Noam was just 18 years old at the time of his preliminary personal interview at an army recruitment centre in Israel, which he recalls as a ‘bizarre experience’.
“Wow! All your scores are perfect, and you’re sure you don’t want to participate?” With her genuine smile a permanent fixture throughout their exchange, Noam can’t help but describe his interviewer as ‘one of the sweetest women’ he’s ever talked to.
“It’s such a shame,” she beams, “you would make such a good soldier.”
Noam was just 18 years-old at the time of his preliminary personal interview at an army recruitment centre in Israel, which he recalls as a ‘bizarre experience’.
Such questioning takes place once an Israeli citizen refuses to participate in the Israel Defence Forces (IDF) and before one is expected to stand before a ‘moral compass council’ to argue the reasonings behind their refusals.
While Arab Israelis are exempt from mandatory conscription, military service is a legal requirement for three communities within the state of Israel.
Whereas conscription laws apply to both men and women within the Jewish community, only men from the Druze and Circassian communities are legally required to enlist. However, cases for exemptions are often made for religious and health reasons, in addition to exemptions on grounds of consciousness.
Such refusals are based solely on a pacifist ideology, and while objections for political reasons are forbidden, the two have become intertwined.
This is particularly the case given the scrutiny faced by the IDF due to its belligerent attacks on Palestinian lives within the Gaza Strip since the events of October 7th – where it is estimated that “at least 46,707 people in Gaza have been killed”.
Conscientious objectors, or ‘refuseniks’ as they are often referred to, are a small minority within the state of Israel, with IDF statistics claiming that the majority of men and women are conscripted at the requirement age of 18.
Although a lack of transparency should be noted while considering these numbers from the IDF, it is clear that military service has embedded itself within the social fabric of Israeli society – a reality that has been further highlighted by left-wing activist groups from within Israel such as Voices Against War and Mesarvot.
Despite remaining a strong social norm, ethical and ideological objections are on a slow increase. Artefact spoke to Noam, a young Israeli on his decision to resist the government he grew up under.
For Noam, a decision to refuse conscription was not one he took mindlessly for he knew the social and legal consequences that might follow, nor was it just a mere act of teenage rebellion.
Instead, Noam’s position on the IDF, and militarianism as a whole, came from a place of personal integrity as well as his own education from those most impacted by the Israeli government – his Palestinian friends.
“At 15 I went to a boarding school that was 40% Israelis and Palestinians and 60% internationals and I remember speaking to one of my friends and them explaining to me that Palestinians don’t want to be Israeli citizens, but want their own autonomy,” he told us.
“It made immediate sense to me on a visceral level, [it’s] not like someone explained the politics but I had my friends, and they shared their experience with me of the oppression and lack of identity and that’s all I needed to know.”
Noam is alluding to Israel’s apartheid against Palestinians which includes the forced displacement of Palestinians to make room for Jewish settlers. Such colonisation and violence have been emblematic of the Israeli regime ever since the Nakba — ‘the catastrophe’ — which saw the initiation of ethnic cleansing in Palestine in 1948.
Al Jazeera describes the atrocity as “the forced expulsion of hundreds of thousands of Palestinians from their homeland to establish a Jewish-majority state, as per the aspirations of the Zionist movement.”
However, the Nakba did not end in 1948 — its impact is still felt by Palestinians in and outside of the occupied territories to this day, with the tools of dehumanisation, dispossession, displacement, and segregation a continued reality for Palestinians secluded in the Gaza Strip, the West Bank, and other areas of Palestinian population within the state.
Israel’s construction of the so-called separation wall was found to violate international law by the International Court of Justice (ICJ) in July 2004, over a decade after the seeds of such segregation were sewn by the then Israel PM Yitzhak Rabin.
In the official statement by the ICJ, it said that “Construction of the wall and its associated régime are contrary to international law.”
However, as seen with the recent ruling by the Court, which declared the occupation of Palestinian land as unlawful, such findings are met with a lack of justice for Palestinians and a lack of political consequence for Israel.
The wall, of which 85% was built inside Palestinian territory, is viewed as a tool for apartheid. The Israeli Information Centre for Human Rights in the Occupied Territories writes that “Israel broke up contiguous Palestinian urban and rural blocs and severed inter-community ties that had been forged and cemented over the course of many generations”, which resulted in the severing of 150 Palestinian communities in the West Bank.
Noam’s experience seeing the West Bank ‘barrier’ for the first time also solidified his current worldview: “I went to visit my roommate Tutti in his home and saw the separation wall and it was just, very clear. I think in this way I never fell into an easy trap of trying to find the bad guys.”
“I wasn’t comfortable anymore just getting out on made-up mental problems as most who don’t want to serve do, or skating by with a non-combative role. I had to make a point, if not to change anything then simply because I couldn’t live with myself otherwise.”
Noam is quick to point out his privilege here: “Most people aren’t lucky enough to have the complete emotional support system I had for refusing. I had family that supported me, friends who even if they disagreed never thought about leaving me. Other people can’t say that!”
Additionally, what’s interesting is the IDF’s roster of non-combative roles as Noam suggests: “For the uninitiated, the force has the IDF band, radio, and theatre departments, all of which are real and sizeable departments.”
“When you have a mandatory military, you quickly run out of real military roles and must maintain a sense of cohesion in another way,” he quickly adds. However, it should be noted that militaries all over the world have historically incorporated recreational and entertainment roles.
Noam, who was born and raised in Israel but currently studies abroad, talks about growing up amid Israeli propaganda and the “isolationist” culture the state propagates and operates within.
“It’s so ubiquitous you barely even notice the propaganda. It’s the advertising, it’s the afternoon activities, it’s the fact that at 11th grade we go for a week of army prep, use guns, target practice, take turns looking out at night.”
Noam highlights that while these ‘activities’ are not held on school grounds and are run by the military themselves, just how alarming it is for 15- and 16-year-olds to be given guns during a school activity.
“The IDF’s propaganda power is in its unquestionability. It already acts as if everyone agrees that the IDF is necessary and we’re all going to do it. Not doing the army in Israel in most people’s eyes is equivalent to dropping out of high school. It’s, as I said, ubiquitous.”
“I’ve had some arguments with friends or family members that, while even being anti-occupation and anti-genocide, could not comprehend the idea of me not enlisting. You will meet people with Palestinian flags, marching in the street, who can not conceive of an Israel without an IDF.”
Noam confirms here that a lot of the Israeli left wish to reform and rehabilitate the IDF, yet are still critical of Israel and its use of its military force.
“This is the most basic cognitive dissonance at the epicentre of the Israeli psyche, and it does all the IDF’s propaganda work for it. We’re all fucking brainwashed it’s insane.”
Despite such a sweeping statement, Noam is just one example of how the Israeli left is fighting back against forms of oppression within the state.
The Radical Bloc is a group of left-wing activists in Yaffa-Tel Aviv who consistently protest the actions of the Israeli government. On January 5th they gathered at the main entrance of the Israel Occupying Force (IOF) headquarters, welcoming its workers with a parade of protest chants and potent imagery of the genocide in Gaza. The organisation insists that refusal is a moral duty.
A video on their Instagram page highlights the general response to such resistance: laughter, flipping off, the tearing down of banners, and an escalation of physical violence.
“You will meet people with Palestinian flags, marching in the street, who can not conceive of an Israel without an IDF.”
NOAM
When discussing these movements, Noam tells us of their significance no matter how small they may appear to be currently.
“These movements are important because they accurately represent the people in Israel who want peace, deoccupation, and Palestinian liberation. They are important because they are the spaces where Israelis and Palestinians get to talk to each other and come together. The people this conflict is actually about.
“Small groups like this are how bigger movements come into existence. People are becoming aware, and I like to think – with a substantial bias of course, that these small, mixed Israeli-Palestinian movements are the future of peace.”
A similar sentiment to this is mirrored by 18-year-old Yona, an Israeli currently living in Haifa. Although presently taking part in his Shnat Sheirut — “a volunteer program in which you delay your conscription for a year while working in education” — Yana is planning on refusing the IDF when he is due to enlist in 2026.
“I decided on refusing back in 2023, during the protest movement against the government’s judicial overhaul. When the protest movement started I joined the anti-occupation bloc, a coalition of groups opposed to the overhaul who connected the attacks on democracy within the green line to the occupation and apartheid regime. There I met refuseniks who demystified the idea of refusal to me and it’s through interacting and doing activism with them that I decided to refuse myself.”
Yona is an aspiring journalist, having written a blog for the Israeli newspaper Haaretz, in which he “writes about international developments from a progressive perspective”.
Left-leaning and liberal in some of its stances, Haaretz is the third most-read newspaper in Israel as of 2022. It also came under a boycott from government officials back in November 2024 for its support of a ceasefire in Gaza and its investigations into crimes and abuses by the armed forces and its senior officers.
Yona explains why they are refusing: “It’s my way of publicizing my opposition to the Israeli regime and its crimes. I want to stand in solidarity with Palestinians suffering under the ongoing Nakba, apartheid and genocide and am unwilling to participate in their oppression.
“My parents are not very supportive of it and we fight about it often when I’m home, my extended family does not yet know about my decision but I expect it to be similar, I had classmates who cut ties with me over it.”
Social stigma aside, the process behind refusing conscription is also not made easy, an intentional play from the Israeli government in order to deter those who wish to do so. Noam tells me a little about the refusal process.
“Most people will proclaim their plan to refuse, go to trial, refuse to serve, be told they must serve anyway, at which point they’ll show up on conscription day, refuse again, and be put into military prison for 30 days. This process repeats anywhere between 1-12 times before either the army lets you go, or you give up and enlist.”
Interestingly however, this looked very different in Noam’s case when he got up in front of several high-ranking military officials and proclaimed himself an anarchist. “I was told two months later, that the said army officials agree that I’m an anarchist, and I have been officially recognized as one by the state, and let go of my conscription needs.”
This was shocking to Noam, to say the least: “Most pacifists don’t get their freedom this way, an anarchist is unheard of.” It means he may be the first to win a military trial with an anarchist defence.
As Noam says, most objectors don’t win their military trial in such a fashion and face imprisonment as a consequence. Mesarvot, an Israeli organisational network made up of refuseniks tells the story of Itamar, a fellow objector who wrote to them from prison after spending 105 days incarcerated.
“That’s what I am to the system now. A prisoner.” Itamar writes in a letter. “Well, it’s certainly a better state than that of the children of Gaza, Southern Lebanon or even Kiryat Shmona.”
Refuseniks are quick to acknowledge their positioning when compared to the realities of Palestinians living in Gaza. And its important for their actions to be shown as an act for Palestinian liberation, and not just an act against Israel.
For these refuseniks, their refusals are not just attempts to skip service but are an active protest against the genocidal nature of the IDF and Israeli government.
Such acknowledgment of political stance is crucial for Israeli resistance against the regime to be heard — from a western perspective but even more importantly for other left-leaning Israeli citizens.
“I met refuseniks who demystified the idea of refusal to me and it’s through interacting and doing activism with them that I decided to refuse myself.”
Yona
Perhaps this is why such objectors are rarely highlighted by the Israeli media, out of fear that such acknowledgement would spread more resistance within the state.
For many refuseniks like Noam, the main concern is not just the time-consuming back-and-forth charade that occurs when pleading your case in court, or even the time spent in military prison, but rather the social consequences of having not enlisted.
This can occur within the social parameters of the family, and friendship circles, and even extends to a larger context within Israeli society.
“While it’s illegal to discriminate against someone for not going to the army under Israeli law, you will find a lot of places of employment that will favour soldiers with relevant military experience. And there is a social stigma, one that is much much worse since October 7th.”
Which for Noam, as he agrees, is a small price to pay for standing for Palestinian liberation.
‘Why did I have to and you don’t?’ is the question Noam mostly gets from people who have served in the IDF. “It’s one of the most useful tools of perpetuating trauma,” Noam adds.
Furthermore, Noam discusses a slight he had with his sister: “I’d think she’s too pro-Israeli, she’d think I’m too anti-Israeli, we’d get lost in what we think the other person thinks and despite basically agreeing with each other.”
In addition to this, Noam assumes that a lot of the dissonance involved when discussing Israel and Palestine, interpersonally anyway, comes down to language.
“We are intertwined and there is no such thing as Israeli security without Palestinian liberation.”
Noam
“I remember being half-cockily sure I’ll really blow her away. I asked my sister, who I knew defines herself as a Zionist how she would define Zionism. She said: ‘First thing is we gotta leave the occupied territories and establish a Palestinian state.’
“There are Israelis, substantial numbers even, to whom Zionism includes a Palestinian state. It made me realise that the difference between me and my sister was again mainly language. We wanted the same thing but she liked the language of national pride and Israeli existence, meanwhile, I dislike nationalism. Sure that’s a fundamental disagreement but I don’t mind a fundamental disagreement when our action plan is identical.”
This idea of language rings true, especially within the media landscape, in and outside of Israel, which thrives off of a them-versus-us attitude. It’s also been perpetrated by a culture of Zionism and the Israeli government to drive the conflict even further. Noam reconciles this point by telling me of a conversation he had with his parents.
“Yesterday I was speaking [to them] about how the commonly used Hebrew term for the occupied territories and West Bank today is ‘Judea’ and ‘Samaria’ — biblical names that push the idea that the occupation is justified. They explained how that term wasn’t used before the 80s, and after the first Intifada,” a period of intense Palestinian protest against the state that occurred from 1987 to 1990.
“It does illustrate something about the Israeli state of mind. It’s kind of like living in patriarchy, you don’t even see it while you’re in it, but it’s in the language, the way you speak. I never thought Independence Day could be contentious and then I learned about the Nakba. I had a period of having to kind of doubt everything to an extreme degree.”
Understanding the propaganda as an Israeli is a crucial step towards liberation for Palestine, as the two states become increasingly intertwined. Israelis have to understand their part in Palestinian liberation in order for it to take place, and the propaganda developed by the government is the biggest roadblock to that education. This is why it’s important for Israeli’s like Noam to indoctrinate themselves from the state and have their actions reflect that.
That being said Noam describes the current state of Israelis as “more divided than ever” with refuseniks and the left-wing anti-war movement within Israel on the slow uprise he tells me.
“A few months into the war most of the Israelis who were already active for Palestinian liberation — like myself — were already in full swing of anti-genocide protests. And Israelis are opening up, and many of them through this conflict have understood the great crime upon the Palestinian and Israeli people that is the IDF.”
“I wanted Palestinian liberation the moment I met my Palestinian friends because it wasn’t political. My friends and people in general were suffering and that was bad. It was kind of the start and the end of my de-indoctrination from Israeli hegemony.
“Everything since has just been study, realising the ideas of war and existential threat, of militarism and culture that the Israeli mindset informs within me as someone who’s lived here for nigh on a life.
“I know that when I see an Israeli person suffering, or a Palestinian person suffering, their suffering is caused by the same thing, by the same people in power. I know that there is no real option for growth for either side alone. We are intertwined and there is no such thing as Israeli security without Palestinian liberation.”
At his court hearing, Noam claimed: “I have more in common with a Palestinian teenager than I do with any IDF commander!
“I understood that the people on the other side of this are just more people. People I and my Israeli classmates have more in common with than any IDF higher-up, that is for certain,” he concludes.
Whilst writing this article, a ceasefire deal made between Israel and Hamas was agreed upon by both parties and initiated on the 19th of January 2025. While the follow-through of such a deal is yet to be observed fully, the future extent of the violence inflicted upon Palestinians remains unclear.
For the refuseniks and the Israeli left like Noam and Yona, and the international pro-Palestine movements, the fight against apartheid continues no matter how small the resistance.
From the boycotts and public criticisms of companies (Coca Cola, HP) and establishments (like a London arts university, for example) who remain complicit and unmoved by such terrors; to the global pro-Palestine movements taking to the streets of London, New York, Tel-Aviv; to the masses of occupying protests by student activists in universities around the world.
But most importantly, for the millions of Palestinians of Gaza (and worldwide) who have felt first-hand the impact of Israel as a world power, and the genocidal tool that is the IDF; the act of hope and simply existing may be the only resource, the only act of resistance left.
Featured image by Timon Studler via Unsplash.