Exactly two years ago today I found myself at the Nas Daily Summit in Tel Aviv, and honestly? It was one of those events where you walk in already impressed and walk out kind of speechless.
The Summit was put together by Nuseir Yassin, who you probably know as Nas Daily, a Harvard grad and Arab Israeli vlogger who grew up in the northern Israeli town of Arraba and has since built a genuinely massive global media empire called the Nas Company. The Summit travels the world, hitting Vietnam, Singapore, Dubai, Mongolia and elsewhere, bringing together content creators for a mix of panels, workshops, networking and these wild “speed dating” sessions where a thousand people are instructed to find a stranger and have a five minute conversation about a specific topic. It’s chaotic and exhilarating and exactly as weird and wonderful as it sounds.
Bringing the Summit to Israel in June 2024 was not a small thing. Nuseir has said that he was literally signing the venue contract while Iranian missiles were on their way to Tel Aviv. Sponsors bailed. There was real pressure to cancel. He didn’t. And here’s the thing about Nuseir that I think gets lost in the noise: this is a guy with 68 million social media followers who, after October 7th, publicly declared himself Israeli first and Palestinian second. He said he doesn’t want to live under a Palestinian government. He has said his primary goal in life is to “fix Israel from the inside.” He has been cancelled approximately ten thousand times and hasn’t flinched once. The man puts his money where his mouth is, literally, by holding his Summit in Israel during an active war.






But the Summit wasn’t the only thing Nuseir organized. He also invited a group of us to his family home in Arraba for a meal. And not just any meal: a kosher catered dinner, hosted by his deeply religious Muslim family, who were among the most warm and hospitable people I have encountered. We sat with locals from the town, with former Israeli government spokesperson Eylon Levy, and with the polarizing but always interesting American streamer Destiny. It was exactly the kind of evening that people who insist coexistence is impossible need to hear about. A kosher meal, in a Muslim home, in an Arab Israeli town in the Galilee, with a guest list that would make a lot of people’s heads explode. Nuseir didn’t make a big deal of it. It was just dinner at his parents’ place.
And then there was the keynote speaker.
We’ve written about Casey Neistat before, but things got considerably more intense after October 7th. Depending on your relationship to YouTube, Casey is either a legend or the reason you got into vlogging in the first place. The guy basically invented the aesthetic that every vlogger since has been ripping off, with his handheld camera, his bike rides through New York City, his raw and honest storytelling. 12.6 million subscribers. Co-founded Beme, which CNN bought for $25 million. Made the HBO documentary series The Neistat Brothers. Genuinely one of the most influential creators of his generation.
He’s also Jewish, and he’s never been shy about it. Four days after October 7th he put out a video simply titled “Jew.”
He visited Israel after the attacks and has spoken about walking through a kibbutz with a mother showing him where her family was murdered. His take on the whole situation is about as clear as it gets: you are allowed to want innocent Palestinians to have good lives AND believe that Israel has every right to exist and defend itself. “You’re not allowed to say those two things,” he’s said. He says them anyway.
In November 2024 he was in the middle of an interview at his NYC office when anti-Israel protesters walked by outside. He stopped mid-sentence, pulled out a giant Israeli flag he apparently keeps around for exactly this purpose, opened the window and waved it at them. Then he sat back down and continued the interview. That’s Casey.
He was in Tel Aviv, at the Nas Summit, talking openly about the Antisemitism and hate speech he’s faced for speaking up, to a room of over a thousand content creators who understood exactly what that costs. It was a big deal. I was there, I took some photos, and even at the time I remember thinking: this is the kind of thing that should be documented.
I’m thinking about all of this now partly because of the anniversary, and partly because Casey just returned to regular vlogging last month after years of sporadic posting, and watching those first videos back is genuinely happifying in a way that’s hard to explain if you weren’t there for the original run. But mostly I’m thinking about it because the question these two guys were answering in June 2024, with their presence and their choices rather than with words, remains the most important question out there: is any of this balagan (בלגן, mess) we are in today fixable? Can people of goodwill, from different backgrounds, with complicated identities and real skin in the game, actually show up for each other?
Casey Neistat and Nuseir Yassin both paid a real price for saying what they believe. Casey’s flag-waving video alone generated loads of blowback, including a dedicated takedown video that’s been watched nearly a million times, whining from the usual suspects (Hasan Piker, duh), and his support for Israel has cost him a meaningful chunk of his audience. Nuseir, for his part, has said he’s been cancelled more than ten times and has lost followers and brand deals every time he opens his mouth about Israel. Neither of them stopped. A Jewish New Yorker and an Arab Israeli from the Galilee, showing up in Israel together at the worst possible time for that choice to be commercially convenient.
A Jewish New Yorker and an Arab Israeli from the Galilee, showing up in Israel together at the worst possible time for that choice to be commercially convenient. At a moment when everyone seems to be demanding you pick a side and shut up, these two just kept showing up. That’s the whole argument, right there.






