“So, what do you say? Is there any shift in the attitude towards the army among yeshiva students?”
On my way home from work in the evening, I often give rides to yeshiva students waiting at bus stops. As someone who once studied in yeshivot and personally experienced long hours of waiting for rides across the country, I feel a duty to help them out. For me, it’s also an opportunity to gain firsthand insights into the current mindset within the yeshiva world.
From the admittedly non-representative sample passing through my car, I hear, to my dismay, only one answer: no.
To my regret, my casual conversations have not unveiled a shift in the fundamental outlook. For instance, one young man I gave a ride to late at night insisted fervently that “we study and protect the nation just like soldiers,” even as his half-kosher phone gleamed faintly from his pocket. I’d venture that he is far less passionate about the yeshiva subject he’s studying in morning seder. The sad truth is that among yeshiva students, not all are prepared to support the war effort—each in his own way. From such conversations, ones I’ve had for many months, it seems inescapable that despite the security situation and the critical need for thousands of soldiers, there hasn’t yet been a fundamental shift in the Charedi outlook.
The Ben-Torah Brand
Many try to justify the lack of enlistment among yeshiva students with technical arguments: the IDF is unprepared or unwilling to integrate Charedim; issues of kashrut and religious observance present obstacles; the army has a progressive agenda that poses a spiritual threat. While these require discussion, it seems to me that the true obstacle is not halacha, olive-green uniforms, secular commanders, or meals at the highest kashrut level. The principal barrier is one of identity. It’s about the brand.
Charedi Judaism is not merely a religious phenomenon but one deeply embedded in identity and sociology. The Chazon Ish established Charedi Judaism with, among other factors, an identity-driven motive—he wanted to create a distinct identity in contrast to the new Zionist model. Instead of the “new Jew” tilling the land with his own hands, the Chazon Ish presented a model of young men ensconced in the Beis Midrash, dedicated exclusively to Torah study. Thus emerged, as Professor Friedman calls it, a “society of learners”—a society rooted in the value of Torah study and maximally distanced from broader society.
Over time, however, identity became more a matter of brand than substance. A “ben-Torah” today is not necessarily somebody who has mastered the Talmud and its commentaries but primarily a young man registered in a yeshiva. The Charedi leadership does everything possible to keep him there and ensure he doesn’t lose his Charedi identity.
When Rabbi Dov Landau, the leader of the Lithuanian stream in Charedi society, was asked at the start of the war by Lt. Col. Erez Eshel if yeshiva students could attend funerals of soldiers fallen in the Gaza battles or visit the wounded in hospitals, he gave a firm reply: “Heaven forbid. A young man must sit and learn; attending a funeral is not necessary… There are sensitive boys, and it will disturb their learning. If they see an injured person, they cannot live afterward.”[1]
Rabbi Landau’s response reflects the position that yeshiva students live in a separate universe. Though he ended the conversation with a prayer for Israel’s salvation and the return of captives, he sketched a model of a unique creature, occupied solely with Torah study. Even assuming that “Torah protects and saves” and that Torah study is paramount, this view sets a new standard for Charedi identity—one that cannot relate to the pain and sorrow that occur outside the Torah world. This approach reflects a process of cementing a socially distinct identity for yeshiva students, drawing clear symbolic boundaries between the “inside” and the “outside.”
In July, a proposed Basic Law: Torah Study (Bill No. 183/24) was brought to the Knesset by the Charedi parties, intending to recognize Torah study as “significant service.” However, this law does not aim to elevate the Torah itself but rather those who study it. And who will decide who qualifies as a “student”? Will it include, for example, a Biblical Studies student at a university or a woman studying at a pre-military seminary? It seems that the lawmakers were less concerned with upholding the honor of Torah than with preserving the “society of learners,” irrespective of the content, essence, or quality of study. In the yeshiva world, the Mashgichim often employ the simile of a “Noah’s Ark,” a protected space separate from broader society, safeguarding against the flood outside. Beyond the practical learning achievements, the “Ark” model reinforces the Charedi identity and preserves it.
Nonetheless, the gap between the idealized image and reality continues to grow. Many yeshiva students do not devote their full time and energy to Torah study as expected. Instead, their affiliation with the yeshiva framework has become a sort of social and cultural label, bestowing identity and status within the Charedi community with little relation to personal dedication to Torah learning.
Thus, the essence of rabbinic opposition to Charedi enlistment is not solely the concern of Torah neglect but primarily the fear of losing identity. For them, every Charedi youth who joins the army shifts his identity framework. Ultimately, Charedism is a social framework based on isolation and the formation of a unique identity. The yeshivot are not just places of study but structures that ensure young people remain within the community, perpetuating the separation from Israeli society.
Recently, more and more rabbinic letters have been published opposing enlistment, even of those young men who openly spend their days and nights in occupations other than Torah study.[2] The primary fear behind this resistance is that enlisting a Charedi youth will remove young men from their communal setting at a critical stage of life. Such a step is perceived as a far greater threat than a lack of seriousness in study or partial observance of mitzvot.
Military service, even in frameworks adapted to Charedi life, comes with tasks, a strict schedule, roles, and service locations—all dictated by the IDF. This uproots the young Charedi from the insular path that rabbinic leadership has crafted for him, where it retains exclusive control. The historically unprecedented innovation that “everyone must study in yeshiva” stems from the importance attached to this unique path. The rabbis’ opposition to any enlistment initiative reflects an effort to tighten control and strengthen the boundaries of the community, reasserting societal norms.
An example of this can be found in so-called “yeshivot for dropouts,” institutions where one can enroll to avoid military service. These “refuges” are not primarily populated by youth facing family problems, crime, or drugs but rather by those who failed to integrate into mainstream Charedi yeshivot. Many of these young men are likely not ideologically opposed to enlistment, yet Charedi leadership prefers them enrolled in yeshivot or any type. They might not study much, but at least they won’t enlist in an army unit that will challenge their Charedi identity.
Enlistment or Identity Boundaries: Who is Charedi?
Beyond the criticisms—some valid—of the IDF’s unsuitability for Charedi young men and the religious challenges enlistment presents, it’s time we examine ourselves: can we not preserve Charedi identity outside the four walls of the Beis Midrash? Maintaining a uniform “Charedi” model has significant downsides. It is an open secret that many yeshiva students are unsuited to full-time Torah study, spending years in idleness and boredom. Military service could, first and foremost, mold them into productive, responsible individuals (as attested by many Netzach Yehuda soldiers). They may lack a “Charedi ticket,” but they might emerge as better Jews. Is that not the ultimate goal?
Moreover, it’s time to reconsider the definition of “Charedi identity,” expanding it to encompass a broader range of life paths. Charedi identity need not be confined solely to total Torah study; it can include work, national service, or even adjusted military service—all while preserving core values of Charedi life. Military or national service could provide non-studious young men with a constructive framework for personal development, life skills, and a sense of contributing to society. Is this not a mitzvah?
Ultimately, any flexibility on enlistment compromises the current Charedi identity. This is why, in the eyes of Charedi leadership, it constitutes a fundamental threat—not a threat to Torah study or mitzvah observance but to the community’s autonomy and the identity boundaries set by Charedi society.
Thus, the discussion must focus on those identity boundaries. Could a Charedi soldier’s identity be conceivable? Today, mainstream Charedi society defines identity in a way that excludes those who do not follow the designated path: anyone who enlists is branded a “Chardak” (a derogatory term originally coined by extremists but later adopted in general society), despite being meticulous in mitzvot, setting regular times for Torah study, and identifying as fully Charedi. In the eyes of many Charedim, he no longer belongs. The key question, therefore, is whether Charedi society can expand its identity definition to include individuals who serve in the army or engage in activities currently considered “non-Charedi.” We’ve already made this shift concerning those studying in universities or working in secular workplaces. Could the model be extended to those serving in the army?
Torah study is a precious, holy, lofty value. Yet, it can be integrated with real-life responsibilities. The fact remains: Charedim can study and work. We have yet to hear of a mass relocation of workplaces to strictly gender-segregated areas with only Badatz-kosher dining rooms, and yet, the proportion of working Charedim rises annually.[3] The reason is that workplaces, which are left in the morning and returned from in the afternoon, do not define Charedi identity the way enlistment does. In the leadership’s view, as long as the Charedi person steps out of the community and returns, his status is preserved. However, entering a separate framework with hierarchy, commands, and, most importantly, different values evoke profound concern.
Since October 7, Israel has confronted numerous challenges, some long pushed aside, now faced head-on. The enlistment issue, a recurring topic over the years, places us at a crossroads. This is not only a test for Israeli society but particularly for Charedi society. The real challenge lies in the capacity to shape a more profound Charedi identity with broader boundaries that encompass those who choose to leave the Beit Midrash and blend Torah, work, and army service.
Rising to meet it is crucial not only for the sustainability of the Charedi space but also for Israel and the entire Jewish People.
[1] See https://www.kikar.co.il/yeshiva-world/s5jq7u.
[2] See, for instance, https://www.93fm.co.il/radio/1002002/.
[3] For stats on the changing face of Charedim at work, see https://www.maariv.co.il/news/israel/Article-1027165.
Might this framework be causing many young men to not grow up into full adults?
If so, we could also see a leadership shortage, making constructive changes less likely.
Thank you Haim for taking the time to write out your thoughts in such an expressive and emotionally-neutral manner. As with any nuanced topic, it is crucial to view it in an unemotional and dispassionate light and to be able to explain each side of the argument without fear.
One of the main problems involved in addressing the issue in this particular time is that the emotions are so charged now; our country is literally at war, thousands of families are grieving and bereft of their sons and fathers. And at the same time, the Haredi community seems to be separate. They do not serve, their sons are not in danger, their cities are not even under threat of missiles in the way that most of the country is. So the unfairness of it all screams in the face of every other group in the country.
However, none of this has any real bearing on the main issue: should the Haredim enlist?
In truth, the question is truly a side point of a greater and far more essential question. What is the definition of a Haredi? There are two views about this, and the questions of army service, civic duty and responsibilities, are offshoots of this. The debate is as follows.
Opinion A: the core definition of a Haredi jew one which is cultural, political, and society based. That is to say, a Haredi may be defined and identified by externalities which include voting for Haredi parties, reading Haredi newspapers, living in Haredi neighborhoods, sending boys and men to yeshivas rather than to the army. This culture came about as a counterculture to modern society which has various ills and evils.
Based upon this definition, it follows that there is nothing absolutely sacred about the lifestyle Haredim live by. Why shouldn’t they adapt to what society needs? It needs more soldiers, it needs a larger workforce, a higher GDP, and various other things. Why can’t Haredim just change a bit? After all, who cares? They can still be Haredim, just with a slightly newer flavor.
This is the opinion of the author of this article, and the view that most non-Haredim adopt. (And some Haredim themselves as well.)
However there is another opinion.
Opinion B: the core definition of a Haredi jew has nothing to do with society or cultural issues at all. At its essence it is not a societal or even an ‘external’ being in any way. It is rather, a belief system. The world at large has a belief system of its own, normally one where economic success, physical and emotional comfort, security, and the pursuit of happiness, are the most important things. Most people will say that it all boils down to one thing: money. No Western civilization believes there is anything more important than money.
Yet the Haredi Jew believes something different. He believes there is one thing which has paramount and utmost importance, at the cost of all others. That value is: Listening to the word of God as they understand it. Following God’s words is the beginning and end of all important things. Any value that can be ascribed to anything is only an offshoot of this core value. (e.g. family life is a value because God says it a value.)
The beginning and end of the definition of a Haredi is this. Any external trappings; the lessons they teach their children, the music they listen to, the news they follow – all these things are byproducts of the actual core system.
Why is this distinction so important? Because it does not happen overnight. Most children know by the age of ten that the most important thing in the world is money. How do Haredim instill in themselves and their children that, actually, God’s will is the most important thing? There is only one answer, and it has been the same answer for centuries. Yeshiva.
The real reason Haredim send their children to Yeshiva is because that is the one and only way that they will forge a true core belief of God and Torah as the center of life, as the truest and highest value. The full time study of Torah for ten or twelve hours a day, for months and years – that is the only way that this occurs.
What age is the best, and possibly, the only, one to sit a child in Yeshiva? It is when the child is maturing and discovering the world – from fifteen or sixteen until twenty.
At twenty or so the child emerges as an adult, and his adult, mature, worldview is impacted most by those years. They are called ‘formative years’ for a reason.
This is what the core of Haredi society leans on.
This being the case, it is obvious why Haredi society refuses army service, or any other pursuit. It is worth bearing in mind that in every other country in the world, this is the age that young men are entering college, university, and discovering their career paths. Yet, Haredim rarely spend those years advancing their careers, they instead spend it in Yeshiva.
This is why they refuse army service at the age of eighteen. It is those years that count the most, and they must be spent accordingly.
This is the Haredi view, rain or shine, peace or war.
It so happens that this is now causing civil unrest, anger, resentment (and perhaps jealousy?) yet those do not affect the core guiding principles in the slightest. The most important thing in the world is for the eighteen year old boy to become a man whose worldview is God-centric. Nothing else really matters.
This is the way I understand the state of things. These two wordviews truly collide and cannot really be resolved. Only one thing alone can ever be the “most” important. It is either worldly success or it is Godly. It can never be both.
As a sidepoint, it is my personal belief that if the country would try to enlist Haredim after two or three years of solid Yeshiva learning, meaning at the age of twenty or twenty one, there would be far less resistance. The Yeshivas don’t try to force Haredim to be in Kollel after they marry – it is a life choice that Haredim often make. Adults can make their own decisions. Adults can exist in the army and remain Haredi (provided that technical problems such as kashrut and so on are arranged).
May we merit to see true peace among our nation
Thanks for your insights. My hope is that after a new draft law protects the authentic yeshiva world takes effect , those who are not learners or long term kollel candidates will be able to contribute to the army and economy in ways that supports their lifestyle. What saddens me most is the lack of empathy ,complete disconnect and detachment from the soldiers and their families collapsing under burden of the war , the many new widows, orphans , disabled and the dead. It is obvious that we need more soldiers. And the question those in leadership have to decide who of the young men will be full time learners , and who will to different degrees contribute to the economy, army and learning. Beside the moral imperative of taking part and contributing to the needs of our shared Bayit , I would expect an acknowledgement that a problem exists and empathy for those struggling than denial and self preservation and self interest. The current approach may help preserve a ” cultural Hareidi ” , but promotes young men focused just on money , materialism, overseas trips etc , no real values , no feelings for others , no feelings of solidarity for am yisroel . I thank Hashem for those leaders who have the courage to share a different narrative , a narrative that does not discard core religious and moral values. I thank this Forum for giving this narrative a platform