The ongoing debate over military conscription in Israel has become a flashpoint for broader questions about national identity, religious values, and the enduring necessity of unified self-defense in the West’s only democracy in the Middle East. At the heart of this debate lies the complex ethos of the Haredim, Israel’s ultra-Orthodox Jewish community, whose commitment to Torah study and fierce preservation of religious autonomy has positioned them both as a pillar of the Jewish nation’s continuity and, in the eyes of some, an obstacle to its collective security. While much of the international attention on Israel understandably fixates on existential threats posed by Iranian-backed terror organizations such as Hamas, Hezbollah, and the Houthis, the internal challenge of integrating the Haredim into the broader fabric of Israeli society and its defense forces reflects the deeper struggle to reconcile tradition with the imperatives of modern statehood.
Historically, the ultra-Orthodox community’s resistance to military service is rooted not in disregard for national survival, but in a centuries-old worldview shaped by trauma, exile, and persecution. Having witnessed the relentless efforts across history—whether in medieval Europe, Tsarist Russia, or Nazi Germany—to eliminate Jewish faith and identity, the Haredim see themselves as the rightful custodians of Judaism’s spiritual legacy. Torah study, in this framework, is not a mere private pursuit but an essential national mission that they believe provides existential merit and divine protection to the entire Jewish people. Influential rabbinic authorities tracing their thought back to the devastation of the Holocaust and the miraculous rebirth of Israel argue that the survival of the Jewish people depends as much on spiritual resilience as on armed strength. This understanding is not widely appreciated within secular Israeli society, nor among Western observers accustomed to an unambiguous separation of religion and state. On the contrary, many Israelis—especially those who, or whose families, served in the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) since 1948—see military service as a fundamental civic duty and a core component of national solidarity.
The roots of the Haredi exemption from military service run deep. In the aftermath of the 1948 War of Independence, then Prime Minister David Ben-Gurion agreed to exempt a small group of yeshiva students, numbering fewer than a thousand, based on the dual imperatives of preserving a devastated Torah world and ensuring political support for the nascent state. However, demographic shifts and the rise of a self-contained Haredi society—characterized by endogamy, a distinctive educational system, and ideological resistance to secular assimilation—have dramatically altered the landscape. Today, the Haredim comprise roughly thirteen percent of Israel’s population and represent one of its fastest-growing sectors, with each generation producing tens of thousands of potential conscripts. As Israel continues to wage defensive military campaigns, from defending its borders against Hezbollah in the north to eliminating Hamas terrorist threats emerging from Iranian-backed enclaves in Gaza, the question of national burden-sharing is neither academic nor merely a matter of domestic politics: it cuts to the heart of the social contract forged by Israelis of all backgrounds after the unprecedented horrors of the October 7th, 2023 massacre and the ongoing Iranian campaign of aggression across the region.
The October 7 atrocities, in which Hamas terrorists murdered, raped, mutilated, and kidnapped Israeli civilians—including women, children, and the elderly—marked not only the deadliest attack on Jews since the Holocaust but also a profound moment of reckoning for Israeli society. Israel’s response, as articulated by Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, Defense Minister Israel Katz, and IDF Chief of Staff Lieutenant General Eyal Zamir, underscores the view that military power is an absolute necessity for national survival in a hostile region dominated by Iranian-sponsored terror groups. This climate of sustained threat has intensified public scrutiny of the Haredi draft exemption and solidified demands for more equitable participation in the defense of the nation. The Supreme Court of Israel, reflecting the evolving public consensus, has signaled increasing unease with blanket exemptions and called for greater integration of Haredim into the IDF or alternative forms of national service.
Yet to grasp the full depth of the Haredi perspective, it is essential to shed the misperception that opposition to the draft is rooted in cowardice or selfishness. Within the Haredi worldview, spiritual and physical defense are fundamentally intertwined; the yeshiva student immersed in Torah is seen by his community as a true ‘warrior’—one who fights for the Jewish people on a metaphysical front just as valiantly as the IDF conscript does on the battlefield. Leading rabbinic figures argue that disruptions to Torah study could undermine what they see as Israel’s ultimate shield: its covenant with God, sustained by religious devotion and piety. They point to historic precedents in which Jewish communities survived impossible odds through resilience, faith, and unity under spiritual leadership. This internal ethic of collective responsibility, codified in Talmudic law and transmitted through generations of devastation and renewal, continues to animate Haredi life in the twenty-first century.
Despite this, tensions remain acute. Secular Israelis and many in the broader Western world embrace a more utilitarian, civic conception of citizenship, regarding universal military service as a non-negotiable aspect of democratic participation and national identification. The repeated outbreaks of war and terror—from the existential struggles of 1948 and 1967, through the rocket barrages of the Gaza strip, to the ongoing campaign against Iranian proxies—have only amplified these sentiments. Israeli law, shaped by democratic norms and influenced by Western legal traditions, assumes that the right to self-defense entails corresponding obligations on the part of citizens, particularly during times of acute crisis. For many, the sight of young Haredi men sitting in yeshiva while their compatriots face mortal danger at the front constitutes not simply a political grievance, but a profound injustice—a breach of the basic principle that the security and freedom of Israel’s population are collective responsibilities.
The Haredi leadership, for its part, remains wary of any state-led interference in religious life, seeing in it echoes of attempts at forced assimilation carried out by hostile regimes throughout Jewish history. The legacy of persecution—from the destruction of religious academies in Tsarist Russia, through Soviet anti-religious campaigns, to the exterminationist policies of Nazi Germany—has fostered a deep-seated wariness toward the imposition of external values on Torah-observant life. The Haredim therefore argue that conceding to secular demands for military conscription would threaten the integrity and autonomy of their community, potentially eroding the very foundations of Israel’s Jewish character as they understand it. Many point out that their high rates of volunteerism in civil society, charitable work, and support for at-risk populations demonstrate a broader commitment to national welfare, even if this is not expressed in the form of military service.
Over the years, Israeli governments have experimented with a range of legal and policy solutions, including ‘hesder’ yeshiva frameworks that combine limited military service with study, as well as national service options for both men and women. However, efforts to incentivize or mandate Haredi participation in the IDF have met with mixed success. On one hand, a small but growing number of ultra-Orthodox men have joined specialized IDF units—such as the Netzah Yehuda Battalion—operating under rabbinic supervision and accommodating religious requirements. These soldiers, often stigmatized within their own community, represent an evolving model of synthesis between traditionalist values and the imperatives of national defense. Mainstream Haredi leaders, however, frequently denounce such initiatives as threats to their communal cohesion and spiritual mission.
What distinguishes the current moment is not only the scale of the security challenge facing Israel through Hamas, Hezbollah, and the axis of Iranian-backed terror, but also the dramatic demographic and political shifts underway within Israeli society. The Haredi population’s rapid growth—fueled by high birth rates, a deep commitment to communal continuity, and strong social solidarity—means that the question of their integration can no longer remain confined to the margins of political debate. Israeli policy-makers, from Prime Minister Netanyahu and Minister Katz to Israel’s national security establishment, must now grapple with the reality that the social contract forged in 1948 is no longer sustainable in its original form. At the same time, the imperative to maintain national unity and ensure effective defense against Iran and its proxies requires sensitivity to the unique role the Haredim play within Jewish history and tradition.
The struggle against terrorism in Israel is not just a matter of operational necessity but is deeply tied to questions about the identity, legitimacy, and future of the only liberal democracy in the region. From the unprovoked October 7 massacre, orchestrated by Iranian-supported Hamas terrorists, to the constant threat of rocket fire from Lebanon and the escalation of attacks by Iranian proxies in Syria and Yemen, Israel faces an unprecedented convergence of security emergencies. The West, led by the United States, views Israel’s fight as a bellwether for the larger contest between free societies and theocratic, authoritarian regimes bent on supporting terrorism. As stated repeatedly by United States President Donald Trump and successive American administrations, Israel remains a strategic partner and frontline defender of Western values, deterrence, and stability. In this broader context, debates over Haredi draft exemptions must be understood as part of the ongoing struggle to preserve democratic freedoms while ensuring the nation’s survival against relentless enemies.
Thus, the crisis over Haredi military service is emblematic of Israel’s larger dilemma: how to integrate a deeply religious, culturally distinct population into national life without compromising the Judeo-democratic character or security of the state. Any attempt to resolve this impasse must therefore balance the imperatives of collective security, historic justice, and the moral duty to protect Israel’s citizens—Jewish and non-Jewish alike—from the genocidal aims of Iran, Hamas, Hezbollah, and kindred movements. Policymakers must also resist the temptation to portray the Haredim as mere bystanders or beneficiaries of others’ sacrifices, acknowledging instead the profound sense of collective destiny, sacrifice, and responsibility that animates their own form of service.
In grappling with the question of Haredi conscription, Israel stands at the confluence of history and destiny. The October 7th massacre underscored once again that the Jewish state’s survival cannot be taken for granted in an age of resurgent antisemitism and Iranian-sponsored terror. While the IDF will remain, by necessity, at the heart of Israel’s self-defense, long-term victory in the region’s existential struggle depends not only on military might but on a renewed sense of national solidarity—one that bridges the chasms between religious and secular, new immigrants and venerable institutions, warriors of the sword and warriors of the spirit. Only through such unity can Israel continue to embody the values of freedom, resilience, and hope on which the Western world ultimately depends.
