The Israeli Air Force (IAF) carried out an airstrike on Wednesday against a Syrian convoy believed to be transporting antiaircraft weapons to Hezbollah, an Islamic militant organization based in Lebanon. While the specific ramifications of this attack are complicated and still unclear, the overall implication is ominous. Israelis have been issued gas masks and the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) have deployed the Iron Dome air defense system near Haifa, according to an article in The New York Times.
When I first heard about the attack, I could feel a pit in the bottom of my stomach. As evidenced by several editorials for the Wheel over the past two years, I’m a staunch supporter of the state of Israel. After traveling to Israel again this winter on a Taglit-Birthright trip, the phrase “staunch supporter” feels like an understatement, especially when speaking (or writing) about the IDF.
Part of the Birthright experience is a cultural exchange of sorts, called mifgashim in Hebrew, that brings IDF soldiers and American students together for five days. All things considered, the time spent with “our” Israeli soldiers was the most influential and important experience of my trip.
For those who are unaware, all Israeli citizens over the age of 18 are subject to mandatory military service – with only a few exceptions for Arabs and ultra-orthodox Jews. Men serve three years in the IDF and women serve two, with variations in service length for officers and those who choose to make the military their career. Consequently, the eight soldiers who joined our trip were very close in age to us. Although they came from a range of units – from the Oketz canine special forces unit to the IAF’s presentation unit – and were of varying rank, none was older than 21 or 22.
For some reason, this came as a shock to me. In the United States, it is rare that I encounter uniformed soldiers on the street. And, when I do, they’re often several years older than I am. Their age, paired with their uniform, often creates a distance between us that I have found challenging to overcome. However, it is not uncommon to see groups of Israeli soldiers in uniform on the streets of any major city – or town, for that matter. After all, almost every Israeli is, has been or will be a soldier at some point in their life.
However, the IDF’s characteristic youth lends it a certain poignancy that I found moving. The majority of soldiers could be working a job or studying at a university, as I am.
Many have plans to do just that after their military service. Instead, they put their lives on hold to serve their country. Despite their youth, these soldiers exhibit a bravery and dedication to their country that I only wish I could emulate.
But don’t be fooled by the term “mandatory” military service. Those who wish to avoid their military service often find some excuse. Most Israelis serve not out of government mandate, but out of social obligation. One of our soldiers told me that many people look down on Israelis who didn’t complete their military service.
Additionally, many Israelis serve because they feel an obligation to their friends and family. “We serve because we want to stand by our friends,” a soldier named Sarel told me. “We do it for each other.”
The less-than-obvious benefit of mandatory military service is a national pride that rivals that of any home-bred, corn-fed American.
In Israel, there is no need for “Support Our Troops” magnets or other pointless displays of patriotism. Instead, there’s the knowledge that each and every Israeli has done his duty for his country.
Editorials Editor Nicholas Bradley is a College sophomore from Skillman, N.J.
The Emory Wheel was founded in 1919 and is currently the only independent, student-run newspaper of Emory University. The Wheel publishes weekly on Wednesdays during the academic year, except during University holidays and scheduled publication intermissions.
The Wheel is financially and editorially independent from the University. All of its content is generated by the Wheel’s more than 100 student staff members and contributing writers, and its printing costs are covered by profits from self-generated advertising sales.
