The Green Prince — this was the codename given to Mosab Hassan Yousef, the eldest son of Sheikh Hassan Yousef, one of the founders of the Palestinian terrorist group HAMAS, when he began working for the Israeli security service. He assisted in preventing terrorist attacks by alerting Israeli security forces about the plans of various terrorists. Thanks to the information he provided, several terrorist cells operating in Israel were uncovered, and their high-ranking leaders, including his father, were arrested. After Mosab Hassan Yousef left the Middle East and settled in the USA, he authored an autobiography titled “Son of Hamas,” where he detailed his experiences as a double agent. With the permission of the publishing house “Stroki,” “Lenta.ru” presents an excerpt from the text.
Secret Informant. 2000-2001
1What I am about to reveal has remained unknown until now, except to a handful of Israeli security personnel. I disclose this information in the hope that it will shed light on a number of significant events that have long been shrouded in secrecy. On the day I made my decision — that is, the day I resolved to do everything in my power to stop the madness — I started by gathering as much information as possible about the activities and plans of Marwan Barghouti and the leaders of HAMAS. I relayed this information to Shin Bet, which was doing everything possible to locate them.
In Shin Bet, I was assigned the alias Green Prince. The “Green” referred to the color of the HAMAS flag, while “Prince” was an obvious reference to my father's status — a king in HAMAS. Thus, at the age of twenty-two, I became the only “mole” in Shin Bet within HAMAS, having access to both the military and political wings of the organization, as well as to other Palestinian groups.
But it wasn't only this responsibility that weighed on my shoulders.
It became clear to me as day that God had placed me close to the center of both HAMAS and the Palestinian leadership, and had brought me into contact with Yasser Arafat and Israeli security.
I found myself in a unique position, most suited for this work. And I felt that God was on my side.
I wanted to delve deeper, to learn everything that was happening. During the First Intifada, I was in the midst of the violence. The dead filled the cemetery where I had played football as a child. I threw stones. I broke curfew. But I didn’t understand why our people resorted to violence. Now, I wanted to know why we had taken it up again. I wanted to understand.
From Yasser Arafat's perspective, the uprising was solely about politics, money, and maintaining power. He was a great manipulator, a Palestinian puppeteer. In front of the cameras, he condemned HAMAS for its attacks on peaceful Israeli citizens. He insisted that HAMAS did not act on behalf of the Palestinian Authority or the Palestinian people. But he hardly intervened in what was happening, allowing HAMAS to do all the dirty work and take the hits from the international community. Arafat had turned into a cunning old politician, fully aware that Israel could not stop the attacks without the PA's help.
The more attacks there were, the sooner Israel would sit down at the negotiating table.
During this time, a new group emerged, calling itself the “Al-Aqsa Martyrs' Brigades.” Their main targets became IDF soldiers and Israeli settlers. But no one could understand who these people were and where they had come from.
They acted like religious fanatics, yet no one — neither in HAMAS nor in Islamic Jihad (recognized as a terrorist organization and banned in the Russian Federation) — knew them.
On the other hand, they didn’t seem to be nationalist offshoots of the PA or Fatah.
Shin Bet was just as baffled as everyone else. Once or twice a week, some bus or settler's vehicle would be subjected to a deadly attack. The new group could not be countered even by heavily armed Israeli soldiers.
One day, I received a call from Louay.
— We have information that some unknown individuals are visiting Maher Uda. We need you to find out who they are and what connects them to Maher. We believe you are the only one who won't mess it up.
2Maher Uda was a high-ranking HAMAS leader who was of great interest to Shin Bet. He was the head of HAMAS's security unit within the prison system, and I knew for sure that he was responsible for most of the torture there. Additionally, I suspected he was behind the suicide bombings. Uda was an extremely secretive person, which made it nearly impossible for Shin Bet to gather the evidence needed for his arrest.
That evening, I drove through the center of Ramallah. It was the month of Ramadan, and the streets were deserted. The sun had already set, and most people were at home breaking their daily fast when I parked near Maher Uda's house. Although I had not been trained for such operations, I knew the basics.
In movies, people are often shown sitting in a car opposite the suspect's house, monitoring them through high-tech cameras and various other spy gadgets. Shin Bet surely had extremely sophisticated equipment, but for this assignment, I only had a car and my own pair of eyes.
I was supposed to simply observe the house and track who entered or exited.
About half an hour later, a few armed men left the two-story building and got into a brand-new green Chevrolet with Israeli plates. Everything seemed strange. Firstly, members of HAMAS, especially from the military wing, never carried weapons openly. Secondly, guys like Maher Uda did not associate with armed men.
I started my car and waited for a couple of other vehicles to pass before pulling out. I then followed the green Chevrolet along the main road toward Betunia, where my parents lived, before losing sight of them.
I was angry with myself and with Shin Bet. This was nothing like the movies. This was real life, and in real life, you could get killed for following someone. If Shin Bet wanted me to follow armed men like this, especially at night, they could have helped.
This was not a job for a lone wolf, but for a whole team. I had always thought that such operations involved air and satellite support — cool high-tech stuff. But it turned out I was all alone.
It was lucky I wasn’t shot. Not to mention that I learned nothing. I drove home feeling as if I had just missed a million-dollar deal.
The next morning, I woke up determined to find the green Chevrolet. However, after driving around for several hours, I returned empty-handed. Once again feeling disappointed, I gave up and decided to wash my car. And there it was, fortune smiled upon me: what I was looking for was right inside the car wash. The same green Chevrolet. The same guys. With the same weapons.
Can this be called a lucky coincidence or divine intervention? Or perhaps something else?
Now, in daylight and at a closer range, I was able to see them much more clearly than the previous night. By their stylish suits, AK-47s, and M16 rifles, I instantly recognized them as “Unit 17” — an elite commando unit that had existed since the early 1970s. These were the very guys who had protected Arafat and shielded him from the ever-growing number of admirers and detractors.
But something still felt wrong. Could they really be the same people I had seen at Maher Uda's? What did Maher need from the militants? He had no connection to Arafat, did he? All of this seemed nonsensical.
After the militants left, I asked the car wash owner who they actually were. He knew I was the son of Hassan Yousef, so he was not surprised by my question. He confirmed that they were fighters from “Unit 17” and said they lived in Betunia. I was even more astonished. Why were they living just a few minutes' drive from my parents' house instead of on Arafat's territory?
3I drove to the address given to me by the car wash owner and found a parked Chevrolet near the house. I then rushed back to Shin Bet headquarters to tell Louay everything I had learned. He listened carefully, but his superior continued to argue with me.
— This is nonsense, — he said. — Why would Arafat's guards live outside his residence? You must be mistaken.
— I am not mistaken! — I retorted.
I realized myself that something didn’t add up. The inability to find an explanation for what I had witnessed was deeply frustrating. Yet now some person was trying to convince me that I hadn’t seen anything at all.
— The whole situation is confusing, — I replied. — And I don’t care whether you think it’s nonsense or not. I saw what I saw.
The boss was outraged by my tone and left,