Sinwar’s ‘The Thorn and The Carnation’ reflects strife

A prison novel capturing the hardships of Gaza’s conflict through one man’s perspective

Hamas leader Yahya Sinwar choose “The Thorn and The Carnation” as the title for his novel, which he wrote during his prolonged imprisonment in Israeli Ashqelon prison.

Published 20 years ago, the work reflects the bitterness often found in the writings of leaders penned during their time in confinement — figures who are typically controversial, both within their own societies and globally.

Like other influential works written behind bars, Adolf Hitler wrote his book “Mein Kampf” (My Struggle) during his imprisonment, and Sayyid Qutb wrote “In the Shade of the Qur’an” under similar circumstances.

Sinwar’s novel carries the same tone of resentment toward his captors and the environment he lived in, resonating with his novel “The Thorn and The Carnation”.

Sinwar begins the novel by emphasising that the story is not solely his own but is a blend of his personal experiences and the stories he heard from his comrades. The book captures a broad range of hardships endured by Palestinians throughout the last third of the 20th century and the first third of the 21st.

Each paragraph seems to reflect the turmoil of a generation in exile — scorched by the summer sun and left exposed to the winter rain, as their makeshift shelters and tents become waterlogged and uninhabitable.

The novel opens with a vivid memory from when Sinwar was just five years old, during the 1967 war. He watched as his father dig a large hole in front of their house, covered it with wooden boards, and instructed the family — his siblings, mother, uncle, and their children — to hide inside.

However, his elderly grandfather refused to descend into the dark, cold hole, preferring to remain above ground. Nearby stood a female neighbour, clutching a radio, listening intently to the news, poised at the edge of this makeshift shelter.

Returning to hometown

The backdrop is war, and soon the boy will no longer see the nearby Egyptian camp where he once shared candy with the soldiers. Initially, there was hope.

The neighbour, clutching his radio, relayed reports of victory, bringing a fleeting sense of relief. But those hopes, amplified by Egyptian broadcaster Ahmed Saeed’s promises of triumph, quickly disintegrated. Inside the makeshift shelter, they held onto a fragile dream of returning to their hometown, free and secure.

Within days, harsh reality set in as the Egyptian army had withdrawn, and hope quickly faded. Some residents scavenged abandoned supplies, even stripping windows from the school where the soldiers had been stationed, a bleak sign of a community grappling with loss and disillusionment.

Tanks and jeeps bearing Egyptian flags rolled into the camp, prompting men to emerge with rifles, firing celebratory shots. However, the horrifying truth emerged as the vehicles drew closer — these tanks belonged to an Israeli military unit employing deception. Without warning, they opened fire on the unsuspecting crowd, killing several who had come to welcome them.

The aftermath was filled with chaos and fear. All men over 18 were ordered to report to a nearby school, with a stern warning that hiding would lead to house-to-house searches and certain death. Even the elderly, including the frail grandfather, complied and went to surrender, but he was turned away, spared by his old age.

At the school, the men lined up in a single row. A man in civilian clothes arrived in a car, driving slowly past the line and honking whenever he spotted someone he intended to take. Those selected were taken away, marking the first round of executions.

Driven to the border

After this grim selection, more men were gathered and executed en-masse against a wall. The survivors were bound, loaded onto trucks, and driven to the border, never to return.

This is one of the harrowing scenes in the novel, where both the father and uncle are taken away, never to return. It recounts the painful aftermath of the 1967 war, characterised by shortages of food, water, and shelter, alongside the bitterness and humiliation of occupation.

These experiences shaped the essence of Sinwar’s character, instilling a bitterness that persisted until his recent killing. Israel’s tactics have largely remained unchanged since 1948 and 1967, continuing through subsequent conflicts, including after Oct. 7, 2023, now executed with the added precision of modern technology.

In this context, many leaders failed to pause and analyse the past, neglecting to fully understand the adversary’s capabilities and the strengths available to counter them. Despite numerous lessons, emotions intertwined with metaphysical thinking overshadowed critical insights, resulting in a failure to confront reality and devise innovative approaches to resistance.

Gaza is a flat land besieged by sea and air, with limited escape routes. A genocide is taking place. The discourse emphasises that this conflict is not just about military might but is rooted in advanced technology, highlighting the need for intellect rather than merely relying on missiles and brave fighters.

Mohammad Alrumaihi is an author and Professor of Political Sociology at Kuwait University