As pressure increases on western governments to bring an end to the bloodshed in Syria, "non-lethal" assistance has become the promise of the hour. The term is ubiquitous, cropping up in White House press briefings and the European Union's arms embargo on Syria.

Yet despite the pervasive nature of the term, it does not yet have a widely accepted legal definition. Broadly speaking, it is used to describe equipment and intelligence that cannot be directly used to kill. This can encompass anything from helmets and body armor to more facilitative assistance such as encrypted radios and satellite imagery. In practice, the lines between non-lethal equipment and its lethal counterparts are more blurred. In fact, both are required for a soldier to maximize the use of his weapon. As Pieter Wezeman, a senior researcher at the Stockholm International Peace Research Institute, points out, "a guy with a helmet and a radio is more likely to use his gun effectively because his protection increases his survivability and his radio [improves] his targeting through better communication."

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TEL AVIV — On any other day, Rothschild Boulevard is known for its hip restaurants, beautifully renovated Bauhaus buildings, and the headquarters of Israel's largest banks. Today, walking down the tent-filled boulevard, one could mistakenly feel as if he or she has landed in the heart of a Middle Eastern Woodstock festival. Couples smoke waterpipes as jazz musicians compete with folk bands for their attention, jugglers play next to political art installations, and people walk by ad-hoc kitchens that offer free food to all. Yet passers by are called to join discussion groups addressing the erosion of the Israeli welfare state, and inside the larger tents talks are given about cartels and corporate accountability. In this Israeli Hyde Park, a new discourse has been ignited. Rather than focusing on security and peace, the conversation centers on social justice, with Israelis articulating their aspiration for a state that cares and provides for all its citizens.

"We want the future they promised us, a future in which we could own a home, give our children adequate education and have a functioning health system," says Efrat Melter, a 34-year-old law student who runs a Facebook gender equality group. "We don't want to talk about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict anymore. When doing that we are only throwing sand in our eyes, while the government and the rich are stealing our money and the country's infrastructure." All of a sudden, middle-class Israelis are refusing to play according to their prescribed roles. At least for now, for the duration of this protest, the core issues around which they mobilize are not only the right/left and anti/pro-occupation fault lines that have divided Israeli society for the past decades. Instead, they are now fiercely rallying for economic justice. The enemies are no longer the Palestinians but are instead the "tycoons," Israel's wealthy elite, which is blamed for corrupting politicians into allowing them to form unofficial cartels that keep salaries low and the cost of living high.

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