Genocide refusers in Israel need urgent support
Dear Friend,
Daniel here. As a soldier, I recently refused to serve in the Gaza war, and spent time in military prison for that. Nowadays, I organize fellow refusers in Israel. Every day, I speak with soldiers who are questioning the war, struggling with what they’ve seen, and wondering whether there’s another path. I wouldn’t be able to do this work without Resistance Solidarity Network standing behind me. They provide the resources, the backing, and the help create this great community of international supporters that make resistance possible. As part of RSN’s mid-year campaign, I hope you’ll consider supporting them too. They’re not funding abstract ideas. They’re funding real people on the ground who are taking real risks. And they need our help: if they don't raise the money, they cannot carry on with their work. Support them today.
When I was drafted in 2012, I never imagined I would become one of those people. I grew up in a humanist family in the 1990s. Peace was always part of the conversation. But believing in peace and refusing military service are two very different things, or at least that’s what I thought at the time. For years, I served in the reserves, mostly in the West Bank, without spotting the dissonance. Believing, every time less and less, in the war ethos and that I am protecting civilians.
The doubts were already there before October 7. It had become harder and harder to ignore that my service was protecting settlements while making Palestinian life impossible. But when October 7 happened, I was swept up like so many others after learning of the magnitude of the Hamas massacres of Israeli civilians. I answered the call and served another round. It took time to admit that something had fundamentally changed.
When I received another reserve call-up in 2025, just before Israel expanded its offensive in Gaza, I couldn't convince myself anymore. By then it was obvious that this war had no clear end and no real strategy for bringing the hostages home. I had watched Israeli forces kill three Israeli hostages. I had watched the government repeatedly undermine opportunities for deals that could have saved lives. And of course, I witnessed the endless genocide of Palestinians in Gaza, killed indiscriminately and the overwhelming majority of their homes destroyed. The slogans about security stopped making sense.
So I decided it was time to refuse. Soon after, my picture was shared by a right-wing influencer calling me a traitor. For refusing the draft order, I was sentenced to two weeks in military prison. People often ask me if prison was the hardest part. It wasn't. It was realizing I had stepped outside the consensus I grew up in for refusing to participate in war crimes. Overnight, I was no longer part of the mainstream story Israelis tell themselves about who we are.
And yet, something surprising happened. The Israeli soldier occupies an almost sacred place in our society. But I've also discovered that many Israelis, including people I never expected, understand refusal more than they admit publicly. Reality is more complicated than politics makes it seem. Sometimes the people who quietly support you are the ones you least expect. That has made me hopeful. While governments can feel immovable, political change rarely arrives the way we imagine. The consensus can crack, and new possibilities can emerge. I have received significant support for refusing, something I could not even imagine ten years ago when I was first drafted.
The war hasn't really ended. Bombs still fall in Gaza and Lebanon. Palestinians continue to face displacement and violence in Gaza and the West Bank. We are governed by leaders who seem convinced that force alone can solve every problem and who speak openly about visions that leave no room for Palestinians at all: transfer, ethnic cleansing, genocide, apartheid and endless militarization.
But even during this age of violent ceasefires and ongoing killing, I think we have an opportunity to build something different, where our compass isn't endless war and death but shared life. That's the future I'm organizing for every day on this path.
And that's why organizations like Resistance Solidarity Network matter so much. They make sure people who choose conscience over conformity don't have to stand alone.
Thank you for standing with us.
In solidarity,
Daniel Yahalom
War Refuser