One nation under militarism: A reflection on a society at war with itself

Israeli society has long been shaped by militarism, so deeply entrenched that it often becomes almost invisible to those who live within it. From compulsory conscription into the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) to the omnipresence of military symbols in everyday life, education, holidays, politics, and media, militarism is everywhere. 

As someone who moved to the States at a young age and often feels like an outsider whenever I return to the country where I was born, this reality is impossible for me to ignore. I mean, where else do citizens of a democratic country choose to tune into a military-run radio station for their music and news? As of 2024, Galgalatz, a station operated by the IDF, boasts 1.3 million listeners, according to Wikipedia. These news updates are provided on an hourly basis, by the way. Every hour, on the hour; keeping you informed about the latest developments in war and politics—just in case you were planning to forget. 

This is just one example of how deeply military elements are woven into daily life here, where a state of conflict is not the exception but the norm.

What strikes me most is how deeply this culture of militarism has permeated Israeli identity, infusing it with the colors of blue and white, nationalism, and survivalism. It shapes the national narrative, determining what is remembered, what is forgotten, what is honored, and what is mourned. The militarization of public spaces, the commemoration of military achievements, and the celebration of soldiers as heroes all reinforce the notion that to be Israeli is to be a soldier—or at the very least, an unwavering, unconditional supporter of the military.

But the events of October 7, 2023, brought to light some of the catastrophic failures and inherent contradictions within this militaristic ethos. On that day, the unimaginable happened: Israel was invaded by Hamas, resulting in the brutal murder of over a thousand people and the abduction of more than 250 Israelis and foreigners into Gaza. The violence left many injured, towns devastated, and an entire nation deeply traumatized—a physical, emotional, and psychological blow to its heart and soul.

The very essence of what Israelis have been conditioned to believe in—the invincible might of the IDF—crumbled as the military was conspicuously absent when it was needed most. This was not just a tactical failure; it was a profound betrayal of the societal contract that had been hammered into every Israeli from birth: that their sacrifices, their service, and sometimes their very lives were a necessary offering to the altar of “national security.”

A typical view on my morning train commutes.

The bitter irony of the IDF’s absence during those critical hours cannot be overstated. Israeli citizens, most of whom have contributed to national security through military service, taxes, or other forms of civic duty, found themselves defenseless in their hour of greatest need. That fateful day revealed a harsh reality: the normalization of militarism has not made Israel safer; it has made it complacent. 

The events of October 7th laid bare the fallacy of security through militarism, whether we choose to acknowledge it or not. They exposed the vulnerability of a nation that had placed too much faith in the power of arms and too little in the pursuit of peace or diplomacy. This should have been our wake-up call, a moment of national reckoning with the unsustainable path we’ve been on for too long.  

Yet, the response has been anything but. The aftermath has not led to a collective questioning of the militaristic mindset; instead, it has seen a retreat into familiar narratives of heroism and sacrifice. Reserve duty has surged, with men and women of all ages being drafted or volunteering, and there is growing pressure on the ultra-Orthodox community to “share the burden” of pain and loss.

This refusal to critically examine the very foundations of our society is perhaps the most damning indictment of all.

Street graffiti seen in southern Tel Aviv.

The Israeli government’s insistence on maintaining this status quo, without actively pursuing a lasting solution to the Israel-Palestine conflict, defines the nation’s policies. The compulsion to serve in the IDF, while framed as a unifying rite of passage, constantly reinforces the unresolved tensions that simmer beneath the surface. It is a system that perpetuates the cycle of violence and retribution, trapping successive generations in a conflict with seemingly no end in sight.

For me, the tragedy of October 7 is not merely a story of military or government failure; it is a reflection of a deeper societal failure—a failure to envision an Israel that can exist beyond the confines of militarism and war. Until this failure is addressed, it seems inevitable that the cycle will persist—a nation doomed not only by its external realities but by its own self-identity and choices.