Rabbis and Netanyahu’s draft‑exemption monster rips at Israel’s coalition - comment

I have followed the saga of Israel’s haredi (ultra-Orthodox) draft law for years, and never did I imagine it would culminate in what we saw this week.

To an outside observer, it may seem baffling: Why would these veteran political kingmakers walk out and jeopardize their own government? To me, it is the inevitable climax of a long-brewing showdown.

The haredi parties have always seen blanket draft exemptions for Torah scholars as nonnegotiable; they joined Netanyahu’s coalition in late 2022 on the explicit promise that such a law would be enacted.

Yet here we are in 2025, with no law in place and the haredi street feeling betrayed and cornered. How did we get here? The answer spans years of missed opportunities, political miscalculations, and a reality that can no longer be deferred.

Looking back, there were several chances to settle the conscription issue on relatively favorable terms for the haredi community. Time and again, those opportunities were squandered.

Compromise proposals that once seemed too painful for haredi leaders to accept now look, in hindsight, like sweet deals they would love to have.

It brings to mind President Isaac Herzog’s proposed judicial-reform compromise in 2023. The coalition dismissed it at the time, but after the Israel-Hamas War started on October 7, 2023, they would have paid any price to go back and grab that deal.

The same pattern applies to the draft law. Years ago, more lenient arrangements were floated, including gradual enlistment targets and broad exemptions with modest quotas. But haredi leadership balked, insisting on total exemption.

Today, they would kill for those terms. But the window has closed. They missed the moment, and now the law – and public opinion – is far less forgiving.

Why were these chances missed? In large part due to a failure of leadership and a strategy of perpetual deferral.

Haredi leaders also found they had created a monster in their own ranks. For decades, they preached that army service was spiritual suicide – a grave danger to the Torah way of life. Their political clout depended on maintaining the community’s separation from secular society, and military enlistment was portrayed as an existential threat.

After such indoctrination, it’s nearly impossible for the rabbis to climb down and accept any compromise.

Even if tomorrow morning, the most revered sages – such as Rabbi Dov Lando (leader of the Lithuanian yeshiva world) or Rabbi Moshe Hillel Hirsch – were to decree that all yeshiva boys must serve, I suspect many in the haredi community would refuse.

The rabbinic leadership no longer has a free hand; they are constrained by the very hardline public opinion they helped foment.

As a recent analysis has noted, the haredi leadership’s authority rests on upholding the community’s insularity; therefore, any concession on army service is seen as a threat to their way of life. They’ve painted themselves into a corner.

THE CONSCRIPTION saga hasn’t unfolded in a vacuum; it’s intertwined with Israel’s broader political turbulence. In early 2023, Netanyahu’s government launched its judicial-reform push, and the haredi parties enthusiastically backed it.

It’s no secret why: They wanted to neuter the Supreme Court, which in their eyes had become the biggest obstacle to keeping yeshiva students out of uniform.

In fact, Shas and UTJ even conditioned their participation in Netanyahu’s coalition on passing an “override clause” as part of the judicial reforms. This clause would have allowed the Knesset to simply re-legislate any law struck down by the High Court, a direct way to shield a new draft exemption law from judicial review.

The haredi parties were thus at the forefront of the much-protested overhaul, largely out of self-interest on the draft issue.

But this gambit proved to be a far-reaching political miscalculation. The judicial reform ignited one of the largest protest movements in Israeli history and split the country down the middle.

By aligning themselves with such a polarizing, antiestablishment campaign, the haredi factions severely alienated large swaths of the public. Many secular and moderate Israelis, who might have begrudgingly tolerated some compromise on the haredi draft exemptions, came to see the haredim as attempting to undermine Israeli democracy – by neutering the court – just to protect their narrow interests.

The backlash has been intense. Far from helping the haredim, the reform fight left them more isolated and viewed with resentment than before.

As I see it, they fought a war and lost it. Even some potential allies in Netanyahu’s Likud grew more outspoken against blanket exemptions as public anger rose.

Ironically, the override clause ultimately stalled, and the haredim were left with neither a judicial safety net nor any goodwill from the non-haredi public. They had “won” a reputation as extortionists, but they lost the battle for legitimacy.

While the leaders doubled down, haredi society itself has not been static. Under the radar, profound shifts have been occurring on the ground.

I speak regularly with young haredi men, and an increasing number of them are quietly questioning the traditional norms. Some whisper that there is “no justification” for not serving at all, especially while enjoying the safety provided by others.

Over the past few years, the IDF has maintained special haredi units and programs that allow haredi men to enlist without compromising religious standards. These tracks, such as Kodcode, have become a respectable path for those who do choose to serve.

Perhaps more telling is the changing age profile and background of those who enlist. A decade ago, if a haredi young man joined the army at all, it was usually at an older age (mid-20s and up), often after dropping out of yeshiva and getting married.

Today, we’re seeing more 21- and 22-year-olds from prestigious yeshivot, even the famed Ponevezh and Hebron yeshivas, quietly going to the induction center.

The average enlistment age among haredi recruits has reportedly plummeted from about 26 to about 21 in just a few years. And the pipeline is widening: Haredi high schools that teach a general-studies curriculum (a stepping-stone to both the army and higher education) are experiencing a boom in enrollment.

One such yeshiva high school had a single graduate join the IDF in 2024 and more than 20 in 2025. Across the board, enrollment in “alternative” haredi yeshivot – i.e., those that prepare students for service or careers – is up.

A QUIET revolution is brewing among the younger generation, marked by a growing openness to integration into broader Israeli society.

Of course, the haredi establishment is pushing back hard against these grassroots changes. Attempts to form an all-haredi brigade in 2024 collapsed amid fierce street protests.

And then came the October 7 massacre, and the ensuing war fundamentally altered the calculus. Israel found itself fighting on multiple fronts in its most existential conflict in 50 years.

Suddenly, the long-standing debate over “sharing the burden” wasn’t theoretical; it was gut-level real. Manpower shortages in the IDF became a strategic concern. Hundreds of thousands of reservists were called up, and every able-bodied citizen was needed.

In this context, the sight of tens of thousands of haredi young men continuing their studies safely at home, exempt from danger while their peers bled, created a public uproar. The social scar from this disparity is deep and still fresh.

As one observer noted, the war became a “historic watershed” in relations between mainstream Israelis and haredim.

Even if – in some hypothetical future – haredi leaders suddenly had a change of heart and urged their followers to share the combat burden, it might be too late to fully erase the resentment.

The memory of “who stood up to be counted” in the nation’s darkest hour will not fade quickly. Indeed, the war sharply intensified calls to end the wholesale exemptions.

I’ve heard this sentiment countless times from reservists and their families: “We are all fighting and dying, why are they not here with us?” The inequality of sacrifice was no longer an abstract principle but a visible reality.

Notably, even the High Court of Justice, when it struck down the exemption arrangement, referenced the war to underline how the “burden of inequality is more acute than ever.” The court’s June 2024 ruling not only mandated the drafting of haredi men; it also barred the state from funding any yeshiva students who dodge the draft.

In other words, if you’re studying Torah instead of serving, the government can no longer pay you to do so. That was a bombshell: It essentially yanked the financial rug out from under the haredi yeshiva system, unless a new law is passed.

In truth, I empathize with their sense of urgency; this is an existential issue for their community. But I also believe they are making a grave error if they continue treating this as an all-or-nothing ideological war. Because if it is framed as war, the haredi leadership will dig in and likely “win” the battle of wills internally, but it could lose the war for Israel’s future.

On the other hand, if the issue is handled as a pragmatic policy challenge, requiring compromise and gradual change, there is a chance to reach a sustainable solution.

WHAT WOULD a pragmatic approach look like? It means shifting from coercion and grand declarations to incentives and consequences that make sense. It means lowering the flames: Stop trying to “break” the haredim or make them betray their rabbis; instead, set up a system that nudges them, gently but persistently, toward greater integration.

For example, rather than jailing masses of draft evaders – which would be seen as outright persecution and spark fury – the state can enforce economic and social sanctions on those who don’t serve.

Some of this is already happening: As noted, the High Court ruled to cut off stipends for yeshiva students who haven’t served. Government agencies have proposed policies, such as denying certain welfare benefits or tax discounts to individuals who neither serve nor perform alternative national service.

If you choose not to share the national burden, you may lose your eligibility for subsidized childcare or the ability to travel abroad freely without resolving your draft status. These are reasonable conditions in a society built on mutual responsibility.

Haredi families would then face a practical choice: Continue as before and absorb those costs, or encourage some of their sons to take a different path – be it military or some form of civil service – to earn back the benefits.

Already, we see the power of these measures. Once the High Court’s ruling came down, the financial lifeline of the yeshiva world was in jeopardy.

How did the haredi leadership respond? By scrambling to find alternative funds. Emergency US fundraising efforts temporarily covered the gap, but donors have already shown signs of fatigue.

The writing is on the wall. The status quo is dead. The haredi parties can resign from every government. Still, they cannot resurrect the old arrangement of blanket exemptions – not in a nation at war, not after the High Court’s ruling, and not given the societal mood.

The challenge now is to land this plane without crashing. That means pursuing a compromise draft law that most Israelis can live with and most haredim can grudgingly accept.

It might enshrine Torah study as a “national value” – as a proposed Basic Law in 2023 sought to do – to placate the rabbis, even as it quietly nudges more young men toward service. It’s not “equality,” but pure equality isn’t attainable overnight without tearing the country apart.

We need a bridging solution, an evolution that has occurred over the years. I believe such a middle ground was achievable in the past, and perhaps it still is now if cooler heads prevail.

At the same time, Israel’s secular majority has its soul-searching to do. The resentment toward haredim – supercharged by the war and the draft controversy – is understandable, but it can curdle into hatred that is dangerous for our society.

Demonizing haredim as parasites or draft dodgers en masse is unfair to a complex community – one that contributes in other ways and that also includes many poor and vulnerable citizens.

The goal should not be to “smash” the haredi sector or forcibly assimilate them; it should be to encourage and integrate them gradually. That is the only way to make this finally happen.