Haredi society in Israel must stop shirking national responsibility

A few weeks ago, after a particularly stifling period, I boarded a plane with my family to get some fresh air. Just a few months ago, my nephew was killed in the Gaza Strip. Three months later, his father died. In the background was a year filled with reserve service and everything that came with it. In that rare moment when everyone was home between business trips, we took the opportunity to fly.

At Verona airport, before boarding my flight home, my son called. “We just received an emergency call. I am going to bring our brothers from the north home,” he said. Ten minutes later they called me again. My brother-in-law was also drafted and was heading to Lebanon. Before leaving, he asked if anyone could bring home his pregnant wife, our daughter, now nine months old.

I open this column with our personal story for two reasons. First, it is only natural to start with your own experiences and struggles. Secondly, because our history is simple and clear: we have neither regular military personnel, nor special forces commanders, nor anyone who is on active military service. We’re just working class reserve soldiers. We have nephews scattered everywhere the IDF fights – Gaza, Jenin, Lebanon.

Previously, when mapping a place Religious Zionism I thought that on the Israeli spectrum we were in the middle. Secular Zionism was on one side, and Haredi Judaism was on the other. One side joined us in supporting the IDF, and the other side joined us in its commitment to Torah and Jewish identity.

Haredi demonstrators hold placards during a protest against IDF conscription, August 5, 2024. (Photo: Via Maariv)

After a year of war, the behavior of the Haredi public and its leaders during one of the darkest periods in Israeli history has upset this balance. When we are in trouble, under bombardment and our lives are in danger, and the secular kibbutznik fights next to us, while Haredi apologizes for countless reasons – everything becomes clear.

Imagine a burning apartment building, where one neighbor brings a fire extinguisher, another runs with a bucket, a third throws water from a hose, and the neighbor in the 13th apartment on the fourth floor just sits and explains why he cannot help. Would anyone like to have a neighbor like this?

One of our nephews died in battle. Another was taken to hospital after his car was hit by an anti-tank missile. Others left wives and children behind, spending hundreds of days on reserve this year. This year, new sectors have emerged in Israeli society: those who give and those who take; those who sleep peacefully and those who cannot sleep at all.

Last week, over the course of two days, two members of Kibbutz Mishmar HaEmek sacrificed their lives in defense of the country: Sergeant Ido Ben Zvi, 21, and First Sergeant (ret.) Guy Idan, father of two, 51. Haredim offer many explanations for why they should be able to help. However, the secular kibbutzniks stand shoulder to shoulder with us in battle, and the Haredim apologize.

I talk about what is happening in my small family, and I am sure that our story is similar to the story of many Israelis. My grandson, born two months before October 7th, saw more of me than his father. My granddaughter hasn’t danced with her father on Simchat Torah and hasn’t heard from him in a week because his phone is in a box with other soldiers’ phones. Before leaving for Lebanon, my brother-in-law recorded videos for her wishing her good morning, good night and back from kindergarten.

This ongoing reality is the reality of countless Israeli families. Even if we sound like we’re complaining, we’re not. We are at war. But the idea that there is a large group of people who believe that none of this concerns them and that they do not need to participate in our efforts is maddening.

Stay up to date with the latest news!

Subscribe to the Jerusalem Post newsletter

Not a single leader of the Haredi community stood up and exclaimed: “Gentlemen, Israel is in trouble, and Jewish blood is flowing like water. We cannot ignore this.” This moral emptiness is deeply disturbing.

Two weeks ago, Rachel Malek Buda interviewed three reserve families in Makor Rishon. One wife recalled that her husband wrote his will just hours before entering Gaza. Another wife described waking up scared, checking the peephole in the middle of the night, not knowing if the sounds were the wind or something more sinister.

A nation is tested not only by the resilience of those on the battlefield, but also by the support of those on the home front. Those who believe they have the luxury of detachment during this time of crisis fail this test.

The absence of a single Haredi leader who could say, “We cannot remain bystanders,” is deeply disheartening. Those few voices in religious Zionism that, like Rachel Malek Buda’s interlocutors, view state participation in the struggle as a Jewish duty are overshadowed by a political leadership that seems willing to tolerate this detachment for the sake of coalition stability.

Commitment to the Jewish State

At the heart of Religious Zionism is a sacred commitment to Israel and the Jewish people – a commitment reflected in the sacrifices of its soldiers who died in defense of the state. However, this war revealed a split: on the one hand there are those who respond to the call of the state, regardless of personal costs, and on the other, those who refuse, indifferent to the sacrifices made.

In recent days, a group of ultra-Orthodox politicians gathered in Bnei Brak for a prayer rally, ostensibly to show solidarity with fallen soldiers and the return of hostages. For many, the instinctive reaction was to feel grateful for this support. But if you think about it, the presence of officials who, by and large, did not serve in the IDF or made tangible sacrifices is alarming. Their “solidarity” in the comfortable hall felt disconnected from the realities faced by the families who bore the brunt of this war.

It is not enough to offer well-meaning prayers from afar while others bear the burden on the front lines. If you really want to help, you don’t just pray – you take action. You support your fellow citizens not only in spirit, but also in deeds, as do kibbutzniks, secular Israelis and religious Zionists.

The idea that Torah study alone justifies abstaining from national defense is an illusion. The situation in Israel requires real, shared responsibility. When missiles are launched or enemies advance, those who believe in the sanctity of the Torah must understand that serving in the IDF is not only an opportunity, but also a sacred duty. The ultimate message should be clear: in Israel, everyone contributes, everyone serves, everyone fights for each other. Those who choose to serve should be respected, and those who do not should not be entitled to government benefits.

As former Prime Minister David Ben-Gurion once said, “If they give, they will receive; if they don’t give, they won’t get anything.” The State of Israel has an obligation to those who serve and to the families left behind to ensure that everyone knows the difference between contribution and abstinence. If the Haredi community decides to refuse military service, it should not expect any privileges, benefits or preferences.

The responsibility for sharing the burden should not fall solely on those willing to serve. Religious Zionism, which values Torah and national duty, must assert its principles more forcefully. This is not about party politics or power struggles. It is about ensuring that in times of crisis, the people of Israel stand united, shoulder to shoulder, equally sharing in the sacrifices necessary to ensure the security of the nation.

For further comments or questions, please contact: Kalman Liebskind at [email protected].