On the eve of Simchat Torah, the war officially came to an end. The living hostages have been returned to us, and the fallen are on their way, God willing. After two years of war, one in which I myself served over 300 days in four rounds of service in Gaza as a tank commander, we can finally take a breath and reflect.
That day was a special day in the Knesset, but also a little bit complicated for me.
My wife can testify that I was even more detached than usual. I wandered around the house trying to gather my thoughts. They mostly revolved around the feeling of an ending. After two years of war becoming the routine, something was over, even if only officially. It’s a feeling that tightens your stomach and leaves you restless. It’s a mix of warmth and satisfaction with melancholy and general fatigue. My thoughts drifted to what was, what we achieved, how I’ve changed, and where I go from here.
We’ve all been through a transformative experience over these past two years. Fighting the enemy for hundreds of days, juggling between home, army, and work – it was immensely difficult, with lots of emotions, but also a lot of fulfillment.
We’ve changed as a nation as well. We went through major failure, disaster, and heartbreak, but we also experienced the spiritual uplift of a united people. It seems like the entire nation is recovering from trauma and moving toward a better place.
Still, two groups still seem quite comfortable staying put: the haredi (ultra-Orthodox) public and the politicians. There’s not much to say about haredi politicians in this. They’ve long proven that “Israeli” is a derogatory term for them.
A person who doesn’t see themselves as Israeli won’t rush to help Israelis in times of need. (Apologies to those who do.) I know this because I occasionally attend Saturday night protests in Jerusalem. I speak with young haredim who want to talk and engage in sincere dialogue.
Separation between the haredim and the IDF
Sadly, they don’t know that there is such a thing as Shabbat protocol in the IDF, that holidays are properly observed in the army, that prayer times are respected, that there’s high-level kosher food, and that every battalion has a rabbi. On the one hand, it’s not entirely their fault; they’re told made-up tales about the army.
On the other hand, aren’t serious 16-year-olds capable of asking questions about the world around them? Isn’t there a personal responsibility to inquire? Unfortunately, in a society where the rabbi determines the ideology, there probably isn’t such a responsibility.
The Defense Service Law is back on the committee’s table and, in accordance with Netanyahu’s orders, will be rushed through legislation. The push for exemptions for the haredi public by Zionist politicians, or their silence on this issue, is a mystery to me.
The newly-proposed version of the law will include ridiculously low recruitment targets, weak sanctions, and revoking benefits only after two years if goals aren’t met. It means that the haredi leaders will probably “sacrifice” a handful of people to spare the rest of the public from the already weak sanctions.
The immediate travel abroad ban will have an exceptions committee; we all know what that will look like. The driver’s license penalty will be mild, not a full revocation – meaning that those who did not serve in the army may face only limited restrictions on obtaining or using a driver’s license, rather than being fully denied it as a meaningful sanction. These, unlike other sanctions, are favored by haredi activists. It keeps students in yeshiva and on the streets, just not in the army.
More than a law to regulate service status, as haredi MKs claim, it’s a law to bring the haredim back into the government from their fictional exile. And all at our emotional and financial expense. Their reaching out to the other side is weak, hesitant, and full of political calculations.
Politicians cater to the haredi parties
Instead of caring for us, the politicians cater to the haredi parties. Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu made sure to call and reassure Rabbi Moshe Hillel Hirsch of UTJ, and MK Boaz Bismuth constantly thanks the haredim for their “efforts.” That tells you where their attention lies.
That’s why I deliberately call them “politicians,” not “public leaders.” Public leaders are those who ran forward on October 7 to help groups of people unlike themselves. They’re the ones who show up for reserve duty again and again, even when it’s hard, because their leftist or “messianic” tankmate needs them in the fight for a cause greater than both of them.
While real public leaders feel guilty for what they failed to accomplish, the finance minister, in an interview, gave himself a performance score of 9 out of 10.
You can’t read the mountains of reports, articles, and testimonials from the war and not be amazed by these strong people, all of them. You can’t help but wonder about the dissonance between a group that took responsibility for others and a leadership that so crudely throws it away.
Again, I find that the real leaders are down below.
I still have that feeling in my gut. I am thinking about how I came back from the fighting in Gaza, to now be crushed under piles of political considerations and positions. I think about those who stayed there, taking responsibility and showing leadership, and how I must be worthy of their sacrifice.
And like them, before being a representative of the National Religious Reservists Forum – mostly right-wing – I’m part of the people of Israel first. And the people of Israel need us now. We need to bring this powerful spirit of service not just to the battlefield, but also to the public arena. Now’s the time to push, influence, and secure the values of mutual responsibility for years to come.
The writer is one of the leaders of the National Religious Reservists Forum.