ISTANBUL — In a development that has ignited cautious optimism across the war-weary Middle East, a senior Hamas official announced Friday that the long-awaited prisoner exchange with Israel could commence as early as Monday, marking the initial implementation of a U.S.-brokered ceasefire agreement in Gaza. The announcement comes amid the first phase of a comprehensive 20-point peace plan unveiled by President Donald Trump last month, which promises an end to two years of devastating conflict that has claimed tens of thousands of lives and left the coastal enclave in ruins.
Mousa Abou Marzouq, a prominent member of Hamas's political bureau and head of its international relations office, made the revelation during a televised interview from Istanbul, where he has been engaging in backchannel discussions with regional mediators. "The prisoner swap might start on Monday," Abou Marzouq stated calmly, his words carrying the weight of months of grueling negotiations involving the United States, Qatar, Egypt, and Türkiye. He emphasized that Hamas would approach the handover with restraint, vowing not to "militarize or publicly celebrate the process of captives." This pledge, he explained, is intended to underscore the group's commitment to the ceasefire's spirit and to avoid inflaming tensions during what remains a precarious truce.
The timing aligns precisely with the agreement's stipulations. The first phase of the Gaza ceasefire took effect at 12:00 p.m. local time (9:00 a.m. GMT) on Friday, following Israel's ratification of the deal in a late-night cabinet vote on Thursday. According to the framework document published by Israel's public broadcaster Kan, Hamas is obligated to release all living Israeli captives within 72 hours of that ratification—setting the stage for Monday's potential exchanges. The document further mandates that Hamas provide comprehensive information on deceased Israeli captives to a newly established joint mechanism, involving representatives from Türkiye, Qatar, Egypt, and the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC). This body will oversee the repatriation of remains and verify compliance.
Israeli intelligence estimates, corroborated by U.S. officials, indicate that approximately 48 Israeli captives remain in Gaza, with 20 believed to be alive and the rest deceased. In return, Israel has committed to freeing around 2,000 Palestinian prisoners, including 250 serving life sentences and 1,700 detainees arrested since the war's onset in October 2023. Palestinian human rights organizations, such as Addameer, report that over 11,100 Palestinians are currently held in Israeli prisons, many enduring allegations of torture, starvation, and medical neglect. Reports detail harrowing accounts: fractured ribs from beatings, denial of family visits, and outbreaks of scabies due to unsanitary conditions. At least several dozen have died in custody since October 2023, though Israeli authorities dispute the figures and attribute deaths to pre-existing health issues.
Abou Marzouq's interview, broadcast on Al Jazeera and other outlets, offered rare insights into Hamas's strategic calculus. "We hold many negotiating cards," he asserted, framing the prisoner file as a "pretext" exploited by Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu to prolong the war. He accused Netanyahu of using the captives' plight to deflect domestic criticism and maintain his coalition's hardline support. "The prisoner file is one of the pretexts used by Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu to justify continuing the war in Gaza," Abou Marzouq said, echoing sentiments from Hamas's chief negotiator, Khalil al-Hayya, who earlier described the deal as a step toward "permanent" peace.
Yet, Abou Marzouq tempered his optimism with a call for broader Palestinian unity. He urged the Palestinian Authority (PA) in the West Bank to convene a "comprehensive national meeting" to forge consensus on key issues, insisting that "unity is the only way out of the Palestinian crisis." Hamas, he stressed, accepted Trump's plan "to safeguard the supreme interests of the Palestinian people," but would not unilaterally dictate the territory's fate. "Hamas will not decide the fate of the Palestinian people alone—it is a collective and national decision that requires full consensus," he declared. This stance reflects ongoing tensions between Hamas and the PA, whose President Mahmoud Abbas has long viewed the Islamist group as a rival for Palestinian leadership.
The ceasefire's activation has already reshaped the battlefield. Israeli forces, which had controlled upwards of 70% of Gaza at the war's peak, began repositioning Friday morning to the so-called "yellow line"—a buffer zone along the territory's periphery. Abou Marzouq acknowledged this withdrawal but criticized its scope: "The Israeli army has withdrawn to the 'yellow line' but still controls 53% of the Gaza Strip’s territory." He lambasted the lines as "inaccurate and drawn arbitrarily," vowing that Hamas would reject any enduring Israeli presence in recaptured areas. "Hamas will not accept any future Israeli presence in areas it currently controls," he said firmly.
Complicating matters, Abou Marzouq disclosed U.S. involvement in monitoring compliance. "The U.S. has sent troops to monitor the implementation of the ceasefire," he revealed, clarifying that they would be stationed in Israel, not Gaza proper. This multinational force, numbering around 200 personnel under U.S. Central Command oversight, includes contingents from Egypt, Qatar, and Türkiye. President Trump, speaking from the White House, confirmed the deployment, describing it as a "guarantee" for all parties. "These troops will ensure the deal sticks—no games, no tricks," Trump posted on Truth Social, his preferred platform for real-time updates.
As the dust settles on the initial pullback, attention shifts to the "national project" Abou Marzouq referenced—the second phase of Trump's plan. This stage envisions discussions on deploying peacekeeping forces across Gaza and the West Bank, alongside the establishment of a technocratic governing body excluding Hamas. The blueprint calls for Gaza's demilitarization, the destruction of "terror infrastructure," and reconstruction funded by a Trump-chaired "Board of Peace," potentially including former British Prime Minister Tony Blair. Aid surges are immediate: at least 600 trucks daily, carrying food, medicine, and equipment to clear rubble from bombed-out hospitals and homes.
To grasp the magnitude of this moment, one must rewind to October 7, 2023, when Hamas's unprecedented assault on southern Israel shattered a fragile status quo. Militants breached the border, killing 1,200 people—mostly civilians—and abducting 250 hostages in a blitz that stunned the world. Israel's retaliation was swift and overwhelming: airstrikes leveled neighborhoods, ground invasions razed infrastructure, and a blockade choked off essentials. By October 11, 2025—the second anniversary of the attack—Gaza's death toll had surpassed 67,200, predominantly women and children, according to Gaza's Health Ministry and UN estimates. The enclave, once home to 2.3 million, is now "uninhabitable," per UN assessments, with 90% of buildings damaged or destroyed, famine gripping the north, and disease rampant in overcrowded shelters.
The war's anatomy reveals a cycle of escalation rooted in decades of unresolved grievances. Hamas, founded in 1987 during the First Intifada, emerged as an Islamist counterweight to the secular Fatah-led PA, blending social services with armed resistance against Israel's occupation. Israel, viewing the group as an existential threat, has intermittently blockaded Gaza since 2007, when Hamas seized control from Fatah in bloody clashes. Previous flare-ups—2008-09, 2012, 2014, 2021—paled in comparison to 2023's carnage, which drew in Hezbollah in Lebanon, Houthi rebels in Yemen, and even Iranian proxies, transforming a local conflict into a regional inferno.
Early ceasefires offered glimmers of hope but crumbled under mutual recriminations. A November 2023 truce, mediated by Qatar and Egypt, freed 105 Israeli civilians for 240 Palestinian prisoners but lasted only a week. A more ambitious January 2025 deal, under the Biden administration, exchanged 33 hostages (including five Thai nationals) for nearly 2,000 Palestinians over six weeks, but collapsed in March amid accusations of violations—Israel blamed Hamas for delays, while Hamas cited Israeli airstrikes. By summer 2025, famine declarations in northern Gaza and ICC arrest warrants for Netanyahu and Hamas leaders Ismail Haniyeh and Yahya Sinwar had intensified global pressure.
Enter Donald Trump. Returned to the White House in January 2025, the 47th president—building on his first-term Abraham Accords—prioritized Middle East realignment. His September 29 plan, unveiled alongside Netanyahu at the White House, was a 20-point roadmap blending carrots and sticks. Phase One: Immediate ceasefire, full hostage release, prisoner swaps, and aid influx. Phase Two: Hamas disarmament, PA reforms, and Arab-Islamic security forces. Phase Three: Reconstruction via a "New Gaza" under international oversight, with Trump as "Board of Peace" chair. Trump gave Hamas until October 5 to accept or face "all hell," a threat that reportedly swayed holdouts.
Negotiations in Sharm el-Sheikh, Egypt, bridged gaps. Hamas's al-Hayya hailed U.S. "guarantees" for permanent cessation, while Netanyahu's cabinet—despite far-right dissent from Itamar Ben-Gvir and Bezalel Smotrich—approved the deal Thursday. Celebrations erupted: In Tel Aviv's Hostage Square, families waved photos of the missing; in Khan Younis, Palestinians distributed sweets amid rubble. Thousands trekked north Friday, dodging tank barriers to reclaim homes—or survey devastation.
Yet, shadows loom. Abou Marzouq's disclosure of U.S. monitors has sparked debate: Critics like Palestinian analyst Hanan Ashrawi call it "occupation by proxy," while Israeli Defense Minister Yoav Gallant welcomes it as a "security net." The "yellow line" withdrawal leaves Israel holding 53% of Gaza, including Rafah and parts of Gaza City—areas Hamas deems non-negotiable. High-profile prisoner releases remain contentious: Israel excluded Fatah's Marwan Barghouti and PFLP's Ahmad Sa'adat from lists, prompting Hamas fury and mediator intervention.
Humanitarian imperatives dominate. Gaza's Health Ministry reports 67,200 dead, with 1.9 million displaced and 500,000 facing famine. UN agencies like UNRWA decry the enclave's "apocalyptic" state: 80% of schools destroyed, 70% of farmland razed, and sewage flooding streets. Aid trucks, now at 600 daily, carry tents, vaccines, and excavators—vital for burying the dead and rebuilding. ICRC's Miriam Walz noted, "This is a lifeline, but reconstruction will take generations."
Regionally, the deal reverberates. Saudi Arabia and the UAE, Abraham Accords signatories, endorsed it, eyeing expanded normalization. Iran's Foreign Minister Abbas Araghchi condemned it as "surrender," while Russia's Vladimir Putin voiced support, calling it a "step toward stability." In the West Bank, PA forces redeployed to Gaza's vacated zones, signaling tentative reconciliation.
Abou Marzouq's interview also touched on Hamas's internal dynamics. Once eyed as a successor to exiled leader Khaled Meshaal, the 74-year-old—born in Rafah's refugee camp—has navigated U.S. sanctions since 1995, when he was deported from America after a foiled assassination plot. His measured tone contrasts earlier defiance; in 2023, he denied civilian killings on October 7, calling festival victims a "coincidence." Now, he positions Hamas as pragmatic peacemakers, open to "discussing" disarmament but insistent on sovereignty.
Netanyahu, facing corruption trials and protests, frames the deal as victory: "All hostages home, Hamas crushed." But analysts like Aaron David Miller warn of fragility: "Ceasefires are easy; peace is hard. Disarmament? Governance? That's Phase Two's minefield."
As Monday approaches, eyes turn to handover sites—likely Rafah under ICRC watch. Families on both sides hold vigil: Israeli mother Liora Danino, whose son was taken from Kibbutz Be'eri, whispered, "Two years of hell ends now." In Gaza, father Ahmed al-Masri, who lost three children to strikes, said, "Peace? If it brings bread and roofs, yes."
Trump, eyeing a Nobel nod, tweeted: "Biggest deal ever—peace through strength!" Whether this truce endures or joins history's footnotes hinges on trust—scarce as water in Gaza's taps.
