they are sacred mandates, rendering negotiations not tactical pauses but apostasy. While Hamas did issue a more pragmatic 2017 policy document that softened some rhetoric. This was interpreted by many as window dressing intended to confuse outsiders. It most certainly did not formally rescind the 1988 Covenant.

Hamas’s dual face—terrorist and social benefactor—has entrenched its ideology. Controlling Gaza since 2007, it has allocated many millions of dollars to welfare, education, and mosques, outshining the corrupt Fatah. This “resistance welfare state” fosters loyalty, portraying Hamas as a pious guardian against Israeli “oppression.” Early on, its Islamic honesty contrasted Fatah’s graft, swelling ranks. Yet, governing exposed hypocrisies: extortion rackets and cronyism eroded Hamas’ moral sheen. Post-2009 Operation Cast Lead—Israel’s response to renewed rockets—support dipped but rebounded, fuelled by anti-Israel fervour. Social services aren’t altruism; they’re recruitment pipelines, indoctrinating youth in jihadist theology while sustaining the war machine.

Recruitment for Hamas combatants has perpetuated the cycle of violence, targeting devout, educated young men unbound by poverty or madness—shattering stereotypes. Deep-seated Israel hatred unites them, forged in religious fervour. Years of training precede selection for “martyrdom operations,” monitored by handlers. Recruits record testaments, buoyed by promises: thousands of dollars for families, painless death, and paradise’s 72 virgins. This isn’t desperation; it’s devotion, where self-immolation advances Allah’s victory.

Leaders such as Anthony Albanese and Penny Wong think of Middle East peace in political terms. That may work for Israel and rational actors, but peace with Hamas falters not on politics but theology. Its covenant enshrines Israel’s elimination as an immutable truth, jihad as obligatory salvation. Social services mask but enable terror; recruitment ensures renewal. As Yassin’s ghost whispers from Gaza’s tunnels, compromise yields to conquest. Until Hamas renounces its genocidal creed—a prospect as likely as stones staying silent—dialogue remains a delusion. The path to stability demands confronting this unholy alliance of faith and fury, not appeasing it.

Prof. Matthew Ogilvie is Chairperson of Friends of Israel Western Australia.