August 14, 2025|כ' אב ה' אלפים תשפ"ה Two Camps, Two Visions: From the Israeli Right to the Charedi World By Rabbi Jonathan Muskat

On a quiet hilltop in Judea-Samaria, the wind sweeps across olive groves and ancient stone. Below, settlers debate the fate of the land, while some ten or fifteen miles away, a yeshiva echoes with the hum of Torah study. In one world, politics is guided by prophecy and divine mandate; in another, decisions are measured by strategy and survival. 

Every society wrestles with the tension between principle and pragmatism. In Israel, this tension is visible across political and religious lines, shaping debates that touch on land, identity, and faith. Micah Goodman, in a recent conversation with Dan Senor on the Call Me Back podcast, offered a lens that helps us see these dynamics more clearly. The Israeli right, he argued, is far from monolithic. It is composed of two distinct camps, each motivated by fundamentally different principles.

The first, the Ideological-Messianic Right, grounds its attachment to the land in Torah and prophecy. For them, Judea and Samaria are not merely territories – they are sacred inheritance, where every hill carries divine significance. Any discussion of a Palestinian state or territorial compromise is not merely political; it is a violation of divine mandate.

The second, the Identity-Pragmatic Right, approaches politics differently. Their right-wing identity is shaped less by biblical obligation and more by cultural rebellion. They distrust the secular elite, remain loyal to leaders like Netanyahu, and weigh decisions practically: What will this cost us? What will it gain? If a move – such as normalization with Saudi Arabia – offers tangible security or diplomatic benefits without risking Israeli safety, they may accept it, even if the rhetoric feels uncomfortable or ideologically alien.

Goodman’s insight is striking: these two camps can support the same leader – but for completely opposite reasons. Often, the sharpest fissures in Israeli politics are within blocs, not between them.

This same dynamic plays out within Israel’s Charedi community, particularly around military service and engagement with the state. In many ways, the ideological patterns mirror those of the right-wing camps: one side prioritizes spiritual principle above all, while the other seeks pragmatic engagement within religious parameters.

Most Charedim, represented by the Ideological-Purist camp, view integration with secular Israel as a spiritual threat. Serving in the IDF is more than leaving the beit midrash – it is entering an environment that could erode the Torah-centered, separatist society they have built. For them, Israel’s ultimate shield is spiritual: the more Jews learn Torah and observe mitzvot, the more divine protection the nation enjoys. The army, in this view, is secondary; real security comes from faithfulness to Torah.

This stance naturally creates tension with the broader Israeli society. Secular and national-religious Israelis ask: How can the state defend itself without soldiers? For ideological Charedim, the question is misplaced. The problem is not too few soldiers – it is too little Torah.

At the same time, a smaller Identity-Pragmatic Charedi camp balances commitment to Torah with strategic engagement. They may consider military or national service if accommodations are robust: gender separation, kosher food, Shabbat observance, and protection from secular influence. While rejecting Zionist ideology in principle, they see cooperation as a way to protect Charedi interests and reduce conflict.

This pragmatic approach has begun to take public form. First came Nahal Charedi, and more recently, the Hasmonean Brigade – the first all-Charedi infantry unit in the IDF, launched in early 2025. It maintains strict religious standards: daily Torah study, synagogues on base, and kosher-only phones. In June 2025, it made history as the first ultra-Orthodox unit deployed to the Gaza Strip. 

The tension within the Charedi world is not confined to Israel. Across the Atlantic, American Charedi communities wrestle with similar questions of engagement and identity. Pragmatic leaders encouraged Eretz HaKodesh to participate in the World Zionist Organization elections, even though doing so required endorsing the Jerusalem Program – the WZO’s official Zionist platform. This document affirms Israel’s centrality in Jewish life, its status as a Jewish and democratic state, and the obligation to promote Jewish settlement and education. By signing, Eretz HaKodesh publicly acknowledged some form of Zionist ideology, signaling solidarity with the broader Jewish people. Many Charedi leaders opposed this, viewing it as a theological compromise that legitimized secular Zionism.

The same dynamic appeared in November 2023, when some Charedim joined the March for Israel in Washington, D.C., demonstrating solidarity with Am Yisrael. The rally, attended by nearly 300,000, sought to support Israel, demand the release of hostages taken in the October 7 Hamas attacks, and condemn rising antisemitism. Participation, for many Charedim, was controversial. It signaled a willingness to join the broader Jewish community, despite ideological discomfort – a clear marker of internal debate over engagement and identity.

The stakes in these debates are high. Goodman’s study of the Israeli right asks whether pragmatic and ideological camps can coexist without fracturing. In the Charedi world, the question is even sharper:

• Will the ideological camp dominate, preserving spiritual purity but deepening societal rifts?
• Or will the pragmatic camp grow stronger, sharing national responsibility while safeguarding religious life?

The answer will shape not only the Charedi community but also the fabric of Israeli society. Just as in Israeli politics, the fiercest debates often occur not between opposing identities, but among those who share a larger identity – yet differ in approach.

Messianism and Miracles

At the heart of these divisions lies a deeper question: how do we balance faith with action? Many label “messianic Jews” as problematic because they cannot cooperate with others. I would argue otherwise. Believing that we live in messianic times is not inherently a problem. Many pray that this is a period of reishit tzemichat ge’ulateinu – the beginnings of our redemption. The return to the homeland after two millennia of exile and the flourishing of the Jewish nation are remarkable signs of something extraordinary.

The challenge arises when messianism shifts from hope to reliance on miracles. The Ramban, commenting on Parshat Bechukotai, teaches that if Bnei Yisrael observe Torah and mitzvot fully, they will live a miraculous existence. Yeshayahu, when gravely ill, required not a doctor but deeper prayer. The Rambam, in contrast, insists that even the righteous must act within natural law – seeking medical care, building armies, and securing defenses.

Ultimately, the issue is not whether Religious Zionists or Charedim are messianic. The question is whether we rely on miracles or act according to God’s natural order. This choice – miracles versus natural law – will shape Israel’s future, determining whether hope alone suffices or whether action grounded in principle must accompany it.

The debates within Israel and the Charedi world remind us that history, faith, and society are intertwined. Real progress does not come from avoiding tension, but from navigating it – balancing ideals with practical action, and faith with responsibility. How Israel and its communities answer these questions will echo for generations to come.