Since the October 2023 massacre and the ensuing war, Yoseph Haddad, 39, has emerged as one of Israel’s most vital representatives on the world stage and across social media.
By Ami Friedman, JNS
Yoseph Haddad sits in a cafe in Jerusalem on a winter afternoon, attempting to enjoy a pasta dish, but finds himself interrupted every few bites.
The interruptions come from a steady stream of admirers—passersby or those who just moments ago had actually managed to successfully finish their own pasta, each feeling compelled to break into his lunch despite their apologetic manner.
“We have to thank you,” a religious couple in their 40s said. Minutes later, two women in their 20s approach with similar sentiments.
A reservist soldier follows, placing a hand on Haddad’s shoulder: “I won’t have another chance to say this: Thank you for everything you do.” An elderly man calls out “God bless you!” from across the way.
Later, en route to his car to drive to a signing for his new Hebrew-language mini-autobiography, “Let Me Explain,” his first book, Haddad attempts to cross at a crosswalk when two men call him over.
Who, after all, doesn’t pause mid-crossing for a quick roadside selfie?
Thirty minutes earlier, he had taken down contact information from another stranger offering to translate his book into French. He acknowledges everyone—smiling, nodding, pressing his hands together in gratitude, bowing his head slightly.
If what you see on the street is a more accurate indicator than any poll or media commentary, should he run for office today, we might witness Israel’s first swearing-in of an Arab prime minister.
For now, though, meeting him is like spending time with a celebrity.
“You know,” Haddad, CEO of the Together—Vouch for Each Other NGO, reflected, “when I think of the word ‘celebrity,’ I think of artists, media personalities, athletes, actors, TikTokers—people who’ve truly made it. In my context, that word doesn’t sit right. I’ve worked and continue to work in Israeli advocacy, so that label feels uncomfortable.”
Q: It’s perfectly acceptable to acknowledge enjoying your new status.
A: “My public work began long before Oct. 7, 2023. Undeniably, I’ve become much more recognized since then and my exposure has grown significantly, but it happened because of the greatest catastrophe in Israel’s history. That’s why that word troubles me.”
Q: Yet people don’t just approach for photos, they most genuinely want to express gratitude. It’s not superficial.
A: “Against this wave of support, there’s also an extreme minority. Though small, they’re a closed and dangerous group that targets you, threatens you, tries to intimidate you, and attacks you. There have been cases where police had to make arrests because people explicitly threatened, ‘I’ll put a bullet between your eyes.’”
Yoseph Haddad (left) and an anti-Israel protester. Credit: Courtesy.
Q: From the Arab side or the Jewish side?
A: “There are extremists in both Arab-Israeli and Jewish society, but I don’t pay them much attention. The majority of Israeli society is supportive and encouraging. Do you know why I value that, and why I give attention to every person who approaches me? Because their support helps me continue despite the extreme and violent attacks from those extremists. They broke my mother’s arm. It’s not easy being a son whose mother’s arm was broken because of his work. I feel guilty about that.”
Q: After that incident, didn’t your parents suggest—or perhaps you considered yourself—that maybe it was time to step back?
A: “Just the opposite. What happened was we were sitting on a plane in Dubai, still during boarding, waiting for takeoff. Some men spotted me with my family and began cursing. When I took out my phone to record them, they attacked me physically. My father stood up, and in the chaos that followed, my mother’s arm was broken.
“We left the plane for the terminal to file a complaint—my mother’s arm was bent, we didn’t know it was broken yet but knew something was seriously wrong. Then my father looked at me and said in Arabic, ‘Dir balak ithalihen yiwafuk. Kamel, ihna bidahrak,’ meaning: ‘Don’t let them stop you.’
“He was essentially saying that ‘they behave this way because they can’t handle you and the truth you represent. Their only recourse is to silence you, to attack. And when that fails, they target your family. So I’m telling you now, don’t stop.’
“Now tell me: With support from my family, from my partner, Emily [Schrader], who herself faces attacks, from the majority of the Israeli people, do you think I would even consider stopping?”
It’s somewhat peculiar to need to introduce Haddad. Fifteen months after becoming one of the most recognized voices in Israeli discourse, it hardly seems necessary.
While he had gained recognition during previous military operations and conflicts, back then he was viewed more as a novelty.
Perhaps “anomaly” is a more fitting word—an Israeli Arab from Nazareth, son of a priest, former IDF Golani Brigade combat soldier, driven by an unwavering purpose to represent Israel’s narrative globally. A convenient example to point to: “Look, he’s Arab and he’s on our side.”
But since the October 2023 massacre and the ensuing war, Haddad, 39, has emerged as one of Israel’s most vital representatives on the world stage and across social media.
A private citizen (in the absence of official advocacy) who embodies the voice of the average Israeli, one who watches in frustration as the international community responds with indifference at best, or at worst, with accusations while unconscionably ignoring the horrors of that day.
His secret weapon—though it’s hardly a secret—is his nationality, but that’s not all. Even when confronted by those who try to dismiss him as a “token Arab” or a gimmick, he counters with powerful arguments.
His combination of speaking Arabic while presenting facts proves more effective than any megaphone at an anti-Israeli protest, and more powerful than any woke student with purple hair at an elite American university.
“My identity is a huge bonus, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t backed by substance,” he explained. “Yes, it’s an important tool, because at the end of the day, I’m the Arab living in this country, and I know the truth. You can’t teach me about it
“If all my work was based on identity alone, it wouldn’t work. I have a feeling that those who think I’m a gimmick belong to a minority group on a certain side of the political map, and I take that as a compliment because it means I’m on the right path.
Yoseph Haddad during his service in the IDF Golani Brigade. Credit: Courtesy.
“Now, let’s talk for a moment about that extreme left group that claims I’m a gimmick. And they’re a minority because I don’t think we should label all leftists as anti-Israel or all right-wingers as racists. But to those people who claim I’m a gimmick, I have one question: Show me where I’m wrong. Does my identity not fit your narrative? Then you’re the racists.
“And by the way, the worst racism I’ve experienced hasn’t come from the extreme right but from the extreme left. Because I destroy their narrative. And I’ll say it again: They don’t represent the Zionist left.”
Q: Those calling it a gimmick would say: “Look, he’s even publishing a book. He’s leveraging this.”
A: “How much airtime do I usually get in TV studios? Three minutes here, a minute there. Even on social media, I can’t write long posts—people want short videos.
“The book gives me a chance to present the full picture. What’s interesting is that when people accuse me of ‘doing this for the money,’ they learn that I donated all my earnings from the Passport Card campaign [an alert app for Israelis about dangers abroad] to Israel advocacy. I didn’t keep a single shekel; I made sure that was written into the contract. I felt strongly that I didn’t want to profit from Israel’s greatest disaster.
“As for the book, anyone in publishing knows there’s no real money in books. This is about ideology, and what bothers them is that the ideology is winning.”
Q: Why publish now, though?
A: “I always wanted to write a book—it just happened that fate connected me with the publishing house. We met, they asked if I’d considered writing a book, and I told them I’d already started. I talk about my childhood, for example. Not everyone attends my lectures or meets me personally, not everyone knows my journey and how I became who I am and got to do what I do.
“Beyond that, the book also covers Israel advocacy. I write about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, about the partnership between Jews and Arabs. It’s really an opportunity to lay out my complete vision.”
Q: You’re steering us toward the topic of politics. You’ve received offers from various parties.
A: “I’ve received offers from across the political spectrum. It’s crazy – parties from all sides see something in my message and values. But actually entering politics? No. There’s a reason I say this: If I were to announce ‘I’m with this party,’ I’d immediately lose my position as someone who unofficially represents our country. That would all disappear. And honestly, I don’t even have a clear idea right now of which party truly represents me.”
Q: Yet there are positions you considered even before this crisis.
A: “I’m not aiming to be Israel’s U.N. ambassador, but when I think about it, yes, that’s a role I would want. I’ve done a lot of good work with good people in advocacy and public awareness, but if I have any ambition to represent the country officially, it would be at the U.N., the most hypocritical organization there is. It demands the highest level of effort, dealing with intellectual confrontations, using facts and a different approach than at universities.
“Arabic is an official U.N. language, you’re allowed to give an entire speech in Arabic. It’s my dream to stand there, represent our country, and deliver a speech in Arabic.”
Q: So you have gotten political after all.
A: “I promise you, I swear, if we go to elections I’ll think about it. I’m telling you exactly what I plan to do. I was asked this question long before Oct. 7, but I always said, when something politically suitable comes along, I’ll definitely consider it as an option. But to start thinking about politics now?”
Q: Does Israel need to hold elections now?
A: “If there were a shred of integrity among all 120 Knesset members, coalition and opposition alike, they would all resign, but only after stabilizing the situation. They would acknowledge ‘This happened under our leadership’ and step down. If they possessed any real honor, they would place their keys on the table and walk away.”
Haddad’s story, as told in “Let Me Explain,” weaves together pivotal moments in his life with his moral and social convictions. It chronicles his political, social and personal evolution, including unique family practices, such as designating specific days when only Hebrew could be spoken at home, and others exclusively for English.
The narrative also encompasses his meeting with Schrader, an American-Israeli journalist and advocacy activist who became both his life partner and his ally in his mission.
His wounds during the Second Lebanon War of 2006, where he lost his right foot, form a crucial chapter in his life story. During surgery, his foot was reattached. Haddad rehabilitation for about a year.
This experience would later provide him with an unassailable response during heated international debates, moments now well-documented in videos across his Instagram account, which boasts 845,000 followers.
Yoseph Haddad in recovery after he was wounded during the Second Lebanon War. Credit: Courtesy.
“Once, in front of 500 students, someone challenged me: ‘You’re Arab—do you really think the Jews like you? They’re using you. The moment they have no more use for you, the Jews will throw you in the trash.’ The anti-Israelis in the audience erupted in applause. I responded, ‘According to your theory, I should have been in the trash long ago, because they already had no use for me.’
“Initially, no one grasped my meaning. So I explained: ‘Throughout my military service, I served alongside Christians, Muslims, Druze, and naturally, Jews. During the Second Lebanon War specifically, I served in a platoon composed entirely of Jews. I was the only Arab.
“We were dispatched to recover a tank in Bint Jbeil, four days before the ceasefire. That’s when we were hit by a Kornet missile. The blast threw me, and shrapnel severed my foot. I felt blood streaming down my face from another piece of shrapnel that had torn it open completely. They later told me the hole in my face was large enough to fit a fist through. At that moment, despite being incapacitated and despite serving in a platoon of exclusively Jewish soldiers with no Arab present to say ‘he’s one of us,’ they didn’t abandon me.
“Though immobilized, I remained conscious. Suddenly I felt movement—four Jewish soldiers lifting me onto a stretcher, hoisting it onto their shoulders, and carrying me to safety under enemy fire. When I share this story, complete with photos and facts, it ends the debate.
“The dynamic in the room shifts completely. The hecklers stop cheering and grow angry, and frustrated. Meanwhile, the pro-Israelis in the audience are now the ones applauding. No one can dispute my lived experience. Ultimately, I use these confrontations as tools to convince others—the undecided ones, who genuinely want to understand the truth.”
Q: And there are those who will never be convinced. Perhaps you actually enjoy the confrontation?
A: “First of all, we don’t have any other choice. And since we’re talking about it, yes, I’ll admit that I enjoy it. I enjoy making anti-Israel people look foolish, I enjoy getting under their skin. And when I expose their arguments as ridiculous and they realize how ridiculous they look, that’s when a video, post or debate has a real impact. I’ve seen people switch to our side because of this.”
Oct. 7 caught him off guard, as it did everyone else, though he sensed it slightly earlier.
“In Arab society, we understood what was unfolding before most others did. Forget Telegram, we were the first to receive the information, it was all over our social networks. I quickly grasped the magnitude of the catastrophe.”
Q: What was our biggest mistake? What did we fail to understand?
A: “We need to look at history. Everyone knows the history of this land, but those who oppose Israel have written their version, repeated their lies, and now people believe them. What I’m trying to say is that even Jewish society, or at least part of it, has started accepting the claim that they are colonizers. And I’m asking you, not as a Jew, but specifically as an Arab Christian: Are you all crazy?
“This land is rightfully yours. And as an Arab Christian, I’m telling you—it’s written in my religion, it’s right there. Yet in Jewish society, people started feeling apologetic.
“What do you have to apologize for? This constant cry of ‘occupation.’ I was taught that in the year zero, right here in Jerusalem, Jews were living here. How can [the Palestinians] claim this is their land when my own religion tells a completely different story?
“I love challenging people who claim ‘but you stole this land from the Palestinians.’ I ask them: ‘Who was their president? Who was the prime minister? Let’s make it simpler—who was any Palestinian leader? Your great historical figure is [Yasser] Arafat? A man born in Egypt who spent most of his life in Tunisia?’
“I go by the truth and facts, and it bothers me deeply to see people in Jewish society denying their own history. The irony that I’m the one having to say this isn’t lost on me.”
Addressing the war, Haddad observed: “Until recently, Israel had lost its near-exclusive status as a regional power. Then came a dramatic reversal: We eliminated [Ismail] Haniyeh, [Yahya] Sinwar and [Hassan] Nasrallah. Hezbollah is left with what amounts to an AliExpress replacement.
“We eliminated 15,000 terrorists, Gaza lies in ruins, Syria has undergone a dramatic transformation, and we’ve neutralized Hezbollah’s primary smuggling route. We’ve conducted strikes in Yemen and deep within Tehran. A major shift has occurred.
“We’ve demonstrated military superiority, and I see the Arab world acknowledging this reality. From this position of strength, it’s time to negotiate a deal and bring our hostages home. Society is prepared for it, the government is ready, and with [Donald] Trump returning, the Middle East is primed for such a move. We must bring them home.”
When asked about “the day after” the war, Haddad outlines a two-tiered approach: “The first phase involves military administration, in partnership with the UAE or Saudi Arabia, or any Arab nation willing to join the Abraham Accords and share responsibility for Gaza. A crucial element is preserving the IDF’s operational freedom—this cannot be compromised under any circumstances.
“However, even if you dismantle Hamas and expel all terrorists from Gaza, failing to significantly diminish the ideology behind Hamas means we’ll face today’s generation attacking us again in 20 years.
“This leads to the second tier: Education. I personally retrieved math textbooks from the rubble of an UNRWA school in Gaza containing equations like: ‘You have 10 Israeli soldiers and 11 stones. After throwing 10 stones at the soldiers, how many remain?’
“As long as these texts remain the educational standard, there’s no hope. While Gazan education from ages 4 to 18 continues preaching Israel’s destruction, meaningful future dialogue remains impossible. We’re essentially preparing for the next Oct. 7.
“The true battle lies in transforming hearts and minds. Military victories alone won’t secure lasting peace; we must address the root causes that perpetuate this conflict through generations,” Haddad said.