Sgt. Shahar Manoav was the pride of his family, a bright, joyful young man whose presence could light up a room. He served in a combat engineering unit in Gaza, and to his commanders, he was dependable, brave, and inspiring. In a war that has overtaken every Israeli household, Shahar was one of those glowing beacons of unity and purpose.
Then there was Lt. Shai Ayeli – the youngest of four siblings and a quiet warrior with an infectious smile that never left his face, not even during the most grueling days of training in Unit 669, the Air Force’s elite search and rescue force. In photos sent to his family before heading into Gaza, he is radiant. That glow, his sister said, was not just his spirit – it was the pride of a young man who knew what it meant to serve his people.
And there was St. Sgt. Birhanu Kassie, who was born in Ethiopia and immigrated to Israel at the age of nine. Acclimating to Israeli life was not easy, but Birhanu had one dream from the moment he arrived: to serve in an elite IDF unit.
When he was initially placed in a regular infantry battalion, he refused to serve there and, for a full week, he fought the military bureaucracy. He made it into Sayeret Givati, one of the IDF’s toughest units, and on October 7 fought in Kibbutz Nahal Oz, rescuing civilians and neutralizing terrorists.
These are three of the 889 soldiers who have fallen since the war began. Shahar was killed two weeks ago alongside six of his friends when Hamas blew up their armored vehicle in Khan Yunis. Shai was training to become an officer when he was killed during a battle in northern Gaza in late 2023; and Birhanu was killed around that same time when an explosive device blew up in southern Gaza.
They are three stories of courage, belonging, and self-sacrifice. And they are also part of a painful statistic: Forty of the fallen soldiers since October 7 are of Ethiopian descent and are members of a community that, while making up just 1.7% of Israel’s population, accounts for 4.5% of military deaths in this war.
“It is no coincidence,” explained MK Pnina Tamano-Shata, chair of the Blue and White faction and herself a proud member of the Ethiopian Israeli community.
“In Ethiopian Jewry, there is nothing more sacred than defending the Land of Israel and the people of Israel. From a young age, we are taught courage, mutual responsibility, and giving. That’s why so many – both men and women – choose to serve in the IDF’s most elite combat units.”
This ethos isn’t abstract. It was on display this past Independence Day when 10 soldiers of Ethiopian origin were honored as outstanding soldiers by the IDF chief of staff and the president of Israel. For such a small community, the representation was exceptional.
Then there is the story of Lt. Avichail Reuven, who Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu honored in Washington before a joint session of Congress. On the morning of October 7, Reuven awoke to sirens at his home in Kiryat Malachi. He was still on an officer training course and hadn’t yet been called up – but there was no hesitation. He put on his uniform and grabbed his rifle – but had no car. So he ran 12 kilometers to the Gaza border.
“These are the soldiers of Israel – unbowed, undaunted, unafraid,” Netanyahu said, at the time.
And yet, we must ask: If this is what one small, often marginalized community can contribute, then what excuse can others possibly have?
Israelis of Ethiopian origin enlist in higher numbers than the national average – almost 90% of young men, 50% of whom serve in combat roles. Among women, the enlistment rate is about 70%, significantly higher than the national average of 58% among women.
And then, there is another community – one far larger – whose youth are mostly absent from the frontlines. I am of course referring to the haredim.
This week, the Knesset again debated the issue of haredi (ultra-Orthodox) military service. Again, the government danced around the issue, fearful of the political repercussions.
The ministers and MKs continued to ignore reality even after the tragedy this week that took the lives of five soldiers from the Netzah Yehuda Battalion in Gaza, a unit formed specifically to enable young haredi men to serve in combat while maintaining their religious lifestyle. These were young men who volunteered to serve and believed that the need to defend their nation was more important than politics.
And still – there was silence. There was no mass awakening on the haredi street and no coming to the senses among haredi political and rabbinic leaders. It was as if nothing changed.
The war that began on October 7 has revealed many things about Israel – its vulnerabilities, its resilience, and its capacity for unity and strength in moments of trauma. But it has also highlighted the painful fractures that remain in society. And there is none more glaring than the gap between those who serve and those who are exempt.
This isn’t just about equality, It is about national cohesion
The Ethiopian-Israeli community, despite facing institutional neglect, racism, and economic hardship, has chosen to give in the fullest sense of the term. Their children serve and sacrifice. Shouldn’t that serve as an example?
If young men such as Shahar Manoav, Shai Ayeli, and Birhanu Kassie can give everything for this country – despite having every reason to feel marginalized – then why can’t young men in Bnei Brak or Beitar Illit do the same?
And if five haredi boys from Netzah Yehuda can break with their community’s norms to fight and fall for Israel, what excuse remains for the tens of thousands who stay away?
The writer is co-author of a forthcoming book, While Israel Slept, about the October 7 Hamas attacks, a senior fellow at the Jewish People Policy Institute, and a former editor-in-chief of The Jerusalem Post.