Communiqué #6: The Iron 17
It’s Victory or Martyrdom
﷽
Bismi Allāh Al-Raḥmān Al-Raḥīm
(In the name of Allah the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful).
English Translation / Transcript of Mohsen & Ahmed’s Last Will
(original video in Arabic here)
“Bismi Allah al-rahman al-raheem (in the name of God the more gracious the most merciful) and blessings and prayer of peace be upon Prophet Muhammad.
This is a pre-recorded statement from Allah’s servants to the poor by Ahmed Sherif Abdel Wahab and Mohsen Mustafa.
We will be engaging in an operation called the Iron 17 drawing on the Qurānic Chapter of ‘The Iron,’ Verse 17 that says: “Know that Allah revives the earth after its death. We have certainly made the signs clear for you so perhaps you will understand.”
We are trying to awaken and revive the dead people of Egypt, who are kind and free (we swear) but who have taken big hits. We are trying to awaken the Egyptian youth from their slumber.
We are trying to take over the National Security headquarters, which is venerated and is on the 4th floor of Ma’asara police station’s State Security headquarters in the township of Helwan. We are going to go in, take control over it, free the prisoners, and film the officers and the torture equipment in there, and take the surveillance cameras that record the torture and injustice against the Egyptian people. We swear by Allah that in this place atrocities occur, and God willing testimonies relating to these tortures will be revealed one day.
We originally wanted to go to a more central place because we wanted to control the place and incite the people in a revolutionary way. But if you’re listening to this message then Allah did not want that this happens, and Allah always does what he pleases.
Still, in that case, we ask for your prayers because if you’re listening to this recording, then we have either been killed (and in that case may Allah accept our martyrdom) or we have been forcibly disappeared and no one will know our fate.
May Allah safeguard us and you the listener. We have no political affiliation, party, nor do we belong to any group, or any ideology.
We are the grandchildren of ʿUmar ibn al-Khattāb and ʿAmr ibn al-ʿĀṣ. If this piece of information benefits you in understanding the nature of our cause then so be it.
The news media will undoubtedly publish pictures of us in Muslim Brotherhood demonstrations or something similar. We don’t see this as evidence of us committing any crime, you fools [like sheep] who eat grass, and who feed people grass. Whoever believes this is someone who has no self-respect or dignity. We are old now, and glory be to Allah we decided neither to be with the Brotherhood or anyone at this moment, and this is not a bad thing.
We rely on Allah.
This operation relies on just the two of us. It should be obvious. We plead for your grace in understanding that there is no one else involved in this operation. We are isolating ourselves completely from anyone because we know that when this operation happens you will harm everyone around us. May Allah protect us and our families and we hope that you all realize that we will either be with you or with Allah and on Allah we rely.
This is an attempt to stop the genocide in Palestine through a lot of actions that can be done but aren’t being done.
We swear to God that our siblings in Gaza are suffering and we don’t want to say more about what everyone already knows.
At this point we’ll either be with Allah or tortured. You should all know that the days are circular and numbered and that war is an honor, and to Allah belongs what is in the heavens and the earth and Allah will decree what he wills.
May Allah protect us.
This message is being recorded on Thursday, Muharam 30th, 1447, which is July 24, 2025.
And the operation ‘Iron 17’ will be tomorrow, Friday morning, before Friday prayers.
Wassalam alikum warahamatuh Allah Wabarakatuh.”
Salam alikum warahamatuh Allah wabakatuh.
Allah’s peace, mercy, and blessings be upon you my dearly beloved Ahmed Sherif Abdel Wahab and Mohsen Mustafa who stormed through the mouth of the torture dungeons of the Egyptian State Security headquarters at Ma’asara police station in Helwan, Egypt, on July 25th, 2025.
Salam alikum my nutfah (drop of fluid), my ʿalaqah (clinging clot), my mudghah (lump of flesh) born of Palestine’s womb, the centrifugal gravitational beating heart of our Ummah.
Peace upon you, O my Ummah’s youth, who hold Palestine as your undissuaded compass and are willing to forsake illusions of a ‘quiet, peaceful, safe’ life for her, having recognized that we are all her fugitive orphan children.
You are my spine and sword, the whip of a tongue that I slit a vein and spurt blood as ink onto this paper for, writing with a syringe instead of a pen. Planted trees and sowed seeds inspired and born from mujahideen lullabies, spurring me alive as eager bird and winged messenger.
The years and I are old now.
Locked and haunted in a cell room by Palestine’s suffocating anguish, you, Ahmed and Mohsen, are the thunder that lays a finger on the infected Ummah’s wound. Wrenching open her blistering sore hurt and white septic pus.
You are the Ummah’s stars, and Palestine’s crescent moon and sun, who rouse a fearlessness ever bending its branches to reach us. You are a fiery blade undressing our Ummah’s painful scars, raw heat till it heals and hurts no more. You are solace for our Ummah’s jagged epitaph shrapnel fractures, fatally fragmenting and rejoining us into a thousand tinderboxes.
In the ethos and spirit of our wondrous mujahideen in Gaza and as an echo of the vengeful cries of General Sinwar and Commander Al-Deif who soar in the skies above our heads, you, Ahmed and Mohsen, are “Iron 17” - your operation’s anodyne chosen name.
You are Allah’s plucked forewarning to Egypt, to Jordan, and to self-condemning, impotent Muslims and Arabs who hide in casques of gilded scorching steel.
You are Allah’s dead reckoning of a Greater Israel, awaiting, and from which there is no shelter or salvation appeal.
You are lustre in the continued reckless Muslim abandonment of Islām, and all that was left in our keepsake by Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him). An Islām that is strangled dead by bare Muslim hands. You are the antithesis of Muslims wrapped in the coveted yearning for earthly ornaments and gold coffers, worldly accessories in whose chasing bodies grow cold and weary.
Like our mujahideen, you, Mohsen and Ahmed, are an example and antidote to the Ummah who deserted Allah’s tribute when he mightily struck down in his Qurānic verse: “Know that Allah revives the earth after its death. We have certainly made the signs clear for you so perhaps you will understand” (Chapter 57, Chapter of ‘The Iron,’ Verse: 17).
The Qurānic chapter you cede your operation’s name to testifies to iron’s nature: Its awesome nascent power, its dual embryonic prospect for both light and darkness.
The chapter of Al-Ḥadīd (Iron) is Allah’s explication of the symbiotic correlation of Iron as a melee weapon sword, most effectively potent when wielded by hands guided by faith as its armor and shield.
Iron as faith requires hammer and hellish ember heat that enhance hardness and durability under duress. Iron mandates an unwavering regenerative and vigilant remolded and resoldered commitment to Allah and our Ummah when there is no air to breathe, where there is no treaded path to walk or light to see.
As shards of a broken hangman called Egypt that is suffocating in deserved disgrace, you - Ahmed and Mohsen - demonstrate Egypt’s flickering promise. You embody her latent residual potential, her honor, her dormant volcanic anger that awaits an overdue unfettered eruption.
O Egypt unfurl your fury as your spine once stood courageous on January 25th, 2011, in ousting the taghūt (tyrant) Muhammad Hosni Mubarak. O Egyptians, O youth of this blessed earth, combat, neglect not, and be relentless against the inner fascistic taghūt within ourselves!
With the kindest use of a knife, you, Ahmed and Mohsen, cut the noose around the necks of the Egyptian people who hate and beat themselves and each other with blackjacks and billy clubs, self-flagellating with their own masochistic tongues.
O Egypt, O Jordan, O Arabs, O Ummah of Muhammad, you need not bend and cower to your self-inflicted wallowing of, “The government here is repressive, there’s nothing I can do for Palestine.”
You need not drown in your own mass fascism or die the death of shame, when our motherly Palestine has freed us all!
Steeped in light against the dark despair, your last testimony, O Ahmed and Mohsen, pleaded that Egyptians reckon with their unquenched thirst and all-consuming angst that leaves grainy sand in their throttled throats.
You held a mirror to the delusional Egyptian secular aspirations of 2011, the myth of state-based solutions to the Ummah, and the self-deceptive claim that Egyptians “transcended fear” during the Orientalist dubbed “Arab Spring.”
As the youth who stormed the military headquarters to revive the dead of Egypt, you are a living testimonial miracle of Iron 17. The forever rumbling roar that blows fervourish life into a shattered Ummah and a cold and foul decaying carcass called Egypt that tossed our Ummah alongside a dirty and dusty roadside.
You are the drumbeat thud that pounds and blasts through the malaised feigned desperation of a numb astray Ummah.
An Ummah whose forgotten dreams preying wolves feast on: Wolves who have long sunk their sharp spiked teeth in deep and tore the Ummah’s flesh with ease.
You are glimpses of Allah’s promised cure to the Ummah’s pungent cavities, you who blossom her flowery buds and usher in her rise as phoenixes ascending from grasping ash.
In the delicate grains of your kernel, you beheld the fate that our Ummah shares, what she commands and demands of us all by our all-hearing and seeing Allah.
You bore responsibility for her name, dedicating your short-lived lives to tipping the scales of the Ummah’s negative weight, when innumerable others are busy dissociating, compartmentalizing, indulging, and battening down their hatches.
You embody a trajectory and blueprint of an unsedated Islām from the Below that confronts for-hire Muslim scholars and preeminent Islāmic institutions like Al-Azhar university who kowtow to the state’s totalitarian whims. Stewards of vassal settler-states and merchants of a commercialized Islām who, unlike you, dine on failed pleas, insatiably filling their greed and gluttony on worn-out excuses.
Cowards whose fealty is to tyrants, who are too scared to lose and too weak to win. An elite collaborationist tawdry pillaging and spineless intellectual class of thieves and cheap propagandists. Demons who sell their souls in devilish faustian bargains, treacherous partners in genocide and jailers of Gaza since 1978’s Camp David accords.
Ahmed and Mohsen, you are the unshackling of the chain manacles and bondage baggage of the “Arab Spring/Islamist Winter.” O Allah, mercy, and forgive us all.
Your spiritual and moral fortitude exposes the naked frailty of Egypt’s militarized administrative rule commanded by comprador men of politics.
Soulless demagogue princes and sultans with blank hearts who hide behind false-heroic decorative images and the veneer of their decades-past bygone sacrifices for Palestine. A corrupt totalitarian regime who reside in opulent chandelier palaces, board private planes, stuff their guts and devour banquets with silver spoons, while Egyptians mount crowded buses, dine on beans, and live ten to a single room.
Who is betraying whom, and who will defeat whom, when appointed thugs (baltagiya) are paid to ruthlessly beat sumud convey protestors at the behest of a Judas government? One that long bartered away Islām and Palestine in exchange for $35 billion Leviathan gas export deals between Egypt and the Crusading-Zionist Euro-American settler entities.
O Egyptians, nothing comes of governments, and know that if you truly covet Palestine and your own liberation, crawl to her, if you must, if you can, for she anxiously awaits you with open arms and hands!
Where are you, Egypt, who Allah notes in the Qur’an to be a land of Tawhid that solely recognizes Allah’s sovereignty?
Where are you, O Egypt, who is Qurānically deemed as an earthly sanctuary of security as it provided for Prophet Yusuf and his family, a Red Sea Moses, and the Jews of the Exodus of old?
Shame on you, O Egypt, who Allah commanded onto Moses and Harun (Aaron): “Settle your people in Egypt in houses and make your houses [facing the] qiblah [direction of prayer] and establish prayer and give good tidings to the believers.” (Chapter 10, Chapter of “Yunus,” Verse: 87).
O Egypt, have you forgotten that the daily desecrated Al-Aqsa in al-Quds (Jerusalem) is not a mere pile of rocks? That Al-Aqsa, the namesake of the blessed Tufan, is the first qibla (or direction in which Muslims prayed prior to their orientation towards Mecca)?
Where are you lost to Egypt, you who denigrates Palestinian refugees of 1948, absenting their recognition, restricting their housing, education, and living conditions?
O Egypt how dare you don the latest keffiyeh fashion apparel, utter the sacred name Palestine, as you indignantly bury in crypts Gaza’s historical and geographic significance as a limb and body mass extension of Rafah and Sinai.
O Muslims, O Ummah of the Below, how adrift are you to be entangled in drunken stupors of intoxication instead of the sobriety of Iron 17 that emphasizes how faith is showery rain, of how it swells and blooms a dead humanity?
As cloudbursts, Iron 17 resurrects land through Allah’s grace by way of revelations raining, dispatched down.
Iron 17 emphasizes how belief mandates the reiteration and reaffirmation of sacred oaths. Vows constantly ingeminated through upright and upheld ethical-political-spiritual virtues, ever unleashed and emanating till one’s last dying breath.
Faith is a constant consecrated recommitment aloud: ‘O Allah I hear even when there is no answer.’ Faith is to re-testify, to re-pledge unceasingly to the covenant of: ‘O Allah, I believe, again and again’ even when others would deny.
To take faith for granted is to fall, to lose it, dead.
Iron 17 is the recasting and reforging of faith under slamming mallet blows.
It is to believe in belief’s withering, only to rekindle and rediscover it again and then again. Faith is to forever seek to re-greet Islām, as if for the first time, and with it one’s own re-birth, never presuming it is merely a given.
It is to comprehend that left to its own devices forsaken, faith is neutralized, normalized, and rendered barren.
To replenish faith is not to uncritically ‘submit.’ Rather it is to willfully, sweetly surrender to her, critically, with deep and profound introspection - for is that not the quintessential definition of loving Islām?
For it is through rain that Allah flourishes the dry earth, following her death, with the marvel of water that is life.
Faith is precipitation that resurrects spirits from the dead so that we may live believing yet ever more. Why else the five Muslim daily remembrance prayers round daylight and lunar rotations? Why else Ramadan, in which the Qurān was revealed, but to re-greet Islām ever repeatedly with awestruck weeping eyes as if to bear witness to a miraculous child birth for the first time?
Why else Islām’s recurring fasting, supplications and prostrations, but in remembrance that when we walk to Allah, Allah speedily sprints towards us, and when we race, Allah flyingly soars?
O Egyptians, what say you to your own flesh youth being swallowed and consumed as churned fodder for Palestine while you live flowery luxury? That you would continue to eat the meat and tissue bones of your dead siblings in the name of risk adversity, that you would choose to be blinded by mediocrity, by your false sense of ‘security’ and selfish preoccupation with saving yourselves while crusading and Zionist entities are already at your doorstep?
Your enemies conspire and plot daily against you as they did in Iraq, Libya, Syria, and Lebanon: Gun barrel chambers pointed at your head with the safety off while you sit blissfully unaware, numb, and distracted on the sidelines of this apocalyptic war.
What say you, O Egypt, to Ahmed and Mohsen’s pleas to part the sea, to ram the barrier siege, to burst and bulldoze the caste metal cages with iron faith, will, bodies and fists?
O Egyptians, O Muslims, what say you to outstriping contrived physical borders, to conjuring an aligned and awakened non-statist Ummah with our downpouring of faith as its spine?
O Ummah of the Below, we are already at war, and for new grass to grow, some of the old must die.
There is no earthly abode of clemency or calm. O Egyptians, so be it that these conquering normalizers will kill one, ten, twenty, fifty million of us in our prime, in our kindness, shoot us from behind, in their evil-will, in their madness, in their incognizance and prodigal crimes. And so what if Allah and fate would deem that? What lives never truly dies. Let our martyrdom be a weeping of the strong, a pall upon the land, a balm re-flourishing of the burnt green and brown.
O Egypt bare the iron hand, for your childhood and for your youth. O Egypt, Gaza set the world ablaze so let the flaming ballads of this global intifada rage in this war in which all wars fit, for a world in which all worlds commence!
O Muslims, Allah has indeed already “purchased from all believers their lives and wealth in exchange for Paradise. They fight in the cause of Allah and kill or are killed. This is a true promise binding on Him in the Torah, the Gospel, and the Qurān. And whose promise is truer than Allah’s? So rejoice in the exchange you have made with Him. That is truly the ultimate triumph.” (Chapter 9, Chapter of ‘Forgiveness,’ Verse: 111)
O Muslims this dunya (material life) as Allah commands is “no more than play and amusement,” a “brief enjoyment of delusion,” compared to the akhira (real life of the Hereafter). O Muslims let us march forth in Allah's cause rather than clinging estranged to this finite material world till an assured end. O Ummah of Muhammad, Allah will sternly reprimand each of us, alone, on this parricide.
O Muslims become as Ahmed and Mohsen, as Allah’s Iron 17, which denotes the everlasting interrogative juncture of asking yourselves: “What type of believer are you?”
Iron 17 isn’t tailored to all Muslims, not those who are weak hypocrites, verbally professing faith void of devised iron deed and action.
Faith does not belong to those who are arid soil, who aren’t livingly moved when confronted with a roiling challenge.
Iron 17 is dedicated to archetypal believers who are as unflinching as iron. For Allah queries: “Do people think once they say, ‘We believe,’ that they will be left without being put to the test?” (Chapter 29: Chapter of ‘The Spider,’ Verse: 2)
Ahmed and Mohsen, you are conjured by the cracking mirror’s illusion, left to affect. You are Allah’s swords of steel that wars against dark deeds, his silver chain that hangs from the moon.
You are Allah’s glistening poem that restores a semblance of balance warring dark deeds.
You are the free youth of jannah (heaven), our emancipated role models, our living predispositioned unbound warriors, who refuse the deceiving tranquil ‘comfort’ of merely bearing witness to a raging holocaust fire only footsteps away.
O Muslims if we fail Gaza, the Ummah’s backbone, we will lie in her blood and drown in the red tidal river seas of our betrayal, sinking into the maelstrom of the dark abyss.
O Muslim youth you are the Ummah’s blunt-force resolve that trades temporary earthly treasure for an akhira (hereafter) that never dies. In jannah (heaven) you are the sojourners of the Prophet's grandchildren, al-Hassan and al-Hussein, the earth’s immortal (mukhaladūn).
You are paradise’s scattered pearls, the visible bone marrow whose interior lines are rubies and who are the colored shine of mountain honey. You are Allah’s lips that consciously defy tyranny, asserting Egyptian, Arab, and Muslim dignity and honor after tarnishing it by treacherous normalizing scoundrels.
From Tahrir martyrs Khaled Said to Abdel Rahman Ramadan to Mohamed Abdel Shafi, to Ayman Sabry, to Anas Habib who bike-locked the Egyptian embassy shut for Palestine in the Netherlands, I can hear you, the alive youth, the forcibly disappeared, the adolescents who are indefinitely imprisoned without parole in hollow metal cube detention centers.
I hear you, O youth who are murdered by imported Euro-American sniper bullets, those hanged by the noose of capital punishment. You are the beginning and end of my sight, you who are driven to suicide and forced to flee into exile from your homelands.
Your collective unflinching determinism is black and white, cutting clear between righteous good and the banalities of evil, wiping away the ambiguous grey.
O Ahmed and Mohsen, you are the veracious borderless seeds of Gaza’s resistance that knit the lost and fraying seams of this Ummah’s braided fabric as sweetgrass.
You are the extended ripple surge of her tsunami tufan in which 3,800 Nukhba forces miraculously breached Gaza’s concentration camp walls at 119 points. One that stretches beyond her contrived Rafah’s shoals, re-stitching the Ummah anew.
You are Al-Aqsa Flood’s recurring ebb and flow tidal waters against the Ummah’s five-hundred year old crusading enemy. Though you solely seek Allah’s sight, someday your Ummah will celebrate you.
O Egyptian youth, yield not to your hesitation! The truth is you are Tahrir Square’s inheritors, her innocent ghosts and pure renegade afterglows, the cypress and oak trees that do not fold or grow in each other’s shadows, as they singularly sing and dance as one.
Tahrir’s triumphs and strategic defeats are spectres in your keepsake.
O Egyptian youth, your torchbearing continuity is the exact sacred dot, the precise archived severance, that this corrupt taghūt Egyptian order is working tirelessly and desperately to detach and disconnect, to freeze in the spacetime of history and memory.
O youth unleash your harnessed warm wind that thaws Tahrir, ride the crescent of Gaza’s strong wave, like sparrows who upon witnessing angels, crow and sing loud in merriment.
Truth is your precise presence, that pierces their manufacturing of consent and media blackout.
Your determination, your will to puncture the deafening Egyptian silence easily outshines every cliched and exhaustible PR character assassination and conspiratorial campaign that would conivingly aim to depict you as “Muslim Brotherhood,” “5th column,” and even “outside agitator foreign agents.” Know that these false narratives and blatant lies of the past denote nothing more than desperate attempts at casting a dark blight upon you to cover the stink of their rotten system and crumbling order. The truth is, we are the waves between the shore lines of your souls.
You are Allah’s teeming garden of Eden, diamonds glinting in snow that can never diminish in shine and glimmer. A cautionary tale of archangel Isrāfīl’s unsilenced blown trumpet horn on the Day of Resurrection (al-qiyāmah) that rapidly nears us. You are the ringing gong alarm bell that will never stop for death. Allah saw you, the ‘unacknowledged’ fighters of our Ummah’s silhouette.
O Egyptian youth, take consolation in your siblings, Mohsen and Ahmed, whose rebellious jihād elegiacally grieves and elegantly waged battle for Gaza, for the Ummah.
O Egyptian youth brawl strong for your strength cracks the most hardened of inanimate stones that are forcibly made to weep.
O Ahmed and Mohsen, lamenting you, without reprieve, pondering your fate, your infectious courage, since your inevitable doomed arrest, is this eulogy’s hemmed tears that are unable to dry before the sun. O Egyptian youth, dare to be Ahmed and Mohsen’s somber likeness.
While others basked in entertainment leisures, they deserted summer holiday recesses.
They forgoed the pleasurable solace and joys of family gatherings as Gaza’s killing fields and forced starvation of women, children, and elderly reached a zenith. They exchanged cool breeze giggles for electric shocks. They traded the lax ease of bazaar-strolls for unmerciful beatings from hardened fists. They swapped festive music concert pirouettes for the whipping of their suspended feet struck by leather straps and jumper cables. They sacrificed solstitial love under clear sky-blue kites in lax salty seaside resorts for tortuous skin burns by cigarette butts.
O Egyptian youth can you not taste and smell the acrid copper-metallic? Can you not hear the crushed churning of their pulverized bones, their war-cry wails to Allah?
O Ahmed and Mohsen, rest assured - as you the faithful would already know - that Allah’s wrath, punishment and curse is closing in on our mutual enemies. For they think Allah’s judgment is far but his reach is closer than our jugular veins.
You are Allah’s natural quivering emerald green against the extinguished black and brown dead, descendant heirs to the greatest of the Prophet’s companions ʿUmar ibn al-Khattāb and ʿAmr ibn al-ʿĀṣ. A fire fills your footprints, that no marked grave name on your tombstones can replace.
The first, ʿUmar, was known by the title ‘El-Fârûq’ (the distinguisher of truth from falsehood). He extended Islām across the Arabian peninsula and North Africa. And the second, ʿAmr, who followed ʿUmar’s example, expanded Islām to Syria and Palestine (al-Shām, Orientally dubbed ‘the Levant’).
From even before your birth, your names were scribed and etched eternal in scarlet gold trim on the venerable and righteous vessel veins of Islām’s family tree.
Till now, I do not know whether you are martyrs or tortured prisoners. Perhaps fate has decreed that you now reside with Allah above.
But, if by Allah’s grace and mercy, this letter reaches you through the grey concrete crack confines of your prison brick slabs I want you to know:
Forgive us, Tahrir’s old, for bequeathing you, Tahrir’s tender young, a shattered disillusioned Egypt in 2011. One that solely bore arrogant rhetorical and ideological solutions, vacant of pathways to fight a broken world, towards nursing a new world, one that would sparkle bright enough to shatter the sun, stars, and every prison wall, relative to the polemical slogan: ‘Bread, Freedom and Social Justice.’
Indeed if I could fold an instant of space-time, to possess a moment with you together, I would want you to know: How I long to have been blessed with your company in Tahrir, to have learned from you the spirited transcendence of all the contradictory oddities and false choices between a totalitarian military dictatorship, secular leftist politics, and an Islām of the Above that strangulated the square.
As our children, you are “born from immortality and are the arrows we shoot towards infinity” as our political prisoner Mumia Abu Jamal notes about the youth. You are the lightning bolt dreams that uproar dangerously.
O Ahmed and Mohsen your significant choice of conducting “Iron 17” on Friday, July 25th, 2025 isn’t coincidental. It is timely, as you are historic.
With July 23rd commemorating the monarchic King Farouk’s deposing by the Twelve Officer’s Movement, you chose the holiest day of the week in Islām, a public day of assembly, knowing the State Security headquarter’s guard would be dressed down. Your clarity is a searing hot knife that slices through worlds. You epitomized righteous treason and the merits of becoming disloyal non-citizens against the tide of sworn ethno-nationalist patriotic pledges of a flag’s allegiance.
Your humble radiance shines past the darkness of narcissistic armchair false prophets who blabbermouth meaninglessly on social media platforms during Tahrir and now with Palestine. You let go of ego and chose a private and tactical organized militant secret action over mobilization and cosplaying revolutionary and online celebrity activism.
Your operation was meant to abscond nationalism and incite in its stead the revolutionary fervor of spirituality embodied by our siblings in Palestine.
You battle for an Islām of the Below, a Qurān of the Oppressed, and a salt of the earth revolutionary Islām that cuts across all synthetic engineered Islāms.
You rose above each and every tainted version of Islām, be it a reactive and sectarian neoconservative Islām anchored in wanton violence or a traditionalist Islām that claims to anchor itself in Muslim heritage but isn’t a militant threat to Euro-America. You overshadowed modernist interpretations of Islām that aspire to liberal democracy as well as depoliticized secularized Islāms bent on annexing the political from Muslim ways of life.
Your Islām, the mujahideen’s Islām, is a lateral one that centers the poor, the elderly, all the dispossessed of the world.
An Islām that conjures faith in the name of a liberation that outstrips, slashes across, and elevates non-statist worlds from Below and to the left that transcend and tear through contrived 1916 Sykes-Picot borders and agreements.
O Egyptian youth, O Muslims, discomfort time, unsettle it, splinter through it and rupture it for Gaza, for there is but one Palestine.
O Ummah, the twilight stars of my eyes, acquit and abort the disillusioned need to wait for a ripe moment for insurrection.
Refuse to aspire to ride the coattails of a revolution that you await others to enact, as many often do. O Egyptian youth, my faith is in Allah only, but you are my fountain of hopeful multitudes. Relinquish the search for opportune conditions to come to fruition for an operation or decisive measures to be taken. Instead, urgently birth prefigurative actions in your own pre-determined zero hour, knowing full-well the weight of the price tag and grave consequences you may encounter.
O quiet youth, who I know exist, you are the true heroes, the silenced, the unsung, the everyday inspirers of our existence. You are Palestine and the Ummah’s torch bearers, who (can) now join an endless line of succession from the blessed Al-Aqsa Flood to the front lines of the First and Second Intifada, from the Great Gaza Marches of Return to Ferguson to Unist’ot’en, and from the Zapatistas’s Lacandon Jungle to the Black Panthers resisting in Oakland’s gentrified neighborhoods.
O youth of the ether’s void, lock arms with me, without a stride of shade between us, with paradise in our eyes, as the glow of our undissuaded mujahideen who never compromise their ethical-political spiritual needle abide. O youth of the Below, our wellspring Gaza calls upon us to rise, with wreaths of love, nailed to unrelenting dangers to those who dare to dream wildly.
O youth of the Below, Gaza has put it all down, her every inch on the line, while the world twiddles its thumbs. Gaza soars through tinged air, so verily let us glide to her, swinging the doors open to her heaven and hell. Join me in killing our desire for material, earthly, seductions, so that we can become alive in the name of Allah’s principles.
O Egyptians, O Muslims, O Arabs, let us take solace, that if we must die, then let it be for fall leaves to whither and become life soil for a new blossom.
O Egyptians, O Muslims, O Arabs, do not be hypocrites who rely on international law, ‘human rights,’ who take part in useless pleas towards your governments for interventionist salvation.
For why continue kissing the rings of power with flattering words or basking in the false hope of fraudulent worlds of the Above, when our mujahideen serve as our Below bow and arrow steward guides, synchronizing their souls to freedom rhymes or else die trying?
Know that if we must die smashing and spilling the bowls of bitterness, let it be so that we may become ecstatic souls who break all chains free.
That if we must die, then we do so knowing that there will be a never-ending litany of others bearing scarred, rough, and scratched hands who will follow. Indeed, as long as the earth remains, unceasing generations will rise. Their fingernails will claw through dirt. Their palms will be calloused. Their skin will be wrinkled and damaged from breaking and crawling across Rafah’s barbed wire battlefronts. Let us die with honor knowing we are countless who will dig with thirsty sweat, through rock and pebbles to tend and defend every sacred speck of Palestine, from Zakaria to Al-Quds to Al-Ludd, from Umm Al-Rashrash to Beer Al-Sabe to Yafa, and from Askalan to Umm Khalad to Akka to Al-Khalisa to Al-Birwa .
O Ahmed and Mohsen, this Ummah salutes you, for illuminating our path.
Allah’s peace, and eternal mercy enshroud you, O martyrs of Al-Quds. Allah be with you and with us.
O Muslims, your Allah and mine, will interrogate each of us of a brave place and people called Palestine, so hasten, and speed readily to her in the image of her parachuting birds of prey. For it is a jihād of victory or martyrdom till this traveling realm’s finale which, for us Muslims, was always merely a beginning, never an end-times end.
Eternal damnation upon all treacherous states and rascal, crooked, peoples, Arab, Muslim, and Euro-American alike, and long live every Below that wars back and carries forth the tufan waves’ load.
O noble people of the Ummah, power is yours, eternity is yours, the love of Gaza is yours! You, the wounded, are her existence, so raise your swords, rise up and let the storm break loose!
"Faith is precipitation that resurrects spirits from the dead so that we may live believing yet ever more."
Everything is here, for everyone. Thank you, Dr. Abdou.