The walls of the office of Maj. Ella Waweya, 34, at the IDF spokesperson headquarters in northern Tel Aviv, are dotted with diplomas, certificates of merit, and family pictures, as well as beautiful Arabic calligraphy of the Quran, alongside a Druze flag, a cross, a small copy of the Zohar (Jewish mysticism book), and flags of participating Abraham Accords countries.
“I don’t leave anyone behind,” she says, smiling.
Waweya has served in the army for 10 years. She hails from the Arab Israeli town of Kalansuwa, where all the citizens are Muslim Arabs. Her formal title is deputy spokesperson for the Arab world and head of the Arab communications department, working under IDF Arabic spokesperson Col. Avichai Adraee.
“In my area at that time there were no soldiers in the IDF – certainly not female soldiers; though some did enlist in the police,” she says. She enlisted at the relatively late age of 24, after first securing a bachelor’s degree in communications and a master’s degree in government studies.
“Ten years later, there are now 10 soldiers from Kalansuwa [in the IDF], and I believe I’m allowed to take credit for that,” she adds proudly. “I come home in my uniform, and people ask questions about the army. Those who want to join, I accompany from A to Z.”
What led you to enlist?
It all started with a dilemma I felt regarding my identity. I was 12 during the Second Intifada, and the only channel we used to watch was Al Jazeera. Interestingly, Shireen Abu Akleh had just started her position, and we would see her and her aggressiveness while reporting.
I looked at her and said to myself: ‘I want to be a journalist, but not like her.’ My message would be different, coming not from a blindly Palestinian point of view but as part of my identity dilemma. People always wanted to define me, whether as an ‘Arab of ’48’ or an Israeli Arab. Everyone defined me differently – except for myself.
I had actually wanted to be a doctor, but by then I already wanted to be a journalist. I wanted to show ‘my side,’ even though at that time I didn’t know what it was exactly.
At age 16, I got my ID as is customary in Israel. It was blue. I realized that I am Israeli and thought to myself that if I am Israeli, I must do something about it. The state brought me this identity, and I was looking for ways to associate myself with being Israeli. There was no awareness back then, and the Internet was not very developed, so I couldn’t learn online. I had to wait with these feelings bubbling inside me.
Time passed, but the thoughts did not stop. When I started my bachelor’s degree, I decided to take part in National Service at the Meir Medical Center in Kfar Saba. During my time there, I remember playing chess with one of the security guards, a Bedouin, during a sleepy night shift. He suddenly asked me, ‘Why didn’t you go to the army?’ And I said. ‘I wanted to, but they wouldn’t want me because I’m an Arab woman.’ He connected me with Col. Yossi Haddad, who was the head of the Bedouin tracker unit, to whom I give credit for my enlistment.
When I finished my degree in 2012, I took part in a press conference in Eilat. There was a panel regarding recruitment of the haredim [ultra-Orthodox] headed by then-IDF spokesperson Polly Mordechai and esteemed journalist Roni Daniel. One ultra-Orthodox person stood up and started explaining why he and his society shouldn’t enlist in the army.
I was 21 and asked to speak. I told that person: ‘Shame on you! As a Muslim Arab, I wish I could join the army!’ Suddenly everyone started clapping. I didn’t understand why, but at the end of the panel both Mordechai and Daniel turned to me, commending me for what I had said. Mordechai asked his secretary to take my details to help me enlist. From there, everything started to unfold.
Suddenly, phone calls began to come, and I was offered a post at the IDF Spokespersons Unit, at first as a non-officer commander. I was mainly happy to know that I would be a commander. In fact, I had no idea that there were so many functions in the IDF. I thought that there were only combatants and thought I’d enlist in Caracal [an all-female or mixed combat unit in the IDF].
This week, you celebrated 10 years in the IDF. How do you feel about it?
It was the best decision I ever made. Enlisting was a personal decision; I didn’t consult anyone. The environment was not one that encouraged enlisting; I just decided one day to get up and get on that bus.
At the enlisting office, all the new recruits arrived with their parents, hugged them, and waved their emotional goodbyes. I had no one to say goodbye to. Only a year and a half into my military service did my parents find out that I was in the army. I have lived away from home since age 19 due to my studies, and my parents thought that I was just studying and working.
When someone asks me for advice about enlisting and lying about it to their parents, I stress that my story should not be understood as an encouragement to lie. But I do stress that they must know how to make these personal decisions and do what is right for them.
In 2015, you received a mark of honor from the president.
I was featured in the newspaper with a pixelated picture, reading something like ‘Cadet Ella from Kalansuwa, a trailblazer, serves in the IDF. Only her mother knows and she took it hard, but she is proud to serve…’ etc. This was false because nobody knew it back then. But then my parents saw the article and recognized the blurry photo. The fact that I was the only Ella from Kalansuwa also gave it away. Both my family and I began getting some unpleasant messages from people around us.
But we didn’t look back, we looked toward the future. I used to cry when I talked about it, but today I actually laugh because of all the changes we went through. Look at the difference between that picture and this one (she points at the newspaper clip and then at a photo on the other side of the room showing her mother, wearing a hijab, awarding Waweya her army ranks).
If you ask me to describe my mother with one word, I would say she’s a hero. She also went through a lot and suffered due to my decision to join the IDF. Today, my mother is ill with cancer, and when I get to the hospital, the doctors are always waiting to meet me because she tells them about me, and it makes me understand how proud she is of me. During the war, she told me to come to her chemotherapy appointment wearing my uniform.
The same goes for my siblings, who are very proud of me and trust me, even with the smallest things. They think the fact that I’m a soldier means that I’m an expert in everything security related, so they ask me for tips about getting through the airport, for instance. They also ask me to lift heavy things when they need help, also because I’m a soldier. This means that the army has a good name, that people believe it is powerful.
In this time of war, what does your job entail?
I manage communications through the Middle East and Arabic department. I’m responsible for everything that happens in digital media and for interviews with the Arab media. We work a lot with Arab media outlets, and we strive to present the truth about Israel and the IDF. Our job is to speak for the IDF. If we don’t talk about what happened on Oct. 7, for instance, the Arab world will just not know anything about it. Arab media has a lot of influence on Arab public opinion, and they often see only one side. We work to present a different side and try to influence what happens at home. This is true even for my mother. When she watches Al-Hadath or al-Arabiya [Saudi channels], she also wants to see a person in uniform telling her our narrative. This makes the image more balanced.
How do you find working with the Arab media?
There are channels that serve as outright mouthpieces of Hamas, spewing the same lies of Hamas. Take Al Jazeera, for example. Just a few months ago, they outrageously lied about IDF soldiers allegedly raping Gazan women. We also work on monitoring, analyzing, and understanding what is being said in the media, and thus make our messages more precise and on topic. When Al Jazeera put forward such a lie, we responded forcefully, and even the former director of Al Jazeera had to tweet that Al Jazeera’s lie went too far. That’s our influence.
I sometimes use irony and sarcasm while being interviewed. I was interviewed by a Russian Arabic-language outlet, Russia Al-Yawm. The presenter quoted a survey about how Gazans think that Hamas won, and I answered: ‘Of course they have won – in destroying the future of Gazans, the schools, the mosques, the hospitals. If this is victory, then Ahlan wa Sahlan. So you want to tell me that they have won? It will take them years to rebuild the infrastructure in Gaza. Here, things are re-blooming. Yes, they murdered and destroyed, but we can look back, learn our lessons, embrace each other, and move forward.’
I also explain that the real victory is that the war has managed to unite all of the citizens of Israel. You see how Christians, Bedouins, Muslims, and Jews all chip in, prepare food for soldiers, and help each other. Everyone here experiences the same pain.
Another strategy that my team and I apply is the juxtaposition of Hamas leaders on the one hand, and the people of Gaza on the other.
Only this week, Hamas leader Khaled Meshaal said to an Al-Arabiya presenter: ‘Have you ever heard anyone from Gaza complain about what is happening?’ And I say, ‘Wa hayat rabbak [“Oh, come on”] – just take a look at Gaza networks.’ We published Meshaal’s interview with authentic videos of Gazans who complain about the situation and Hamas. He doesn’t grasp what his people are going through because he is simply not there.
We try to reach the hearts of the masses by coming up with catchy messages. We came up with a rhyming slogan that says ‘The leaders are in bliss, but the people are in hell.’ We brand Hamas leaders as leading a ‘jihad of hotels.’
In the end, the people of Gaza are really in poor condition. Let this be the headline. They are poor because this is the leadership that they have, that the money coming from Qatar flows to the tunnels and not to the infrastructures for the benefit of the Gazans.
I saw a short clip of a law student from Gaza who said, ‘My dream is lost,’ and it truly touched me, precisely because I am a woman, an Arab, and an Israeli, who has learned the morality and values of the IDF. The first thing that we study in basic training is the IDF Code of Ethics document.
So yes, I say that they are poor to have such bad leaders. The hadith [Islam’s oral traditions regarding the prophet Mohammad] says: ‘All of you are guardians, and all of you are responsible for your subjects.’ Hamas leadership is the exact opposite.
As a Muslim, do you use the Quran and Islamic traditions often in your content?
If I see fit to use a hadith, I will use it in our media and in interviews. One of the edicts of Muhammad before a war was not to kill a man, a woman, or an animal. When you see the videos of investigations of Hamas militants, and you see the father and son who admit that they both raped the same woman, is this what Islam says? Is this what the prophet says? Not at all. And shame on them. Such people are a shame to Islam. We call them najis [“impure”] in Arabic.
Regardless, I usually prefer to use my colloquial dialect of Arabic rather than speak in Modern Standard Arabic. I try to speak to the common people. Those Hamas terrorists are also common people, they understand my language. If needed, I can speak the Lebanese dialect or any other dialect. I want to talk to their hearts.
Avichai [Adraee] speaks as an official speaking to officials and enemies, he speaks to the mind. I try to speak more to the heart and more down to earth. I’m a simple person. I may be senior in rank, but that doesn’t mean much in this game.
I try to speak to people at their level. I feel them, and this is not just an empty slogan. I want to make them aware of what is happening, since they may be in a bubble and don’t see the whole picture. Let them come to my office and look at all these certificates. I want the girls in Gaza to be like me. May their life be full of certificates, excellence, success, education. I don’t want any person to have their dreams taken away from them as Hamas has done to this generation.
I have several videos where I appeal to Gazan women specifically. Mothers, sisters, daughters. I also sometimes direct my messages directly to the terrorists. I ask them: ‘What kind of man are you?’ Arab men have this image of ‘family honor.’ I tell them, ‘You kill, rape, and burn – and leave your mother and sister without a home. Where is your honor?’ When they try to harm us, they also inflict harm on their own homes and people.
Some would ask: Hamas does claim to speak in the name of Islam. Their name is short for the “Islamic Resistance Movement” in Arabic, after all.
When we said ‘Hamas is ISIS,’ that is exactly what we meant. ISIS is not Islam. By the way, it should be emphasized that Hamas is even worse than ISIS. Just look at what they are doing to their own people – they kill them, steal their food, take away their aid. If the residents only knew how much money went into Gaza and where it ended up. This is not Islam, this is simply pure political corruption.
If only Hamas cared about their people, Gaza would have become a paradise. They have beaches, hotels, villas – but all of this goes to Hamas, not to the common people. What came out of Oct. 7 in the end? Has [Hamas leader] Yahya Sinwar really thought ahead? If he really guessed that all this destruction would ensue and still kept on with his plan – his people should wake up and do something about it.
Islam will never tell you to kill and do what they did on Oct. 7. They hurt innocent people on Simchat Torah. The horror movie compiled by the IDF Spokespersons Unit shows two little children who ran to a bomb shelter with their father, who is killed by Hamas militants right in front of their eyes. The children return to the house, crying. One of them says ‘I can’t see anything!’ but the Hamas terrorist simply takes a Coca-Cola bottle from the fridge, sits down, and drinks it calmly.
Another recording from the film shows a young terrorist calling his parents excitedly: ‘Yaba [“Daddy”], I killed 10 Jews with my bare hands!’ and his father answers him: ‘May Allah bless you!’ There are no words to describe this. This is certainly not the teaching of Islam.
How can you know that your messages come across to the other side?
The relocation of populations from war zones is the best example of proving that our messages are getting through. The army used all kinds of ways to motivate the population. At first, they [the Gazans] didn’t budge, but after we tweeted in Arabic showing maps of designated safe zones, people started moving. That’s how you know it works. On TikTok, we can also see that Gazans watch our content. That’s not to say that they support us, but they certainly know that Hamas is lying to them.
Sometimes there are follow-ups after we’re interviewed by the media. Even when our contents face harsh criticism, it still means that people were affected and that it got to them. I also don’t view criticism as negative but as something that teaches us along the way. We ask for feedback from people from all kinds of countries, those that have peace [agreements] with Israel and those that don’t. When I read about the discourse in the media and social networks, I understand how to address the target audience.
As I mentioned earlier, I complement Avichai; therefore, I must understand what interests young crowds. Do they want to hear me threaten Hamas leaders, or see me in the middle of an exercise with the Caracal unit? Or would they prefer to see me running with a battalion or see a female fighter arresting a Hamas terrorist? We build our strategy from these questions.
When the message is authentic, it works better. When it’s too edited or has too many cuts, it won’t work. We try to learn from our mistakes. We are now trying to build a brand of colors for my social media accounts, and I don’t know if the branding will work. But this is exactly what trial and error is all about.
What are the main characteristics of the media in this part of the world?
Take Al Jazeera. There are always delays in interviews with Israeli guests; that’s how they can control what is being said. This is done on purpose so that people don’t hear everything they have to say. Israelis are only brought on to claim that the TV channel are ‘neutral,’ but in fact it is clear that there is a bias.
In other places, there are some anchors who interrupt you constantly. I believe in conversation. If you have decided to host somebody, let them speak! Are you an anchor or a commentator? If you decide to interview someone who asks questions, ask what the audience wants to ask, not what’s in your gut and you want to get out.
In another context, frequently in Arab media, when viewers see a person in a uniform with medals, it automatically gives their words more authority. We are also a trusted source for many. We sometimes receive inquiries from journalists about issues not directly related to the army, but they contact us because they know we are trustworthy.
Take the story of the Al-Mamadani hospital. Hamas came out minutes later and lied that Israel killed 500 people. It took us about three hours to delve into the details and respond. This proves that we do not say anything before the incident is thoroughly investigated. There is pressure, the audience wants to understand more about what happened, but we can’t issue a statement without properly investigating. This is why they trust us in much of the Arab media and want to see us on their screens.
There are journalists from the Arab media whom I respect who come up with questions that the audience truly wants to ask. A hard question is not necessarily a hostile one. My mother at home also wants answers to difficult questions, and our place is to answer the difficult questions as well.
When we’re asked about the casualties in the Gaza Strip – of course, there are unfortunate casualties when Hamas uses people to conceal themselves, hide weapons, and launch rockets. Give me one hospital in the US that has weapons hidden in there. In Gaza there is, and that’s the difference. So are schools, which have tunnels for terrorist purposes dug under them. Even in mosques. Since when are mosques a place for murder? Give me one Quranic verse or hadith that permits that.
Do people recognize you in the streets?
It happens to me a lot that I just walk around, and people stop me and say that they know me. In Paris, a man from Algeria started an unpleasant conversation with me, but we ended it with a handshake and a selfie. I believe in conversation, not in shouting. I could have taken a flag out of my bag, turned on a camera to take pictures of myself, and shout. But that is not a conversation.
In September, I went to a Lebanese restaurant in New York (what can you do? – there is no real food to eat in the US), and in every Arab restaurant I went to, people recognized me. Even here on the street some people recognize me. It’s fun, but it also depends on when. Asking for a selfie while I’m in the middle of biting into my hamburger can be irritating at times [she laughs].
I also get contacted on social media, especially people from Gaza. They ask me, ‘I am in Khan Yunis; can I leave and go somewhere else?’ I never have enough time to answer everyone, but it’s important to answer whomever I can because at the end of the day, this is what social media is all about, and our goal is to have a conversation.
I happened to meet with Gazans in person, too, at the Erez crossing. Some came to receive medical treatment in Israel. At the end, they thanked us for the medical treatment. Some of them also spoke to me against Hamas.
What would your message to our readers be?
I am a woman, an Arab, a Muslim, an Israeli, and an officer in the IDF. This truly shows the democracy of our country, of our culture here, that we can all be here together. The truth is never only one-sided. I say to everyone out there: ‘Come and visit Israel, no matter your language or religion. Come to our beautiful country for a few days and understand what is going on in Lebanon; understand why our war is just.’
Let them go and walk around in Judea and Samaria and see what happens if you say that you’re Jewish, and they’ll understand straight away how much we must fight to keep the Jewish people in the State of Israel safe.
I say this as a Muslim: We know how to live together, and that’s how it should be. We need to help each other and remain together. It’s especially fun to walk around Israel and hear all the languages and see the diversity. Israel is not only about a conflict between Arabs and Jews. Israel is fun. And even when there are frictions it’s because we are one family, as we saw in this war which reunited us.
This is the title of the State of Israel – a family. So, it’s no wonder that people call each other ‘brother’ in the streets.
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