Brian Horowitz holds the Sizeler Family Chair in Jewish Studies at Tulane University, where he teaches Jewish history, Zionism, and the Jews of Eastern Europe. He is the author of six books. and has published in The Jerusalem Post, Times of Israel, and Mosaic.
Israelis wonder how the government’s attempt to recruit the Haredim will finally go. A glance back to Russia in tsarist times provides a possible answer; some lessons at least. Why Russia? Because the Haredim (at least many of them) in Israel act as they did in Russia – they instrumentalise the government to receive material benefits. This conception of politics as a financial quid pro quo contrasts with ideas of modern citizenship which emphasise identification with the state. In contrast, Haredi loyalties collide with the modern democratic state, even a Jewish state. Although Haredi political egoism shocks those who expect a different behavior by Jews in Israel, one should know that the Haredi approach has historical roots in the European Middle Ages when Jews were a people apart whose separateness secured their physical and spiritual security.
In early nineteenth century Russia Jews did not fight but paid a head tax in lieu of military service. That was standard treatment throughout the continent. However, Tsar Nicholas the First (the Barracks Tsar) thought to recruit Jews as a way of integrating them or perhaps converting some of them to Orthodox Christianity. Jewish historians know the legends regarding the Cantonists, the Jewish boy soldiers, and the Khappers (kidnappers) who grabbed people off the street to satisfy recruitment quotas. One should recall that army service meant twenty-five years in the military and the term began at age eighteen, although boys were recruited as early as twelve. Parents viewed recruitment as akin to a prison life sentence and ‘sat shiva’ for their sons. It is not surprising that methods arose to avoid the draft, such as marrying off teens as well as self-mutilation, running-away, or paying a doctor to exclude someone.
Here it is worthwhile to analyse how Jewish society responded to the government’s demand for soldiers.
The local Jewish communal leadership, the Kehillot (after 1844 these were dissolved but retained informal power decades after), were called upon to decide who will stay and who will go. Kehilla members based their decisions on several factors, such as proficiency in Talmud, but were also influenced by bribes and murky factors, such as a boy’s interest in prohibited subjects, such as the Haskalah (secular knowledge). Conscription was used to rid the community of trouble-makers. In any case, everyone understood that the wealthy Mr. Stein’s three boys would not serve, but the single son of Mrs. Elkin, a poor woman, would have to go. In short, injustice accompanied the decree.
In Russia’s nineteenth century military conscription caused a social revolution in the Jewish community that had lasting repercussions. Trust among social classes was broken. The authority of the rabbis took a heavy hit. Whatever unity existed in the community could not be reestablished as powerless families remembered the injustices laid upon them by powerful Jews.
The edict of 1873 meant the Russian government no longer let the Jews decide themselves who will serve, but took the matter in their own hands. In that year, Alexander the Second resolved in favor of universal conscription (‘it was rational and progressive’). All the male inhabitants of the country would serve, but for shorter periods. The authorities also inserted incentives that gave shorter terms of service to individuals who had higher levels of schooling. The result was a stampede of Jews and non-Jews to get diplomas to reduce their army service. This dive into Russian schools could have led to full integration if the next tsar, Alexander the Third, continued the policy. But he imposed a numerus clausus, Jewish quotas on entrance to Russian schools in 1887. An antisemite, his vision of a reactionary Russia built on the foundation of its church, autocracy and aristocracy collided with Jewish upward mobility.
Examining the two projects, one can conclude that the limited success of the 1873 edict shows that conscription can work as people who want to minimise their service burden will take advantage of incentives. In the case of Haredi conscription in Israel, it might be possible to put in shorter service terms for members who receive secular education and training for jobs outside yeshiva study halls. However, if Haredi recruitment is imposed like in Nicholas’s time with the power of selection in the hands of rabbinical elites, a similar situation will likely arise in which some boys will go to the military because they lack prowess as scholars, while others will be victims of corruption. This picture will not be pretty.
Some people will continue to strive to change Haredi attitudes toward the state. I don’t think that we should expect change in the short run. In any case, the examples from Russia are relevant and should be scrutinised to avoid the mistakes that beleaguered Jews in the Old Country. Today’s stratification of military service in Israel cannot stand, but the proposals for Haredi service must include incentives as well as demands.
