Hamas founder’s son delivers chilling testimony to Jordan Peterson
Mosab Hassan Yousef may be the most intense speaker I’ve ever witnessed. Famous for being the son of one of the founders of Hamas as well as a former Israeli intelligence asset, I first encountered him in a viral Dr. Phil clip circulating on X. The exchange was brief, featuring a pair of pro-Palestinian students presenting their perspective only to be forcefully refuted by Mosab. The clip was short, yet compelling.
The Jordan Peterson interview released a few days ago was of a completely different nature. For over two hours an uncharacteristically unsettled Peterson (arms folded across chest, posture rigid until the end when he found himself literally on the edge of his seat) delivered carefully targeted questions to his guest, who responded with a passion most of us in the West have never encountered. As Christians, we sometimes forget the Middle Eastern roots of our faith and the raw, untamed humanity of the historical figures recorded for us in Scripture. We forget that angry and grieving men would shout, tear their clothing, and sometimes even kill.
Watching Mosab — and it is only by listening and watching that one can truly hear him — the reality of this passion is brought anachronistically into the 21st century. Agree or disagree, there is no mincing of words or polite qualifications in his speech. For two hours he gave testimony of the deep and profound darkness that shaped him into a man whose self-professed mission it is to eradicate Islamic ideology. He described growing up beside a cemetery where adults and children were buried, some having died naturally and some in conflict. He lived through a traumatic sexual assault as a 5-year-old boy and was sentenced to silence on pain of death: in his culture, he explained, a father will demand the death not just of the rapist but also of the rape victim. He claims this is considered the most efficient remedy for the shame that would otherwise come upon the family.
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He admits freely that he identifies with Israel: both, he claims, are targets of homicidal impulse for no crime other than their existence. For him this is personal.
The intensity with which he delivered his story was chilling. As a young teen, he took to spending the night stargazing from on top of graves, determined to conquer every fear of death and eternal judgment taught to him in the mosque. As a young man with a death wish, he went to Israel as a suicide bomber, only to be captured and offered a career with Israeli intelligence. He claims he had no intention of working for them until experiencing further abuse at the hands of his own people. At this point, the contrast between the abuse of Hamas and the relative kindness of Israel caused his change of allegiance. He was a talented and feral man who had more sense in his gut than to bite the hand that fed him.
Yet it went deeper than that. After his Israeli-funded university education, he eventually began working for Israel and discovered the peace and predictability of an organization that followed strict protocols. According to Mosab, the consistency of their treatment not only of him but of their enemies — beholden not to emotion but to moral and legal regulations — convinced him he was fighting for (as he puts it) “the responsible side, the accountable side.” His words gave the impression of an orphaned child who finally found a father. His eyes grew wild explaining the chaos of his homeland, the unpredictability, the merciless violence done to children and victims.
It is popular to speak of trauma in the West. Perhaps we need a change of perspective.
It is clear from his demeanor that this is an angry and troubled man. What makes him so convincing is the fact that he never denies it. Openly and without apology he describes himself as full of anger and desiring revenge. At some point, he was influenced by the Christian Bible and particularly the New Testament, yet it is clear from his speech that rather than become a Christian he became an esoteric practitioner of what the new age calls “Christ consciousness.” He wanted to elevate his frequencies and ascend (he said in a strange deviation from the rest of the conversation) and have no enemies and love everyone.
“I regret it,” he said suddenly of this stage of his journey. He abandoned “Christ consciousness” as inadequate, and decided he would even sign off on the execution of his own father in the name of justice. Justice must be carried out, he said. For the sake of integrity, he concluded there could be no bias and no exception in his soul. Not even his father, who he not only loves but claims he once worshiped, could be spared. Thankfully, he also concluded that he would not seek himself to kill his enemies, but instead would seek to kill the belief system that created his enemies. Without this distinction, I believe Mosab Hassan Yousef would be a frightening man to behold. It’s clear this is a man who could kill.
These are moral questions most of us never have to face, comfortable in our armchairs as we pick sides in wars we can’t possibly understand.
Listening to him as a Christian, I felt a great deal of grief and found myself praying that he would one day encounter the authentic Jesus Christ, devoid of new age or political trappings. I also experienced a strange fear of the Lord. Who is this God we serve who can draw and even guide a soul who has seen and holds such darkness? Whenever we see a human being express themselves with that raw intensity, they too are made in His image. I found myself wondering, was David’s demeanor ever like this? What about Samson? Did Moses have any of this fierce intensity, this resentment for the ideology that killed a generation of his peers and enslaved his people?
We are so theoretical in the West. When we go to church on Sunday, do we ever see human beings express themselves with such brutal sincerity? Or are we dulled down, civilized, veneered, and speaking pithy platitudes we have forgotten to ask ourselves if we even believe? I fear slipping into casual dishonesty for the sake of social ritual (is this one definition of hypocrisy?), but certainly peace and politeness have their place. Nobody can live at level-10 intensity on a continual basis, yet there is something about facing your own darkness that can embolden you to fight deep moral darkness in the world as nothing else can. If it happened to you then it’s true and to deny it is a lie. So, the question becomes, what do you do with it?
For Mosab, the answer is to speak and warn the West about the ideologies he sees as responsible for his worst nightmares and the ongoing nightmares of thousands of children. If you have the time and the courage, whatever your position on the conflict in the Middle East, his testimony is well worth the watch.
Dusty May Taylor is a writer, artist and prayer servant living in British Columbia, Canada. Her testimony explores themes of trauma, generational occultism, a child's faith and the faithfulness of Jesus. She encourages the exploration of biblical truth without quenching the Spirit or despising one's humanity.
