Growing up in the diaspora, I witnessed how often religious and Orthodox Jewish communities are used as scapegoats, easy targets for antisemitism. Because of this, I've always found it difficult to publicly criticize any specific Orthodox group, knowing that such criticism is often twisted and weaponized by those who harbor hatred for Jews or for religion more broadly.
But the challenges posed by certain Haredi (ultra-Orthodox) communities in Israel are not the same as those in the diaspora. In many diaspora communities, ultra-Orthodox Jews, including Haredi and Yeshivish groups, often strive for success and invest deeply in communal growth. These communities can be financially stable, fundraising to support those who choose to dedicate their lives to Torah study. Being part of an ultra-Orthodox community in the diaspora (though each is unique) often means balancing a commitment to Torah with a drive to contribute economically and socially to the broader community.
In Israel, however, much of the Haredi leadership has taken a different path, one focused on deliberate isolation, political extortion, and at times, open hostility to Zionism. When the state was founded in 1948, Haredim made up just 1–2% of the population, and only a few hundred yeshiva students were granted exemption from military service under Ben-Gurion's compromise. Since then, this exemption has ballooned into a mass phenomenon. Today, Haredim constitute roughly 13.6% of Israel's population, and tens of thousands of men are exempt from army service.
With the war in Gaza approaching its two-year mark, and civilian men carrying the crushing burden of 500+ days of reserve duty, this exemption has become an unbearable national fracture. Many Israelis (rightly) see this as an unjust, unequal burden, and their frustration is boiling over. Israel's High Court has already ruled the blanket exemption unconstitutional and demanded legislative reform. Still, the political establishment continues to fold under pressure.
While 50 hostages remain in Hamas captivity, Haredi parties threaten to topple the government over the draft issue. Just this week, Netanyahu's coalition dropped to a simple majority after United Torah Judaism's two factions (Degel HaTorah and Agudat Yisrael) pulled out. Shas, the second major Haredi party, has signaled its intent to resign from ministerial roles, though it remains in the coalition for now. This entire government crisis is being driven by one outrageous demand: that their young men remain exempt from national service while the rest of the country bleeds.
Make no mistake, this is not about protecting Torah. It is about preserving a system of political blackmail, dependency, and inequality. And it's happening while soldiers continue to die in Gaza, and others return home traumatized or take their own lives under the weight of war.
I'm not on an anti-Haredi crusade. But I understand the fury many Israelis feel toward a leadership (and a government) that refuses to demand equal responsibility from all sectors of society. Judaism should never be weaponized to justify shirking national duty.
Learning Torah does not mean rejecting Israeli society. Two to three years of military service do not diminish the sanctity of a religious life. Being a person of faith, as we see across diaspora communities, does not mean living on state welfare or abandoning education, work, or civic responsibility. I believe deeply that Torah learning and religious commitment are central to Israel's soul—but they do not absolve anyone from the duty to defend that very soul when it is under attack.
Today, a small but growing number of Haredi soldiers are helping to redefine what shared burden looks like. During Israel's recent operation against Iran, ultra-Orthodox technicians in the Air Force's elite "Scorpion" Squadron (105) played a decisive role. According to reports, their involvement was indispensable; without them, Israel's stunning success in the operation would not have been possible. Although the number remains small, some Haredim do serve in the IDF, primarily through units like Netzah Yehuda, which is structured to accommodate a fully religious lifestyle within a combat framework. Just this month, four Haredi soldiers were killed in action in Gaza. Their sacrifice and service challenge old assumptions and redefine what it means to share in Israel's national burden.
Their sacrifice proves what the rest of their community must now acknowledge: Torah study and national duty are not mutually exclusive, and it's long past time for the broader Haredi community to stop isolating itself and start showing up as full, responsible participants in the society they benefit from.
