Your son, my son

Mother of combat soldier calls for 'equality' through compulsory national service
Tal Bashan


We came a long way together: Neighbors, friends, raising children and dogs together. Here and there we both expressed our anger over the destructive occupation or the discrimination against women - but more than anything, we saw our children growing up together, ready to conquer the world when the time comes.

Your firstborn didn't join the army. Faithful to your ultra-left wing world, you declared that the military is an occupation army, a machine that exploits the young and innocent. Your son, you said, would not be a part of it. Your son was exempted from service and traveled abroad, enrolled in university and played the guitar in his spare time.

Each time I went by your house and heard the music, I felt uncomfortable. The sons of my friends were perspiring somewhere out there in their military units, and your son was sitting at home and strumming his guitar. It bothered me, but I didn't say anything, for the sake of our relationship.

Meanwhile, my son joined a commando unit. He gave up a career in sports because he wanted to do "something worthwhile" in the army, as he put it. At times such as this, I don’t hear from him for over a week - that's the nature of the service he chose.

Had I argued with him, stood in his way, perhaps he wouldn't have enlisted into a combat unit. Because we both know all too well that today's parents have substantial influence over everything pertaining to their children's enlistment – particularly the spoiled and rich kids.

I must admit, the strictly Orthodox community that doesn't serve in the army bothers me a lot less - we have long given up on them and their problematic military service. What bothers me more is the fact that more and more young and normative people, healthy in mind and soul, such as your son and the sons of my other acquaintances, do not serve in the army and do not fulfill their duty in any other way.

My views do not differ that much from those of my friends who oppose the occupation. I respect ideological, pacifist, anti militaristic views. But why not national service, for God's sake? Aren’t there enough youngsters, elderly and sick people in need of assistance?

I feel that there is something immoral about parents who enable their children to advance themselves only while their friends contribute years of their lives to the State, with some of them even risking their lives.

This entire dilemma may have been spared had a compulsory national service law been passed: Every young Israeli who does not deem himself fit for military service, or simply doesn't feel like serving (and that's the real motive in most cases,) should have to contribute three years to society in some other way: One could teach children at risk to sing and play an instrument, another could spend time with hospital patients, and your children could fulfill their duty among Jewish-Arab youth or in institutions for underprivileged kids. All that's needed is urgent legislation on the matter.

On a humid evening, while taking the dogs out for a walk together, I asked you candidly for the first time: How is my son different to your children? Why can he contribute while your's can't? You responded with your familiar answer about the occupation army, which only exists to perpetuate itself, and that the army should have been dissolved and turned into a professional army with salaried personnel.

And I hear myself telling you angrily: Perhaps, but meanwhile the children of others are serving in this army and risking their lives. You say that "everyone" and "for the sake of the country" is not a valid argument. Your children will do their bit when the time comes, if and when they choose. And you add: "Don't forget that your son wanted this, he volunteered."

Our dogs, which are so sensitive to the feelings of their owners, began to bark restlessly. After the long years of friendship, I am sorry to say that the break is inevitable. We have reached a point in which what's political has become personal, and what's personal touches a raw nerve, and the things that mothers of soldiers experience on nights replete with worry are not experienced by others.