Inside Hamas

SUNGSU CHO/POLARIS FOR TIME
THE FACE OF TERROR: Hamas operatives like these activists lead lives so secret that their militant identities are often hidden from their own families

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Not all "martyrs," though, blow themselves up: many deliberately put themselves in range of Israel's guns. Take Tito Massoud, 36, a Hamas militant who was assassinated by the Israeli military last summer when low-flying Apache helicopters fired seven missiles into his car as he sat in evening traffic in the Gaza City market. For years Israel had identified Massoud as a major figure in Hamas' military wing, the underground Izzedine al-Qassam Brigade. He took up the cause of Palestinian liberation as a stone-throwing youth in Gaza when the first intifadeh erupted in 1987. He regularly attended the local mosque, where the preachings of Hamas filled Friday prayers. He came to regard it, his brother told me, as the organization that could "fulfill his dream." Massoud joined up and gradually moved from activist to the military wing, conducting hit-and-run raids against occupation troops in Gaza and later specializing in explosives and rocket development. Israel first learned of him when he took part in a 1995 attack on an Israel Defense Forces (I.D.F.) position that left two soldiers dead. One of his colleagues was captured and, under interrogation, revealed Massoud's name.

Massoud took up the life of a fugitive. When he stopped sleeping at home and disappeared for days at a time, his family realized his calling. They accepted the risk he ran. "It's a noble choice he made," says Massoud's brother Khadir. "We knew this road would end either in victory for Palestine or death and he would go to heaven. Both ends are good."

Palestinian factions often jockey to lay claim to nonmilitant "martyrs" as a way to expand their base by showing their deep-pocketed generosity. But Hamas does the same for slain fighters in a well-oiled campaign to turn every death to its advantage. One unit arrives at the morgue with a loudspeaker van to play Hamas' famous funeral song. Another unit organizes volunteers to carry the body, draped in a green Hamas flag, to the dead person's house, then to the mosque and then to burial. For Muslims, accompanying the body earns points in heaven. A third unit goes to the dead militant's home to set up the mourning tent and prepare refreshments for the crowds who will come to show their respects over the next three days. When Hani Abu Shkaila, a senior field commander, died in a shoot-out with Israeli soldiers in Gaza City last month, Hamas immediately took charge, just as it has done for many others. Abu Shkaila's wife and 3month-old son, like the family of Massoud, will receive a Hamas stipend for food, clothing and schooling until the children grow up. A Hamas man delivers the prerecorded farewell messages that many fighters prepare. Tito Massoud's called for eternal struggle. "Only fighting will bring back our rights," he said to his family from the grave. "That is the road you must take to liberation."

Dying is a way to emphasize that Palestinians will never stop fighting for their cause. That, Hamas preaches, is a strength greater than all Israel's military hardware: the bloodshed will help liberate the land, turning lost lives into a badge of honor and giving some meaning to grief. Abu Shanab, the political leader assassinated last August, told me a few weeks before his death that suicide attacks are an expression of human dignity in a situation that seems hopeless. "We show Israel we refuse to accept their occupation lying down," he said. In the creed of Hamas, suicide bombs are the most potent weapon Palestinians can wield against a better-armed enemy. The killings make Israel understand, Rantisi told me last summer, that "force will not defeat the Palestinians. Ever." Palestinians know "we're not winning the war," says Raji Sourani, a human-rights lawyer in Gaza. "But at least we died trying. It's all about not being the 'good victim.'"

Secret Society
Despite the deaths of more than 2,400 of their kin since this intifadeh began in September 2000, Palestinians are little closer to the dream of an independent state. Yet there seems to be no shortage of young Palestinians willing to die for the cause. Even though Israel routinely kills or captures militants, Hamas' al-Qassam Brigade is always able to replenish its ranks. Its actions inspire the admiration of Palestinians who feel that violent resistance gives them back some of their lost self-esteem. At a demonstration in downtown Gaza, I met a skinny 12-year-old who had wrapped his head in a homemade Hamas band. He carried a green Hamas banner proclaiming AL-QASSAM BRIGADE WILL TEAR UP EVERY MAP NOT WRITTEN BY THE BLOOD OF MARTYRS. When I asked what he wanted to be when he grows up, the boy answered: "Qassam, Qassam, Qassam." Why? "Because we believe in Palestine." The militants have become the only heroes Palestinians have.