A Way Forward on Haredi Draft
In March, TraditionOnline published translation of R. Tamir Granot’s essay which responded to troubling remarks by Chief Rabbi Yitzhak Yosef concerning drafting yeshiva students to the army. Among the most divisive issues perennially facing the State is the blanket exemption of Haredim from military or national service. While this issue has long roiled Israeli society, the crisis situation the nation finds itself in since October 7th casts it in a new and existentially perilous light—for the defense of the nation and all of its inhabitants, as well as for prospects for any form on ongoing national unity.
R. Tamir Granot, Rosh Yeshivat Orot Shaul in Tel Aviv, author of books on Sefer Devarim and Jewish thought about the Holocaust, is the father of Amitai z”l, who was killed in the early days of the war. In this essay he offers thoughts about why it’s so hard for different sides to even find a common framework in which to argue—and offers a suggestion for a way forward to a common future.
My rabbi and teacher, R. Yehuda Amital zt”l, progenitor of the idea of Hesder Yeshivot combining Torah and army service, fought in the War of Independence near Latrun. At that time R. Elazar Shach zt”l, who would later become the undisputed leader of Haredi society, lived in his building. In those days the two would disagree and debate many topics: exile and redemption, the State of Israel and the Torah. About 40 years later the two saw each other again, and R. Shach said to him: “Yehuda, you know, we can no longer argue. We’ve grown too far apart.”
For two sides to debate they need to share a common set of values, vision and history to frame the debate. When there are two completely separate narratives, there can be no argument, because there is certainly no way to agree. The Haredi frame story is very different from the Zionist one. For the latter, the State of Israel is a historical revolution that brought the people of Israel out of exile, renewed its political life, and most importantly, transferred the responsibility for our destiny into our own hands. Most of Haredi society has not yet come out of exile, and experiences an exile existence right here in the Land of Israel. For them, the religious community, not the collective people of Israel, is the main framework of existence, as it was throughout the history of the exile. The world of action is marginal and one-sided, and we have no real influence on it, and everything depends on observing the mitzvot and learning Torah, and above all, the secular State of Israel holds no ultimate value, and was only established to save or serve the world of the Torah destroyed in the Holocaust. Zionism cannot argue with this—the two sides are simply at cross purposes, each operating within its own narrative—and this is a terrible tragedy. According to the Zionist story, it is clear that the IDF as a national institution is destined to play a central role in the life of the nation. According to the Haredi perspective, the fate of the people of Israel depends on the world of yeshivot.
The Haredim say: Only the Torah will protect us, as it has protected us in all generations. Without Torah, we will not survive. Are they right? As usual, the answer is not simple. The Torah indeed preserved the nation of Israel during all the years of its exile, enabled its metahistorical existence across the diaspora, even though we had no other elements of common life. Torah preserved Jewish identity and our hope. Without it we would not be here today. But the historical truth is that abandoning the Torah made it possible for us to arrive where we are. Let me clarify: The Torah in its diasporic configuration—dealing with the existence of the individual, directed to the spirit and not to reality, to the world to come and not to this world, and detached from history—could not form a basis for the Zionist revolution. In exile it was impossible for Judaism to exist without the Torah; the State, however, arose without the Torah. So what is true? The simple answer is that if there is no Torah there is no land, and if there is no land there is no Torah. Jewish existence always stands on two legs: spirit and matter, eternity and history, the collective and the individual, faith and human responsibility. You can’t have one without the other. The deeper answer is that the Torah itself, upon returning to Israel, took on a new configuration.
Speaking recently at a hearing of the Foreign Affairs and Security Committee in the Knesset, I said that there is no Jewish or ethical position according to which Torah study exempts one from defending his home when there are terrorists at the door. In normal times, when the supply of recruits far exceeds the army’s needs, when we are not waging an existential war (or no war at all), there is room for such an exemption. From a Torah point of view, an exemption for those who invest their whole lives in Torah study is justified, just as in other respects, different priorities in recruitment must be justified on cultural, economic, or other grounds. But in times of existential war, everyone must take up arms. I don’t believe that there is a single Haredi rabbi or member of that society who thinks that if two people are sitting at home, and one is studying Torah, and terrorists are standing outside the door, then it is legitimate for the student to say to his friend: Sorry, I can’t help, I’m busy—but you go out to fight or die. The thought that studying the Torah exempts one from joining the war to save the people of Israel is a desecration of the Torah. The nation of Israel is facing a huge existential threat, and we cannot undertake this struggle without the support of everyone who can aid in the effort.
R. Moshe Maya, one of the leading Sephardic rabbis and a former Knesset member for Shas, said almost the same thing a few days ago, in his own way: “There is no difference between those who study and those who don’t, conscription is forbidden for everyone! Conscription is worse than desecration of Shabbat.” Let’s listen for a moment deeply and respectfully, without getting angry, to the content of his words, within his narrative. “The cat is out of the bag,” we imagine R. Maya to be saying. “Torah study is not the reason for the demand for the exemption. The world of the Torah protects our young men from the evil cultural spirits around them, so all of them are prohibited from enlisting. If a Haredi fellow who has lived his whole life in a protected environment enlists in the big, bad, secular army, which is bathed in foreign culture, sexual immodesty, heresy, materialism, there is a good chance that he won’t last, and will completely drop out of the religious world.” That’s why R. Maya thinks it’s worse than desecrating Shabbat.
Let’s describe the typical profile of the 18-year-old Haredi yeshiva student. He is a gentle fellow, with spiritual and moral aspirations. When he goes off to yeshiva, he leaves behind worldly pleasures chooses a humble, even austere life, aiming to improve his moral and spiritual status. He gives up a career, doesn’t go to pubs, and doesn’t travel abroad. Rather, he engages himself day and night in Torah study, that is, in understanding the words of the Creator of the world. He does not avoid enlisting in the army out of indifference or lack of values, per se, but because within the social and cultural structure of his society, the army is a threat to his identity and his future. In order for there to be a change, we must first understand this mindset. If the State tries to “defeat” the Haredim, it will find them even more defensive and even more closed.
In order to absorb Haredim into the I.D.F. without posing a threat, the army will have to adapt itself, and also compromise. To adapt oneself, it must create unique frameworks: in age (for example 21), in place (for example: regional yeshivot that constitute a fighting force or provide soldiers for the security of settlements), in time (not everyone will serve 3 consecutive years), and in the framework (living conditions appropriate to the Haredi character). The army will also have to compromise in terms of some of its values. For example, in terms of integrating women soldiers or commanders into units comprised of Haredim, complete gender equality (to whatever degree it exists in the regular army) will need to be reconsidered, and certain aspects of the Education Corps will need to be adjusted, e.g., so that this can happen.
Haredi society will have to mature and start to take responsibility—and we must believe in its power to do that. I have great faith in its strengths, because of the Torah, kindness, community, and wisdom which mark that society. It was the State of Israel that created the current distorted social structure in which members of the Haredi world can neither serve nor work, and the State finances all of this through the yeshiva budgets and the welfare policy. This should be stopped, and it should be established that the benefits related to welfare are conditional on fulfilling the basic duty of service. Those who do not do at least the minimum service, to be determined by law, will not qualify for an array of social benefits bestowed by citizenship. While we’re at it, I believe Arab-Israeli citizens will also have to fulfill a basic duty through some national civil service.
I proposed in the Knesset that instead of calling this a “Conscription Law” or the “Military Desertion Law” it should in fact be called the “Torah Study Law,” and it should be stipulated in the proposed legislation that the NIS 2 billion that were supposed to be transferred to yeshivot in the current budget, the highest amount ever, would be guaranteed in the budget for any yeshiva that meets the conditions of conscription, according to proportional service. Thus the Knesset of Israel, its coalition and opposition parties, will recognize for the first time the special status that Torah study has for the people and nation of Israel, and at the same time will declare its support for the dual principles of Torah and mutual responsibility, Torah and army service. No policeman will arrest those who do not enlist, but he will not receive state recognition and financing either. I believe that a Haredi man who wants to learn, and refused to share in the framework of the Israeli national narrative, is entitled to do so. Beliefs and opinions cannot be imposed by laws and the threat of punishments. But such a person cannot also enjoy the profits of the Israeli story.
On this, the state must not blink. We are in an existentially fraught moment, and we need to tell speak plainly to the Haredim: The people of Israel need your participation in the defense of the State and in its economy. We will not compromise on this demand, and we will not give up on its speedy implementation, because there is simply no time. We extend a loving hand, which not only does not want to harm the Torah world, but seeks to strengthen it, and protect the Haredi way of life.
After all the talk, the shouting, the truth and false claims, the petty politics and the big ideologies that have and will yet arise in the debate about Haredi military recruitment, I would like to summarize my vision: The Haredi world becomes a partner in the defense of the Land of Israel, succeeding in sorting its students so that a minority remains full-time at their study, manning the Beit Midrash, while others integrate into society and in the economy and contribute to it when the process does not harm the strength of its spiritual and Torah commitments. On the contrary, this will contribute toward curing some of the ills that exist in Haredi society. One may be surprised, but I say from a deep acquaintance with the Haredi, with some of its leaders and with common members of that society: This is also a shared vision held by very many among them. And so, despite the clouds of invective and falsehood, I am optimistic for a common shared future.