And just like that, a ceasefire is signed. But don’t be fooled — this is no grand peace deal. It’s a pause, a fragile truce held together by the thinnest of threads, with hostilities ready to reignite at the slightest provocation.

The agreement between Israel and Hamas paves the way for a prisoner-hostage exchange and a limited repositioning of Israeli forces in and around the Gaza Strip. In the first phase, Hamas and its allied militant factions will release 33 hostages — civilians, female soldiers, children, the elderly, and the sick. In return, Israel will release approximately 1,000 Palestinian prisoners, prioritizing those arrested after October 8, 2023, but not directly involved in the October 7 massacre.

The final deal was announced on Wednesday, and the reactions were telling. What struck me most about the response was this: before the ink on the ceasefire agreement had even dried, before it was even signed, before a single hostage was returned, before either side had even a moment to exhale, Hamas was already declaring “victory.”

And not just any victory. According to Khalil al-Hayya — one of Hamas’ senior leaders, who, from the comfort of his five-star luxury hotel in Qatar, helped negotiate the ceasefire — this was a “historic moment.”

Israel, he claimed, had been “defeated,” and Hamas had “thwarted” all of Israel’s goals. And then, the crowning statement: he called October 7 — a day of unfathomable horror, of murder, rape, and devastation, the deadliest day for Jews since the Holocaust — “a military accomplishment” and “a source of pride for the Palestinian people.”

And no sooner had al-Hayya issued his triumphant declaration than the celebrations in Gaza began.

Images quickly circulated of Gazans celebrating, flashing victory signs as if they had just won the World Cup. Gunfire rattled into the air, sweets were handed out, Hamas banners waved triumphantly, and chants of “Allahu Akbar” echoed through the streets.

Elated men shouted, “We are the men of Mohammed Deif” — a reference to the elusive Hamas military chief, mastermind of the October 7 massacre, who was assassinated by Israel during the war — and “Hail the Al-Qassam Brigades,” Hamas’s armed wing.

Never mind that Gaza is in ruins. Never mind that they have no economy, no security, and no functioning government. Never mind that they live at the mercy of whichever warlord holds the biggest gun this week. To them, somehow, this is a victory.

Some might look at this reaction — Palestinian defiance in the face of devastation — and see incredible resilience. How is it possible, after so much suffering, that the Palestinians can still claim victory? Surely, these people are unbreakable.

And yet, if you ask me, precisely this so-called “victory” mindset is their greatest weakness.

Hamas — and every Palestinian movement before them for over a century — have somehow convinced themselves that they never lose. No matter how catastrophic their situation becomes, they tell themselves they are winning as long as they keep fighting. They see this defiance as their superpower.

But in reality, it is their curse, their main source of weakness. It is why, after nearly eight decades of Israel’s existence, the Palestinians still have no state, no real control over their lives, and no future beyond endless war and unbearable suffering.

And if you think about it, we’ve seen this kind of delusional bravado before — at the dawn of Jewish history. This week, in synagogues across the world, we begin reading the Book of Exodus — the epic story of the Israelites’ enslavement in Egypt, their miraculous redemption, and the downfall of the mighty Egyptian Pharaoh.

Remarkably, Pharaoh was the original “never surrender” guy. He endured devastating plague after devastating plague — but still refused to yield. The entire country’s water supply turned to blood? No surrender. Frogs, lice, wild beasts, disease, locusts, and darkness? Still, no surrender.

And even after the final, most horrifying plague — the death of every Egyptian firstborn — when Pharaoh finally appeared to relent, he almost immediately regretted it and led his army in a desperate chase after the Israelites. Why? Because Pharaoh, like Hamas, and like the Palestinian leadership for the past century, believed that refusing to admit defeat was his greatest strength.

And how did that work out for him? The Midrash (Mechilta Beshalach 7:6) makes an extraordinary comment on the verse “Not one of them remained” (Ex. 14:28), which refers to the Egyptian army after they drowned in the Red Sea.

The verse’s curious Hebrew phraseology — lo nish’ar bahem, ad echad — suggests that when the Red Sea came crashing down, wiping out the most powerful army of the ancient world, there was, in fact, one Egyptian left standing. And guess who it was—Pharaoh himself. His entire army had been obliterated, his state-of-the-art war chariots lay shattered like broken toys, strewn among the lifeless bodies of his soldiers, and he was left utterly alone—defeated, humiliated, and stripped of everything.

Some say he drowned himself in despair. Others say he wandered off and eventually became the King of Nineveh, where, in the story of Jonah, he finally learned his lesson — immediately repenting at the first warning.

Either way, the image is striking: Pharaoh, standing alone on the shore, watching as the remnants of his once-mighty army washed up as lifeless corpses around him. The chariots that once symbolized his military dominance now lay around him, shattered and useless. If only he had admitted reality earlier. If only he had understood that his so-called strength was, in fact, his ultimate downfall.

And now, here we are, thousands of years later, watching Hamas make the exact same mistake. They refuse to surrender, so they keep losing. They refuse to admit they are beaten, so they remain in ruins. They refuse to acknowledge that their strategy of endless war has led them nowhere, so they stay trapped in a cycle of devastation — at the mercy of men like Khalil al-Hayya, who sits safely in Qatar, sipping over-sugared tea and proclaiming their “victory” from the comfort of his luxury exile, all while his Qatari patrons continue to bankroll his delusions.

The Jewish people, by contrast, know how to move forward. We understand that survival isn’t about blind defiance, it’s about considered wisdom. It’s about knowing when to fight and when to build. Real strength isn’t found in empty bravado that leads to inevitable self-destruction; it’s found in adapting, persevering, and creating a future worth living for.

Hamas looks to Pharaoh as a role model, but they should see him for what he truly was — a cautionary tale. They keep playing the same game, telling themselves they are winning, all while their world crumbles around them. They celebrate as they sink, clinging to defiance instead of recalibrating for a better future. In the end, just like Pharaoh, they will be left standing alone on the shore, watching the wreckage of their own making.

Instead of noisy victory parades, the Palestinians need to confront the reality of their defeat. Only then can they begin the hard work of building a future that is better than the misery they inhabit now. The sooner they wake up to this reality, the better — for their sake and everyone else’s.

The author is a rabbi in Beverly Hills, California. 

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