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ARIEL SCHALIT/AP PHOTO◼ SOLUTIONS Bloomberg Businessweek April 20, 2020THE BOTTOM LINE Ultra-Orthodox Jews say they’re happy with a life of
study—a potential model for fulfillment without employment—but their growing
control over daily affairs angers secular Israelis.than any other group in Israel. Yuval Noah Harari, a
bestselling author and history professor at Hebrew
University of Jerusalem, calls the Haredim “the most suc-
cessful experiment so far in how to live a contented life
in a post-work world.”
Few Haredi men receive a secular education past
their early teens, locking them out of many fields. By
adulthood, roughly half of them spend as much as
12 hours a day poring over ancient texts, debating bibli-
cal history and the finer points of Judaic law in commu-
nity centers, synagogues, or religious schools. “The main
passion is to be able to sustain the family’s needs and
not necessarily run after money,” says Eli Paley, owner
of Mishpacha Media Group, a publisher that serves the
Orthodox community.
Religious study wouldn’t be the first choice of most
people pushed out of the labor force. But some econo-
mists and politicians who envision a society without jobs
at the center have called for a basic minimum income for
everyone. While opponents of the idea say the vast sums
needed would be better spent on more targeted policies,
supporters insist it’s the only way to provide economic
stability in times of mass displacement. And the concept is
gaining momentum: Former Democratic presidential can-
didate Andrew Yang made such a plan the centerpiece
of his campaign. Coronavirus relief programs have some
similarities to the idea, offering cash payments and sub-
sidies for the jobless (the U.S. alone has logged about
17 million new unemployment claims in recent weeks).
The income that Israel’s Haredim get from state sup-
port is indeed “basic”—at best. A Haredi family can get
as much as 5,000 shekels ($1,400) a month in various
forms of government assistance, according to the Israel
Democracy Institute, a research center in Jerusalem. That
sum, roughly equivalent to Israel’s minimum wage, is usually
supplemented by the earnings of women in the community.
Their employment rate is similar to that of secular Jewish
women, but they tend to earn less, because they typicallywork part time or in lower-level jobs such as teaching.
Members of the community insist their lifestyle forges
close social bonds, though those ties have become a
threat in the coronavirus era. The outbreak is spreading
muchfasteramongHaredimthanin secularIsraelicom-
munitiesassomerabbis were slow to end prayer ser-
vices and study sessions despite a government-ordered
lockdown. Gilad Malach, director of the ultra-Orthodox
programattheIsraelDemocracyInstitute,questionsthe
reliabilityofquality-of-life surveys. “I’m not sure we can
trust that they live in paradise,” he says. When outsiders
ask “whether they’re satisfied, they see themselves as
obliged to say they are.”
For millennia, Jews have closely examined the found-
ing texts of Judaism, and today’s Haredim draw inspiration
from an 18th century Eastern European movement, the
Mitnagdim, that prized devout study. The current arrange-
ment dates to 1949, when founding Israeli Prime Minister
David Ben-Gurion granted some 400 religious scholars
an exemption from mandatory military service. Since then,
the ranks of exempted scholars have surged, to about
30,000 today.
Haredi women have on average seven children, vs.
just more than two for secular Jewish Israelis; by 2040,
ultra-Orthodox will account for about a fifth of the pop-
ulation, double today’s share. That’s spurring a backlash
amongsecularIsraelisangeredthattheirtaxesandarmy
serviceallowtheultra-Orthodox a free ride even as the
growing Haredi population has seen increasing politi-
cal influence. On issues from public transportation on
the Sabbath to marriage, the Haredim have been able to
impose their rules on all Israelis. “Our problems begin and
end with the Haredim,” says Dan Ben-David, president of
the Shoresh Institution for Socioeconomic Research. “It’s
a bit of a fallacy that they don’t want to live in a modern
world. They want to, and they certainly know how to enjoy
all the benefits of the modern world without any concern
for the rest of the country.”
Growing numbers of ultra-Orthodox, balking at the
prospect of nonstop religious study or seeking to make
a greater contribution, are embracing an alternative life-
style. Some have founded tech startups, others work in
national security (Torah study isn’t that different from
parsing intelligence documents), and there’s even a mil-
itary group for Haredim who want to serve, with religious
instruction, kosher meals, and no women. “I couldn’t sit
and study the Torah all day,” says Major Yossi Levi, who
was raised in the community but chose a career in the
army. “I felt like I had to make the choice alone. There is
no choice in Haredi society.” �Ivan LevingstonNinety-eightpercent
ofHaredimsaythey’re
satisfiedwiththeirlives