Published: 12 October 2020
Last updated: 4 March 2024
ON SATURDAY NIGHT, after the Simchat Torah festival had ended, I drove through the ultra-Orthodox neighbourhood of Mea Shearim in Western Jerusalem, just over three kilometres from my home. It felt as if I had driven to a different country.
Simchat Torah (which, according to Jewish law, ended in Israel on Saturday night) is the holiday that marks the end of the annual cycle of Torah readings. Throughout Israel, the end of the holiday is usually celebrated with dancing in public squares with the Torah scrolls. Even in non-religious areas, religious groups organise local communities into what has become a folk-like annual celebration.
But not this year. As Covid-19 morbidity and mortality increased throughout August and September, the Israeli government put the country into a tight lockdown. Gatherings of any kind, inside or outside, are forbidden, and in most places in Israel, the streets are largely empty. People on the streets are mostly wearing masks and observing social distancing.
The largescale demonstrations outside the Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu's residences in Jerusalem and Caesarea aren't taking place anymore. Israelis are restricted to being within one kilometre from their homes, so protestors against the Prime Minister and his government are now convening in small groups along major streets in the neighbourhoods. Police often check their identity cards, to ensure that they have not exceeded the distance-limit.
In the part of the city where I live, aside from the demonstrators lining the main thoroughfares, and police patrols monitoring them, the streets were eerily quiet for a Saturday night. The local square, where Simchat Torah celebrations usually take place, was dark and empty.
I parked my car on a side street in Mea Shearim. There were large celebrations on the streets, and seemingly no one was observing social distancing or even wearing masks.
A police blockade had been set up close to the entrance to Mea Shearim. A policewoman examined my press card, only grudgingly acknowledging that, as a media professional, I am permitted to travel beyond the kilometre for work purposes. Reluctantly, she waved me through.
I parked my car on a side street in Mea Shearim. There were large celebrations on the streets, and seemingly no one was observing social distancing or even wearing masks. I could hear blaring music from inside synagogues and function halls, but self-appointed guards at the doors made it very clear that I, even though I had dressed modestly, was distinctly unwelcome. Recently, Haredim have attacked reporters covering their events; feeling uncomfortable and unsafe, I left.
I did not see any police presence anywhere in the area.
SINCE ISAREL'S FIRST PRIME MINISTER, David Ben-Gurion, struck a deal with their leaders in exchange for their agreement to the establishment of the State of Israel, the Haredim have largely lived within, yet apart, from Israeli society.
Speaking on Israeli radio, Rabbi Betzalel Cohen, principal of a Haredi high school and a frequent commentator on the Haredi community, "Ben Gurion gave the ultra-Orthodox a form of autonomy; because they are theologically opposed to the existence of the State of Israel, over the years, they found a way to live within the modern state while never accepting the authority of the state."
Cohen, who is critical of this autonomy, continues. "To much of the Haredi community, the laws of the state are a recommendation at best, and the laws of their rabbis take precedence. The rabbis decide if they will accept and obey the state's laws, or not."
Over the years, Israeli society and the Haredim had reached a certain modus vivendi. The non-Haredi communities have becoming increasingly resentful because the Haredim are exempted from compulsory military service and because they extensive government stipends and subsidies.
Israelis are also critical of the Haredi education system, which deliberately refuses to teach their children core subjects such as math and the sciences, thus guaranteeing that the coming generations will be unprepared for the modern world of employment and will remain on the public dole.
Yet the modus vivendi has largely held, even if it occasionally spilled into sporadic violence, often egged on by politicians.
[gallery columns="1" size="full" ids="38720"]
Until the coronavirus struck. When, during the first lock-down in the spring of 2020, the government called for the closure of schools and public places, including synagogues and Haredi study halls, the community balked.
Yitzhak Weiss, an unofficial representative of the Eda Haredit, an umbrella organisation of strict ultra-Orthodox communities, told The Jerusalem Post that, “It is more dangerous to close the Talmudei Torah [ultra-Orthodox schools], because our tradition says the Torah protects and saves us from calamities, and to close the schools of Torah learning children would do more harm."
Rabbi Chaim Kanievsky, the most important rabbi in the Lithuanian faction of the ultra-Orthodox world, ordered his followers to continue studying in their yeshivot as usual, since, he said, “the very existence of the world depends on them.”
The situation grew even worse over the high holiday season, which, among religious and secular alike, is usually celebrated with large celebrations with family and friends and hikes throughout the country. But in response to spiralling Covid-19 morbidity and mortality rates, the government imposed the harsh restrictions on freedom of movement, businesses, and cultural and leisure-time events.
Largely observing the lockdown, most Israelis refrained from sharing the holidays with their relatives. Many of the elderly were left alone over the holidays, since their children do not live within a kilometre of their homes. Most non-Haredi schools have remained closed and may not open for another several weeks.
The community has refused to accept the government-mandated restrictions. In the ultra-Orthodox city of Bnei Brak, outside of Tel Aviv, and in numerous other communities, prominent Haredi rabbis and leaders declared that prayers and dances could be held inside the synagogues over the holidays. Some heads of Haredi yeshivas have even been deliberately encouraging mass infection among their students during the High Holy Days period, in order to lead to what they believe will be "herd immunity."
Rabbi Chaim Kanievsky, the most important rabbi in the Lithuanian faction of the ultra-Orthodox world, ordered his followers to continue studying in their yeshivot as usual, since, he said, “the very existence of the world depends on them.”
By September, Israel held the highest rate in the world of new coronavirus infections per capita. But as Israel entered is second lockdown, which is even more severe than the first, Israelis began to question and become resentful over what had become increasingly clear: the average level of corona infection is, indeed, high, but the difference between communities is tremendous.
Last week coronavirus czar Professor Ronnie Gamzu revealed that 40% of all new COVID-19 cases in Israel originated in the Haredi community. The national rate of positive results from all coronavirus tests has been declining for more than a week, from 15 percent at its peak to 9 percent on Wednesday. But when the Haredim are removed from the calculation, the figure goes down to a more tolerable 7 percent.
Furthermore, half of the new coronavirus infections among preschool through 12th-grade students since Israel entered its second nationwide lockdown three weeks ago are in ultra-Orthodox schools, according to Education Ministry data published in early October, although the Haredi school systems accounts for only 19 percent of the entire school population.
Yet the behaviour of the Haredi community has remained unchallenged by most authorities. And while police officers have been involved in several incidents of violence against Haredim, in most cases, the police have refrained, as they did in Mea Shearim on Saturday night, from enforcing the regulations. In fact, as revealed by liberal daily, Haaretz, the Jerusalem police allowed several radical ultra-Orthodox communities in the city to hold mass events on condition that there would be no public documentation, according to two Haredi sources who spoke to Haaretz.
Increasingly, non-Haredi communities are asking why Israel has imposed a total, rather than a differentiated, lock down, according to neighbourhoods. Haredi politicians, unwilling to challenge the authority of the rabbis or to stigmatize their communities as "sick" or subjecting them to restrictions that are not applied to others, have rejected this out of hand.
And they have been able to do this because, throughout Israel's history, the Haredim have had enough clout to threaten the political viability of any government; this is particularly true now, when Netanyahu's is completely dependent on their political support.
Yet, observes Attorney Rivka Schwartz, a frequent commentator on Haredi affairs, the Haredi community experiences a sense of victimhood, due to the deep centrality of communal prayer for each and every Haredi. "It may be absurd," she said, speaking on Israeli radio, "but the narrative that the community is telling itself is one of oppression, because the State is intervening in their lives, not allowing them to pray as they see fit, or to allow their rabbis to make the final decisions."
Indeed, she adds, some Haredi leaders have even equated the regulations with what is known as shmad, a particularly emotionally-laden term that originated in the 14th to 16th centuries, when Jews were persecuted, and, rather submit to forced conversion, were required by Jewish law to give up their lives.
It is reasonable to assume that as morbidity and mortality rates in non-Haredi communities continue to drop, there will be increasing public pressure to implement differential regulations and lockdowns.
And that will, ultimately, force a new modus vivendi, and a new social contract between Haredi society and the rest of Israel.
READ MORE
Secret ultra-Orthodox program treating thousands of COVID patients at home (Times of Israel)
Organiser tells TV report private initiative is saving lives, alleviating pressure on hospitals; 170 unregistered serious patients mean tally is at 1,000
When it comes to Covid, Israel is now divided into two countries (Haaretz)
AMOS HAREL: On the coronavirus map, Israel is currently divided into two countries: the ultra-Orthodox population, and all the rest. The national rate of positive results from all coronavirus tests has been declining for more than a week, from 15 percent at its peak to 9 percent on Wednesday. When the Haredim are removed from the calculation, the figure goes down to 7 percent.
Netanyahu turned ultra-Orthodox Jews into enemies of the people (Haaretz)
RAVIT HECHT: Netanyahu’s iron-cast alliance with the Haredim is now turning against him. His refusal to enable local lockdowns as part of the “traffic light” plan, his desire to benefit the “red” fundamentalist cities - is turning it into the most hated group in Israel, the one to blame for spreading the coronavirus and endangering the health system with collapse.
Weary of Netanyahu, Benny Gantz delivers last ultimatum (Al-Monitor)
BEN CASPIT: Having lost all trust in Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, Defence Minister Benny Gantz has now delivered an ultimatum on the 2021 state budget
Ugly scenes on Elsternwick streets as religious gathering breaks COVID-19 rules (3AW)
A man confronted a group of people leaving a religious gathering at Adass Israel School in Melbourne; the group claimed it had a government exemption to gather
Photo: Jerusalem Post
