Pressure on those devoted to Torah study is no longer applied indirectly

Photo: Shutterstock/MichaelHatzalam

ITis no secret that the chareidi community in Eretz Yisrael is facing one of the most severe challenges it has known since the founding of the state. Incitement and polarization have become routine, economic measures are increasingly wielded as political weapons, and pressure on those devoted to Torah study is no longer applied indirectly: It is systematic.

In the Knesset, we work toward one clear objective, guided by the gedolei Yisrael in this struggle for the soul of the state: securing the status of Torah scholars, who have served as the spiritual shield of the Jewish People in every generation.

Yet we must confront reality honestly. The chareidi public is operating under a dangerous misconception. Many still believe this is merely another political round, sharper than usual, but ultimately solvable through tactical compromise.

That belief is an illusion. The ground has shifted.

This is no longer a technical debate over enlistment targets or budgetary clauses. It is a struggle over legitimacy itself: the legitimacy of a Torah-observant community to exist in Eretz Yisrael on its own terms. The rhetoric of “sharing the burden” is not an end in itself, but a means to a far broader goal: the erosion of the foundations of chareidi life. Those who believe that another political deal can calm the storm are misreading the map. What we are witnessing is not spontaneous hostility, but a calculated and well-orchestrated campaign.

The method is neither new nor complex: the use of fear. Over the years, different groups have served as convenient targets. Today, the chareidim have become the most accessible one. In the aftermath of a year marked by heavy sacrifice on the front lines, attacking the Religious-Zionist and broader right-wing public has become politically costly.

This shift was evident when far-left leader Yair Golan once again called for cutting budgets to the settlements, and it was Yesh Atid’s Yair Lapid who rushed to rebuke him. Not out of newfound sympathy for settlements, but because even his camp understands that confronting the right-wing and Religious-Zionist public at this moment is a strategic mistake. The focus has therefore shifted to the group most easily portrayed as an economic and civic “burden” — the chareidi community.

Contrary to common perception, this battle is not only playing out in the Knesset. A critical part of the struggle is being waged in a quieter, far less visible venue: the arena of data.

What has emerged is a coordinated mechanism that operates as a strategic pipeline: manipulated data is produced, amplified, legitimized, and ultimately translated into policy. Each stage reinforces the next, creating a closed loop that tightens pressure around the chareidi home under the cover of professionalism and objectivity.

The first stage is the data factory.

Research institutes funded by foreign foundations produce alarming figures that are quickly treated as fact. The most prominent example is the claim that chareidi men “cost” the Israeli economy NIS 54 billion — a figure dismantled by Dr. Eitan Regev, a senior economist at the Institute for Strategy and Haredi Policy and a lecturer at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, yet endlessly repeated because it serves a narrative.

The second stage is the media echo chamber.

Once released, these numbers are amplified uncritically through economic reporting and commentary. Repetition replaces verification, and the claim is transformed into accepted “common knowledge.”

The third stage is the legal lever.

Armed with these manufactured figures, advocacy groups turn to the courts, presenting distorted data as objective proof of an economic burden. Judicial and regulatory decisions are then shaped by assumptions that had never come close to being properly examined.

Over time, the judicial system has taken on a central role in this campaign. On one side stands a powerful data-and-media machine that shapes the public story. On the other stands a legal system that turns that story into binding reality. The relationship between the two is circular: The courts draw authority from a climate of delegitimization and then reinforce it through their rulings. In this way, what begins as narrative ends as law, steadily weakening the educational, economic, and social foundations of chareidi life.

The fourth and final stage is the economic axe.

Here, the narrative becomes policy. Budgets are frozen, benefits are conditioned, and sanctions are imposed, turning statistical fiction into real economic pressure on chareidi families.

The consequences are tangible and escalating. The process begins with the cancellation of day-care subsidies, directly undermining the ability of chareidi women to work while sustaining their families. It continues with cuts to yeshivah budgets and the removal of basic benefits such as public transportation discounts and municipal tax relief.

But this is only the opening stage. A NIS 1.1 billion freeze targeting the entire chareidi education system, alongside a pending petition that could dismantle the system altogether and leave almost 100,000 chareidi children without any educational framework, signals a far broader intent. What is taking shape is an expanding sanctions regime that conditions housing assistance, tax credits, and social benefits on “earning capacity” and enlistment, turning daily life itself into a pressure mechanism.

Let us be clear: This is not a sincere attempt to resolve the issue of enlistment. It is a deliberate strategy aimed at undermining the educational institutions and economic foundations of chareidi society. The goal is not equality, but coercion: to make the chareidi way of life in Eretz Yisrael impossible.

Beyond its direct targets, this campaign has a corrosive impact on Israeli society as a whole. It gradually normalizes dismissive, and at times openly hostile, attitudes toward the chareidi community, even among traditional and religious publics that are not opposed to Torah life and have historically identified with us. As this narrative spreads, it erodes not only factual understanding but also basic respect for the world of Torah.

This reality makes engagement with these audiences especially urgent. They are not adversaries, but natural partners, increasingly exposed to a distorted picture that turns pressure into policy and coercion into “common sense.”

Faced with this reality, we must acknowledge that the rules of the game have changed. One side is running a tightly orchestrated campaign powered by massively funded research institutes, amplified by a mobilized media ecosystem, and reinforced by both the judicial and political systems. The other side cannot afford to respond with moral outrage alone. Koheles reminds us that every struggle has its time and its tools: Arguments about the importance of Torah learners are no match for engineered data, and a battle fought through systems and statistics must be answered in kind.

The center of this struggle, the fuel that drives the entire mechanism, is the industry of fabricated data. Challenging manipulated numbers with rigorous facts and uncompromising data-driven analysis will not deliver an immediate victory. But it is an essential strategic step.

Exposing the machinery behind these narratives is the only way to disrupt the cycle, halt destructive policies, and restore the legitimacy that has been deliberately stripped from the chareidi public.

Rabbi Yitzchak Pindrus is a member of Knesset for United Torah Judaism and has previously served as mayor of Beitar Illit and as a member of the Jerusalem city council, among other public roles.
(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1099)