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Hi, Identity Crisis listeners. This is Yehuda. I'd love to study with you in Jerusalem this summer. Every summer, our campus hosts the Community Leadership Program, transforming Jerusalem into a gathering place for learners and leaders committed to wrestling with the big questions facing Jewish life today. This summer, you can be part of this experience, learning with me and my wonderful colleagues, joining a community rooted in hope, curiosity and possibility. Join us in Jerusalem from July 1 through 7 for the community Leadership Program. Space is very limited. Visit shalomhartman.org CLP to reserve your spot. Hope to see you there. Hi everyone. Welcome to Identity Crisis, a show from the Shalom Hartman Institute, creating better conversations about the essential issues facing Jewish life. I'm Yehuda Kertzer. We're recording on January 29, 2026. I have a cousin who lives here in Jerusalem. I love him, though we haven't been in touch in a little while, and I doubt he listens to this podcast. He is the head of an ultra Orthodox yeshiva. I follow some of his work, and I'm really proud of him that he's reached this place in his career. I believe deeply in Torah study and in Jewish education, and I think of us both as in, roughly speaking, the same line of work. But beyond that, beyond the fact that we share uncles and aunts and especially our beloved grandparents, there's not a lot we hold in common. I remember spending Shabbat with him a few times when I was a yeshiva student here in Israel, in a very different yeshiva than his, and even our conversations about Torah felt like they were taking place on different planets, almost in an entirely different language, even though we were both speaking English. I recognize that for some listeners outside the observant Jewish world, it may seem crazy that the two of us hierarchically observant Jews would feel ourselves so far apart from one another. But I don't think it's just the narcissism of small differences. The differences between us, which seem today virtually unbridgeable, lie in how we see our relationships to the world around us and what political, social and moral obligations befall us based on those relationships. There are too many such differences to count, and those differences are both ideological and material. Perhaps the most visible and controversial of those, the one that is the stuff of escalating tensions here in Israel, is that neither he nor his sons, nor his sons in law have or will serve in the Israeli army. They are beneficiaries of the state's infrastructure. But on this issue, they will not be contributors. Now, I can't really claim that that difference between us afflicts me. I too have not served in the idf. I live in New York. I too am, as a Zionist outside of Israel, benefit from a state of Israel whose security depends on the sacrifice of others. Therefore, this difference for me between us feels more like an ideological issue than an emotional one. But I know that that's not how some of my other cousins in Israel feel about our shared cousin. I have a different first cousin here in Israel who I also love, who spent hundreds of sleepless nights these past two plus years as her son and her son in law fought in Gaza. And I struggle to imagine how she must feel about her fellow Israelis, especially those that are her own relatives, whose refusal to make that sacrifice amplifies the very sacrifice that she and her family have to make. We, me and my cousins, and by metaphorical extension, all of us, we're held together by this bond of kinship, which is sometimes the strongest bond we have and sometimes, like a tenuous accident of history, and it's gradually worn down by our competing commitments. You have to wonder whether it will hold. This week in Israel, some colleagues and I participated in a seminar together, struggling over the idea of Israel as a Jewish and democratic state. My colleague Sraga Baron invited us to read a text by David Megurian, written in 1954, in which he was trying to formulate one of his signature ideas. Forging a sense of mamlachtiyut for for Israeli society. Our colleague Masuha Sagiv defines mamlachtiyut, a very hard word to explain in English, as the political notion of an inclusive sense of statehood. This would be a sense of statehood in Israel's case, in which all of the state's citizens can participate regardless of their other identities. That sense of statehood is thick, complex and multi layered, rooted in a story encompassing members of all faiths and nationalities. And in being thick, it would be able to withstand the calls for this or that alternate identity to prevail. So, trying to make the case for this, Ben Gurion writes the following he says no state can exist without governance, coercion and majority decision, unless it's a totalitarian state ruled by a single authority. But no state can exist solely by governance, coercion, and majority rule. The vitality, strength and integrity of a state are drawn from the general will of the people, from their shared historical needs, from mutual responsibility, from an inner unity that bridges contradictions and tensions. And then he gets to the specific challenge of the state of Israel, and he says, the divisions of hearts and opinions in matters of Faith and religion places both sides, the religious and the secular, who desire the continued existence of the state, under an obligation to understand one another, to respect each other's feelings and convictions, and and to relate to one another not merely with tolerance, but with respect and trust. Both sides, Ben Gurion says, are convinced that they are faithful to the sources and roots of Judaism. Yet both must live together and build together the people and the state, without either compelling the other to accept its view. It was, like many things Ben Gurion said and wrote and did, characteristically ambitious for that early state of Israel that needed everyone on deck. And it's fair to say that maybe it worked for a while. The current ultra Orthodox draft controversy, however, which has intensified since October 7 as the needs for more soldiers and the fears about Israel's security have increased, and as the ultra Orthodox community has remained broadly recalcitrant about brooking any change to the status quo in which they are exempted from army service for the purpose of state supported Torah study, absent a successful negotiation that is divorced from pure political needs of keeping ultra Orthodox parties in the government, which aggravates tensions on this issue. And it's not surprising to see a rise in efforts to do exactly what Ben Gurion hoped wouldn't happen, a move towards coercion. And you have to wonder, is it only a matter of time? I'm grateful today to have a guest with me, Rabbi Yeshua Pfeffer, to help unpack the complexity of this issue in Israeli society, to learn about it and to understand what is happening and what will happen. Yoshua Pfeffer is the head of the IUN Institute focused on promoting Haredi integration and responsibility. He's a community rabbi in Ramo Jerusalem Dayan and a founding editor of Tzarik Iun, a journal of Haredi thought and ideas. Many more affiliations, a very profound career. I'm grateful that you're here to help talk about this and work it through. I wonder if we can start by you helping to understand the moment that we're in. This story of this controversy I remember with been talking about this for decades, actually the future inevitability of a real clash about whether this would be able to hold, especially as the Hared community has grown in numbers. There's a myth that the early days Ben Gurion and other secularists figured a small amount of exemptions wouldn't bother the State of Israel in the long term. So this has been an issue for a long time. But it has felt in the last several years a deep intensification I wonder if you could help us understand how we've gotten to this point and what the state of play you feel is in Israel right now about this issue.
