David Draiman to 'Post' on Israel visit: 'I needed see my people again'

David Draiman glides self-assuredly through the lobby of Tel Aviv’s swanky Kempinsky Hotel. With his trademark black garb, bald pate, cut-off shirt accenting his buff upper arms, and Bring Them Home dog tags around his neck, he seems unaware or just used to the sidelong glances of other guests, shrugging it off as just another accessory of celebrity, for good or ill.

These days, the 51-year-old vocalist for veteran American hard rock band Disturbed is using that celebrity for good. Long before Oct. 7 – but especially since then – Draiman has become a familiar figure in the pro-Israel community on social media as one of the most vocal and passionate advocates of Israel within the US entertainment community.

With Disturbed having just completed the most successful tour of their career, their haunting 2015 version of Simon & Garfunkel’s “Sounds of Silence” enjoying a resurgence on the international charts and passing over a billion (yes, a billion) views on YouTube, Draiman should be sitting back in his palatial Florida home basking in the sunshine.

Instead, soon after the tour ended, he made a beeline for Israel for his first visit since Oct. 7, accompanied by his partner, Sarah, on her first visit to the country. Ostensibly arriving to see a huge contingent of family who live here, including his 93-year-old grandmother, Tziona, who unfortunately died 10 days before his arrival (see box on pg. 14), Draiman decided to also offer his services and presence to the country’s war effort – “to do whatever I can to help.”

Visiting the South

CONNECTING WITH the Diaspora Affairs Ministry, Draiman was escorted to the now-familiar destinations in the South – the site of the Supernova music festival; Kibbutz Be’eri, which was one of the hardest hit on Oct. 7; and Sderot, where he participated in a conference organized by the Israel Digital Center, manned by the city’s residents. He met with soldiers on the Gaza border and soldiers in rehab units of Tel Hashomer Medical Center, and held intense meetings with survivors of Oct. 7, and family members of hostages being held by Hamas.

A lot of hugging and crying took place.

“I’m exhausted. This wasn’t a vacation by any means, but I’m going back bolstered,” said Draiman on the final morning of nearly two weeks in Israel.

“I needed to do this. I’ve had such a horrible feeling of helplessness since Oct. 7, such despair and darkness. I needed to come and see my people again, to be around them. And I wanted to be as much help as I could while I was here, wherever I could do the most good.

“I met with soldiers serving on the border, and it was surreal and unnerving, but also filled me with pride. I hope it helped them, too,” he said, adding that most of them knew who he was and seemed “pretty excited” to see him.

NATURALLY, HE couldn’t get too far from music. On the day after he arrived, he entered a Tel Aviv studio and recorded an a cappella version of “Sounds of Silence” accompanied by Hellscore, a Tel Aviv-based choir that adapts heavy metal songs.

He spent another day filming a video for the song, which is expected to be released in the next few weeks.

“He was the warmest person; you could tell that he was 100% invested in the cause that we’re all fighting for,” said Hellscore choir director Noa Gruman. “He’s so genuine, open, and friendly. It felt like he was just one of us working on the same level. It was heartwarming and an honor to work with him.”

Draiman added that he was pleased by the results of the hastily planned project.

“It was challenging to try and get together so last minute, but it came out really beautifully. It’s poignant and haunting,” he said, adding that the experience was one of many on the trip that reaffirmed to him that Israel would recover from the trauma it’s been experiencing since Oct. 7.

“I’ve been coming here my whole life, and I had no apprehensions about coming now. But I did notice a definite change in the atmosphere in the country since I was here last,” he said.

“For better or worse, the horror of the war has galvanized the country. Starting with the families of survivors and the people who lost loved ones or have members being held hostage, it’s amazing how people are able to power through adversity and the trauma, and continue living life,” Draiman said.

“But Israeli society as a whole seems like it’s been activated. The spirit of the Israeli people is something you can see wherever you go. Of course, there’s an underlying sense of loss and of sadness, but it’s trumped by the desire to live life, express joy, and spread light. Just walking around Tel Aviv, you see examples everywhere of Israelis not letting the tragedy define them,” the proud Jewish rock star said.

“I’ve spent the last two weeks seeing real-life coexistence. Hijab-wearing Arabs and Jews, Druze and Christians all together in Jaffa, on the beaches in the Old City in Jerusalem. You see it everywhere, and you see the destruction of this apartheid narrative that Israel’s detractors claim,” he said.

“You want to know where apartheid exists? In Kalkilya, where that poor man got shot in the face because he’s Israeli,” he added, referring to the murder a day earlier of a Petah Tikva resident who was shopping in the Palestinian West Bank city.

Supporting Israel through music

GROWING UP far away from the West Bank, in the US Midwest, Draiman – who is blessed with a earthshaking baritone and was trained as a cantor – was on track to attend rabbinical school when a combination of teenage hormones and love of heavy metal took over.

After bouncing through yeshivot and Jewish day schools, he eventually graduated from the Ida Crown Jewish Academy in Chicago.

After high school, he spent a year studying at Neveh Zion yeshiva in Telz Stone just outside of Jerusalem.

“I was one of those guys you used to see getting into trouble or hanging out on Kikar Zion in Jerusalem,” he told The Jerusalem Post in 2011.

Soon enough, music took precedence, and after being part of a half-dozen bands, he fell in with Disturbed in 1996, two years after they formed. Consisting of guitarist Dan Donegan, drummer Mike Wengren, and bassist John Moyer, the band have consistently increased their following since their 2000 debut album, The Sickness.

Draiman said that his bandmates give him a lot of leeway for his personal convictions, which saw him speak out numerous times about Israel on the band’s fall tour, including draping himself in an Israeli flag.

“I’ve gone to great lengths over the course of my career to separate myself and my opinions from Disturbed, but that’s an impossible thing to do,” he said. “I can only thank the guys from the bottom of my heart for being as understanding and supportive as they have been.

“It’s not an easy thing having me be your front man – I know it. It’s a blessing and a curse. All I can hope is that they understand that this is my family I’m talking about when I talk about Israel, and it’s a battle for our very existence.”

DRAIMAN SAID that he didn’t know how the rank and file American fan of Disturbed felt about Israel or the war and that the full ramifications of his public allegiance to Israel were still not known. But he wasn’t too worried.

“Thank God, we just finished the most successful tour of our career. ‘Sounds of Silence’ is something like the seventh-most listened to song in the world, and we’ve got a billion views on YouTube,” he said, without a trace of arrogance.

Being outspoken on a controversial subject can be fraught with professional danger. While most entertainers prefer to stay out of the fray, there’s always a Roger Waters or an Eric Clapton who will vilify Israel, and there’s someone on the other side, if you really scour the scene: a rare case like Jerry Seinfeld who has nothing to lose, who will vocally express their allegiance to Israel.

According to Draiman, the dearth of public support for Israel from Jewish and non-Jewish entertainers comes down to one emotion: fear.

“I think they’re terrorized,” he said, disclosing that he receives death threats on a daily basis.

“Terror works. It’s one thing for an entertainer to say, ‘Oh, I’m afraid of being canceled if I come out in support of Israel’ or ‘I’m afraid of a hit to my livelihood or my reputation.’ But for many entertainers, it comes down to ‘I’m afraid of being killed.’

“That’s what happened with [Paul] McCartney,” who almost canceled his show in Tel Aviv in 2008 after being threatened. “It’s not a political issue, it’s that people are generally afraid for their lives,” he said.

“We Jews don’t threaten people, we don’t say we’re going to rape your daughters and kill your families and send violent, hate-filled messages. That’s not how we operate.”

DRAIMAN’S ADVICE to his fellow entertainers is to tell them that the haters are “keyboard warriors.”

“You’re empowering them by letting them know you’re afraid. You can’t give them the satisfaction. That’s how bullies operate, by trying to instill fear. It’s hard to stand up to that; it’s an incredibly difficult and courageous thing to do, and not a lot of people have the wherewithal to do it, but it has to be done.”

The Disturbed front man cited the gestures by high-profile artists like Radiohead’s Jonny Greenwood, who defended his recent performance in Tel Aviv with Dudu Tassa and Coldplay, which has been displaying Bring Them Home posters on video screens during recent shows in Europe.

“I love it, love it. Coldplay, Radiohead, Matisyahu, Montana Tucker, even Ben Stiller,” who recently published an essay in The Jerusalem Post that expressed sympathy for both Israelis and Palestinians. “You gotta love [Stiller], he has the balls to say something. It may not be exactly what everyone would want him to say, but that’s OK. I applaud anyone who, in a world where they have so much more to gain by keeping quiet, say something anyway.”

HIS MESSAGE for his fellow Jewish entertainers?

“What are you waiting for? This is crunch time, this is crisis time. The world is on fire against Jews, and if you’re not going to stand strong now, then when?” he asked.

“We’re seeing the masks come off on a grand scale – in the US, and in Europe, the UK and France in particular. We’re seeing Jew-hatred become emboldened on a global level that I haven’t seen in my lifetime. And this is the time to make sure that those mother******s know that we are no longer the Jews with trembling knees. This is the statement that must be unreservedly made right now; we’re not going to apologize for existing,” Draiman said.

“I hate to say it, but the golden age of American Jewry and of Diaspora Jewry is over. The genie’s out of the bottle and can’t go back in, even after the war in Gaza is over. I think we’re dealing with a technological world that spreads propaganda and lies on a level that even Josef Goebbels wouldn’t have dreamed of,” he lamented. 

“How do you defend yourself against a lie that travels around the world 1,000 times faster than the truth? You can’t. All you can do is continue to stand tall and proud, and I have to believe that enough good people will recognize that something is wrong. Hopefully, it won’t take six million of us to be exterminated this time for that to happen.”

After spending nearly two weeks back in Israel, Draiman said that he was still processing all of the experiences and emotions he felt, but that he was amazed at the reaction of his partner, Sarah, who is not Jewish.

“Even with all the darkness she’s been exposed to – visiting Be’eri, meeting grieving families – she doesn’t want to leave. The food, people, the climate, the energy. She’s fallen in love with Israel in two weeks.”

ALREADY the owner of an apartment in the country, where his parents currently live, Draiman said he was looking into buying another dwelling for himself.

“Logistically and tax-wise, I can’t make aliyah right now, but I’ll always be coming back here,” he said. “My takeaway is that I’m encouraged by the indomitable spirit of the Israeli people and how, no matter the adversity, we continue to celebrate life, and we continue to move forward.”

As he prepared to depart his second home, Draiman said that he was inspired to begin writing the lyrics for the next Disturbed album and to continue to act as a megaphone for Israel and the Jewish people.

“I need the catharsis of a creative outlet after this,” he said, adding that his experiences in Israel and since Oct. 7 will likely appear in his new songs. “There are sources of inspiration everywhere, brother.”

Whatever develops next for Draiman, it’s a certainty that there will be no sounds of silence. 

The life and times of underground Lehi fighter Tziona Draiman

December 1931-June 6, 2024

"My grandparents immigrated to Israel from Yemen in 1880 to the Silwan neighborhood in ancient Jerusalem. Years later, the families moved – some to Petah Tikva and some to the Neveh Tzedek neighborhood in Tel Aviv, where I grew up.

I had three sisters and one brother. None of them joined the underground. My oldest sister, Naomi, was married to the muchtar (head of the village). He was killed by an Arab, and my sister’s little girl who was sick died shortly afterwards. My second-older sister, Sarah, was married to Menachem Ratzon, who later became a member of the Knesset. [Ed. Note: the first Knesset led by Ben-Gurion; Ratzon was a member of Mapam, a precursor of Meretz.] 

I went to local schools for my education. During my childhood, the British Mandate was the trustee government for the Jewish people. The British authorities harassed the Jewish people in Israel constantly. At age 14, I joined the underground Lehi (who were fighters for the freedom of Israel). I was entrusted to put up various posters throughout Israel promoting independence and describing British atrocities against the Jewish people.

At one encounter with British officers, who chased after me for posting flyers, I ran away, and a local neighbor hid me in her bed underneath the covers – and the officers never found me.

We were trained how to use weapons. Part of my duty was to transfer weapons from one city to another. I used an Arab bus to transfer the weapons because the British did not search them.

I had a friend who was in training to use weapons in Ra’anana. When the British arrived, they shot her. She was lying on the ground wounded and asked the British officer for water. The cruel officer kicked her and killed her. Afterwards, I was instructed to be on guard duty with a gun, to protect against future British discovery of our training location.

IN 1947, after my training in the use of weapons, some photographer took a picture of me leaning down on my knee, holding a gun, preparing to shoot. This picture was posted on the cover of the magazine La-Isha.

When the War of Independence started, I joined the army and was trained as a nurse at [Sheba Medical Center in] Tel Hashomer. I dressed the wounds of the injured soldiers and sent them to the hospital. One of my duties at Tel Hashomer was to guard the entrance to the hospital. I remember an incident where a car came and I asked for the code and when I did not receive the code, I did not let him in. Later on, I discovered that he was a high-ranking officer named Yitzhak Sade.

One of my commanders in the underground was Shmuel, who later on in January 1949, became my husband. Our union was a unique situation, since I came from a Yemenite family, and my husband came from a Gur hassidic family.

After our marriage, we lived on Shlush Street in Tel Aviv. In 1955 we moved to Bnei Brak, Shikun Hey, then to Shadal Street and afterwards to Chevron Street on the corner of Tiberias Street. My Shmuel was in the printing business and at this location, the Steipler Rav visited us on a weekly basis to review the printing of the books of the Chazon Ish.

DURING CHANUKAH 1962, my husband’s mother passed away. Ten days later his sister, who lived in Bnei Brak, also passed away; and three months later, his oldest sister passed away. My husband felt that the angel of death was chasing after him and he needed a change of location. He purchased a ticket to New York to work in the printing industry of a family member who vouched for him to get a visa. A few years later, my children and I joined him there.

Arriving in New York, I had to go to school to learn English. I also worked in the clothing industry. I sent my children to school, and they learned English and completed their education in New York.

My oldest son, Yehuda, joined the Israeli army in January 1967. In 1973 during the Yom Kippur War, my husband asked the Israeli Council in New York whether they needed him and was told to be on the plane that night to help fight the war in Israel.

AROUND THIS time, I started losing my eyesight, which got progressively worse as the years went by. Although I was blind, I still functioned doing housework, cooking and baking, and entertaining many guests on weekdays and especially on Shabbat.

While in Israel, my husband met an old friend who had a son of marriageable age, and it was decided to try and match him with my daughter, Gila. The match was made, and our daughter moved to Israel, and that started our mission to return to Israel.

In 1975, my husband shipped to Israel five units of linotype printing equipment to the Hamodia newspaper, which started a partnership in the printing business with him called HED Press.

My husband and I moved back to Israel and made Jerusalem our home, where we had continuous guests.

In August 2001, my husband passed away after a serious illness. My firstborn son, Yehuda, and my daughter, Gila, as well as my grandson Benjamin helped me in any way they could. I had wonderful neighbors who constantly helped me in many ways.

In or around 2014, my health was deteriorating, and a caregiver was brought for me. It added a financial hardship which had to be addressed, and my grandson David graciously helped with the finances."

Tziona Draiman passed away on June 6, 2024. May she rest in peace. 

As told to Yehuda Draiman.