History
Jacob de Haan: The Anti-Zionist Jew Assassinated in Jerusalem
They shot the man who came in peace. Jacob Israël de Haan remains one of the most enigmatic and controversial figures in modern Jewish history. A Dutch-born poet, journalist, lawyer, and political activist, he was assassinated in Jerusalem in 1924 by Zionist paramilitaries — not because he opposed Jews, but because he opposed Zionism. His death marked the first political assassination by Jews against another Jew in the context of the modern Zionist movement. While his story is largely forgotten in mainstream accounts of Israeli history, it is a revealing episode in the struggle over Jewish identity, statehood, and the political direction of what would become the State of Israel. This article explores who Jacob de Haan was, what he believed, why he was seen as a threat, and what his assassination tells us about the early fault lines in Jewish political thought. Born in 1881 in the Netherlands into an Orthodox Jewish family, de Haan began his adult life as a provocative literary figure. His early poetry explored themes of religion, politics, and sexuality — including controversial homoerotic content that scandalized Dutch society and distanced him from the literary establishment. In parallel, de Haan trained as a lawyer and developed a reputation as a bold and independent thinker. He was politically active in leftist and socialist circles, advocating for prison reform and workers’ rights. But over time, de Haan gravitated back toward religious Judaism, eventually becoming deeply involved with the ultra-Orthodox community. In 1919, he moved to Jerusalem as a correspondent for a Dutch newspaper. There, his transformation from secular literary icon to devout Orthodox activist took a decisive turn. He aligned himself with the Haredi (ultra-Orthodox) community, particularly the anti-Zionist faction of Agudat Yisrael. De Haan’s opposition to Zionism was rooted in religious and political convictions. He believed that the attempt to establish a secular Jewish state in Palestine was both a theological error and a political disaster in the making. From a Haredi perspective, only the Messiah could initiate the return to Zion and the rebuilding of a Jewish homeland. Premature human intervention was, in this view, both heretical and dangerous. Politically, de Haan feared that a Zionist state would provoke hostility from the Arab population and destabilize Jewish communities already living in peace across the Middle East. He believed Jews should seek peaceful coexistence with Arabs under Islamic rule, and he actively worked to forge alliances with Arab leaders to secure guarantees for Jewish religious autonomy in exchange for rejecting political Zionism. Advertisement placeholder His activities included meeting with Arab notables, reaching out to King Hussein of Hejaz, and attempting to build an anti-Zionist front that would counterbalance the growing influence of secular Zionist organizations such as the Jewish Agency. To Zionist leaders in the 1920s, de Haan was not merely a dissenter — he was a dangerous liability. His ability to speak multiple languages, his political connections, and his legal training made him a formidable opponent. More critically, he represented a public challenge to the unity of the Jewish cause in Palestine at a time when Zionist leaders were working to consolidate influence with the British authorities under the Mandate for Palestine. His opposition was more than theoretical. He was organizing alternative political structures, meeting with British officials, and undermining the notion that Zionism spoke for all Jews. For a movement seeking legitimacy and a foothold in international diplomacy, this kind of dissent was intolerable. On June 30, 1924, Jacob de Haan was assassinated outside the Shaare Zedek Hospital in Jerusalem, as he returned from evening prayers. He was shot three times at close range. The killing was carried out by the Haganah — the Zionist paramilitary organization that would later become the nucleus of the Israel Defense Forces. The assassination was never officially acknowledged by Zionist leadership at the time, but later historical accounts have confirmed that the order came from senior Zionist officials. It was a calculated act — not a random murder — and it was designed to silence a dissenter who had become too effective for comfort. His funeral drew thousands from the Haredi community. The ultra-Orthodox mourned him as a martyr, while in mainstream Zionist narratives, his memory was quietly erased for decades. Jacob de Haan’s assassination remains a stark reminder of the ideological divisions that defined early Jewish politics in Palestine. It highlights the tension between religious and secular visions of Jewish statehood, and the lengths to which emerging political movements were willing to go to secure dominance. Advertisement placeholder In modern Israel, de Haan is rarely mentioned in textbooks or public discourse. Yet among Haredi Jews, especially those aligned with anti-Zionist movements like Neturei Karta, he is remembered with reverence. His death is seen not as a footnote, but as a turning point — the moment when dissent within the Jewish world was met with deadly force. His life and death also open broader questions about political legitimacy, freedom of thought within nationalist movements, and the cost of internal dissent. Can a political project tolerate radical voices that undermine its foundational claims? What does it mean when movements for justice and liberation suppress dissent in their own ranks? Jacob de Haan was a complex figure — poet, lawyer, religious activist, political dissenter. His opposition to Zionism was rooted not in hatred of Jews, but in a deep concern for the soul and safety of the Jewish people. Whether one agrees with his views or not, his assassination raises uncomfortable truths about the origins of power in modern Israel and the fragile line between unity and coercion. In remembering de Haan, we confront the reality that history is often shaped by those it tries hardest to forget. His story deserves to be told — not because it flatters or condemns, but because it challenges us to think more deeply about identity, dissent, and the politics of memory.
Introduction
Who Was Jacob de Haan?
Why He Opposed Zionism
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The Threat He Posed
The Assassination
Legacy and Historical Significance
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Conclusion
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