Son of Hamas: A Gripping Account of Terror, Betrayal, Political Intrigue, and Unthinkable Choices

“I understood fighting and killing out of hatred, rage, revenge, or even necessity. But I had done nothing to these soldiers. I had not resisted. I had done everything I was told to do. I was no threat to them. I was bound, blindfolded, and unarmed. What was inside these people that made them take such delight in hurting me? Even the basest animal kills for a reason, not just for sport.”

Shortly after his capture, Yousef developed a much more sympathetic view of the Israeli government. However, as a young man who had barely participated in any militant activity, he endured brutal treatment at the hands of people who seemed motivated primarily by cruelty rather than a desire to extract information. The suffering inflicted upon him would be contrasted sharply by the comparatively warm approach that the Shin Bet would later use when seeking his cooperation.

“[The Muslim Brotherhood’s members] were doing everything dear to my father’s heart—encouraging renewed faith among those who had strayed from the Islamic way of life, healing those who were hurt, and trying to save people from the corrupting influences in society.”

Yousef acknowledges that groups like the Muslim Brotherhood originated with a mission of social justice, rectifying the effects of oppressive and distant rule. He can understand why his father, whom he has consistently regarded as sincere and kind-hearted even in his drift to radicalism, would fall in with an ostensibly idealist group. In his estimation, however, the Brotherhood would soon be corrupted by fanaticism and violence, tainting (if never fully) the otherwise pure heart of his father.

“The men who attended this meeting were finally ready to fight. They agreed to begin with simple civil disobedience—throwing stones and burning tires. Their objective was to awaken, unify and mobilize the Palestinian people and make them understand their need for independence under the banner of Allah and Islam.”

Yousef understands that Hamas emerged from a political context, one in which Israel had been mistreating the Palestinian people and there was a widespread desire for revenge. Yet, in his opinion, its religious orientation poisoned it from the start, granting its mission an absolute character that would never brook compromise. He believes that The Role of Religious Belief in Conflict encourages an attitude of the ends justifying all possible means.

“I was proud of Hamas, and I saw the attacks as a huge victory against the Israeli occupation. At fifteen years of age, I saw everything in stark black and white. There were good guys and bad guys. And the bad guys deserved everything they got.”

To many outside observers, Hamas’s actions are strictly negative, and there are undoubtedly serious moral problems with the deliberate targeting of noncombatants. Nonetheless, Hamas also won widespread support as one of the few groups willing to challenge Israeli supremacy, which itself uses violence (including against civilians) to maintain effective control over Palestine. This passage shows how in a cycle of violence, it becomes easy to excuse the actions of a preferred side, even when they are functionally identical to the actions of the hated enemy.

“I hated the Palestinian Authority and Yasser Arafat, I hated Israel, and I hated secular Palestinians. Why should my father, who loved Allah and his people, have to pay such a heavy price while godless men like Arafat and his PLO handed a great victory to the Israelis—whom the Qur’an likened to pigs and monkeys? And the international community applauded Israel because it got the terrorists to recognize its right to exist.”

Even as his father became a more central figure to Hamas, Yousef could not abandon his view of him as a fundamentally decent and pious man who was being treated unjustly by both sides. One of the tragedies of the conflict was that the ruthless and conniving often gained advantages over the honest. Even though his father was part of a group that Yousef understood to be composed of terrorists, he resented the idea that his father could be considered one simply by associating with them.

“‘How is your personal relationship to Allah?’ he asked me every time I visited him. ‘Did you pray today? Cry? Spend time with him?’ He never said, ‘I want you to become a good mujahid [guerilla soldier].’ His admonition to me as his eldest son was always, ‘Be very good to your mother, very good to Allah, and very good to your people.’”

Even though Hassan became a political figure, Yousef describes his father as a thoroughly religious man whose primary concern is with the affairs of the divine. Service to Allah, family, and community is not about being Arab or Palestinian but an expression of a fundamental moral imperative to improve the life of one’s community and defend them against threats. This positive presentation of a Muslim man provides complexity to Yousef’s overarching claims about The Role of Religious Belief in Conflict.

“Did he really think I was that dangerous? I couldn’t believe that […] these men had imprisoned and tortured my father and were about to torture me. Did they really believe this would make me accept their right to exist? My point of view was very different. My people were struggling for our freedom, our land.”

Despite writing from the perspective of someone who served Shin Bet and thoroughly repudiated Hamas, Yousef is able to convincingly summon his former perspective as someone bitterly resentful of the treatment that he and his father received at Israel’s hand. The idea that theirs was a righteous struggle and that any effort to end the problem through violence would surely backfire develops throughout the narrative, as Yousef was later complicit in violence by Shin Bet for the sake of his espionage career.

“Your father is a nice guy. He is not a fanatic, and we don’t know why you got yourself into trouble. We don’t want to torture you, but you need to understand that you are against Israel. Israel is a small country, and we have to protect ourselves. We cannot allow anyone to harm Israeli civilians. We suffered enough our whole lives, and we will not be easy on those who harm our people.”

Loai’s speech here is a subtle mixture of understanding and menace. He was able to draw distinctions between different levels of threat and made a plainspoken case for the need to defend his own people in a way that mirrors the impassioned speeches of many of Yousef’s comrades. Still, his frank willingness to torture anyone he perceived as a threat, seemingly no matter how minor, gave him a fanatical edge again not unlike the most dangerous extremists of Hamas.

“I no longer trusted anyone. Other prisoners saw that something was wrong with me, but they didn’t know what it was. Though the maj’d kept what I told them to themselves, they never took their eyes off of me. Everyone was suspicious of me […] Every day, there was screaming; every night, torture. Hamas was torturing its own people! As much as I wanted to, I simply could not find a way to justify that.”

In Yousef’s telling, his work for the maj’d, or Hamas’s internal security at the prison, was what ultimately convinced him to work for Israel as an actual asset rather than a double agent. The prospect of Palestinians, especially those who claimed the mantle of religion, terrorizing other Palestinians for what he regarded as specious reasons was too much for him to bear. It would be memories of those actions that would help salve his conscience as an Israeli agent.

“Like my father, I knew I could not tell her or my brothers or sisters what I had gone through. It would have been too painful for them. To them I was a hero who had been in an Israeli prison with all the other heroes, and now I was home. They even saw it as a good experience for me, almost a rite of passage.”

For Palestinians (especially Palestinian men), imprisonment by the Israelis is such a common occurrence as to be a part of the social fabric. Families must convince themselves that it performs a necessary, even salutary, social function and that to go through that experience and come out alive proves one’s authentic membership in the community. However, this brings up an early example of The Moral Dilemmas of Espionage, as Yousef is keenly aware of the fact that he also became an accomplice to the enemy in prison.

“As time went on, I began to question my plan to kill the Israelis: these people were being so kind. They clearly cared about me. Why would I want to kill them? I was surprised to realize that I no longer did.”

Yousef’s change of heart may seem abrupt, although it makes sense that someone who had experienced the traumas of imprisonment and isolation would be susceptible to positive treatment. Perhaps more remarkable is that this change of heart only grew with time. That kindness, compared with the cruelty of Hamas’s maj’d, would go a long way in forming a concept in Yousef’s mind of the Israelis as primarily good and Hamas (and the Palestinian leadership, by extension) as primarily evil.

“I began at the beginning, and when I got to the Sermon on the Mount, I thought, Wow, this guy Jesus is really impressive! Everything he says is beautiful. I couldn’t put the book down. Every verse seemed to touch a deep wound in my life. It was a very simple message, but somehow it had the power to heal my soul and give me hope.”

Jesus is also considered a prophet within the Islamic tradition, so it is possible for a believing Muslim to find admirable qualities in the moral teachings of Jesus. However, even in these early brushes with Christianity, Yousef saw the two traditions as mostly in conflict. In his own telling, he clung to Islam mostly out of a sense of tradition and family obligation while seeing in Christianity a completely different moral system that he found far more appealing. This offered the first sense of freedom from the cultural and political conflict that he had been enmeshed in since birth.

“I asked myself what Palestinians would do if Israel disappeared […] We would still fight. Over nothing. Over a girl without a head scarf. Over who was toughest and most important. Over who would make the rules and who would get the best seat.”

Here, Yousef reiterates his contention that the primary cause of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is the cultural conditions of the Palestinian people (strongly implying that the same conditions apply to the broader Arab population). He blames Islam in particular for encouraging a competition to prove who is the most devout, all too often expressed through violence, making it impossible to form a sustainable social fabric.

“Yasser Arafat had grown extraordinarily wealthy as the international system of victimhood. He wasn’t about to surrender that status and take on the responsibility of actually building a functioning society. So he insisted that all the refugees be permitted to return to the lands they had owned prior to 1967—a condition he was confident Israel would not accept.”

Arafat’s decision to reject the Camp David agreement of 2000 is one of the most significant and controversial actions of his time as PLO chair. Yousef is not entirely unreasonable to suspect that Arafat’s position depended on the prospect of a Palestinian state more than its actual achievement. However, the demand for the so-called “right of return” refers to a firmly established principle of international law whereby refugees have a right to have homes taken under military occupation restored to them. Though Arafat had a legal precedent for this move, it affirms Yousef’s perception that the Palestinian cause had fallen victim to self-serving, power-seeking political aims.

“Day after bloody day, a tearful Yasser Arafat stood before the Western news cameras wringing his hands and denying that he had anything to do with the violence. Instead he pointed his finger at my father, at Marwan Barghouti, and at the people in the refugee camps. He assured the world that he was doing everything he could to put down the uprising. But all the time, his other finger was resting firmly on the trigger.”

Here is another passage where Yousef’s depiction of Arafat has an element of truth while failing to include key considerations. There can be little doubt that his leadership during the Second Intifada was ineffective, that his rhetorical postures largely fell on deaf ears, and that the resulting weakening of the Palestinian Authority likely contributed to greater violence. However, there is little evidence for Arafat as the mastermind of the violence itself, especially when Yousef attributes most of the suicide bombings to Hamas, a group that was, at most, respectful of Arafat but fiercely resistant to his control. This speaks to Yousef’s overarching frustration with political leaders, which furthered his confidence in aiding Shin Bet.

“It was clear to me by now that God had specifically placed me at the core of both Hamas and Palestinian leadership, in Yasser Arafat’s meetings, and with the Israeli security service for a reason. I was in a unique position to do the job. And I knew that God was with me.”

Yousef is correct in that his position was a unique one—there is no other known figure to have operated in as high a level of Hamas while serving Shin Bet. The idea that God placed him in that position on purpose helped him process the ever-present feelings of fear for his circumstances and conflict about his choices, such as turning on his former compatriots and family. He finds peace in his newfound religion throughout the text, using Christian doctrines to justify his work as an intelligence asset.

“Amazingly, in the midst of their sorrow and anger, the people seemed extremely grateful for the Palestinian leaders like my father who had come to share it with them. Yet these were the very Palestinian leaders who had led them and their children like goats to the slaughter and then ducked out of range to watch from a comfortable distance. That sickened me more than the gore.”

After Israel was excessively violent with peaceful protestors, Yousef turned his ire to the Palestinian leadership, who may indeed bear a sense of responsibility by escaping as the situation became dangerous. Still, Yousef also admits that Israel violated its own rules of engagement. His reluctance to invite similar moral censure to Israel’s actions speaks to a now-hardened dislike of Palestinian tactics, as he approaches the violence that they’re complicit in with a different attitude.

“I didn’t just see through the eyes of a Muslim or a Palestinian or even as the son of Hassan Yousef anymore. Now I saw it through Israeli eyes too. And even more importantly, I watched the mindless killing through the eyes of Jesus, who agonized for those who were lost. The more I read the Bible, the more clearly I saw this single truth: loving and forgiving one’s enemies is the only real way to stop the bloodshed.”

Yousef’s sentiments are unobjectionable—any reasonable person would prefer an approach rooted in understanding and mercy rather than persisting in old grievances and violence. At the same time, Yousef has also spoken often about the incredible political complexity of the issue and hinted at a more nuanced understanding of the conflict than simplistic declarations would indicate. He also continued to work as a spy, helping to wage what was effectively a war rather than pursue an approach based on dialogue and nonviolence. Yousef’s convictions are no doubt sincere, but they have not always related to his actual situation.

“When I saw the interrogators, even those who had tortured me during my previous stay, I was surprised to discover that I felt no bitterness whatsoever toward these men. The only way I could explain it was using a verse I had read: Hebrews 4:12 says that ‘the word of God is living and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart. I had read and pondered these words many times, as well as Jesus’ commands to forgive your enemies and love those who mistreat you.”

In this passage, as in others, Yousef’s adopted faith is heartfelt and inspires him to an attitude of charity. It is significant that he can look upon people who mistreated him and summon a forgiving attitude. It may also help that he joined their side, creating a sense of distance between the person staging an imprisonment for public appearance and the terrified young boy who feared for his life. Overall, any pressing fear of the conflict that he might have had while working as a spy is gone, and he can view the people he knew with less animosity.

“With Arafat gone, Fatah was weakened and the streets were boiling. Fatah leaders were terrified that Hamas would take over, igniting a turf war. The United States, Israel, and the international community were afraid of a civil war. This gesture [Hassan visiting Arafat’s grave] by the top Hamas leader in the West Bank was a shock to everyone, but no one missed the message: Calm down, everybody. Hamas is not going to take advantage of the death of Arafat. There will be no civil war.”

While Hassan’s decision to visit Arafat’s grave was surely a noble one, Yousef was regrettably premature in his judgment of its long-term effects (though the impacts had occurred by his time of writing the book). Arafat’s death did indeed leave Fatah weakened and divided, and Hamas was emboldened to fill the gap, especially after the Israeli withdrawal from Gaza in 2005 left them to rule their traditional power base. This not only emphasizes Yousef’s positive view of his father but also speaks to Yousef’s hopeful—yet perhaps naive—perspective at the time. As someone who formerly wished that the positive aspects of Islam would shine through, he found this to be a rare moment where respect, kindness, and unity could be highlighted.

“[Hassan] saw that Israel was an immutable reality and recognized many of the goals of Hamas as illogical and unattainable. He wanted to find some middle ground that both sides could accept without losing face. So in his first public speech following his release, he suggested the possibility of a two-state solution to the conflict. No one in Hamas had ever said anything like that.”

It is striking that Hassan would, as a leading official of Hamas, breach the idea of a two-state solution in direct violation of Hamas’s charter calling for the destruction of Israel. In Yousef’s telling, Hassan overwhelmingly became the most popular political figure in Hamas after this, the one most desired to serve in the new Palestinian parliament. It suggests that in the wake of the Intifada, there was a constituency among the Palestinians who supported negotiations and peace.

“What did I have to show for being the Shin Bet’s superspook? Were my people better off? Had the bloodshed stopped? Was my father home with his family? Was Israel safer? Had I modeled a higher path for my brothers in sisters? I felt that I had sacrificed nearly a third of my life for nothing, a ‘chasing after the wind’ as King Solomon describes it in Ecclesiastes 4:16.”

For the most part, Yousef describes his spying in positive terms, portraying himself as making a real difference and helping the good guys catch the bad guys. This passage provides a striking moment of introspection where he realizes that, especially for his family, very little was different toward the end of the Intifada compared to the beginning. His increasingly Christian sensibilities have largely filled him with a sense of righteousness, but here it triggers humility.

“But as great as it is to have been granted political asylum, there will always loom the shadow of estrangement from my family. My family members are the ones who should share my joy and sorrow, with whom I should celebrate victory and mourn defeat, but I have been disowned. The shame brought on my family by my decision to go public can never be scrubbed clean. I have broken their hearts and ruined their lives. Who will marry my sisters now? How can my brothers return to school?”

Here, Yousef betrays a level of guilt that exceeds the rest of the book. While he has long-since grappled with Loyalty to Some as Betrayal of Others, his life was formerly too filled with action and conflict to fully consider the profound moral consequences of his actions. They may have been justified in some respects, and he had primarily focused on large-scale impacts, like expediting the end of the war. However, the impact on his loved ones is undeniable and irreversible, particularly on small, everyday matters, such as his siblings’ schooling and relationships.