Coin Press - Israel’s Haredi Challenge

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Israel’s Haredi Challenge




The ultra‑Orthodox, or Haredi, community in Israel has become the focus of intense national debate. When the state was founded in 1948, a small number of exceptional Torah scholars were allowed to devote themselves to study instead of serving in the military. Nearly eight decades later, the people who follow this stringent interpretation of Judaism make up almost one in seven Israelis. Their numbers are growing rapidly, their political parties wield outsized influence in coalition politics, and their educational and economic choices increasingly shape the country’s future. As Israel grapples with war in Gaza, coalition infighting and a fragile economy, many secular and modern‑orthodox Israelis view the Haredi sector as the most formidable challenge to national cohesion and prosperity.

A population boom and its consequences
Demography is the most visible driver of change. Haredi families typically marry young and have large households: fertility rates average more than six children per woman, compared with about three across Israeli society. As a result, the community’s population has doubled in just fifteen years and now exceeds 1.3 million people. Demographers project that, by the start of the next decade, they will make up around one sixth of Israel’s citizens, and that their share of the 25‑29 age cohort will rise from 13 per cent in 2025 to 28 per cent by 2060. Around sixty per cent of Haredim are under the age of twenty. This youthful, rapidly expanding population concentrates in high‑density neighbourhoods in Jerusalem and Bnei Brak, placing intense pressure on housing, schools and local services.

Education and the labour market
Most ultra‑Orthodox boys’ schools devote the bulk of the day to religious studies and neglect secular subjects such as mathematics, English and science. The government provides funding to schools that pledge to teach a “core curriculum”, but enforcement is weak and many Haredi schools either ignore or water down these subjects. Policy analysts argue that this educational deficit locks many Haredi men out of higher education and skilled employment.

In the labour market, a gender divide has emerged. Haredi women, who often shoulder the financial burden while their husbands study, have made significant strides; about four fifths participate in the workforce. In contrast, employment among ultra‑Orthodox men has stalled at just over half, compared with around 85 per cent among other Israeli men. Many rely on stipends for yeshiva students and generous child allowances, reinforcing the incentive to remain outside the labour force. An OECD survey issued in April 2025 notes that budgetary support for yeshivas was increased significantly in recent years, deepening men’s disincentives to seek work. The same report stresses that reallocating funding toward schools that teach the full curriculum and conditioning childcare support on both parents’ employment could help narrow labour‑market gaps.

The result of low male employment is acute economic disparity. Ultra‑Orthodox households tend to earn roughly two thirds of the income of non‑Haredi households and depend more heavily on public benefits. With the community’s share of the population rising steadily, these gaps threaten to undermine Israel’s fiscal base and widen social divisions.

The conscription crisis
Israel’s defence doctrine rests on the principle of universal national service. Yet tens of thousands of Haredi men receive de facto exemptions because they are enrolled in religious seminaries. In June 2024, the country’s Supreme Court declared that, in the absence of a specific law distinguishing yeshiva students from other citizens, the defence service statute applies to them like anyone else. The justices decried the previous system as selective enforcement and a violation of equality, especially during wartime.

The ruling has proved difficult to implement. Despite an urgent demand for additional combat troops in 2025, only a tiny fraction of eligible ultra‑Orthodox men have presented themselves at induction centres. Estimates suggest that fewer than five per cent responded to call‑up notices and barely one per cent were actually inducted. Many secular and modern‑orthodox Israelis, who have spent long stints on the front lines since October 2023, are angered by what they see as an unfair distribution of sacrifice. Ultra‑Orthodox leaders argue that Torah study is a form of national service and insist that conscription would erode their religious way of life. They cite fears of exposure to secular influences, mixed‑gender environments and the weakening of rabbinic authority.

Protests and political turmoil
The dispute over military service has triggered some of the largest demonstrations in Israeli history. On 30 October 2025, hundreds of thousands of Haredi men converged on Jerusalem in a “million‑man march” to demand that yeshiva students remain exempt. The protest shut down highways and public transport, drew thousands of police officers and resulted in the death of a teenager who fell from a building. Banners proclaimed, “The people are with the Torah,” and speakers accused the government of betraying Judaism. The rally followed arrests of students who ignored draft notices.

These events have destabilised the governing coalition. Ultra‑Orthodox parties hold roughly 18 of the Knesset’s 120 seats, making them indispensable partners for Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu. In July 2025 the United Torah Judaism party walked out of the government over the failure to pass a draft‑exemption law, and the Shas party resigned from its cabinet posts while continuing to vote with the coalition. Both insisted that they would not return until the status of yeshiva students was secured.

In early November 2025 Netanyahu sought to break the impasse by advancing a conscription bill drawn up by Knesset Foreign Affairs and Defence Committee chair Boaz Bismuth. The proposal aims to enlist fifty per cent of each annual ultra‑Orthodox draft cohort within five years. Critics, including opposition leader Yair Lapid, denounce it as a draft‑evasion bill riddled with loopholes. It lowers the threshold for yeshiva students to qualify for exemptions and softens penalties; draft evaders would be allowed to travel abroad after age 26, and licence suspensions would be scrapped. Supporters argue that codifying a realistic target will stabilise the coalition and bring ultra‑Orthodox parties back into government. As of mid‑November, the bill’s fate remains uncertain, and any perceived capitulation could provoke further protests or even bring down the government.

Gender segregation and the public sphere
Beyond conscription and economics, the ultra‑Orthodox exert growing influence on daily life. Although Israel’s Supreme Court outlawed gender‑segregated public buses in 2011, incidents persist. In 2023 a bus driver ordered teenage girls to cover their bodies and sit at the back, asserting that the route was a religious line; the case ended in a legal settlement in 2025. Advocacy groups recorded dozens of complaints of gender exclusion on public transport that year.

At the legislative level, coalition lawmakers have promoted initiatives that critics say blur the separation between religion and state. In October 2025 ministers proposed a bill requiring every public institution to affix a mezuzah and granting broad protections for religious rituals. Under the measure, interfering with Orthodox practices would become a criminal offence, and gender‑segregated prayer could be permitted if it reflected the worshippers’ tradition. Supporters framed the bill as protecting Jewish heritage; opponents warned that it would turn public spaces into ultra‑Orthodox domains and infringe upon democratic norms. Although some of the most controversial provisions were later removed, the episode underscored fears among secular Israelis that their society is being remoulded according to Haredi standards.

Change from within
The Haredi world is not uniform, and signs of change are visible. A survey published in October 2025 by researchers from the Hebrew University found that while the community retains conservative values, economic necessity has driven increasing acceptance of employment and professional education, particularly for women. Respondents described a “bounded pragmatism”: they adapt behaviour without renouncing ideology. Core religious studies and male higher education remain sensitive boundaries, but many respondents expressed openness to new national Haredi political frameworks. Opposition to mandatory military service was widespread and couched in moral terms.

Another social shift involves those leaving the ultra‑Orthodox fold. A study by the organisation Out for Change in 2025 found that growing numbers of former Haredim remain religiously observant in varying degrees and maintain ties to their families. Contrary to stereotypes, departure from the community does not always entail a complete break with faith; for many it is a move towards a hybrid identity that balances tradition and modernity.

Paths to integration
Addressing the ultra‑Orthodox challenge requires a multi‑layered approach. First, education policy must ensure that schools receiving state funds teach the full core curriculum; enforcement of funding conditions should be robust. Universities and vocational colleges can develop programmes tailored to ultra‑Orthodox students, offering separate campuses or hours to accommodate cultural norms. Financial incentives, such as earned‑income tax credits, should encourage men to seek employment rather than rely on stipends.

Second, conscription policy needs to balance equality with respect for religious sensibilities. Creative solutions could include expanded civil‑service tracks, specialised military units that protect religious observance, or alternative service in healthcare and education. The goal should be to share the defence burden more equitably while acknowledging the community’s fears.

Third, coalition politics should not treat public funds as bargaining chips. Transparent budgets, clear criteria for subsidies and accountability for yeshivas would reassure taxpayers that funds are being used responsibly. Dialogue between government ministers, army officials and rabbinic leaders is essential to design policies that are both just and workable.

Finally, a pluralistic public sphere must be safeguarded. Laws should protect freedom of religion without imposing religious norms on unwilling citizens. Resolving disputes over gender segregation, Sabbath observance and kosher certification will require compromise and a renewed commitment to democratic principles.

Conclusion
Israel’s ultra‑Orthodox community poses a unique challenge because its demographic momentum intersects with issues of economy, defence, politics and culture. The community’s deep commitment to tradition, combined with its growing size and political leverage, tests the country’s ability to remain both Jewish and democratic. Navigating this challenge will demand a delicate balance of enforcement and accommodation: enforcing equal obligations and educational standards while accommodating religious identity and autonomy. If Israel can foster integration without coercion and encourage responsibility without alienation, the Haredi challenge could become an opportunity to strengthen social cohesion and economic vitality.



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Stargate project, Trump and the AI war...

In a dramatic return to the global political stage, former President Donald J. Trump, as the current 47th President of the United States of America, has unveiled his latest initiative, the so-called ‘Stargate Project,’ in a bid to cement the United States’ dominance in artificial intelligence and outpace China’s meteoric rise in the field. The newly announced programme, cloaked in patriotic rhetoric and ambitious targets, is already stirring intense debate over the future of technological competition between the world’s two largest economies.According to preliminary statements from Trump’s team, the Stargate Project will consolidate the efforts of leading American tech conglomerates, defence contractors, and research universities under a centralised framework. The former president, who has long championed American exceptionalism, claims this approach will provide the United States with a decisive advantage, enabling rapid breakthroughs in cutting-edge AI applications ranging from military strategy to commercial innovation.“America must remain the global leader in technology—no ifs, no buts,” Trump declared at a recent press conference. “China has been trying to surpass us in AI, but with this new project, we will make sure the future remains ours.”Details regarding funding and governance remain scarce, but early indications suggest the initiative will rely heavily on public-private partnerships, tax incentives for research and development, and collaboration with high-profile venture capital firms. Skeptics, however, warn that the endeavour could fan the flames of an increasingly militarised AI race, raising ethical concerns about surveillance, automation of warfare, and data privacy. Critics also question whether the initiative can deliver on its lofty promises, especially in the face of existing economic and geopolitical pressures.Yet for its supporters, the Stargate Project serves as a rallying cry for renewed American leadership and an antidote to worries over China’s technological ascendancy. Proponents argue that accelerating AI research is paramount if the United States wishes to preserve not just military supremacy, but also the economic and cultural influence that has typified its global role for decades.Whether this bold project will succeed—or if it will devolve into a symbolic gesture—remains to be seen. What is certain, however, is that the Stargate Project has already reignited debate about how best to safeguard America’s strategic future and maintain the balance of power in the fast-evolving arena of artificial intelligence.

Iran and the holy War risk

For now, Iran does not appear to be launching a formal holy war. But the question is no longer rhetorical. After the bombings that turned a long shadow conflict into an open regional war, religious language has moved from symbolic background noise toward the center of state messaging. The more important issue is not whether Tehran will suddenly summon the Muslim world into a single, borderless struggle. It is whether the Islamic Republic will fuse military retaliation, political succession, proxy activation and sacred rhetoric into a broader campaign that functions like a holy war without ever formally declaring one.The current crisis is already historic. Since the joint U.S.-Israeli attack of February 28, which killed Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei and struck Iranian state and military targets, the conflict has spread across Israel, Lebanon, the Gulf and the energy corridors that underpin the global economy. Public death tolls inside Iran alone have climbed into the four figures. Even though international nuclear inspectors said early in the campaign that they had no indication several key nuclear installations had been hit or that radiation had spread beyond normal levels, later stages of the war clearly broadened toward oil storage, airports, command sites and urban infrastructure. This is no longer a contained deterrence exchange. It is a live contest over regime survival, regional order and strategic endurance.That is precisely why the phrase “holy war” must be handled with care. In January, influential voices inside Iran had already warned that any attack on the Supreme Leader would amount to a declaration of war against the wider Islamic world and could require a jihad decree. That language mattered then, and it matters even more now because the red line was crossed. Tehran can plausibly argue to its own hard-line base that the highest religious and political authority in the Islamic Republic was not merely challenged but assassinated. In ideological terms, that transforms retaliation from a policy choice into a sacred obligation. In political terms, it gives hard-liners a ready-made framework for widening the war.Yet rhetoric is not the same as doctrine, and doctrine is not the same as operational behavior. Iran’s response so far looks less like an uncontrolled call to universal religious uprising than a grim, state-directed campaign of calibrated punishment. Tehran has struck back with missiles, drones, maritime pressure and pressure on regional hosts of U.S. military power. It has also tried to impose costs on the world economy by turning the Gulf and the Strait of Hormuz into instruments of leverage. This is not the behavior of a leadership abandoning strategy for blind zeal. It is the behavior of a regime trying to survive by making the war too costly, too wide and too economically dangerous for its enemies to sustain indefinitely.That distinction matters. A genuine, formal holy war would imply a sweeping call for open-ended religious mobilization across borders, one that subordinates ordinary state interests to an all-consuming theological struggle. Iran has not done that in any clear, universal sense. It has instead behaved as a revolutionary state that uses sacred language to reinforce legitimacy, discipline supporters and justify retaliation. That model predates the current crisis. The Islamic Republic has always blended theology, nationalism, martyrdom culture, anti-Western resistance and hard security logic. The bombings have intensified that blend, but they have not erased the regime’s instinct for calculation.The strongest evidence against an immediate full holy-war scenario is inside Iran itself. The system’s first imperative has not been global mobilization; it has been continuity. Even after decapitation strikes, the state moved to preserve command structures, delegate powers downward and push the Assembly of Experts toward selecting a successor. By March 8, that succession process had reportedly advanced to the point where a decision had been reached, even if the name had not yet been publicly revealed. That is a survival reflex. Regimes preparing for limitless religious war do not usually prioritize constitutional succession, elite cohesion and internal control. Regimes fighting for their lives do.Iran’s regional behavior also shows tension between ideological fury and strategic restraint. President Masoud Pezeshkian’s apology to Gulf neighbors was extraordinary, not because it ended the war, but because it exposed the conflict inside Tehran’s own response. On one side sits the logic of escalation: punish every state that hosts U.S. forces, widen the crisis, raise oil prices, frighten shipping markets and prove that the bombardment of Iran cannot remain geographically contained. On the other side sits the logic of isolation avoidance: do not drive every Arab state irreversibly into the opposing camp, do not convert every neighbor into an active launchpad for anti-Iran operations, and do not make regime survival impossible by fighting the entire region at once.This internal contradiction is one reason the phrase “holy war” can mislead. What is unfolding is more dangerous in practical terms and more limited in formal terms. Iran may never issue a clean, universal call for a civilizational war against all enemies of Islam, yet it can still encourage clerical sanction, mobilize militias, inspire cross-border attacks, bless cyber retaliation, empower covert cells and unleash proxy violence under a sacred frame. That would be a hybrid escalation: not a single global summons, but a diffuse religious legitimization of a long, dirty regional war. For civilians, ports, airports, desalination plants, shipping lanes and energy markets, the difference may feel almost academic.The role of Iran’s allied armed networks reinforces that point. Hezbollah has entered the conflict, but not from a position of unchallenged strength. Its intervention has deepened political strain in Lebanon and highlighted how even Iran’s most loyal partners are balancing solidarity against self-preservation. Other aligned groups face similar pressures. The so-called axis can still hurt Israel, U.S. assets and regional infrastructure, but it is not a frictionless machine awaiting one theological command to move in perfect unity. The more Tehran leans on proxies, the more it reveals that its preferred method remains layered coercion, not a single dramatic declaration of holy war.There is also a sectarian and geopolitical reality that limits the holy-war model. The Muslim world is not a single mobilizable bloc waiting for instructions from Tehran. Iran is a Shiite theocratic state with revolutionary ambitions, but its appeal across Sunni-majority states is uneven at best and sharply contested at worst. Gulf monarchies, already targeted by Iranian missiles and drones, are not natural participants in an Iranian-led sacred struggle. Many of them fear Tehran at least as much as they oppose the bombing campaign against it. That means Iran’s religious messaging may galvanize sympathizers, militants and ideological fellow travelers, but it is unlikely to unify the wider Islamic world behind one war banner.Still, dismissing the danger would be a grave mistake. The holy-war language matters because words can widen the menu of violence. Once a conflict is framed as sacred defense rather than national retaliation alone, thresholds can drop. Assassinations, sabotage, maritime attacks, strikes on civilian-linked infrastructure and violence by semi-deniable actors all become easier to justify. A state under bombardment, mourning its supreme leader and fighting for institutional survival may decide that conventional retaliation is not enough. If Tehran concludes that it cannot win symmetrically, it may authorize a looser, more ideological pattern of warfare stretching from the Gulf to the Mediterranean and beyond.The economic front is equally important. Iran understands that energy fear can be weaponized. Even limited disruption in the Strait of Hormuz sends shockwaves through insurance, shipping, aviation and inflation expectations worldwide. That leverage is politically valuable because it turns a military confrontation into a global pressure campaign. A formal holy war would demand maximal ideological mobilization. A survival war, by contrast, rewards selective disruption, ambiguity and controlled chaos. Tehran’s actions so far fit the second model more closely than the first.This is why the most serious answer to the headline question is not a simple yes or no. Iran is unlikely to launch a classic holy war in the simplistic sense of a formal, total religious call to arms that instantly unites the Muslim world under its banner. But it is already moving toward something more contemporary and, in some ways, more destabilizing: a war of survival wrapped in sacred legitimacy, regional coercion and asymmetric retaliation. The bombings have not merely invited revenge. They have strengthened the argument of those in Tehran who believe compromise invites death and that only resistance sanctified by faith can preserve the system.So the real risk is not that Iran suddenly abandons strategy for theology. The real risk is that strategy and theology fuse more tightly than before. If that fusion hardens, the war will not remain a sequence of missile exchanges and air raids. It will become a broader contest over succession, legitimacy, energy, maritime freedom, proxy warfare and the right to define resistance as a religious duty. In that environment, the phrase “holy war” may remain officially ambiguous, but its practical effects could become visible across the entire region.