The Doctor Who Resists With Surgery: Dr. Mahmoud Abu Amsha

“ I swore. I will stay here until the last patient leaves.”

What makes a person work under challenging conditions by risking their life without getting anything in return, completely voluntarily? It is hard to give a realistic and reasonable answer to this question. Especially, one need to reflect on this kind of generosity that is coming from a well-educated person who has a handful of comfortable life choices with an eligible job in nearly every part of the world. There is a remarkable amount of people almost all over the world who volunteer to work in war zones under immense bombing and help people. Some of them do it via charity organizations, others individually rush wherever the disaster is. And just as many don’t abandon people despite heavy conditions trying to help by presenting an inhuman effort. Most of them pay heavy prices for this cause, even if it is their life.

The universal realm of spiritual values that humans could exist in is exactly this altruistic motivation and it is also what makes this motivation possible. Human is literally a state of awareness and consciousness independently from religion, politics, ideology and other narratives in any sense. At the foundation of this intrinsic state of being lies the human heart — the cradle of consciousness and awareness. It is, in other words, an inwardly focused gaze, the conscience that guides the human toward goodness in every sense, and the ever-alert heart that continuously warns against temptation. Indeed, the prophet of Islam (pbuh) said: “Neither the earth and the sky can contain Allah, but the heart of a believing servant can contain him.” Conscience indicates a godlike characteristic in a sense, an inhuman one. The altruistic motivation could be defined as a completely natural awareness state between the creator and human without being tied to any political, ideological or any institutional religious generalizations. A pure state of conscience. Goodness, as a purely free human act—without a sense of indebtedness to anyone, without gratitude, without expectation of return—is in itself a higher state of being, a profound sense of responsibility toward life, and a courageous act of 'stepping forward' that the modern individual, subdued by countless fears, may find difficult to grasp. The mundane daily lives of these brash and surprising people which is far from parade and being visible makes it more interesting.

The subject of this text, Dr. Mahmoud Abu Amsha, is a great example for this enviable boldness despite his ordinary life. He was targeted by the Israeli army at the hospital where he worked voluntarily in the midst of Israeli genocide in Gaza. Dr. Ezzideen Sehab, one of the young doctors who knew him well, delivers the conversation they had just before his martyrdom as follows:

‘One day, I asked Mahmoud why he chose to stay at Kamal Adwan Hospital when the situation was so catastrophic, why he didn’t flee like everyone else. At the time, it was something I couldn’t truly understand. He answered in a soft voice, “I really don’t know. I just felt I had to stay for those trapped inside. There were no doctors left to help them.” Then he added, “We studied medicine to save lives, not to run away.” Back then, his answer only left me confused… but now, I finally understand. Mahmoud did not belong to this world, not to this cruel, indifferent world. He belonged to a purer world, something much more honest and selfless. That’s why he left us. Because this world was not made for souls like his. We mourn Mahmoud not just as a doctor. We mourn him as the kind of person this world desperately needs and loses all too quickly.

Mahmoud was born on April 21, 1997, in the town of Beit Hanoun, into a refugee family displaced by the occupiers, like the majority of Gaza’s population. He was the child of Dr. Rafiq and Dr. Ghada, both doctors. After completing his primary, middle, and high school education in Beit Hanoun, Mahmoud earned the right to enroll at the Faculty of Medicine at Alzaiem Alazhari University in Sudan with significant success, graduating after seven years of study. After graduation, he returned to Gaza to serve his family, to whom he felt immense gratitude, and his people. Shortly after returning to Gaza, he began working at Kamal Adwan Hospital.

However, life did not go as young Dr. Mahmoud Abu Amsha had imagined. Less than ten months after his arrival in Gaza, Israel’s routine Gaza attacks, referred to as “mowing the grass,” resumed.[1] And Dr. Abu Amsha’s life, still at the beginning of his professional career, turned into a relentless rush in the midst of a true catastrophe. Shuttling constantly between Kamal Adwan Hospital and Indonesia Hospital, he struggled to treat unimaginable injuries, amputations, and the shattered bodies of children, babies, and women in excruciating pain, fighting to keep them alive. In the crowded hospital corridors, under conditions that were medically far from suitable, he often performed surgeries in desperation, shielding the flickering light of humanity with his body and soul in a hospital that had turned into a human slaughterhouse, overwhelmed by an endless stream of wounded. There was no sleep, no rest, no breaks, no regular meals, no medicine—but there was hope, effort, and faith. It was under these conditions that Dr. Mahmoud transformed into a hero who strove to remain human, to help people, who did not flee but stepped forward.

Amid this catastrophe, on April 7, 2025, Dr. Mahmoud Abu Amsha was martyred by a direct strike from an Israeli drone while on his way to Indonesia Hospital to treat an emergency patient, wearing his doctor’s uniform and stethoscope.

The news of his death was made public three days after his martyrdom, on April 10, in a statement by the Egyptian Doctors’ Syndicate. The statement condemned the killing of 27-year-old Dr. Mahmoud Abu Amsha by Israeli forces while he was volunteering to treat the wounded in the Gaza Strip and expressed shared grief over his loss.

The statement, published on April 10, 2025, noted that Abu Amsha had been moving between hospitals in Gaza from north to south since the war began on October 7, 2023, performing surgeries in overcrowded corridors and treating the wounded. The syndicate added that Abu Amsha had worked without pay. As the syndicate’s statement pointed out, this murder is part of a broader pattern of violations against doctors and the healthcare sector, and the killing of doctors and medical personnel in Gaza is clearly a crime against humanity. The union, stating that the silence of the international community encourages those who carry out such attacks, declared: "We condemn this shameful silence that serves to legitimize the crimes of occupation. The blessed blood of Dr. Mahmoud Abu Amsha and all the martyrs of humanity will remain as evidence and a stain of this disgraceful global silence." The union's statement continued: "During Israel's attacks on the Gaza Strip on October 7, 2023, Dr. Mahmoud Abu Amsha moved between Gaza's hospitals from north to south, performing surgeries and dressing wounds in corridors filled with the wounded. His heart was heavy with the pain of siege, hunger, and the loss of loved ones. Yet, he never retreated and never took a salary. On the contrary, he was a volunteer doctor with a heart beating with faith and a humanitarian message that knew no retreat.

Dr. Mahmoud Abu Amsha was martyred, leaving behind a legacy of heart-wrenching kindness told through the tears of his colleagues within the walls of the hospitals where he worked. What remains is a world unable to bear the immense pain, the relentless cruelty of the oppressors, our helplessness against this unaccountable cruelty, and the appalling silence of international institutions.

He carried no weapon... he carried his stethoscope, his smile, and a hand extended with compassion. He was the voice of hope gushing amidst the rubble, a pulse stubbornly beating in the darkness imposed by bombs. He was targeted because he was a doctor, a human being. He was martyred while doing the noblest thing a human can do: trying to save a life. 

The world continues to stay silent as Palestine and its people face a massive massacre and destruction. Yet, international institutions were supposed to take a firm stance to stop this crime. We condemn this shameful silence that legitimizes the crimes of occupation. We demand immediate action to lift the siege, protect civilians, and bring the perpetrators to justice. The blessed blood of the martyr Dr. Mahmoud Abu Amsha and all the martyrs of humanity will bear witness to this shameful silence."

Dr. Ghada and Dr. Rafiq, parents of this noble ambassador of kindness, said in an interview about their son's martyrdom: "We praise Allah for our son's martyrdom. He was on his way to the Indonesian Hospital. He was targeted by an Israeli drone and directly hit. He was martyred at the scene." 

His mother, Dr. Ghada, also shared: "For months, he went back and forth between Kamal Adwan Hospital and the Indonesian Hospital to help the wounded. I begged him countless times to leave, but he always said: 'I swore. I will stay here until the last patient leaves.' And indeed, he stayed until the very end. If I had 100 Mahmouds, I would sacrifice them all for this cause. Allah chose him as a martyr, and I am proud of him. He is not my first martyr; there are 18 martyrs in my family: my daughters, their children, my brother's children... This is our destiny: the path of faith and martyrdom." 

His father, Dr. Rafiq, said: "I came carrying my son's 'weapon' on my shoulder. This weapon was not a rifle; it was a stethoscope, a scalpel, a bandage. This was the weapon with which Dr. Mahmoud fought his toughest battles within the walls of the hospital, amidst screams of pain and cries for help. This is Gaza's 'weapon' that terrifies the occupier: an iron will that refuses to break, dignity, and a spirit of selfless giving."

Dr. Mahmoud had come to be known as the "last surgical line of defense" at Kamal Adwan Hospital. Under bombardment, without electricity or medical supplies, he performed surgeries and surgical interventions alone.

Dr. Muhammad Al-Durubi, a colleague from Kamal Adwan Hospital, described him with these words: "He did not chase fame or rewards. In this era, which seems to be the age of humanity's collapse, he was an angel of goodness, a hero amidst abandonment... His scalpel was purer than the swords of kings, and his hands were cleaner than the declarations of nations."

And yes, if there is still hope for life in our sky, which grows darker each day with humanity's silence, the immoral silence and complicity of tyrants, global powers, and states—if breathing still has meaning in this ugly world where children are 'hunted'—it is because of the brilliance of these heroic souls dedicated to goodness. If the universe, despite such grave crimes and such immense pressure, has not yet collapsed into itself, it is because of the tremendous energy created by these strong spirits.

A final word from a colleague: 

"He was exalted as a martyr, and with him, a rare conscience in this world also rose... His scalpel will continue to carve deep wounds into the face of injustice, even after his departure."

I would like to thank Intern Dr. Mohammed Al-Hajjar, journalist-author Mustafa Ekici and Sudenaz Coskun for their contributions.

Prof Dr Orhan Alimoglu

Istanbul Medeniyet University