You have to be a great megalomaniac, a great patriot, or both, to want the job that was up for grabs in Israel this week: prime minister. It is a difficult, dangerous and thankless job. A position that almost no one has ever left satisfied, or willingly. David Ben-Gurion handed it to a successor, Levi Eshkol, whom he soon came to regard as unworthy of it. Golda Meir resigned in the bitter aftermath of the Yom Kippur War. Yitzhak Rabin’s tenure was cut short twice: once because of unnecessary nonsense (his wife’s illegal dollar account in Washington, military planes landing on Shabbat), and once because he was assassinated. Shimon Peres was defeated by a hair’s breadth. Ehud Olmert went to prison. Ariel Sharon suffered a stroke. Menachem Begin left because, as he put it, he “could not go on any longer.”
Benjamin Netanyahu could have been the first to leave on his own terms, at a time of his choosing. But, as with his predecessors, the urge to stay is stronger than he is. And in the case of this election, there is also the stark realization that if he were to walk away now, he would do so with his head bowed. He is a prime minister who was dragged into a political war – over judicial reform and the conscription of ultra-Orthodox men into the military – and lost it. He is a prime minister who was dragged into a regional war – in Gaza, in Lebanon, in Iran – and did not manage to achieve a decisive victory.
On Tuesday night his coalition was booted by Israeli voters. Overall, the anti-Netanyahu bloc is projected to win 53 seats, while the Netanyahu-led right-wing religious bloc is projected to win 50. Both are expected to fall well short of a 61-seat majority.
The sense of urgency drove a record-breaking number of citizens to the polling booths, including a vast number of Arab Israelis who, for a first time, participated in the political game with something resembling their full numerical force.
Whether that’s the end of Netanyahu’s political career is still soon to say. That is because his party, Likud, was not booted in such clear fashion. And because the opposition is burdened by the many commitments its leaders had made on the way to Election Day. A narrow window was left open for him to keep maneuvering, and Netanyahu, a master of political survival, will surely look at this opportunity with his usual appetite for power. He can still wait on the sidelines, expecting, and accelerating, the failure of his rivals whose small victory – as predicted by exit polls (the deadline for this article was Tuesday night) – is far from being decisive. And yet, a resounding verdict on the performance of the outgoing coalition was heard this week. Israelis had had enough. Most of them voted for change. The “right,” as narrowly defined by supporters of a what is more a cult than a political movement, is a shadow of its former self. Years of upheaval, years of sowing rift, years of choosing brawls over competence ended in political defeat.
“Netanyahu, a master of political survival, will surely look at this opportunity with his usual appetite for power. He can still wait on the sidelines, expecting, and accelerating, the failure of his rivals whose small victory – as predicted by exit polls– is far from being decisive.”
A megalomaniac or a patriot, or both. There are prime ministers who remain grounded, who understand that they are fulfilling a role to the best of their ability and that when their time comes, another will step in and do their best. Yitzhak Shamir, at the opening of the Knesset session following his defeat in the 1992 election, proved beyond a doubt that he belonged to this first category. “In my final steps on the national stage,” he said, “I say to my loyal companions: farewell, my dear friends. I have done all I could, and from now on the work will be done by those who follow me, by those younger and stronger than I am.”
Netanyahu raises the suspicion that he belongs to the second category: prime ministers convinced that the state cannot exist without them. That they, and only they, can face its challenges. That they, and only they, are strong enough, wise enough and skilled enough to keep it alive – perhaps barely breathing, but alive. Konrad Adenauer was such a leader for a recovering postwar Germany. Ben-Gurion was such a leader. It seems that Netanyahu, too, believes there is no replacement who can finish the work he did not manage to finish. And who knows. Until he leaves, until Israel is passed for an extended period into someone else’s hands, we will not know whether Netanyahu is right. Perhaps without him the state truly would collapse. Or perhaps he is wrong, and even without him it will manage to endure.
Netanyahu raises the suspicion that he belongs to the second category: prime ministers convinced that the state cannot exist without them. That they, and only they, can face its challenges. That they, and only they, are strong enough, wise enough, and skilled enough to keep it alive – perhaps barely breathing, but alive.
There is, of course, a third possibility: that it is precisely in his hands that Israel will collapse, and in the hands of others that it will endure. This is the argument of the opposition, whose voters largely treated the prospect of continued Netanyahu rule after this election as a final verdict, one signaling the beginning of the end. This is what they meant when they said, throughout the campaign, that this election was “the most fateful in the history” of Israel. This is what they meant when they flocked in droves – on planes, on trains, on bicycles, on foot – to the ballot boxes. They did their best. This is their best. If it is not enough this time, it seems there is no way it ever will be. It seems Israel will no longer be what they want it to be.
“How can anyone be the mayor of such a city,” wondered the poet Yehuda Amichai about Jerusalem. One might suggest: and how can anyone be the prime minister of such a country? In Jerusalem, the past haunts the mayor. In Israel, it is anxiety over the future. The anxiety of the entire public. Some fear Hamas, some fear the alternative to Hamas. Some are anxious about demographics, others about the state of democracy. Some fear sanctions, others fear capitulation to sanctions. Some fear a partnership with the Arab parties, others a partnership with the Haredim. Some fear yielding to Iran, others fear aimless aggression against Iran. The voters went to the polls shell-shocked, exhausted by the upheavals of recent years, gripped by anxieties, each with their own. And the leaders insisted on adding to them, right down to the final stretch.
In the 1964 U.S. election, President Lyndon Johnson aired a commercial that became known as the “Daisy ad”: a little girl plucking the petals of a flower while a countdown to a nuclear attack plays in the background. The ad was meant to warn Americans against his opponent, Barry Goldwater, portraying him as a warmonger who could bring about a nuclear holocaust. In Netanyahu’s version this week – posting on X an image of a mushroom cloud over greater Tel Aviv – the message was reversed: it is the “warmonger” who is warning against his rivals, whose submission could bring about a nuclear holocaust.
Netanyahu chose to dedicate the final days of the campaign to sowing fear. Last Friday, in one of his more bizarre statements, he mused at length about the possibility that crippling economic sanctions might be imposed on Israel, and then went on to ponder what Israel could do in such an event. Netanyahu has been bearing Job-like tidings, in various iterations, for some time now. Previously, he informed Israelis that they would have to learn to live in Sparta. This time, he announced that they would need to shift to trading in crypto.
The educated and curious prime minister knows how to juggle imagery from the classical world and the world of innovation, even though a significant portion of his supporters do not know what Sparta was, and a significant portion do not know what to do with crypto. They don’t know, among other reasons, because during his years as prime minister Netanyahu has presided over the ongoing decline of Israel’s public education system. Ten days ago, his education minister found a creative solution to this predicament: he announced that his ministry would sever ties with RAMA, the national authority that tests Israeli students and measures their achievement. In other words, he will no longer allow Israeli students to be tested to assess their level. Netanyahu had the opportunity (which he didn’t use) to deploy yet another colorful metaphor to explain to his citizens the inherent advantages of such a move. Just as in the quantum world, if we do not measure their level, the students will remain in a superposition: simultaneously educated and ignorant.
This is, in fact, Israel’s situation across quite a few arenas, from which the next government will have to extricate it. In Iran – a superposition that is neither victory nor defeat. In Gaza – a superposition that is neither the eradication of Hamas nor consent to its continued rule. Facing the Haredi challenge – a superposition of mandatory conscription and no enforcement of conscription. In the West Bank – a superposition of condemning settler riots and encouraging them. The election campaign also places Israel in a superposition: victory and defeat. These won because they didn’t lose; those lost because they didn’t win. Both sides are now looking to turn uncertainty into a sort of certainty. And the conditions are not easy. The opposition wants to immediately begin moves that will signal the transition to a new government. Reality, however, may chart a rocky path for them.
Think about what is expected in the coming days and weeks. Early next week, party leaders will meet with the president to determine what can even be done. Gadi Eisenkot has a plan, Naftali Bennett has a slightly different plan and Avigdor Lieberman has a third plan – we have to hope he knows what that plan is, because it is not always clear. Benjamin Netanyahu has a plan. And yes, President Isaac Herzog also has a plan. He announced in advance that he will push to form a unity government. Like his late father, Chaim Herzog, who was president in 1984, Herzog hopes he can extricate the country from crisis if he forces the heads of the major parties to sit together. With one minor difference: in 1984, the party leaders were Yitzhak Shamir of Likud and Shimon Peres of the Labor-led Alignment. They didn’t like each other, but neither carried the burden of a resounding failure like Oct. 7, 2023, and neither had served as prime minister for a prolonged period. Both stood at the head of large, dominant parties. Out of 120 Knesset seats, 85 belonged to Likud and the Alignment. So a unity government was a two-party government that could dictate an agenda with ease. This is obviously not the case now, when the two largest parties combined are roughly the size of one large party from the past.
But Herzog wants a unity government. Who will head it? That will be a difficult question to solve. Eisenkot will not agree to sit in a Netanyahu government; at least, that is what he promised. His voters – and the rest of the voters in the anti-Netanyahu “change bloc” – do not want any of their leaders sitting in a Netanyahu government. Will Netanyahu agree to sit in a government led by any of them? To date, he doesn’t seem like someone willing to accept such a verdict, which would also be legally complicated: because he is on trial, he likely cannot serve as a mere minister. Until now, he has assumed he would be better off skipping the pleasure and dedicating himself to eroding his rivals’ power until he could return to office. It is entirely possible that this is what he will want to do this time as well.
And it gets more complicated. Because while Herzog is holding meetings with party leaders and trying to convince them of the need for unity, the U.S. midterm elections will arrive, followed by the possibility of an attack on Iran. Netanyahu will be the prime minister tasked with the decision. Will he consult the rivals who might succeed him? Good question. Will his rivals support his decision to go to war? That is also a good question. Will it be possible to conduct vigorous coalition negotiations under a barrage of missiles? Israel is experienced with diverse and dangerous scenarios, but such a situation would undoubtedly impact the negotiations as well. Maybe Netanyahu will offer a swift entry into an emergency government. Maybe someone will be tempted by that. Maybe no one will be tempted, and Netanyahu will launch – in the midst of a war – a campaign against his rivals for failing to back him during a national crisis.
Israel is a country where every passing day is a day of emergency, yet when allocating time for coalition negotiations, it exercises extraordinary patience. First, the president consults. Then a candidate has 28 days to form a government. If he fails, he gets another 14 days, and if he fails again, someone else gets 28 days, and theoretically a third candidate could get another 14. Do the math: 28 plus 14 plus 28 plus 14. A total of 84 days, each of which could be an emergency day, while concurrently holding talks that may or may not lead to the formation of a new government. November, December, through mid-January 2027.
We are in a state of continuity and change. Of Netanyahu and Eisenkot. Of unity and division. Of resolution and delay. We are in a superposition. And it could last until then.
Shmuel Rosner is senior political editor. For more analysis of Israeli and international politics, visit Rosner’s Domain at jewishjournal.com/rosnersdomain.
