Two Passports and the Haredi Draft

Israel’s state of emergency following the murderous October 7th attack has brought to the forefront the unresolved issue of drafting yeshiva students—and this time with a renewed passion. The ongoing constitutional complications in this issue, which have been evolving for years since the Supreme Court struck the Tal Law (2012), only deepen the crisis. The prevailing sentiment is that this time, something must give: the situation is untenable and cannot continue as is. Thousands of young Israelis from all parts of Israeli society have been killed or wounded on the battlefield fighting for the homeland, and it seems the Haredi sector will be unable to avoid the simple demand, voiced by a large majority of the country, to share responsibility for Israel’s security.

The prevailing sentiment is that this time, something must give: the situation is untenable and cannot continue as is

Without delving into the political feasibility of a solution, a specific weakness symbolizing the fault line in the eternal debate between the Haredim and the rest deserves emphasis: “young Haredi men who do not study Torah.”

As highlighted in articles published on this platform, particularly those by Rabbi Yehoshua Pfeffer, the issue of young charedi men whose Torah study is not their principal occupation (and not even close to it) presents a particular challenge. It is difficult for Haredi representatives to defend their exemption, especially when the well-known threat of “army secularization” hardly seems credible: “We’re ready to open separate tracks,” the general public responds. “We’re ready for a Haredi brigade,” says the army.” “Why are you better than Religious Zionist youth?” they charge.

Well, what indeed can be said with respect to those Haredim whose Torah study is not their primary occupation? Why, indeed, shouldn’t they serve?

The Yeshiva Worldview on the Draft

A few months ago, Rabbi Yehoshua Pfeffer wrote a fascinating article on this issue. In his piece, he included several quotes from prominent Torah leaders of past generations concerning the illegitimate exploitation of the “Torato Umanuto” (full-time Torah study) exemption for those who do not genuinely engage in Torah study. Rabbi Pfeffer describes a situation in which, over time, “the directives were gradually eroded”—directives that ensured those not engaged in Torah study served in the IDF—creating a flourishing industry of institutions solely dedicated to providing deferments.

However, it must be acknowledged that it is unclear whether the said directives were ever sincere. It is likely that they were issued by force of necessity, and when the necessity was removed, the directives were quietly rescinded. Although Rabbi Aharon Leib Steinman supported the establishment of the Haredi army unit Netzach Yehuda, he was careful to encourage army service only for young men whose religious condition was dire. In my humble opinion, this does not indicate a disregard for the guidelines set by the previous generation but rather a clear position expressing Haredi society’s principled opposition to any kind of military service.

This opposition goes deeper than the issue of Torah study alone. Arguments related to Torah study, or the protective shield it provides, cannot apply to young men who do not study Torah; they struggle to address new circumstances in which Haredi society has become a significant part of the population. If the entire country were to become Haredi, would we continue to avoid military service? Rather, there seems to be a fundamental and profound opposition that touches on the central axis of Haredi-secular relations since the establishment of the state.

Even when faced with a clear halachic obligation to serve in the IDF, such as during the War of Independence (the same obligation applies today, based on all the opinions I have heard concerning the current defensive war), this hurdle will continue to separate the two sides. The crux of the disagreement touches on the matter of the state’s very existence.

Jewish vs. Israel Passports

In their own mindset, Haredi individuals living in our present reality carry two passports. Our Israeli passport is 75 years old; we respect our elders. But our Jewish passport is over 3,300 years old, dating back to our exodus from Egypt and receipts of the Torah at Sinai. We respect this antiquity still more, preserving it without change, distortion, deviation, or corruption throughout the years and transformations we have been through. We can hold a dual passport, Israeli and Jewish, so long as there is no contradiction between Israeli sovereignty and that of the Almighty Master of the world. If the State of Israel does not try to uproot Divine sovereignty from the lives of its citizens and its public spaces, this is possible. But when the Jewish people are forced to choose between Israeli sovereignty and Hashem’s, one passport of the two, then we have already chosen: Hashem is our God; He is One. We will not choose, for we all have already chosen.

The editor of Yated Ne’eman did not remain silent and stated unequivocally that when there is a contradiction between the two, the Jewish passport and the Israeli one, our choice is crystal clear

The passage above is an accurate citation from an editorial penned by Yisrael Friedman, editor of Yated Ne’eman, in response to remarks by journalist Ben Caspit in 2021. Caspit caused a stir with an article entitled “The State of Judea and the State of Israel,” suggesting that Israel be split into two: Israel and Judea, Tel Aviv and Jerusalem. The editor of Yated Ne’eman did not remain silent and stated unequivocally that when there is a contradiction between the two (and there is one), the Jewish passport and the Israeli one, our choice is crystal clear. First and foremost, we are Jewish.

In my view, the passage reflects the essence of Haredi ideology. For understandable reasons, Haredi Knesset members do not speak this way publicly; they are part of the Knesset, and to speak about the contradiction between Haredi and Israeli identities would be disingenuous. Yet, there is a key difference between military service and involvement in other state institutions, which our Knesset members understand well.

A soldier is unlike a regular government employee who works for the state for a monthly salary. Soldiers are more akin to items of property than employees. They become “possessions” of the state, obligated to follow every instruction and obey every order, even when they are difficult or go against their conscience. There is no opt-out clause. You cannot resign. A soldier’s very life is in the hands of his commanders and under the authority of the Chief of Staff, the Minister of Defense, and the entire governmental hierarchy. All government offices represent the state. The army’s representation, however, is the deepest of all.

This situation poses a profound contradiction to one of Haredi Judaism’s most fundamental tenets. The problem is not halachic. From a halachic perspective, it is possible to establish a separate battalion, such as Netzah Yehuda, and enforce strict adherence to halachic standards. Indeed, it is not easy to maintain stringent observance in the army, as the Religious Zionist community has learned over the years—but this is not the main point. The main issue isn’t halacha but rather Daas Torah—compliance with rabbinic instruction.

For Haredi Judaism, rabbinic authority does not confine itself to accepted halachic boundaries but also encompasses “the marketplace of life” (to use Chazon Ish’s expression) in all its variety. “The approach of dividing the Torah into two parts,” taught the Chazon Ish, “one part concerning decisions on halachic rulings, restrictions, and leniencies, and the other involving decisions in the marketplace of life, so that one submits to the rulings of elders concerning the first part but makes independent decisions in the second, is the old approach of heretics during the decline of European Jewry. This approach pushed the Jewish people towards assimilation with the Gentiles, leaving no survivors” (Letter to Rabbi Kalman Kahana). In other words, a Haredi Jew remains always under the authority of the Torah sages, the rabbinic leaders of each generation. There is no exception to this rule. And the army—even a Haredi army, even when run on the highest standards of purity and holiness—relieves its soldiers of this core authority.

“A charedi Jew is not someone forced to wear a black kippah on his head,” wrote Rabbi Dov Povarsky in advance of local elections several years back. “A Haredi individual is primarily one who has taken upon himself to heed the voices of the Haredi rabbis, whether Chassidic or Litvish and fulfill their directives, as stated in the Torah, ‘You shall perform all that they instruct you,’ even when the right seems to be left and vice versa.” The outcome is that a Haredi Jew cannot serve in the army, irrespective of religious standards. The issue is not about halacha; the issue is authority.

To Save the Poor Man’s Lamb

The Chazon Ish provides a nuanced distinction. On one hand, we are part of Israeli sovereignty, participating in politics and state institutions. On the other, however, we do not fully belong. We participate, but we are not partners. Over time, it seems that this framework is becoming increasingly difficult to maintain.

This delicate balancing act has implications across various aspects of life. Among other things, it manifests in the well-known prohibition against Haredi Knesset representatives serving as ministers in the Israeli government. A member of the Knesset belongs to the legislative body of the state but lacks full authority—and lacking full authority, he also lacks full responsibility. While party to passing laws, Haredi Knesset members are not part of the executive. Yet, quite remarkably, this practice has changed dramatically, and Haredi figures serve today as full ministers or as “deputy ministers without a minister”—a “Talmudic devise” that ostensibly circumvents the “prohibition” against serving as a minister.

Reality itself indicates that the choice of our Jewish passport over its Israeli counterpart is a thing of the past. Our practical lives are lived emphatically with our Israeli passports

This should be clearly stated. The original mandate of the Knesset members was “to save from their hands,” emulating “Moshke the Jew” pleading before the classic Polish aristocrat, the Poritz. Over time, however, we have become the Poritz ourselves: government ministries, cultural budgets, demands for regulation in the public sector, and so forth. This does not seem like “the poor man’s lamb” anymore. Rather than “saving,” we demand that which is ours, “by right and not by grace” (as the slogan of Degel HaTorah’s election campaign). And with rights come responsibilities. It is all too convenient for us to ignore this, but a day comes when it will come back to haunt us. It seems that the day has already arrived.

It has become exceedingly difficult to justify the Haredi grip on both ends of the rope. Though we continue to declare it on the ideological level, reality itself indicates that the choice of our Jewish passport over its Israeli counterpart is a thing of the past. Our practical lives are lived emphatically with our Israeli passports. Haredim are partners in every sense. It’s time for us to participate—in everything.

The “Brothers in Arms” Precedent

How can any progress be made on the conscription issue? Haredi society declares itself Jewish and not Israeli, under the authority of Torah sages and not the state’s or the army’s. Case closed. Yet, this involves a profound disloyalty. We are, after all, an integral part of the state: our representatives serve as ministers, and some are even members of the security-political cabinet. Can we sincerely claim we only possess a single passport? If we don’t recognize state authority, we cannot claim the mantle of acting as though we were the authority itself. Ben Caspit’s call is justified: “Let every sector live separately according to its belief”—and where would that lead us?

Over the past year, however, I began to discern the beginning of a resolution. Are Haredim, who refuse to serve in the IDF for ideological reasons, so different from those members of the “Brothers in Arms” movement who refused to serve in the army (albeit in reserve duty) under a government that undermined, in their eyes, the basic principles on which Israeli democracy is grounded? Among their voices, I heard calls for resistance to the very essence of Israel under a right-wing government, manifest in refusal to serve in the army. The judicial reform contravened their fundamental values, to the point of declaring: “not my government.” And, therefore: “not my army.”

Those parts of the “Brothers in Arms” movement also hold two passports: the Israeli on one hand and the democratic on the other. Much as Friedman wrote, parts of the protest movement have demonstrated that they are willing to hold the Israeli passport only as long as it does not contradict the essence of the democratic state (according to their perception). The more the contradiction becomes prominent, the less they can maintain their Israeli passport, and all they can shout is “D-E-M-O-C-R-A-C-Y!!” The path from here to burning the conscription order and calling for a tax revolt is short. Like Haredim, it goes without saying that they made no simultaneous declaration of a willingness to forgo citizenship rights.

Its representatives continued to receive respectful airtime on primetime news, and suddenly, it became legitimate to claim civil rights while refusing to fulfill duties due to ideological differences

Of course, this rhetoric represents the extremes of the “Brothers in Arms” movement. Yet, we see that the claim is plausible. Some protested it, but the movement did not lose its legitimacy. Its representatives continued to receive respectful airtime on primetime news, and suddenly, it became legitimate to claim civil rights while refusing to fulfill duties due to ideological differences. We have a precedent to follow.

Yet, there is one condition we are currently not fulfilling. The protesters used the threat of draft refusal to force the government to backtrack on its reform plan. They knew exactly what they wanted, and the threat of noncompliance served as a tool to achieve their demands. They were not interested in choosing one passport over the other; they preferred both. In contrast, the Haredim, as Rabbi Pfeffer has emphasized repeatedly, have not yet answered the simple and fundamental question: What do we want? How would we govern the state? What will we do when we become the majority?

So long as we haven’t declared what we’re seeking, we do not have the right to refuse orders. Do we want separate battalions? We can have them. Rabbinical presence? Also possible. Do we want command decisions to be contingent on approval by a rabbinical council? Do we really want that? What will its composition be? Will we fight over its membership, and over the existential fate of Israel, as we do in the local shtibel?

First and foremost, let us reflect and articulate an honest answer to the simple and necessary question of ‘what do we want’: what are our terms for a full holding of both passports? After that, we can discuss—honestly and seriously—the conscription issue.