By now, millions of 18-year-old teenagers across America have graduated from high school and chosen where they will spend the next four years of their lives partying, drinking and — yes — studying. But for Israelis of the same age, they are anticipating something very different: mandatory military service.
I traveled to Israel last month on a 10-day trip with Birthright Israel, a program through which the Israeli government and Jewish organizations in America fund free trips to Israel for Jews between the ages of 18 and 27 who have never visited the country. Birthright, of course, aims to instill a passion for Israel and Judaism in young, American Jews — particularly to counteract what they view as an increasingly anti-Semitic (or at least anti-Israel) climate on American campuses.
As a 25-year-old convert to Judaism who now works for a living, I was more interested in learning about the culture of my newfound homeland. For a week and a half, we toured religious sites in Jerusalem and Safed, hung out in a Tel Aviv bar, and hiked through the Negev Desert. (And that covered only three of the 10 days.) As part of the trip's intercultural exchange, eight Israeli soldiers accompanied the 40 people in my group.
The Americans wanted to meet and befriend the Israelis, but I think the latter were more interested in the 10-day vacation because all Israelis (except for Arabs who live in Israel and ultra-Orthodox Jews who don't recognize the Israeli government) are required to serve in the military for three years (for men) or two (for women) after they graduate from high school. While new freshmen are touring Warren Towers at Boston University, their Israeli counterparts are driving tanks, patrolling the West Bank security fence, and serving in the Shin Bet (the country's intelligence force).
At first, the difference was unsettling. I was sitting on a bench in Jerusalem and talking to a soldier, but all I could do was stare at the machine gun slung over her shoulder. (What if it fired accidentally?) All Israeli soldiers, I learned, are required to carry their machine guns constantly, even when they aren't on official duty. They sleep with them. They shower with them. If an officer catches a soldier without his M-16, the soldier goes to jail.
Of course, receiving a machine gun right after graduating high school is unsettling, even for Israelis. “I was crying when they gave it to me,” Shani Vizel, a 22-year-old former Israeli soldier who now lives in the Boston area, told me after I returned from my trip. “I was shaking for ten minutes.”
My uneasiness, however, subsided when I learned that the guns aren't even loaded. (Though they can be loaded within seconds if necessary.) The M-16s, as the soldiers told us on the trip, serve as a deterrent. The guns, I imagine, tell potential terrorists, “Don't even think about it.”
I was uncomfortable with being in the constant presence of machine guns, and one Arab man I encountered was quite hostile. I was riding in the elevator of a Jerusalem hotel with a 19-year-old soldier named Maya. There was a third person there, an Arab. I think he worked there. (Arabs and Sephardic Jews staff many of the lower-class professions in Israel, like many black and Hispanic people who have those jobs here.)
As Maya and I talked, I noticed that the Arab man stood there silently, glaring at the soldier's machine gun. I could almost feel the anger coming out of his eyes. It was very uncomfortable, particularly because Israel generally has very small elevators.
On the next floor, he left. (I don't know if that was where he was going or if he couldn't stand the presence of the soldier.) Maya then remarked, “He didn't like me very much.” To the Arab, I presume, the gun symbolized constant repression and military defeat. Then Maya said something that might just summarize the entire Israeli-Palestinian conflict: “Well, it's either them or us,” she shrugged.
Ever since that day, I've wondered whether that is true. Is it impossible for two peoples with different cultures and religions to share a small piece of land that both hold sacred and which has very few natural resources? Will both sides fight until one wins completely? I don't know, and I doubt anyone does.
The day-to-day lives of most Israeli soldiers, however, isn't filled with tense conflict. On some bizarre level, many are just like college students here. The guys talk about sports and drink too much beer at bars. The women gossip and chat incessantly on cell phones. Imagine the campus of Boston College, except that all of the students are wearing green military uniforms with machine guns slung over their shoulders. That, I'd wager, is the life of young Israelis.
After they complete their service, Israelis spend a long time traveling – frequently to South America or India. On some level, I think it's to celebrate the fact that they survived. The last soldier to have Maya's gun, for example, was killed. When she told me that story, I was struck silent.
Most soldiers, of course, do survive. (Israel is nowhere near the war zone that the major media’s reports would lead you to believe.) After Israelis finish their military service and see the world, they either go to college or find a job – and they do this when they are in their mid-twenties, not at 18. Because of their life experiences, I'd wager that most Israelis are more mature than Americans who are the same age.
“You go to the army, and you realize that it is the best thing that can happen to you,” Vizel told me. “It makes you realize that you’re mature right now.”
While I was in Israel, I also noticed that difference. Most of the Americans on the Birthright trip got smashed every single night (and, on one occasion, broke a $500 glass table in the lobby of a hotel), while most of the Israeli soldiers did not. Most had a beer or two and discussed Israel and America. (Though, I’ll admit, the ludicrous drinking age in America is also to blame. In Israel, people are less prone to binging because they can drink at 18.) I observed similar behavior from American tourists when I was a bartender in a London pub.
While we chatted in a Brighton bar, Vizel said that she also sees the difference. The American college students she meets here are primarily interested in getting drunk, having sex and doing drugs. For Israelis who go to college after serving in the military, they simply, in Vizel’s words, “go to study and get diplomas.”
Whether or not a person supports Israel and its policies, I do believe that something can be gained from serving one's country. Imagine if everyone in America – not only poor people and minorities – served in the military for a few years. Our leaders – who come from the upper echelons of society – would only wage war when necessary.
Still, I don't think mandating military service would be the best solution (especially considering our current administration’s foreign policy). People are better soldiers if they actually want to be there. Instead, I envision an America where everyone volunteered to spend three years doing community programs like serving in AmeriCorps, teaching in inner-city public schools, joining the Peace Corps, or working in a homeless shelter.
Imagine if Americans were known for going abroad and helping people instead of seeing in how many different cities they can puke – or invade.