I don’t know if there’s any room left for sarcasm at the heart of this ongoing catastrophe—or even whether sarcasm, in its usual sense, is still capable of describing what’s happening. But how can we suppress irony when we’ve reached a time in which the symbol of the era is “Abu Al-Shabab”—a man who emerged from prison for drug trafficking to become the leader of a militia claiming to protect international aid?
Imagine a former dealer, accused of Israeli ties, being presented today as the last vestige of Palestinian representation. That’s how far we’ve declined.
I fear sarcasm, because we’ve seen its catastrophic consequences in neighboring countries. Who would have believed that Al-Julani, Baghdadi’s fellow man, would become today the lawgiver and religious authority in Syria?
Who could have imagined that someone listed as a terrorist by the U.S. would be welcomed with red carpets, and his movements followed in admiration by world powers?
So no, there’s no room left for irony. Truth now stands so naked, it can’t bear even a shred of ornament. Those who manufacture terrorism and those who manufacture leadership may seem to oppose each other—but beneath the surface, they play by the same rules. We are nothing more than scattered pawns on a chessboard, moved by expert players—Netanyahu on one side, and others like him on the other. Each is willing to sacrifice whatever pieces are needed to score a point. The chessboard itself means nothing to them, nor do the pieces. Unless a piece is owned by the master of the game, it remains worthless—no matter how it shifts position or how large it appears.
If we track the pieces Netanyahu moves—and those moved by his opponents—we see how they are used as soldiers, sacrificed without hesitation, replaced with more fitting pieces for the next phase. The Palestinian people, since the last election, have remained in place, while some of these pawns have begun to believe they are knights. Others go further—imagining themselves as ministers, or even as a king whose ministers lie in wait to take his place.
The chessboard is perfectly clear from Netanyahu’s angle. If he sees Palestinians at all, he sees them only as pieces to be maneuvered for his benefit. His entire career has been built on denying any form of independent Palestinian identity, and on refusing to deal with any “Arab” as a political equal. The case of Mansour Abbas is no exception—it is a stark confirmation of that logic. Netanyahu saw in Abbas a convenient pawn, dangled a ministerial seat before him, and made him believe—even briefly—that he could be a player in the game, not merely a piece within it.
To be fair, it might seem unjust to place Abbas in the same category as what comes next. Or perhaps—it’s perfectly fair. Anyone who places their faith in Netanyahu—a man whose political history is rooted in denying Palestinian existence—and then bets on a position in his government, is nothing more than a tool to be discarded when the role is done.
That Netanyahu now boasts—without shame—of using someone like Yasser Abu Al-Shabab is not a mere tactical blunder, but a deliberate descent into a new depth of political degradation.
After the Palestinian Authority in the West Bank was exhausted and transformed into a security apparatus for Israel—hunting down resistance in the name of “state institutions”—the decision in Gaza was to abandon even that illusion. There, Netanyahu collaborates openly with a rogue militia, led by a former gangster and drug dealer who once served in PA apparatuses and still maintains ties with key figures in its security branches. This militia—the “Popular Forces”—makes no effort to hide its coordination with the Israeli army. It now plays a role modeled after the American experiments in Afghanistan, Iraq, and Syria: distributing aid, separating civilians from resistance fighters, and forming an armed entity awaiting future legitimacy.
For those who think this is a new strategy—remember Saad Haddad, the Lebanese officer who defected in the 1970s to form the Israeli-backed South Lebanon Army. Haddad became a local “leader” in the south, armed by Israel, preaching “security and protection,” while acting as the repressive intermediary between the occupier and his people. He, and later Antoine Lahad—his successor—were Lebanese faces for Israeli policy, hiding behind a counterfeit national discourse. Abu Al-Shabab, in shape, mission, and justification, is no exception. He is the next link in the chain of occupation proxies—this time with a Daesh-like structure and practice.
As for the chessboard, it remains filled with abandoned pawns, scrambling at its edges, waiting with pitiful eyes for someone to move—or even notice—them. These are not leaders, but brokers of a phase. They compete not for the people’s future, but for a shred of acknowledgment from “the higher player.”
There’s no use asking: How did we get here? We’ve always been here. We simply lied to ourselves. This is a moment of exposure, when masks fall. When decision-making becomes commerce, and the people become rungs on the ladder for opportunists, all that remains is shame—and the bitter wait, hoping the occupier might glance at his slaves.
This is the natural result for a people who have accepted the absence of elections for nearly twenty years. Naturally, in an age of collapse and erosion, Abu Al-Shabab rises to power.
What did we expect, after more than a decade of watching corruption rewarded—transformed from crime into governing principle?
What did we expect, after burying the law and handing society’s keys to tribalism, family ties, and partisan loyalty—until leadership is measured not by competence but by banquet tables and party chants?
What did we expect, when those who dare to speak are silenced—like Nizar Banat, the bold thinker and electoral candidate who dreamed of a ballot box, but met a coffin? He was murdered in cold blood by those charged with his protection—just for naming things as they are. He paid for his words with his life, and those words still scream in their faces.
What did we expect, when collaboration becomes a job qualification, intelligence-sharing a competition, and betrayal a career path—worn as a badge of honor?
What did we expect, when the field of resistance is wide open to every fool, mercenary, or agent—each staining it with lies, justifying genocidal aggression against Gaza?
What did we expect, while a people is exterminated in Gaza, hunted in the West Bank, as hearts shrink, eyes close, insight is executed, and conscience erased?
So welcome, Abu Al-Shabab and his militias—come and deliver the missing “justice,” with your gang of false saviors. Your name already stands as a symbol of this era’s decay. Facing a leadership that cloaks itself in the garb of “legitimacy,” your rise is not surprising. Those who backed Saad Haddad and later allied with Antoine Lahad won’t hesitate to clear the path for their new partner. Abu Al-Shabab marches forward—not to lead, but to inherit a ruined stage, where the era itself has withered and vanished.
All that remains for its people is the agony of nothingness.
Disclaimer:
The views expressed here reflect the author’s analysis of publicly available information and media reports. All named individuals are public figures. The article references coverage from Israeli and international media outlets including Ynet News, Israel Hayom, Kan, Mako, The Jerusalem Post, Times of Israel, and the U.S. State Department. No undisclosed factual claims are asserted.