A Necessary Probe into the "Most Moral Army"

Subsequent discussions in Israeli media about the findings and the necessary path forward covered a wide spectrum of opinions. Some commentators argued that the IDF must stop behaving like “God’s revenge forces” and instead return to being “Israel’s defence forces,” while others highlighted the severe erosion of moral standards within the army.

The question of IDF conduct has always been a deeply fraught topic, both within Israel and among diaspora Jewry. In Israel, the IDF is the “people’s army.” Due to mandatory conscription, most Israelis — both men and women — serve in some capacity after high school. Because of this, everyone has played a role in the army, meaning that criticism of the IDF feels intensely personal: it is a critique of your actions, your family members’ actions, your parents’ actions, your children’s actions.

In the diaspora, though relatively few Jews choose to join the IDF as lone soldiers, there remains a strong connection to the IDF as the front-line protectors of Jews in our ancestral homeland. The glorification of the military is not unique to the IDF, but it occupies a distinct place within Jewish diaspora education. From the iconic 1967 Life Magazine cover after the Six-Day War to the ubiquitous IDF t-shirts and hoodies sold in tourist shops and at Ben Gurion Airport — and enthusiastically worn by Birthright participants — the image of the IDF embodies, for many, the height of nobility and bravery.

For those of us living in Canada, the role and experience of the military feels far more removed from daily life. While some may have served or know someone who served in the Canadian Armed Forces, that service typically happens far from home. Moreover, the concept of defending Canada is often tied more to upholding values like democracy, liberalism, and freedom, rather than defending borders against imminent threats. (Though Trump might still have ideas about changing that!)

As a result, many — especially those with more peace-oriented leanings — feel uneasy about glorifying anything related to the military. After all, war is inherently dehumanizing, and the notion of a "moral war" or a "moral army" feels like an oxymoron. Once we begin codifying rules about acceptable collateral damage, or addressing the inevitable physical and psychological harm endured by soldiers, the concept of morality begins to shift away from its usual meaning of upholding and respecting life.

And yet, we live in the real world — one where wars, enemies, and terrorism exist. Armies and defence forces are not ideal solutions, but they are necessary ones. As the late Israeli novelist Amos Oz z”l often said, “I am a peacenik, not a pacifist.”

On that horrific day — October 7, 2023 — there was no question that a strong and capable army was essential to rescue thousands of innocent civilians who were brutalized, terrorized, kidnapped, and murdered by Hamas. And yet, as the recent inquiries confirmed (and as many already suspected), the strong and capable army failed.

This failure is deeply painful for those of us who have long held a proud image of the IDF. But this erosion did not begin on October 7 — it has been building for years. It was ignored, minimized, or outright defended, largely because its effects were primarily borne by Palestinians living under military rule in the occupied West Bank.

The documented collaboration between violent extremist settlers and the IDF is well known. Since the war in Gaza began, the IDF’s actions toward innocent Palestinians have been thrust into the spotlight. But even before this war, some soldiers had already begun speaking out about troubling past conduct in Gaza.

The promise of a Jewish state was not just the dream of sovereignty over land, but the creation of a system of governance that would protect us. In a utopian world, Jews — like all people — would have no enemies. But in this real world, a nation state cannot offer us a life free from enemies. What it can and must do is ensure that we are not left defenseless against them.

As Zionists, and as Jews who care deeply about Israel existing as a Jewish state, we must ask ourselves: is the Jewish state living up to its promise to us, and to its citizens? When moral rot eats away at the core purpose of the army, safety becomes increasingly fragile — and so does the people’s faith in the state to protect them.

For too long, this rot was pushed aside, minimized, or justified — largely because its immediate effects were felt not by Jewish Israelis, but by Palestinians. But the occupation always comes home to roost. A status quo cannot last forever — and October 7 proved it did not. The lives of Israeli Jews and Palestinians are inextricably linked on this land, and always will be.

The most pro-Israel action we can take — the best way to ensure the safety and security that statehood was meant to guarantee — is to recognize this erosion and demand better.

A people’s army cannot demand only service and blind loyalty. It must also listen to the needs, fears, and aspirations of the people it serves. After all, in a people’s army, the army and the people are one and the same. We cannot stay committed to the Zionist project — to building and improving our Jewish homeland — without staying committed to the very people it exists to protect.