Israel’s unions are fighting for its future
by Peter Lerner
When I hung up my uniform after 25 years in the Israel Defence Forces, I thought I was stepping away from the frontlines. What I didn’t expect was that the most decisive battles for Israel’s future would not be fought with tanks or drones but with collective bargaining agreements, strike actions, and union organising.
As an IDF spokesperson, I spent decades explaining and defending Israel’s most painful and complex moments to the world. Today, I find myself in a different kind of struggle, no less vital, at the heart of Israel’s democratic, economic and social fabric.
I now serve as the international face of the Histadrut, engaging on behalf of Israel’s workers in the name of Israel’s largest and most influential trade union federation. And if you’re looking for real hope for a more equal, inclusive, and democratic Israel, this is where you’ll find it.
The question that keeps me up at night is this: Can Israel remain a democracy if millions of people feel abandoned by the state, shut out of opportunity and powerless at work?
In the army, we talked about deterrence and resilience. In the workplace, we talk about fairness and solidarity. But in the end, we’re wrestling with the same problem: how to hold a society together when it’s being pulled apart by fear, inequality and division.
That’s where the Histadrut comes in.
Yes, we are a trade union. But we are also a civic movement. A national platform for economic justice. A source of social cohesion across ethnic, religious and political lines.
In 2023, when Israel’s judicial overhaul crisis sparked one of the largest protest movements in the nation’s history, the Histadrut called a general strike – not for higher wages or better benefits, but to defend democracy itself. Because we understand a simple truth: weaken the courts today, and you weaken workers’ rights tomorrow.
In 2024, we called a general strike again to help the government recalibrate its priorities, bring the hostages home and end the war. The general strike in Israel, not utilised for over 15 years, is a tool in the Histadrut toolbox reserved for unique and dire circumstances.
Outside of Israel, many still associate the Histadrut with its early roots, socialism, kibbutzim, and Israel’s first prime minister, David Ben-Gurion. But the modern Histadrut is something else entirely. It’s digital, dynamic and deeply diverse. We represent around 26 percent of the workforce, that’s just above the UK, and it’s nearly a million workers from every corner of Israeli society: Jewish and Arab, secular and religious, urban and rural, high-tech and transport.
We’ve organised both young freelancers and veteran bus drivers. We’ve negotiated pay raises for nurses and launched union drives in call centers and insurance firms. Our work isn’t driven by ideology, it’s driven by dignity.
Take, for example, our historic agreement with Egged, Israel’s largest public transport cooperative. For the first time, workers will receive a share of company profits 50m NIS (£10.45m) over four years. That’s not just a wage boost. That’s economic democracy in action.
Through collective bargaining in sectors like construction and hospitality, we’ve raised conditions for both Jewish and Arab workers. In the public services, we’ve reversed long-standing neglect of professionals like psychologists. Across the board, we’re building structures that give working people voice and agency.
And then came 7 October.
While the world saw rockets, terror, and military mobilisation, inside Israel something else unfolded: solidarity. Twelve percent of the workforce disappeared overnight, 300,000 reservists were called up, and 100,000 Palestinians were banned from working in Israel.
As reservists were called up, the Histadrut moved quickly to protect their rights, fighting to secure their jobs, pay and benefits. We opened emergency response centres for workers displaced from the south and north. We launched aid operations, legal support, and financial protections for those who suddenly found themselves without homes, incomes or stability.
It’s easy to talk about “resilience” in military terms. It’s harder, but equally essential, to deliver it in the civilian sphere. And that’s what we do. Because solidarity isn’t just a wartime slogan, it’s our daily mission.
What surprises many is that the Histadrut may now be Israel’s most effective platform for shared society.
While political discourse grows toxic, we bring Jewish and Arab workers together around the bargaining table. We employ Arabic-speaking organisers. We foster mixed communities in the workplace, sports fields, and educational programmes. Why? Because economic justice builds trust and trust is a security asset, too.
Now, if you’re reading this from London, Manchester, or Glasgow and asking, “Why should I care?”, here’s the blunt truth: If we lose Israel’s democratic centre, we all lose something greater. We lose the vision of a Middle East where coexistence means more than ceasefires, it means shared prosperity. We lose the chance for a liberal, inclusive Israel built on common ground. And we lose a global model of pragmatic trade unionism, one that transcends identity politics to build real power from the ground up.
I know the global left is divided on Israel. The occupation continues. Peace feels far away. And 7 October revealed not only our pain but the world’s disturbing silence in response to it. So here’s my message to our friends in the UK labour movement: don’t turn away. Lean in. Not toward Israel’s extremes, but toward its builders. Not to the headlines but to the hard, hopeful work being done to repair what’s broken.
Because that’s what real solidarity means.
This isn’t your grandfather’s Histadrut. Today’s Histadrut is modern, inclusive, and prepared for the future. We know that rights without power are paper-thin. That inclusion without infrastructure is a photo op. And that hope without organisation is just noise.
After years of briefing the world on Israel’s wars, I didn’t expect to feel just as proud representing the frontline workers in daycare centres, factories, hospitals and schools. But I do. Because this – the bargaining table, the union hall, the shared struggle for dignity – is where Israel’s future is being decided.
And we’re building that future, one worker at a time.
Lt. Col. (R) Peter Lerner is director general for international relations at the Histadrut. This article is part of LFI’s Voices for Change series.
