Civil society as the quiet engine of Israel’s renewal
War tests states. But it reveals societies.
In moments of national strain, when institutions are stretched and certainty thins, something less visible but no less consequential comes into view: civil society. Not as slogan or sentiment, but as action – uncoordinated at first, imperfect, often improvisational, yet essential.
Israel’s recent crises have made this unmistakably clear.
Long before policies are adjusted or systems recalibrated, people move. Volunteers organise logistics before directives arrive. Universities open their labs and dormitories. Hospitals absorb not only casualties, but fear, trauma, and moral weight. Startups pivot from ambition to necessity. Community networks fill gaps that formal structures cannot immediately reach.
This is not a failure of the state. It is a feature of a resilient society.
Civil society is often spoken about abstractly, as a virtue or ideal. In practice, it is neither tidy nor ideological. It is a response mechanism – one that activates precisely when strain exceeds capacity. It does not replace the state; it stabilises it.
In Israel, this dynamic is particularly pronounced. Mandatory service, reserve duty, dense social networks, and a culture shaped by shared vulnerability mean that the boundary between “civil” and “national” responsibility is porous. People do not wait for permission to act. They respond to need.
Yet resilience alone is not enough.
A society can mobilise heroically in crisis and still falter in what follows. The harder work begins after urgency fades – when volunteers return to their lives, headlines move on, and wounds become long-term realities rather than immediate emergencies.
This is where renewal becomes a discipline.
Renewal requires institutional memory: capturing what worked, recognising what failed, and integrating civil initiative into durable structures. It demands that temporary mobilisation does not become an excuse for permanent neglect. And it requires honesty about cost – especially the human cost borne by those who carry trauma, injury, or irreversible loss long after public attention has shifted.
Civil society cannot be asked to substitute indefinitely for responsibility.
The moral test of renewal is not whether a society can rally in moments of danger, but whether it can sustain care when danger becomes routine, when suffering is no longer dramatic, and when gratitude must translate into policy, funding, and long-term support.
Nowhere is this more visible than in the lives of wounded and traumatised veterans.
Their rehabilitation does not fit neatly into crisis timelines. It unfolds over years, often in quiet, frustrating increments. Civil society plays a crucial role here – through advocacy, supplementary care, community support, and innovation – but it cannot carry this responsibility alone. Renewal that relies indefinitely on volunteerism risks normalising abandonment.
A renewed society recognises when informal heroism must give way to formal obligation.
This balance – between civic initiative and institutional responsibility – is one of Israel’s defining challenges and strengths. When aligned properly, it produces a society that is both agile and accountable. When neglected, it creates fatigue, resentment, and moral erosion.
The question, then, is not whether Israel’s civil society is strong.
It is whether renewal will honour that strength by building systems worthy of it.
Civil society shows what is possible. Institutions must ensure it is sustainable.
Renewal is not only about innovation or recovery. It is about integration – ensuring that the energy of crisis becomes the architecture of the future, not a temporary miracle remembered with nostalgia.
When the state is strained, society steps forward. But renewal is complete only when the state steps forward in return.
- James Ogunleye, PhD, is the founder and editor of RenewingIsrael.org.