Travelers passing through Israel’s Ben-Gurion International Airport this September have found themselves at the center of a rising storm over security, identity, and discrimination—issues that are drawing increasing international scrutiny. In a pair of incidents that unfolded just days apart, Israeli authorities arrested an ultra-Orthodox Jewish man accused of dodging military service and separately detained a Palestinian-American mother and her teenage son, barring them from returning home to Connecticut for nearly a month. Both cases, though rooted in different circumstances, highlight the complex and often contentious landscape governing Israel’s borders and the lives of those who cross them.
The first episode, reported by Haaretz, took place on Wednesday, September 10, 2025, when Israeli police apprehended an ultra-Orthodox Jewish Israeli at Ben-Gurion International Airport. Authorities described the arrest as part of a broader crackdown on Haredi draft dodgers—members of the ultra-Orthodox community who refuse mandatory conscription into the Israel Defense Forces (IDF). According to officials, this was the first time such an individual had been intercepted while attempting to leave the country. The move signals a new, more aggressive approach to enforcement, one that is stirring both support and outrage across Israeli society.
The question of military service has long been a flashpoint in Israel, where most Jewish citizens are required to serve in the IDF, but ultra-Orthodox men have traditionally received exemptions for religious study. In recent years, however, mounting public pressure and political shifts have led to calls for stricter enforcement. The arrest at Ben-Gurion marks a turning point—one that could have far-reaching implications for the delicate balance between state authority and religious autonomy.
Just a day later, the airport became the scene of another dramatic standoff, this time involving a U.S. citizen of Palestinian heritage. Intifada Abdelghani and her 14-year-old son, Musa, were scheduled to fly home to Meriden, Connecticut, on August 14, 2025, after visiting family in the West Bank. Instead, they were stopped by Israeli authorities, who, according to the family, rejected their U.S. passports and demanded Palestinian Authority documents. What followed was a harrowing ordeal that left the family shaken and sparked allegations of discrimination.
“It’s been a long journey to come back,” Intifada Abdelghani told local news outlets after finally arriving at Boston Logan International Airport on September 11. “I felt trapped. I was with my family, thank God I have family there, but it was really scary. It’s not safe there at all.”
Intifada’s husband, Mahar Abdelghani, recounted the ordeal in detail. He said Israeli authorities placed a security ban on his wife’s documents, confiscated her passport and phone for several hours, and subjected her to multiple interrogations. Most distressing, he said, was the treatment of their teenage son. “They threatened my son—they told him, ‘Do you know what happens to kids your age? Do you see what’s happening in Gaza?’” Mahar recalled.
According to the family, Intifada was held for 13 hours at Ben-Gurion Airport on the day they were supposed to depart. She underwent eight security scans and, at one point, was asked to undress in front of male authorities—a request she refused. “They put her through eight scans to check if she has anything, then they said we’re gonna have to undress you, and there were males there, and she refused. She refused,” Mahar said.
No clear reason was ever given for the ban, the family claims. Mahar suspects the ordeal may have been retaliation for his public support of Palestinian rights. “We didn’t know if it’s because her name is Intifada, 'cause I am vocal about what’s happening in Palestine and Gaza and the West Bank—because of these things, maybe it was a retaliation,” he speculated.
The delay meant Musa started his school year weeks behind his classmates, an added burden after an already traumatic experience. The family reached out to local lawmakers for help, and credit Representative Jahana Hayes and Senator Richard Blumenthal with intervening to lift the travel ban and facilitate their return. “It just feels better to be where my actual home is,” Musa said upon his arrival in Boston.
Mahar Abdelghani expressed frustration at what he sees as arbitrary and discriminatory treatment at Israel’s borders. “Just deterring people’s lives for the sake of doing it, that shouldn’t be done,” he said. “If you’re an American citizen, you’re an American citizen. It shouldn’t be Arab, Jewish, any of that. You’re an American. That’s all we want, all we ask.” He hopes their story will raise awareness about discriminatory practices at Israeli ports of entry and exit. “Whether it’s here, Palestine, Israel, we shouldn’t have any prejudice against anybody,” Mahar said. “I want people to understand, when you think of Palestinians, we look just like this. We look just like you.”
The Israeli embassy did not respond to requests for comment regarding the Abdelghani family’s allegations.
These incidents come at a time of heightened tension and scrutiny over Israel’s border security policies. For years, rights groups and international observers have raised concerns about the treatment of Palestinians and those of Palestinian descent at Israeli checkpoints and airports. The Abdelghani family’s story, with its mix of bureaucratic opacity and personal hardship, echoes the experiences of many others who have faced similar obstacles.
Meanwhile, the crackdown on ultra-Orthodox draft evasion is stoking debate within Israel itself. Supporters of stricter enforcement argue that equal military service is essential for national unity and security, especially in times of conflict. Critics, particularly within the Haredi community, view the crackdown as an attack on religious freedom and a violation of longstanding social contracts.
Both stories, though distinct, underscore the deep divisions and unresolved questions at the heart of Israeli society. Whether it’s the battle over military service or the fraught politics of border control, the events at Ben-Gurion Airport this September have laid bare the challenges—and the human costs—of navigating identity, security, and justice in a region where all three are constantly in flux.
For now, the families involved are simply relieved to be home, but their experiences serve as a stark reminder: at Israel’s borders, the personal and the political are never far apart.
