Orthodox Jewish, anti-Zionist and gay: The story of Jacob Israël de Haan

By Shmuel Munitz Department of Research, Studies and International News 14-04-2025

Jacob Israël de Haan’s assassination is considered the first political murder in modern Israeli history; a trailblazing figure in early LGBTQ literature and a staunch anti-Zionist, he defied all labels—revered by both Haredi extremists and members of the Dutch gay community

The murder of Jacob Israël de Haan is considered the first political assassination in modern-day Israel. However, even before his assassination in 1924, de Haan was a figure worthy of a movie. Even his detractors would struggle to deny that he was an extraordinary individual, torn between extremes, and willing to pay a high price for his truth. After all, he remains a figure admired and remembered by both the LGBTQ community in the Netherlands and the radical, anti-Zionist, ultra-Orthodox Neturei Karta group.

“His character defies all definitions,” says Zvi Landsman, director of the film De Haan: A Voice Outside Time. “He was both a homosexual pioneer of LGBTQ liberation, who wrote homosexual literature even here in Israel, and a spokesperson for the ultra-Orthodox community, after having initially been a Zionist pioneer and later joining the anti-Zionists.”

De Haan, a doctor of law, poet, writer and journalist, was born in the Netherlands in 1881 to a religious Jewish family. He left religion at a young age and married Johanna van Marseveen, a Christian doctor. In 1904, he caused a scandal by publishing a homosexual novel titled Pijpelijntjes (Pipelines), which was considered highly provocative and controversial, especially by the standards of the time.

“He worked as a teacher, but the moment he wrote a homosexual novel, he was fired, expelled from the socialist party he was active in, and many people cut ties with him,” Lansdman recounts. “This experience instilled in him a willingness to pay any price for his truth. Instead of backing down, as one might expect, he went on to write an even more provocative homosexual novel, Pathologieën (Pathologies). I am currently collaborating with a publishing house to translate it and publish it in Hebrew, along with a collection of essays de Haan wrote in Israel.” In the Netherlands, de Haan also encountered antisemitism in addition to the general persecution he faced for his homosexual writings.

To everyone’s surprise, at the beginning of World War I, and following his mother’s death, de Haan returned to religion, motivated by nostalgia for the childhood home in which he grew up. In 1919, he immigrated to Israel as a fervent Zionist but failed to integrate into the Zionist leadership. A year later, he switched allegiances and joined Agudat Yisrael. Soon, he became a central figure in Jerusalem’s ultra-Orthodox community and one of the most prominent voices opposing Zionism. He also worked as a journalist, reporting to European media about events in the land, further aggravating the Zionist movement.

Despite receiving explicit death threats, de Haan was undeterred. “He knew his life was in danger and lived under constant threat for at least a year,” Landsman notes. He was assassinated just over 100 years ago, on June 30, 1924. At age 42, de Haan was shot to death after leaving the synagogue near the building housing the Shaare Zedek Medical Center at the time.

The murderers were never caught or brought to justice, but historians who investigated the case pointed to members of the Haganah, including Avraham Tehomi (one of the founders of the Irgun) and Avraham Giora Kritchevsky, as the perpetrators. “There was evidence suggesting the Haganah was behind the assassination. This was the prevailing assumption, as Avraham Tehomi made statements that implied he had a role in the murder. Although he denied involvement, his words could be understood as an admission. During the work on the film, we found a recording of Rachel Yanait Ben-Zvi, the wife of Israel’s second president, Yitzhak Ben-Zvi, in which the full truth comes to light. I believe it’s the final piece of evidence,” says Landsman. “We found these recordings with Prof. Ruth Kark, who will receive the Israel Prize this year.”

This is Landsman’s second full-length documentary, following his previous film The Therapy, which offered a rare glimpse into the world of conversion therapy. Like his new film, it also explored the tension between homosexual identity and the religious world. Landsman, 41, who now lives in Jaffa after many years in Jerusalem, is himself a gay man who grew up in a religious family. His mother, Leah Shakdiel, made history in the 1980s as the first woman in Israel to serve on a religious council following a legal battle.

De Haan’s turbulent life journey—shifting from secularism to religious devotion, from Zionism to staunch anti-Zionism—is condensed by Landsman into a creative and original documentary of just over an hour. “I found in de Haan an expression of all the conflicts surrounding me in life. I embarked on a journey to follow his footsteps, but it was also a personal interest—to better understand my own world,” Landsman reflects.

Landsman dedicated the film to his late father, Moshe, who “returned to religion, immigrated to Israel and tirelessly worked for tikkun olam (repairing the world), justice and peace among all inhabitants of the earth.” Landsman adds, “You could say I’m traditional today. For many years, I lived without any religion, but recently it has become more present in my life. The significant change happened when my father passed away, six months after the start of the war. I began attending prayers to say Kaddish for him, and it reconnected me to the synagogue. Now, I enjoy attending a community called Or HaChaim every Shabbat. It’s an open-minded Orthodox community.”

The film provides the public with a rare opportunity to connect with members of Neturei Karta, the radical anti-Zionist group, which is estimated to consist of several hundred families. Although the group was founded years after de Haan’s death, they revere him and regard him as a martyr. “He believed Zionism should acknowledge the existence of non-Zionist ultra-Orthodox Jews and Arabs in the land. He was a precursor to the Neturei Karta movement, which was established a few years after his assassination,” says the director. “After his murder, some ultra-Orthodox individuals concluded they needed to escalate their activities to oppose Zionism.”

“It was indeed a challenge. I quickly realized I was being given a rare opportunity to engage with them and earn their trust, something they typically don’t extend to Israeli media. Once I gained their trust, I couldn’t stop filming. Initially, one member told me he didn’t trust me and wouldn’t participate, but perhaps his upstairs neighbor would. I met the neighbor, who expressed doubts about Israeli television representing their views fairly, but perhaps his nephew would agree—and the nephew did.”

The film also depicts intense clashes between Neturei Karta protesters and police. “I represented Neturei Karta and their truth in a way that is very difficult for Israelis to digest today. My goal was to explore the most extreme identities in our region without sugarcoating or obscuring the issues. I believe that simply encountering and spending time with these identities in the film can soften some of the fear, hostility, and rivalry between different groups in our society,” Landsman explains. “I think everyone can moderate their extremism if they feel heard and seen, and if their identity is not being threatened. I hope this glimpse into their world begins to chip away at the walls between us, though I have no doubt the film will provoke many viewers.”

In closing, Landsman emphasizes his desire to create an aesthetically rich and profound work of art—not just a history lesson. “I shot numerous interviews with various experts across three continents. But when I brought the material to the editor, Shira Clara Winter, I explained how I wanted to tell the story. Yet, she suggested we find a more visual and creative way to narrate the story. Most of the interviews were cut, and we found other ways to convey the history.”

The result is a sense of dreamlike immersion, as if de Haan himself walks through modern-day Jerusalem, observing Israeli reality and writing the texts he once penned. “I think it shows just how timeless his writings are,” Landsman concludes.