It appears that the issue of the “last prisoner” is no longer merely a humanitarian matter or a minor negotiating detail within a Gaza ceasefire agreement. Rather, it has turned into a revealing political mirror reflecting the true nature and intentions of the Zionist entity. While Washington continues to push for a transition to the second phase of the agreement, this entity clings to the file of the missing soldier as a pretext to slow the path toward de-escalation and keep the door to war wide open—even at the expense of its own soldiers’ lives.
اضافة اعلان
It is clear that Benjamin Netanyahu’s government does not view an end to the war as a political interest, but as a direct threat to its survival. Progress on the agreement would mean calm that could topple his far-right government. For this reason, the remains of the Zionist soldier Ran Goeili have been turned into a valuable political tool—raised by Netanyahu as a national symbol, when in reality it is nothing more than a pressure card allowing him to buy time and block any progress in negotiations. Had the lives of his soldiers truly been a priority, he would not have used their remains as an obstacle to an agreement that could bring them home.
What has drawn particular attention, however, is Hamas’s strict commitment—something neither the Zionist entity nor even Washington expected—which has thrown all calculations into disarray. The movement handed over twenty prisoners alive and returned the bodies of twenty-seven others, and it continues to search for the remains of the last one despite the scale of destruction and daily killing. This commitment has exposed the entity’s long-standing claims that Hamas cannot be trusted. In fact, the Zionist army itself has acknowledged that the movement barely violated the ceasefire—an admission that clearly reveals who is obstructing the process: the Zionist entity, not Gaza.
Meanwhile, in Gaza, the truce exists only on paper. Daily killings continue, the siege blocks food and medicine, and 2.4 million people are living through a humanitarian catastrophe brought on by rain and cold with the onset of winter. This confirms that the Zionist entity does not want a truce that leads to a solution, but rather one that keeps the Strip weak, exhausted, and destroyed—allowing it to continue the war by other means without bearing the costs of a full-scale confrontation.
Within this broader picture, the “last prisoner” file emerges as a headline that encapsulates the essence of the scene. The entity is not obstructing the process because it is waiting for a soldier’s body, but because it fears that any progress would lead to the end of the war—and, consequently, the beginning of political, security, and moral accountability. Thus, the “last prisoner” becomes a convenient façade concealing the real reason for obstruction.
The truth, therefore, is clearer today than ever before: the last prisoner is not a negotiating deadlock, but a tool used by the Zionist entity to delay de-escalation and prolong the war. Its real dilemma is not reaching an agreement, but what peace would reveal—exposing failure, crimes, and the constant fear of a moment that could restore balance to the region.
The Zionist entity does not fear de-escalation merely because it would end the war, but because it knows that the end of the war would mean the end of the narrative from which it benefits. Hence, the “last prisoner” remains a political mask, hiding the reality that continued fighting serves its interests, while peace would lay them bare.
