In his 1878 work Human, All Too Human, the provocative existential philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche coined the aphorism: “Many are stubborn in pursuit of the path they have chosen, few in pursuit of the goal.”

His words cut deep into one of the significant anomalies of the human condition — our tendency to confuse movement with progress and defiance with purpose. How often do we see people, caught up in the emotions of the moment, throw away their long-term best interests simply because they can’t bear to admit that the path they chose was the wrong one?

Just this week, Hamas once again rejected a ceasefire proposal that could have brought much-needed relief to the people of Gaza. The deal, shaped through ongoing talks in Cairo and backed by the United States, offered a 45-day truce, the phased release of Israeli hostages, and a significant increase in humanitarian aid. It was, by any reasonable standard, a serious offer. Hamas was also asked to agree to a phased disarmament — the most basic requirement for any long-term stability in Gaza and in the region.

But instead of engaging and looking out for the long-term best interests of the people they purport to represent, they walked away. For Hamas, even the faintest whiff of concession is anathema. They would rather watch Gaza burn than admit they’ve lost the war.

Senior Hamas official Sami Abu Zuhri told Al Jazeera Arabic that while the group was “open to all offers that alleviate the suffering of our people,” the latest Israeli proposal amounted to a “surrender.” He added: “Netanyahu is setting impossible conditions to sabotage the ceasefire agreement.”

This is classic Hamas messaging: an ever-shifting blame game that refuses to acknowledge any agency on their part. Every proposal is rigged. Every mediator is biased. Every path forward is dismissed as a trap. And meanwhile, a whole generation of Palestinians is being traumatized in real time — not just by the war, but by the insistence of their self-appointed guardians that war and suffering are the only way forward.

This isn’t a one-off. It’s a pattern that goes back years. After Israel withdrew from Gaza in 2005 — evacuating every last settlement and removing every last soldier — the strip could have become a model for Palestinian autonomy.

Billions of dollars in aid poured in from around the world. The opportunity was there, and Hamas squandered it. They staged a violent coup against Fatah, turned Gaza into an armed enclave, and immediately got to work importing weapons, building tunnels, and exporting terror. Schools weren’t built. Jobs weren’t created. Infrastructure wasn’t developed.

Instead, the money was funneled into rocket launchers, explosives, and propaganda. Every truckload of cement was a chance to dig deeper — literally — expanding the tunnel network rather than building homes and civilian infrastructure. Every dollar of foreign aid simply became another line item in their war budget.

And now, nearly two decades later, the consequences are there for all to see. Tens of thousands of Gazans are dead — mostly combatants, but many civilians. Entire neighborhoods lie in ruins. The leadership of Hamas is either hiding underground or already dead. And the people of Gaza are trapped in a grinding, endless catastrophe.

What has Hamas achieved? Nothing. No political gains. No liberation. Not even regional sympathy. Arab leaders who once championed the Palestinian cause are losing patience. Egypt is now openly furious. The UAE and Bahrain — key signatories of the Abraham Accords — have little tolerance left for Hamas’s tired rejectionist rhetoric.

And Qatar, Hamas’s main financial patron, is finally being exposed not as a helpful intermediary but as a willing enabler of extremism, prolonging suffering under the pretense of support.

And still, Hamas refuses to budge. They posture. They release provocative videos. They demand total Israeli withdrawal and total immunity — all while holding hostages and offering nothing in return. This isn’t strength. It’s the delusion of strength. It’s the fantasy of resistance masquerading as victory, when in reality it’s a slow, agonizing suicide — not just for Hamas, but for every Palestinian they claim to fight for.

Truthfully, this kind of destructive defiance isn’t new. We’ve seen it before — in the Torah, of all places. Back in the day, Pharaoh was the most powerful man on earth. He ruled the only superpower of the ancient world, commanded the mightiest army, and had the unquestioned loyalty of a devoted empire.

So when Moses showed up — backed by God, no less — demanding he let the Israelite slaves go, Pharaoh had a choice. He could have made the smart move. He could have cut his losses and preserved Egypt’s dominance. But no. Pharaoh, drunk on his own Kool-Aid and unable to stomach the idea of yielding to reality, chose to resist.

It wasn’t just arrogance and pride, though they certainly played a role. It was also about ideological delusion. With each plague — blood, frogs, lice, hail, darkness, death — the evidence mounted that the God of Israel meant business.

But Pharaoh refused to see it. He doubled down. Hardened his heart. Clung to his narrative of dominance and refused to let go, even as his own people suffered and his country imploded. And in the end, it didn’t just cost him his pride.

It cost him his army, his empire, his firstborn, and Egypt’s standing in the world. The mighty civilization that built pyramids and monuments was brought to its knees — not by the Israelites, but by Pharaoh’s own refusal to act with humility and foresight.

Hamas, like Pharaoh, confuses stubbornness for strength. They believe that by refusing to compromise, by staring down the world and clinging to their maximalist demands, they’re showing courage. But they’re not. They’re marching their people into oblivion. Every offer rejected, every opportunity squandered, every tunnel dug — it’s one more step toward the total collapse not just of Hamas, but of whatever fragile future might still be possible for the people of Gaza.

And just like Pharaoh, they’re not doing it alone. They’re being cheered on by a chorus of enablers — activists, influencers, academics, and state sponsors — who assure them that “resistance” is heroic, even when it leads only to ruin.

The tragedy — and the irony — is that Hamas couldn’t have done this alone. Their intransigence isn’t powered by courage; it’s powered by cash, by cameras, and by do-gooders cheering them on. From the lavish villas of Doha to the ivory towers of Western academia, the friends of Hamas keep feeding the fantasy.

Qatar is the worst of all. They’ve poured billions into Gaza under the guise of humanitarian aid, all while knowingly bankrolling a terrorist regime. The supporters of Hamas might think they’re standing up for justice, but in reality, they’re giving Hamas the strength to do what Israel never could: destroy Palestinian hopes for a positive future — permanently.

Frankly, I don’t mind. Because just as Pharaoh’s demise was not only his downfall but the platform for the Israelites’ greatest triumph, so too, Hamas is playing the long game of annihilation — and losing. The only question left is how much devastation their delusion will leave in its wake, and how many will be dragged down with them.

In the end, it’s the tragedy Nietzsche warned us about: Hamas is stubborn in pursuit of the path they’ve chosen — but utterly blind to the goal their people so desperately need.

The author is a rabbi in Beverly Hills, California. 

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