General Elections: What Future For Israel? – Analysis

Political Change, Palestinian Self-Determination, Democratic Inclusion, and the Crisis of International Legitimacy

Key Takeaways:

• Israel’s 27 October 2026 election is framed as more than a contest over Benjamin Netanyahu’s leadership: it tests whether any new government will alter structural policies on occupation, settlement expansion, Palestinian self-determination, Arab-citizen inclusion, and the tension between Jewish national identity and democratic equality.
• While the opposition criticizes Netanyahu’s alliances and style, key figures such as Gadi Eisenkot remain opposed to Palestinian statehood and favor security-centered control, so a change of government may produce tactical moderation without strategic transformation of territorial or citizenship arrangements.
• The essay argues that durable legitimacy requires measurable policy shifts—halting settlement growth, enforcing the law against settler violence, protecting Arab citizens from organized crime, ensuring judicial independence, and offering a credible political horizon for Palestinians—rather than diplomatic rehabilitation or leadership change alone.

Introduction: An Election About More Than Netanyahu

Israel’s general election scheduled for 27 October 2026 takes place at a decisive juncture in the country’s political history. It is not simply another parliamentary contest between rival parties seeking the 61 seats required to command a majority in the 120-member Knesset. It is a referendum, albeit an imperfect and highly polarized one, on the political direction of the state, the legacy of Benjamin Netanyahu, the relationship between Jewish national identity and democratic citizenship, the future of Palestinians living under Israeli occupation, and Israel’s position in an international system increasingly troubled by the consequences of the war in Gaza and the continuing expansion of Israeli settlements in the occupied West Bank. The election also raises a question that Israeli political debate has often attempted to postpone: can the country renew its democratic legitimacy without reconsidering the policies that have made the Palestinian question more intractable and its own society more divided?

The European Parliamentary Research Service’s pre-election briefing describes a competitive and uncertain political environment in which Netanyahu’s opponents have attempted to present themselves as an alternative government while remaining divided over security policy, Palestinian statehood, relations with Arab parties, judicial reform, and the future of Israeli settlements (Wisdorff, 2026). Contemporary reporting similarly presents the election as a test of Netanyahu’s political durability and of the opposition’s capacity to translate public dissatisfaction into a viable parliamentary majority (Associated Press, 2026; Reuters, 2026). Yet the meaning of this contest cannot be reduced to a personal struggle between a long-serving prime minister and those who wish to replace him. The more consequential issue is whether political change will produce a substantive transformation of policy or merely a different style of government.

Yair Lapid, the opposition leader, has framed the first step toward rehabilitating Israel’s international image in unequivocal terms: Benjamin Netanyahu and the extremist politicians surrounding him must leave office. In his remarks at the Atlantic Council, Lapid argued that Netanyahu’s leadership and political alliances have contributed to the country’s internal disintegration and damaged its international standing (Atlantic Council, n.d.). The criticism reflects a widespread perception among opponents of the government that Netanyahu’s political survival has become inseparable from the demands of far-right coalition partners, including figures who advocate an uncompromising approach to Palestinian political aspirations and support the expansion of settlements.

Nevertheless, the removal of Netanyahu, however consequential it might be, would not automatically resolve Israel’s deeper political contradictions. An opposition coalition can reject his governing style, criticize his management of the war, condemn irresponsible statements by ministers, defend judicial institutions, and seek to restore diplomatic relationships while preserving many of the policies that helped produce the current crisis. If its principal objective is to replace one leadership team without revisiting the occupation, settlement expansion, Palestinian political exclusion, and unequal experiences of citizenship, the result could be a change in political personnel rather than a change in the underlying structure of conflict.

This distinction is essential. Elections can replace governments, but they do not necessarily transform the political assumptions on which those governments operate. A new administration may be more competent, more disciplined in its public communication, more respectful of diplomatic conventions, and less openly confrontational toward international institutions. Those improvements would matter. Yet they would not, by themselves, establish a credible horizon for Palestinian self-determination or settle the tension between Israel’s claim to be both Jewish and democratic and the prolonged rule it exercises over millions of Palestinians who do not enjoy equal political rights within the system that controls their lives.

The problem is therefore structural as well as personal. Netanyahu has made a substantial contribution to Israel’s current crisis, but he did not invent every element of the political environment in which he operates. Settlement expansion, the fragmentation of Palestinian territorial and political authority, the marginalization of Arab parties in coalition formation, and the recurring refusal of major Israeli political forces to accept Palestinian statehood as an achievable political objective extend beyond his individual tenure. Their persistence suggests that the coming election must be evaluated not only by asking who wins but also by examining what the winning coalition is prepared to change.

The Palestinian dimension is particularly revealing. Israel’s principal opposition figures may differ sharply from Netanyahu on the management of security, the conduct of the war, the independence of the judiciary, and the political influence of religious-nationalist parties. However, contemporary reporting indicates that important opposition figures remain opposed to the immediate establishment of a Palestinian state and continue to endorse a security-centered approach that allows Israel considerable freedom of action in the occupied territories (Wisdorff, 2026; Reuters, 2026). This creates an uncomfortable distinction between opposing Netanyahu and opposing the political system of indefinite control over Palestinians.

At the same time, the election must be understood within Israel’s own society. Jewish Israeli voters do not form a homogeneous political bloc, and Arab citizens of Israel are not simply an external audience to the national debate. They are citizens with electoral rights, political parties, social demands, and a direct stake in public security, education, housing, employment, policing, and the allocation of state resources. Their experience tests the substantive meaning of democratic inclusion. If political leaders speak of democracy while treating Arab citizens as permanently unsuitable partners in national government, the contradiction is not merely rhetorical; it becomes a feature of the country’s political institutions and coalition practices.

Israel’s international legitimacy is similarly complex. It is not synonymous with popularity, and it cannot be measured solely by diplomatic recognition, military strength, technological achievement, or the number of states maintaining formal relations with Jerusalem. A state’s international standing is also influenced by its conduct toward civilians, its compliance with international law, the credibility of its political objectives, and the consistency with which it applies the principles it expects other states to respect. Israel’s security concerns are real and cannot be dismissed. The attacks of 7 October 2023, the killing of civilians, and the taking of hostages inflicted profound trauma on Israeli society. But security is not a legal or moral exemption from the obligations governing armed conflict, nor can a strategy of indefinite military control provide a durable substitute for political settlement.

The International Court of Justice’s proceedings concerning Gaza and its July 2024 advisory opinion on the occupied Palestinian territory have intensified international scrutiny of Israeli policy. These proceedings must be described accurately: the Court’s January 2024 order indicated provisional measures in the case brought by South Africa under the Genocide Convention; it did not constitute a final judgment that genocide had occurred. The Court subsequently issued additional measures, while its July 2024 advisory opinion addressed the legal consequences of Israel’s policies and practices in the occupied Palestinian territory (International Court of Justice, 2024a; International Court of Justice, 2024b; International Court of Justice, 2024c). These legal developments do not replace political analysis, but they form part of the international environment in which the next Israeli government will have to operate.

The central argument of this essay is that Israel’s political future depends on whether the 2026 election produces a meaningful reconsideration of the relationship between security, occupation, citizenship, and national identity. Four interconnected questions are decisive. First, can Israel develop a credible political alternative to Netanyahu without reproducing the same restrictions on Palestinian self-determination? Second, can the state defend Jewish national self-determination while ensuring that Arab citizens enjoy substantive equality? Third, can Israel restore international credibility through diplomatic rehabilitation alone, or must such rehabilitation be accompanied by measurable changes in policy? Finally, can regional cooperation, including the relationship between Morocco and Israel, contribute to a wider framework of coexistence without becoming a substitute for resolving the Palestinian question?

These questions require a broader analysis than a conventional account of party competition. They involve political institutions, constitutional principles, social divisions, international law, regional diplomacy, and the difficult relationship between historical memory and future possibilities. The election may change the government. Whether it changes Israel’s political trajectory will depend on decisions that no electoral slogan, leadership transition, or diplomatic initiative can make unnecessary.

1. Netanyahu’s Political Legacy and the Personalization of the Crisis

Benjamin Netanyahu has dominated Israeli politics for much of the past two decades. His political longevity has rested on a combination of security credentials, electoral organization, ideological flexibility, coalition management, and the ability to present himself to supporters as a uniquely experienced leader in an exceptionally dangerous region. He has repeatedly portrayed himself as the politician best equipped to confront Iran, deter armed adversaries, manage relations with Washington, and protect Israel against regional instability. For many voters, particularly those who prioritize security and distrust the Palestinian leadership, this argument has remained persuasive.

Yet the very longevity that once appeared to be a political asset has become a source of vulnerability. Long tenure concentrates responsibility. When a government claims exceptional competence in security and intelligence, catastrophic failures become difficult to separate from the leader’s record. When a prime minister presents himself as indispensable, the public may reasonably ask why institutions have become so dependent on one individual and why political accountability has been deferred. The attacks of 7 October 2023 therefore became not only a national tragedy but also a profound challenge to the central narrative of Netanyahu’s leadership.

The attacks exposed the limits of a strategy that had often prioritized containment, deterrence, and the management of the Palestinian question over a negotiated political settlement. For years, Israeli governments pursued a policy environment in which the Palestinian Authority remained geographically and politically constrained, Gaza was governed separately by Hamas, and the prospects for a comprehensive settlement diminished. The assumption that Palestinian political fragmentation could be managed indefinitely proved dangerously inadequate. It did not eliminate the conflict; it allowed its unresolved dimensions to accumulate.

This does not mean that Netanyahu alone created Hamas, that the Israeli government controlled every factor leading to the attacks, or that the intentions and actions of Hamas can be explained away by reference to Israeli policy. Hamas bears responsibility for its own decisions, including attacks deliberately directed against civilians and the taking of hostages. The analytical point is different: a government that claims responsibility for national security must be judged by the effectiveness of the strategy it adopted, the institutions it supervised, and the assumptions it allowed to guide policy.

The failure also raised questions about the relationship between political leadership and professional institutions. Intelligence agencies, military commanders, political ministers, and national-security advisers operate within a complex system of shared responsibilities. The precise allocation of responsibility must be established through credible investigation rather than partisan assertion. An independent inquiry is important not merely because it may identify individual failures but because it can establish what went wrong, whether warning signs were ignored, and what institutional reforms are necessary to prevent a repetition.

For Netanyahu’s opponents, the demand for accountability is therefore more than a campaign instrument. It concerns the relationship between executive power and democratic responsibility. The controversy over judicial reform, the prime minister’s legal proceedings, and the conduct of the war have reinforced concerns about the concentration of political power and the capacity of institutions to constrain those who exercise it. The election briefing published by the European Parliamentary Research Service identifies judicial reform, Netanyahu’s trial, the consequences of 7 October, and the question of military conscription among the major issues shaping the contest (Wisdorff, 2026).

Nevertheless, an election cannot substitute for institutional accountability. If Netanyahu leaves office, questions concerning the failures preceding 7 October, the handling of hostages, the conduct of military operations, and the relationship between political leaders and security institutions will remain. A new government would inherit these questions whether it wished to confront them or not. Its credibility would depend partly on whether it allowed investigations to proceed independently and whether it accepted the findings even when they were politically inconvenient.

Netanyahu’s coalition strategy also deserves scrutiny. Israel’s parliamentary system encourages coalition-building, but the pursuit of a majority can give small parties considerable leverage. A prime minister with insufficient support among centrist or mainstream right-wing parties may depend on religious-nationalist factions whose priorities include settlement expansion, changes to the judiciary, and a more restrictive conception of Palestinian political rights. Coalition arithmetic does not absolve a prime minister of responsibility for the policies adopted by the government. On the contrary, it reveals how political survival can reshape national priorities.

The relationship between Netanyahu and the far right has consequently become a central theme of the election. His opponents argue that extremist coalition partners have weakened Israel’s international standing and deepened internal polarization. Lapid’s appeal to remove Netanyahu and his political allies expresses this critique directly (Atlantic Council, n.d.). Yet a rigorous analysis must distinguish between the political rhetoric of the opposition and the substantive policy differences among its members. Not every opponent of Netanyahu shares the same vision of Palestinian statehood, settlement policy, religious authority, or relations with Arab citizens.

The danger of personalizing the crisis is that it encourages an overly simple diagnosis. If the problem is defined exclusively as Netanyahu, then his departure can be presented as the solution. If the problem is understood as a set of interlocking political, institutional, and territorial arrangements, the demands of change become more difficult but also more realistic. Israel needs accountable leadership, but it also needs a credible strategy for the conflict that has shaped its security environment for generations.

A post-Netanyahu government would face a demanding test. It would have to demonstrate that it can protect Israeli civilians without treating permanent military domination as the only available strategy; restore confidence in public institutions without weakening judicial independence; manage religious and secular disagreements without turning every institutional dispute into a struggle over the identity of the state; and establish a political horizon for Palestinians that is more substantial than indefinite autonomy under Israeli control.

The question is not whether Netanyahu has contributed to the present crisis. The question is whether his departure would create the political space for a different approach. That depends on the opposition’s willingness to move beyond criticism of leadership style and confront the policy assumptions that have survived successive governments.

2. The Zionist Opposition: An Alternative in Style or Substance?

The Israeli opposition is not a unified ideological movement. It contains centrist politicians, liberal constituencies, secular nationalists, security-oriented former military leaders, and parties whose views on religion, the economy, judicial reform, and Palestinian political rights differ substantially. Its unity is primarily negative: the desire to prevent Netanyahu from continuing in office. Such unity can be electorally effective, but it is not necessarily sufficient to sustain a coherent government.

Yair Lapid has emphasized the damage caused by Netanyahu’s alliance with far-right politicians, presenting political change as a necessary step toward repairing Israel’s international image and internal cohesion. Other opposition figures have criticized the government’s handling of security and its treatment of state institutions. Yet the political spectrum represented by the opposition includes leaders who remain deeply skeptical of Palestinian statehood and who advocate retaining extensive Israeli security control over the territories.

Gadi Eisenkot illustrates this tension. A former military chief of staff and a prominent alternative to Netanyahu, he has been presented as a security-focused candidate capable of challenging the incumbent without abandoning a hawkish strategic outlook. Reuters’ October 2026 reporting describes him as a hawkish alternative to Netanyahu and notes his opposition to Palestinian statehood alongside his criticism of settler violence (Reuters, 2026). This combination matters because it challenges the assumption that opposition to Netanyahu necessarily entails support for a negotiated two-state settlement.

A leader can criticize extremist ministers, oppose unauthorized violence by settlers, and insist on more disciplined security policy while still rejecting Palestinian sovereignty. Such a position may represent a meaningful distinction from the current government in terms of administrative competence and the rule of law. It may reduce the risk of provocative statements, limit the influence of religious-nationalist factions, and improve relations with foreign governments. But it does not automatically resolve the underlying question of political rights.

The distinction between tactical moderation and strategic transformation should therefore guide any assessment of the opposition. Tactical moderation concerns how policy is implemented: whether ministers avoid inflammatory language, whether security operations follow established procedures, whether the government consults allies, and whether law-enforcement institutions act consistently. Strategic transformation concerns the ends of policy: whether Israel accepts a legitimate Palestinian political future, whether settlement expansion is halted, whether territorial fragmentation is reversed, and whether negotiations are intended to produce an agreement rather than indefinitely postpone one.

Both dimensions matter. A more restrained government could reduce immediate harms and create diplomatic space for negotiations. It would be unreasonable to dismiss such improvements merely because they did not solve every structural problem. However, a strategy that offers greater administrative competence without a credible political horizon may preserve the conditions that repeatedly generate violence. If Palestinians are told that their national aspirations are permanently unacceptable, the conflict remains politically unresolved regardless of the tone adopted by Israeli leaders.

The opposition’s position on Palestinian statehood is especially important because it shapes the meaning of its proposed security arrangements. Buffer zones, long-term military deployments, freedom of action for Israeli forces, and restrictions on Palestinian sovereignty may be presented as pragmatic measures in a dangerous environment. But when such arrangements become permanent, they risk transforming temporary security measures into a system of indefinite territorial control. The question is whether security is being used to create conditions for a political settlement or to justify the indefinite postponement of one.

A government may reasonably insist on credible security guarantees, effective demilitarization arrangements, international monitoring, and safeguards against attacks on civilians. No viable settlement can ignore Israeli fears or assume that a declaration of goodwill will eliminate armed threats. But security guarantees should be designed as part of a political agreement rather than as an open-ended rationale for denying another people meaningful self-determination.

The opposition’s reluctance to partner with Arab parties further exposes its limitations. A parliamentary system based on proportional representation requires parties to negotiate across ideological boundaries. Arab parties can hold the balance of power, represent millions of citizens, and contribute to government formation. Yet the exclusion of Arab political representatives from mainstream coalition calculations reflects a hierarchy of political legitimacy that sits uneasily with the universal language of democratic citizenship. The European Parliamentary Research Service identifies the difficulty of cooperation between mainstream opposition parties and Arab parties as an important feature of the electoral environment (Wisdorff, 2026).

This exclusion is not simply a question of parliamentary arithmetic. It raises the issue of whether Arab citizens are regarded as full participants in the national political community or as voters whose influence is acceptable only within carefully defined limits. Political parties may legitimately disagree with Ra’am, Hadash-Ta’al, or other Arab-led formations on particular policies. No party is entitled to automatic inclusion in every coalition. The democratic problem arises when exclusion becomes categorical, based not on the content of a party’s programme but on the identity of its electorate or its commitment to representing Arab citizens.

The opposition’s challenge is consequently twofold. It must demonstrate that it can govern more effectively than Netanyahu, and it must clarify whether its alternative includes a different understanding of democratic inclusion and Palestinian political rights. If it succeeds only at the first task, Israel may experience a change of government without a significant change in its relationship with the Palestinians or its Arab citizens.

The argument should not be exaggerated into a claim that all opposition parties are identical to Netanyahu’s coalition. They are not. Their approaches to the judiciary, public administration, diplomatic relations, settler violence, and coalition discipline can differ substantially. These differences may have immediate consequences for democratic institutions and for the everyday lives of citizens. The relevant question is whether such differences add up to a coherent alternative capable of addressing the causes of the crisis.

A credible opposition programme would need to specify the relationship between military security and political negotiations, the future of settlement construction, the status of East Jerusalem, the rights and security of Palestinians, the conditions under which Israel would accept a Palestinian state, and the institutional arrangements needed to protect minority citizenship. It would also need to address the distribution of public resources, the future of the judicial system, and the relationship between religious authority and civil equality.

Without such clarity, the election risks becoming a contest over who can manage the existing order most effectively rather than a decision about whether that order should change. The difference is decisive. A country can replace a government while preserving its central political contradictions. It can also use an electoral transition to reconsider those contradictions. Which outcome emerges will depend on whether the opposition treats victory as the end of the process or as the beginning of a more difficult political responsibility.

3. The Palestinian Question: From Conflict Management to Political Settlement

For decades, Israeli policy has repeatedly oscillated between negotiations, unilateral measures, military deterrence, and the management of Palestinian political fragmentation. The result has been a persistent gap between the language of eventual peace and the reality of territorial control. Successive governments have often described the Palestinian question as a security problem requiring careful management, while the possibility of an independent Palestinian state has become increasingly difficult to realize on the ground.

This approach has failed to produce a stable settlement. It has not eliminated armed resistance, guaranteed Israeli security, unified Palestinian political institutions, or established a mutually accepted framework for coexistence. Instead, the geography of the conflict has become more complicated. The West Bank is divided by settlements, roads, military installations, and administrative restrictions; East Jerusalem remains central to competing national claims; and Gaza has endured repeated cycles of blockade, conflict, destruction, and humanitarian crisis.

The Palestinian question cannot be reduced to the intentions of any single Palestinian organization. Hamas, the Palestinian Authority, other political movements, civil society organizations, and ordinary Palestinians have different interests, ideologies, and political strategies. The failures and abuses of Palestinian leadership deserve scrutiny, but they do not extinguish Palestinian rights or remove Israel’s obligations as the power exercising control over occupied territory. Equally, recognizing Palestinian rights does not require excusing attacks on civilians or denying Israel’s right to protect its population within the limits of international law.

A sustainable political settlement must begin with this distinction between legitimate security concerns and the permanent denial of political rights. Israel has a right to protect its civilians from armed attack. Palestinians have a right to self-determination. These principles are not mutually exclusive, although political leaders often present them as if accepting one necessarily weakens the other. The challenge is to construct institutions and arrangements that protect both peoples rather than treating one population’s security as dependent on the indefinite political subordination of the other.

The two-state framework has long been the principal internationally supported formula for resolving the conflict. Its practical viability has been weakened by settlement expansion, the fragmentation of Palestinian territory, political division among Palestinians, repeated failures of negotiations, and the absence of a durable Israeli consensus in favour of Palestinian sovereignty. Yet the erosion of the two-state prospect does not make the underlying problem disappear. It makes the question of equal rights and political authority more urgent.

If a separate Palestinian state is to remain a viable outcome, the territorial and institutional conditions for its creation must be preserved. That requires more than rhetorical references to future negotiations. It demands decisions about settlement activity, movement, access to land and resources, the status of East Jerusalem, the continuity of Palestinian territory, and the relationship between Israeli security arrangements and Palestinian political authority. A government that refuses to address these matters may continue to endorse a theoretical two-state solution while allowing the conditions necessary for it to disappear.

Conversely, if Israeli political leaders reject Palestinian statehood while continuing to exercise decisive control over Palestinian lives, they must confront the consequences of that choice. Indefinite control cannot be made politically neutral by calling it temporary or by describing it exclusively in terms of security. Where one authority exercises enduring power over another population, questions of rights, representation, legal status, and accountability inevitably arise.

The election is therefore an opportunity to clarify a contradiction that has become increasingly difficult to conceal. Can Israel maintain its identity as a democratic state while permanently denying national self-determination to Palestinians over whom it exercises control? The answer cannot be resolved by slogans. It requires an explicit political programme, a defensible legal framework, and an institutional arrangement that addresses the rights of both peoples.

The challenge also concerns the meaning of recognition. Recognition of Israel by other states, including Arab and Muslim-majority countries, is not the same as resolving the Palestinian question. Diplomatic normalization can produce economic cooperation, scientific exchange, tourism, cultural initiatives, and strategic dialogue. It may also create channels through which governments can communicate during periods of crisis. But normalization cannot by itself substitute for a political settlement that addresses Palestinian rights.

This distinction is particularly relevant to Israel’s regional diplomacy. The Abraham Accords demonstrated that some Arab governments were prepared to establish or expand formal relations with Israel despite the absence of a final Israeli-Palestinian agreement. Those agreements altered regional calculations and opened new avenues of cooperation. Yet they did not make Palestinian national aspirations disappear, nor did they eliminate the political consequences of continued occupation and conflict.

A durable regional framework must therefore avoid treating the Palestinian issue as a problem that can be bypassed through bilateral agreements alone. Regional states may have their own strategic interests, and they are not required to make every aspect of their foreign policy conditional on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Nevertheless, a regional order that seeks long-term stability cannot indefinitely ignore the rights, security, and political future of Palestinians.

The next Israeli government will have to decide whether it regards negotiations as a genuine route to a political settlement or as a diplomatic instrument for managing international pressure. The difference will be visible in policy. Will settlement expansion be halted? Will Palestinian political institutions be treated as potential partners for a negotiated arrangement, subject to clear security conditions and mutual obligations? Will the government define a credible path toward Palestinian sovereignty? Will it accept international engagement in support of a settlement, or will it insist that external actors have no legitimate role?

These are not abstract questions. They shape the expectations of Israeli and Palestinian societies, influence the calculations of regional governments, and affect the willingness of international partners to invest political capital in future negotiations. A government that provides no credible answers will inherit the same cycle of crisis management that has failed to produce lasting peace.

The task is not to pretend that negotiations will be easy or that distrust can be overcome quickly. The task is to recognize that the absence of a political horizon is itself a strategic condition, one that carries costs for both peoples. The election’s significance will depend partly on whether Israeli voters choose a government willing to acknowledge that the Palestinian question is not merely a security file to be administered but a political reality that requires a just and durable settlement.

4. Gaza, International Law, and the Crisis of Legitimacy

The war in Gaza has become a defining element of Israel’s domestic politics and international reputation. The attacks of 7 October 2023, the killing of civilians, and the taking of hostages produced shock, grief, anger, and a powerful demand for security within Israeli society. The state had an obligation to protect its population and respond to the armed attack. At the same time, the conduct of military operations remained subject to the rules of international humanitarian law, including the principles of distinction, proportionality, and precautions in attack.

The legal and moral questions raised by the war cannot be resolved by asserting that Israel faced a grave security threat. Nor can they be resolved by ignoring the crimes committed by Hamas and other armed groups. International humanitarian law exists precisely because armed conflict creates circumstances in which political leaders and military institutions face powerful incentives to expand the scope of permissible violence. The law seeks to preserve protections for civilians even when the opposing party violates its own obligations.

The distinction between combatants and civilians is fundamental. Civilians do not lose their protection merely because an armed group operates in densely populated areas, embeds itself within civilian infrastructure, or exercises control over territory. At the same time, the presence of civilians does not automatically render every attack against a military objective unlawful. Each operation must be assessed according to the relevant legal rules and available facts. These determinations require evidence and careful analysis rather than categorical political assertions.

The principles of proportionality and precaution are similarly important. Proportionality in attack does not mean a simple comparison between the number of casualties on each side. It concerns whether the expected incidental civilian harm would be excessive in relation to the concrete and direct military advantage anticipated. Precautions require parties to take feasible measures to reduce civilian harm, including the verification of targets and the choice of means and methods of warfare where alternatives are available. These principles are central to the legal framework governing armed conflict (International Committee of the Red Cross, 1949; International Committee of the Red Cross, 1977).

The humanitarian consequences of the war have also affected Israel’s international position. The destruction of homes and civilian infrastructure, displacement, shortages of essential supplies, and the scale of human suffering have intensified criticism from governments, international organizations, legal scholars, and civil society. The precise assessment of particular incidents and legal allegations requires reliable evidence, but the broader political effect is evident: Israel’s diplomatic relationships have increasingly been tested by the gap between its stated commitment to democratic values and the humanitarian consequences associated with its military campaign.

The proceedings before the International Court of Justice have become an important part of this debate. In January 2024, the Court indicated provisional measures in the case brought by South Africa under the Genocide Convention. The Court’s order was not a final determination that genocide had occurred; it addressed the conditions for provisional protection pending further proceedings. In May 2024, the Court issued an additional order concerning the situation in Rafah. In July 2024, a separate advisory opinion examined the legal consequences of Israel’s policies and practices in the occupied Palestinian territory (International Court of Justice, 2024a; International Court of Justice, 2024b; International Court of Justice, 2024c).

These proceedings should not be collapsed into a single legal conclusion. Provisional measures, advisory opinions, and final judgments have different procedural purposes and legal effects. Accuracy requires identifying what the Court actually decided, distinguishing allegations from findings, and avoiding the presentation of an interim order as a final judgment on the merits. Such precision is important not only for legal scholarship but also for public debate, where complex proceedings are often reduced to partisan slogans.

The Court’s July 2024 advisory opinion nevertheless had major implications for the international debate over the occupation. It addressed the legal consequences arising from Israel’s policies and practices in the occupied Palestinian territory, including East Jerusalem. Its conclusions reinforced the view that the legal status of the occupation and the associated policies could not be treated as matters exclusively within Israel’s domestic discretion. The political implications extend beyond the immediate conduct of military operations: they concern the legality of territorial control, settlement policy, and the international community’s responsibilities in relation to the situation.

International legitimacy is not simply a public-relations problem. Governments may repair their communications strategies, hire diplomatic advisers, emphasize technological achievements, and improve relations with foreign leaders. Such efforts can be useful, but they cannot compensate indefinitely for policies that generate persistent legal and humanitarian controversy. A state’s credibility depends partly on whether it accepts the application of legal principles to its own conduct rather than invoking international law only when it supports its interests.

The same point applies to Israel’s allies. States that defend Israel’s right to security must also take seriously their obligations under international law. Their political choices affect perceptions of consistency, especially when they condemn violations committed by adversaries but appear reluctant to scrutinize similar questions when the state concerned is a partner. International legitimacy is therefore relational: it depends not only on the conduct of the state under scrutiny but also on the credibility of those who defend or criticize it.

For Israel’s next government, the challenge will be to separate the legitimate defence of Israeli civilians from the assumption that international criticism is necessarily an expression of hostility toward Israel’s existence. Some criticism may indeed be politically motivated, selective, or accompanied by antisemitic language. Antisemitism must be identified and opposed wherever it appears, including when it is disguised as political commentary. But the existence of antisemitic rhetoric does not invalidate all criticism of Israeli policy, just as criticism of a government must not be used to justify hostility toward Jewish people collectively.

This distinction is essential for a democratic society. A government that treats every international legal concern as an attack on the nation may strengthen domestic solidarity in the short term but weaken its ability to learn from criticism and adapt policy. A government that takes legal scrutiny seriously can defend its citizens while demonstrating that security and accountability are not mutually exclusive.

The war has also raised questions about the relationship between military objectives and political strategy. Military operations may degrade the capabilities of an armed group, recover hostages, or create temporary security advantages. But military force cannot by itself establish a legitimate political order after the fighting ends. If Gaza is left without viable institutions, reconstruction, security guarantees, and a credible political future, the conditions for renewed violence may persist even after a particular military campaign concludes.

The question of post-war governance is therefore inseparable from the question of legitimacy. Who will administer Gaza? What role, if any, will Palestinian institutions play? How will security be maintained without reproducing indefinite occupation? What mechanisms will permit reconstruction, accountability, and the restoration of basic services? How will the rights and security of civilians be protected? These questions require political decisions, not simply military planning.

An Israeli government that has no credible answer to them will find it difficult to convince international partners that the war is connected to a sustainable political objective. It may retain considerable military power, but the strategic benefits of that power can be undermined by the absence of a viable post-conflict settlement. Military success and political success are not identical.

The election will consequently test whether Israeli leaders understand legitimacy as a resource that must be continually earned through conduct, or as an asset guaranteed by historical suffering, international alliances, and the recognition of Israel’s right to exist. Historical experience explains the depth of Jewish concerns about security and antisemitism. It does not remove the obligations of a state under international law. Equally, the rights of Palestinians do not require the denial of Jewish historical attachment to the land or of Israeli society’s legitimate security concerns.

A sustainable future requires these truths to be held together rather than used to cancel one another. The challenge for Israel is to demonstrate that the defence of its citizens can coexist with legal accountability, humanitarian protection, and a political horizon for Palestinians. Without that combination, international rehabilitation will remain fragile, and the country’s diplomatic relationships will continue to be exposed to the consequences of an unresolved conflict.

5. The West Bank: Settlements, Annexation, and the Erosion of a Political Horizon

The West Bank represents one of the most consequential tests of Israel’s political future. Settlement expansion, settler violence, restrictions on Palestinian movement, competing claims to land, and the fragmented administration of the territory have progressively complicated the prospects for a negotiated two-state settlement. These developments are not peripheral to the conflict. They affect the territorial conditions under which Palestinian sovereignty could become viable and influence whether negotiations can produce an agreement with practical meaning.

United Nations Security Council Resolution 2334, adopted in December 2016, reaffirmed that the establishment of Israeli settlements in the Palestinian territory occupied since 1967, including East Jerusalem, has no legal validity and constitutes a flagrant violation under international law. The resolution called on Israel to cease settlement activities and emphasized the need to distinguish between the territory of the State of Israel and the territories occupied since 1967 (United Nations Security Council, 2016). The resolution is a central reference point in the international legal and diplomatic debate over settlement policy.

Settlement expansion has consequences beyond the number of housing units constructed. It alters the geography of the territory, affects access to land and resources, creates new infrastructure and security requirements, and increases the political cost of territorial compromise. As settlements and associated roads expand, the possibility of establishing a contiguous and functional Palestinian state becomes more difficult. The resulting fragmentation is not merely a cartographic inconvenience. It affects economic development, public administration, mobility, and the ability of Palestinian institutions to exercise coherent authority.

The political consequences are cumulative. Each new settlement or expansion can create additional constituencies with an interest in retaining the territory, making future withdrawal more politically contentious. Roads and infrastructure can deepen the integration of settlements into Israel’s economic and administrative systems while leaving Palestinian communities subject to a different set of restrictions. The longer this process continues, the more difficult it becomes to distinguish a temporary security arrangement from a durable territorial reality.

The distinction between settlement expansion and formal annexation is important but does not eliminate the underlying problem. Formal annexation involves a claim to extend sovereignty over territory. Other measures can nevertheless entrench control without an explicit declaration of annexation. Administrative integration, infrastructure development, legal changes, and restrictions on Palestinian authority may produce cumulative effects that diminish the practical prospect of territorial separation. The political outcome can move toward permanent control even when the formal legal vocabulary remains ambiguous.

This is why criticism of the Israeli government cannot be limited to the conduct of individual ministers. Some opposition politicians have condemned settler violence and criticized far-right rhetoric while maintaining a security doctrine that rejects Palestinian statehood or reserves extensive Israeli control over the West Bank. Reuters’ October 2026 account of Eisenkot’s political position illustrates this tension: he is presented as an alternative to Netanyahu who criticizes settler violence but remains opposed to Palestinian statehood (Reuters, 2026). The distinction matters because the rule of law and the question of sovereignty are related but separate issues.

A government can improve law enforcement against violent settlers without altering its fundamental territorial policy. Such enforcement would be important, particularly where Palestinian civilians are threatened, attacked, or displaced. But the protection of individual rights does not by itself resolve the political status of the territory. A policy can be more restrained in its implementation while still preventing the emergence of a viable Palestinian state.

Settler violence is especially damaging when perpetrators appear to enjoy impunity or when state institutions fail to protect vulnerable communities. It undermines the rule of law, intensifies Palestinian insecurity, and weakens international confidence in the government’s stated commitment to order. It also creates a dilemma for Israeli security institutions: where ideological movements seek to impose territorial outcomes through intimidation, the state must decide whether it will enforce the law consistently or tolerate conduct that advances the objectives of politically influential constituencies.

The consequences extend to Israeli society. A state that allows violence to be tolerated because it is committed by members of a favoured political constituency weakens the universality of its own legal system. The issue is not whether every settler shares the same ideology or whether every settlement resident engages in violence. Such generalizations would be inaccurate and unjust. The issue is whether public authorities enforce legal protections without regard to the political identity of the alleged perpetrator or the nationality of the victim.

The international implications are equally serious. Settlement policy has long been a source of disagreement between Israel and many of its allies. Governments that support Israel’s security may also oppose measures that undermine the two-state framework. This divergence becomes more difficult to manage when Israeli leaders insist that international partners respect Israel’s security concerns while dismissing their objections to territorial policies that those partners regard as incompatible with a negotiated settlement.

The United Nations Secretary-General’s reporting on the implementation of Resolution 2334 provides a continuing record of international concern over settlement activity and related developments (United Nations, 2026). Such reporting does not replace the political negotiations that would be required to resolve the conflict, but it underscores that the settlement issue remains a central component of the international agenda.

For Israel’s next government, the question will be whether it is prepared to halt or reverse policies that make a negotiated settlement increasingly difficult. A credible change would require more than a different tone. It would involve decisions about planning and construction, the treatment of outposts, the enforcement of law against violence, restrictions affecting Palestinian communities, and the future of territorial arrangements. It would also require a political statement clarifying whether Palestinian sovereignty remains an acceptable outcome.

The argument that settlement expansion is necessary for security must be examined rather than accepted as self-evident. Security requirements can justify specific measures where they are lawful, necessary, and proportionate to legitimate objectives. They do not automatically justify the permanent alteration of occupied territory or the denial of political rights. A security policy must be assessed according to its actual effects, including whether it reduces threats over time or deepens the grievances and structural conditions that sustain conflict.

The same scrutiny should be applied to proposals for permanent buffer zones or indefinite Israeli freedom of military action. Temporary arrangements may be necessary in particular circumstances. But if they become the governing principle for the territory as a whole, the distinction between security management and permanent domination becomes increasingly difficult to sustain. A viable settlement would need to establish how security can be guaranteed while political authority and responsibility are transferred through a negotiated and verifiable process.

The West Bank is therefore a test of whether Israeli political change can reach beyond the question of who governs. If the next government is more moderate in rhetoric but continues to facilitate the territorial consolidation of Israeli control, the prospects for Palestinian sovereignty will continue to diminish. If it halts settlement expansion, protects Palestinian civilians, enforces the law, and establishes a credible framework for negotiations, it could create space for a different trajectory. The election cannot guarantee the latter outcome, but it will reveal whether the political forces competing for power are willing to pursue it.

6. Arab Citizens of Israel: The Democratic Test Within

The status of Arab citizens of Israel is central to any serious assessment of the country’s democratic future. Arab citizens participate in elections, serve in professional and public institutions, operate businesses, attend universities, and contribute to cultural and civic life. They are not external observers of Israeli democracy but members of the political community whose rights and opportunities help determine the substantive character of the state.

Their experience nevertheless reveals persistent tensions between formal citizenship and substantive equality. Political representation does not automatically guarantee equal access to public resources, effective protection by law-enforcement institutions, fair treatment in planning and housing, or the capacity to influence national policy. The distinction between legal status and lived experience is important because democracy involves more than the right to cast a ballot. It also requires that citizens have meaningful opportunities to shape public decisions and enjoy the protection of institutions without discrimination.

Scholars have long debated the character of Israel’s political system, including the relationship between its Jewish national identity and its democratic institutions. Smooha’s model of ethnic democracy examines the coexistence of democratic competition with a political order that privileges the national identity of the majority group (Smooha, 2002). Peled’s analysis of the legal construction of citizenship explores how formal citizenship can coexist with differentiated political and national status (Peled, 1992). Rouhana and Sultany similarly examine the boundaries of citizenship and the political implications of Israel’s changing national framework (Rouhana & Sultany, 2003). These scholarly approaches differ in emphasis, but they help illuminate the structural questions that the election brings into focus.

The issue is not whether Israel possesses democratic institutions. It does, and these institutions have enabled genuine political competition, public debate, and changes of government. The question is how those institutions operate within a state whose national identity is explicitly Jewish and whose citizens include a substantial Arab minority. A democratic state can recognize the national identity of its majority while protecting minority rights. The challenge arises when national identity becomes a basis for restricting the political legitimacy of citizens who do not share it.

Arab citizens face a distinctive political dilemma. They are encouraged to participate in elections and public institutions, yet their parties may be treated as unacceptable coalition partners by mainstream Jewish-led parties. This limits the practical influence of Arab voters even when their representatives hold the parliamentary balance of power. The exclusion of Arab parties cannot be explained solely by ideological disagreement: coalition partners frequently disagree on many issues, and parliamentary democracy depends on negotiation among parties with different programmes. The deeper question is whether Arab political participation is regarded as legitimate in principle or merely tolerated within a restricted sphere.

Mansour Abbas and the Ra’am party have sought to demonstrate that participation in government can deliver tangible benefits for Arab citizens. Their approach has emphasized practical cooperation, public security, municipal services, economic development, housing, and the allocation of state resources. This strategy reflects a political judgment that participation in governing coalitions can produce concrete gains even when broader ideological disagreements remain unresolved.

The approach has generated debate within Arab society and among Jewish Israeli politicians. Supporters regard pragmatic coalition participation as a way to improve living conditions and increase political influence. Critics worry that such participation may require Arab parties to accept limits on their ability to challenge discriminatory policies or advocate wider national rights. Both concerns deserve consideration. Political participation can produce material benefits, but it can also create pressures to moderate demands in ways that leave structural inequalities untouched.

The relevant democratic test is whether Arab citizens can participate in government without being required to abandon their identity or remain silent about discrimination. Coalition cooperation should be assessed according to policy outcomes, accountability, and the degree to which it expands the political agency of Arab citizens. It should not be treated as inherently illegitimate because the parties involved represent Arab voters, nor should it be romanticized as proof that all questions of equality have been resolved.

The exclusion of Arab parties from coalition discussions also affects Israeli democracy as a whole. When political actors assume that a substantial segment of citizens cannot be represented in government because of their national or ethnic identity, the principle of equal citizenship becomes conditional. A parliamentary system may legally permit such exclusion, but its democratic quality is weakened when citizens’ votes are treated as inherently less legitimate in the formation of governing coalitions.

This issue has particular importance in a closely contested election. If no bloc secures a clear majority, Arab parties could become decisive to the formation of a government. Mainstream parties would then face a choice: engage in negotiations based on policy and parliamentary responsibility, or continue to exclude Arab representatives regardless of the consequences for government formation. Such a decision would reveal whether the opposition’s language of democratic renewal includes a genuine commitment to political equality.

The future of Arab-Jewish relations cannot be separated from the wider Israeli-Palestinian conflict, but the two should not be conflated. Arab citizens of Israel have their own civic, social, and political priorities. They are not simply representatives of Palestinians in the occupied territories, and their views are not uniform. Some prioritize economic development and local security; others emphasize national identity, equality, and the rights of Palestinians. Many combine these concerns in different ways.

A democratic political system should permit this diversity rather than demanding a single acceptable model of Arab citizenship. Citizens should be free to advocate equality, criticize government policy, support Palestinian rights, and participate in public institutions without being treated as disloyal merely because they challenge the prevailing national consensus. At the same time, political actors must reject violence against civilians and respect the rights of others, including Jewish citizens. These expectations are compatible with equal citizenship; they do not require political conformity.

The debate also has implications for the meaning of national security. Arab citizens are sometimes treated as a potential security concern rather than as partners in public life. Such suspicion can weaken trust in institutions and make cooperation more difficult. A government that seeks to improve security should recognize that fair treatment, effective public services, and political inclusion can strengthen institutional legitimacy. Security is not merely the ability to deploy police or intelligence resources. It also depends on whether citizens believe that public institutions protect them fairly.

The election offers an opportunity to move beyond symbolic gestures. A serious programme of democratic inclusion would address discriminatory practices where they exist, improve representation in public institutions, support equitable local development, protect political expression, and ensure that Arab parties can be considered for coalition participation on the basis of their policies rather than their communal identity. It would also recognize that equality requires more than formal declarations: it must be reflected in budgets, law enforcement, planning, education, and public administration.

The central question is whether Israel’s next government will treat Arab citizens as equal partners in the democratic system or continue to view their participation as politically exceptional. The answer will have consequences for social cohesion, the legitimacy of public institutions, and the country’s ability to present itself internationally as a democracy committed to equal citizenship.

7. Organized Crime, Public Security, and the State’s Responsibility

The crisis of organized crime and lethal violence in Arab communities is one of the most urgent domestic issues facing Israel. The problem cannot be understood simply as a matter of criminal behaviour. It is also a question of state capacity, institutional trust, public investment, policing, access to justice, and the protection of citizens whose lives are threatened by criminal organizations.

Reports published in 2025 documented the exceptionally high number of Arab citizens killed in criminal and violent incidents during 2024. The Abraham Initiatives reported 230 Arab citizens killed in crime and violence that year, while the Taub Center reported 220 homicides in Arab society, compared with 58 in the Jewish population. The figures differ because organizations may use different definitions, datasets, or classification methods, so they should not be treated as interchangeable without checking their methodology (Abraham Initiatives, 2025; Taub Center for Social Policy Studies in Israel, 2025). Both sources, however, document the severity of the crisis.

These figures represent more than a statistical disparity. They describe communities in which families may fear leaving their homes, business owners may face extortion, young people may be drawn into criminal networks, and witnesses may hesitate to cooperate with police because of intimidation or a lack of confidence in their protection. When violence becomes routine, it alters the everyday meaning of citizenship. The ability to live safely, operate a business, attend school, and participate in community life becomes dependent on conditions that the state is obligated to address.

A functioning state must protect citizens from organized violence regardless of their ethnicity, religion, political affiliation, or place of residence. This responsibility includes preventing crime, investigating offences, prosecuting perpetrators, protecting witnesses, disrupting illegal weapons networks, and ensuring that victims have access to justice. Where institutions fail persistently, the consequences extend beyond the immediate victims: trust in public authority declines, criminal organizations acquire greater influence, and communities become more vulnerable to coercion.

The roots of organized crime are complex. They may include illegal weapons, extortion, competition among criminal networks, socioeconomic inequalities, limited employment opportunities, gaps in public services, and weak confidence in law enforcement. No single factor explains every case, and poverty should never be treated as a sufficient explanation for criminal violence. Most people living in disadvantaged communities do not engage in serious crime. The relevant point is that effective policy must address both the perpetrators and the institutional conditions that allow criminal organizations to operate.

A narrow strategy based exclusively on arrests and raids may produce short-term results but fail to dismantle the structures that sustain violence. Policing is essential, yet it must be accompanied by effective investigations, prosecution, witness protection, prevention programmes, and long-term investment in education, housing, employment, and municipal services. Communities need to see that the state is capable not only of exercising coercive power but also of delivering public goods and protecting everyday life.

The legitimacy of law enforcement is crucial. When residents believe that police do not take their complaints seriously, fail to protect witnesses, or apply the law inconsistently, cooperation becomes more difficult. Criminal organizations may exploit this distrust, presenting themselves as alternative providers of protection or using intimidation to prevent cooperation with authorities. Restoring confidence requires visible results, transparency, accountability, and sustained engagement with local communities.

The political dimension is unavoidable. Governments determine budgets, policing priorities, legislation, and the distribution of resources among municipalities. They also shape public discourse about which communities are considered central to national life. If the security crisis in Arab communities receives insufficient political attention, the disparity itself becomes evidence that the state does not protect all citizens with equal urgency. Conversely, a government that prioritizes the protection of Arab communities can demonstrate that equal citizenship has practical consequences.

The issue is particularly relevant to the formation of a new government. Ra’am and other Arab political formations have repeatedly emphasized the need to address crime and violence as a matter of urgent public policy. Their ability to influence a governing coalition could help direct resources toward policing, local government, education, and economic development. But the responsibility cannot be transferred exclusively to Arab parties or municipal leaders. National institutions control many of the tools required to address organized crime, and they must be held accountable for results.

A credible policy should establish measurable targets for reducing homicide, improving case-clearance rates, disrupting weapons trafficking, protecting witnesses, and increasing residents’ confidence in law enforcement. It should publish regular data and permit independent evaluation. It should also ensure that enforcement respects due process and does not stigmatize entire communities. Public security must be both effective and lawful.

Economic and social policy also matter. Young people who lack access to education, employment, or meaningful opportunities may become more vulnerable to criminal recruitment, although deprivation alone does not determine individual behaviour. Municipalities need adequate resources to maintain public spaces, support schools, expand youth services, and promote legitimate economic activity. Businesses require protection from extortion, and victims need accessible support services. These measures are not alternatives to policing; they are part of a comprehensive strategy.

The political leadership must also avoid using the crisis as a rhetorical instrument while neglecting implementation. Condemning violence after a highly publicized incident is not sufficient. Governments must sustain attention after public outrage fades, ensure coordination among agencies, and accept responsibility when policies fail. The same standards of accountability that apply to national security should apply to public safety within Arab communities.

The crisis of organized crime therefore tests Israel’s conception of citizenship in a concrete way. Equality is not demonstrated solely through constitutional language or election campaigns. It is demonstrated when the state protects the lives of citizens who may have little political influence, when it investigates crimes without discrimination, and when it invests in communities whose needs have long been neglected. A government that can make progress on this issue would strengthen both democratic legitimacy and social cohesion.

8. Coalition Politics and the Limits of Electoral Democracy

Israel’s proportional electoral system creates a political environment in which coalition formation is central to government. Parties compete for votes, but the distribution of seats rarely allows one party to govern alone. A majority of 61 members in the 120-seat Knesset is required to sustain a government, giving smaller parties potential leverage disproportionate to their electoral size. This structure can encourage pluralism and negotiation, but it can also create instability and give narrow ideological constituencies considerable influence over national policy.

The 2026 election is expected to be closely contested, with the main blocs facing the challenge of assembling a viable majority (Wisdorff, 2026). In such circumstances, the distinction between winning the largest number of seats and being able to form a government becomes decisive. A party can emerge as the largest formation yet remain unable to govern if it lacks acceptable coalition partners. Conversely, a bloc composed of several parties can form a government despite no single member winning a dominant share of the vote.

Coalition bargaining is not inherently undemocratic. Parliamentary democracy depends on negotiation, compromise, and the reconciliation of different political interests. The problem arises when the pursuit of a majority allows small parties to impose policies that lack broad public support or undermine the rights of groups excluded from the bargaining process. A government’s parliamentary legitimacy does not mean that every policy it adopts is necessarily wise, fair, or consistent with democratic principles.

Netanyahu’s experience illustrates the political importance of coalition dependence. When a prime minister’s parliamentary position rests on parties with highly specific ideological priorities, the government may be forced to accommodate demands that affect the judiciary, religion and state, settlement policy, and the treatment of Palestinians. The incentives of coalition survival can become more important than the interests of the wider electorate. The result may be a government that is formally legitimate but persistently divided over the country’s strategic direction.

The opposition faces a parallel challenge. Its parties may agree that Netanyahu should leave office while disagreeing about the policies that should follow. Some emphasize the restoration of institutional norms and diplomatic credibility; others prioritize security, military freedom of action, or restrictions on Palestinian sovereignty. The difficulty is not simply to assemble enough seats but to determine whether the parties can agree on a programme that remains coherent after the election.

A government built principally on opposition to one individual may be vulnerable once that individual is removed. Its members may discover that their agreement on the incumbent’s shortcomings does not extend to the decisions required in office. Questions concerning the war, hostages, military service, religious exemptions, judicial reform, budgets, settlements, and relations with Arab parties can rapidly reopen divisions that electoral campaigning temporarily obscures.

The inclusion or exclusion of Arab parties may be decisive. If the mainstream opposition refuses to cooperate with Arab political formations, its ability to form a majority may be reduced. If it accepts their support, it may face accusations from opponents who portray such cooperation as illegitimate. These pressures reveal the difference between a parliamentary system’s formal rules and the informal boundaries of political acceptability.

A mature democratic culture recognizes that parties can disagree profoundly while remaining legitimate participants in political life. Coalition partners do not need to share every ideological commitment, but they must agree on the rules of government, respect the rights of citizens, and negotiate policies transparently. Excluding parties categorically because they represent an ethnic or national minority weakens the principle that votes should carry equal political weight.

The problem is not solved by insisting that Arab parties must be included in every government. Coalition formation is a political process, and parties retain the right to reject proposals that conflict with their programmes. The important distinction is between exclusion based on substantive policy disagreement and exclusion based on a presumption that Arab representation is inherently unacceptable. The former is normal democratic competition; the latter raises questions about the boundaries of citizenship.

The electoral threshold also shapes representation. Parties must secure a minimum share of the vote to enter the Knesset, a rule intended partly to limit excessive fragmentation. Yet electoral thresholds can have disproportionate consequences for smaller parties and may encourage mergers or strategic voting. In a polarized environment, they can influence whether minority constituencies obtain parliamentary representation and whether parties must coordinate to avoid wasting votes.

Coalition negotiations should therefore be evaluated not only by whether they produce a stable majority but also by the kind of political order they sustain. Stability is important, particularly in a period of war and regional uncertainty. But stability without accountability can entrench policy failure, while a narrow majority built on extreme demands can deepen social division. A viable government must balance governability with institutional restraint, minority rights, and strategic coherence.

The election also raises the issue of political accountability across coalition lines. When responsibility is dispersed among several parties, leaders can blame one another for policy failures while continuing to benefit from government participation. Coalition agreements may clarify priorities, but they can also obscure the distribution of responsibility. Voters need to know which parties supported key decisions, which ministers were responsible for implementation, and whether promises made during the campaign were reflected in government action.

A new government should therefore be judged by its programme and performance rather than by the mere fact of Netanyahu’s departure. Its record should be evaluated in relation to public security, the independence of institutions, the treatment of minorities, the conduct of military operations, the future of settlements, the humanitarian situation in Gaza, and the credibility of its approach to Palestinian political rights. The composition of the coalition matters, but its decisions matter more.

Ultimately, electoral democracy is not exhausted by counting votes. Elections authorize governments to exercise power within a constitutional and legal framework; they do not confer unlimited authority. Democratic legitimacy also requires accountability, independent institutions, protection of minority rights, and the capacity to correct policy failures. The next government will face the challenge of demonstrating that it can govern effectively without treating a parliamentary majority as permission to disregard the rights and interests of those who did not vote for it.

9. International Isolation and the Limits of Diplomatic Rehabilitation

Israel’s international standing has been shaped by a combination of factors: its security relationships, technological and scientific achievements, economic connections, diplomatic partnerships, and the conduct of its policies toward Palestinians. These elements do not always move in the same direction. Israel may maintain strong strategic relations with important allies while facing intense public criticism, legal scrutiny, diplomatic tension, or growing distrust among younger generations in some partner countries.

The war in Gaza has sharpened this divergence. Governments may continue to cooperate with Israel on intelligence, defence, trade, or regional security while expressing concern about civilian casualties, humanitarian access, settlement activity, and the future of Palestinian governance. Such relationships demonstrate that international policy is rarely binary. States can support Israel’s security and oppose specific Israeli policies; they can maintain diplomatic relations while criticizing military operations; and they can cooperate strategically while pressing for a political settlement.

Israel’s next government will therefore face a challenge that cannot be addressed through public relations alone. It must determine whether it seeks to restore its reputation by improving communication or by changing the policies that have generated sustained criticism. Communication matters because international audiences do not always receive accurate or balanced information. But messaging has limited effectiveness when it conflicts with observable events or fails to address the underlying concerns raised by governments and international institutions.

The distinction between criticism of Israeli policy and hostility toward Jews is particularly important. Antisemitism remains a serious problem and must be challenged consistently. It can appear in conspiracy theories, collective blame, the denial of Jewish historical experience, or the use of anti-Jewish stereotypes. Political criticism, however, does not become antisemitic merely because it concerns Israel or challenges the decisions of an Israeli government. The content, language, and context of the criticism must be examined carefully.

A government that conflates all criticism with antisemitism risks weakening its own argument. It may alienate people who oppose antisemitism but also believe that Israeli policy should be subject to legal and political scrutiny. Conversely, critics of Israel undermine their own credibility when they use antisemitic tropes or treat Jewish people collectively as responsible for the actions of a state. A defensible international debate must reject both forms of distortion.

International legitimacy is also connected to consistency. States that advocate a rules-based international order must demonstrate that the rules apply to allies as well as adversaries. Israel’s partners may disagree over the interpretation of specific legal questions, but persistent perceptions of double standards can weaken public confidence in their positions. The same is true of Israel itself: invoking the rights of states and civilians is more persuasive when those principles are applied consistently.

The question of international legitimacy should not be reduced to a popularity contest. Public opinion fluctuates, and governments sometimes adopt policies that are unpopular but necessary. Nor should international criticism automatically determine domestic electoral choices. Israeli voters have legitimate interests and responsibilities that cannot be subordinated entirely to external opinion. Nevertheless, diplomatic isolation can carry practical costs, including strained relations, reduced cooperation, legal uncertainty, reputational damage, and greater difficulty building coalitions around regional initiatives.

A more credible Israeli strategy would combine diplomatic engagement with policy measures that address the concerns of international partners. These could include effective humanitarian access, transparent investigation of alleged violations, protection of civilians, enforcement against settler violence, restraint in settlement expansion, and a credible political horizon for Palestinians. Such measures would not guarantee agreement on every issue, but they would demonstrate that Israel is prepared to connect its diplomatic objectives to concrete conduct.

The next government will also have to navigate the relationship between Washington and other international partners. The United States has historically played a central role in Israel’s security and diplomacy, but American politics is not static. Public attitudes, congressional debates, executive priorities, and generational changes can alter the political environment in which bilateral relations operate. A strategy that assumes unconditional support regardless of Israeli policy may underestimate the long-term consequences of domestic and international change.

European governments face their own pressures. They must balance historical responsibilities, security cooperation, public opinion, international law, and domestic political divisions. The European Union is not a single political actor with a completely uniform view of Israel, and member states differ in emphasis. Yet concerns about settlement policy and the humanitarian consequences of the war have contributed to continuing debate over how Europe should engage with Israel and the Palestinians.

Israel’s international relationships are also influenced by the wider regional environment. The Abraham Accords and other forms of cooperation have shown that strategic and economic interests can create new channels of engagement. Yet these arrangements remain vulnerable to the consequences of unresolved conflict. If the Palestinian question continues to generate severe crises, governments that maintain relations with Israel may face growing domestic pressure to reassess the pace or scope of cooperation.

Diplomatic rehabilitation is therefore most likely to be durable when it is linked to substantive policy change. A government that improves its public language but maintains the same territorial policies may achieve temporary relief without restoring confidence. A government that demonstrates accountability, protects civilians, reduces settlement-related tensions, and pursues a credible political settlement would be better placed to rebuild trust, even if disagreement over the conflict remains.

The broader lesson is that international legitimacy cannot be purchased through technology, trade, military strength, or public relations. These assets can sustain relationships, but they do not eliminate questions of law and political responsibility. The next Israeli government will need to demonstrate that national security and international accountability can coexist and that its diplomatic ambitions are supported by policies capable of producing a more stable regional order.

10. Convivencia, Historical Memory, and Morocco–Israel Relations

The relationship between Morocco and Israel offers a useful perspective on the possibilities and limitations of regional cooperation. It is shaped by strategic interests, diplomatic calculations, economic opportunities, cultural memory, and the historical presence of Jewish communities in Morocco. It also operates within the wider political environment of the Arab-Israeli conflict, including the continuing importance of Palestinian rights and the differing attitudes of Moroccan citizens toward normalization.

Morocco’s Jewish heritage is not a recent diplomatic invention. Jewish communities have been part of Moroccan history for centuries, contributing to the country’s cultural, commercial, intellectual, and social life. Their experiences varied across regions and historical periods, and they should not be reduced to a romantic narrative in which coexistence was always harmonious. Nevertheless, the historical presence of Moroccan Jews, the preservation of synagogues and cemeteries, the restoration of Jewish heritage sites, and the continuing place of Jewish memory within Moroccan national identity provide resources for understanding how different communities can share a national history without erasing their differences.

In my study of Moroccan-Israeli relations, I examine the relationship between a historical record of coexistence and the strategic opportunities created by contemporary diplomatic engagement. The article argues that the relationship should be understood across several dimensions, rather than as a simple transition from historical affinity to modern alliance (Chtatou, 2023). Its relevance to the present essay lies in the distinction between the potential of historical memory and the political work required to translate that memory into durable cooperation.

The concept of convivencia can be useful if applied carefully. It should not be treated as proof that intercommunal relations were free from hierarchy, discrimination, or conflict. Nor should it be used to suggest that historical coexistence automatically resolves contemporary political disagreements. Instead, it can describe the practices, institutions, cultural exchanges, and social relationships through which communities maintain shared spaces despite differences in religion, language, and identity.

Moroccan history offers examples of cultural interdependence as well as episodes of tension. Jewish and Muslim communities participated in commercial networks, shared urban environments, developed linguistic and musical traditions, and maintained relationships shaped by local institutions and wider political circumstances. Such history does not provide a ready-made blueprint for Israeli-Palestinian peace. The contexts differ substantially, and the Palestinian question involves occupation, territorial sovereignty, displacement, security, and competing national movements. Yet historical memory can challenge the idea that Jewish and Muslim identities are inherently incompatible or that conflict is an inevitable expression of religious difference.

The Moroccan experience also shows why coexistence should be understood institutionally. It depends not only on goodwill but on the protection of communities, the recognition of cultural heritage, the availability of civic space, and the willingness of political authorities to acknowledge plural identities as part of the national story. Symbolic recognition matters, but it becomes more meaningful when accompanied by education, preservation, equal citizenship, and public policies that make historical diversity visible.

The normalization of relations between Morocco and Israel created opportunities for cooperation in areas such as tourism, agriculture, technology, trade, research, and cultural exchange. These areas can provide tangible benefits when pursued transparently and in accordance with the interests of the societies involved. They can also create channels of communication that remain useful during periods of regional tension. Diplomatic relationships need not be limited to security cooperation; they can support scientific collaboration, academic exchange, heritage preservation, and people-to-people contact.

However, normalization should not be confused with universal public approval or with the resolution of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Moroccan attitudes toward Israel are shaped by historical ties, national interests, religious and cultural commitments, and solidarity with Palestinians. These elements can coexist uneasily. A policy that emphasizes strategic benefits while dismissing public concerns about Palestinian suffering risks weakening the social legitimacy on which long-term cooperation depends.

For this reason, the future of Morocco–Israel relations cannot be separated entirely from the policies of Israel’s next government. Moroccan decision-makers may pursue cooperation according to their own national interests, but the depth and political durability of that cooperation are influenced by the regional environment. A government in Israel that takes credible steps toward Palestinian political rights, restrains settlement expansion, and supports a sustainable political process would create a more favourable environment for regional partners seeking to maintain relations while responding to domestic public concerns.

Conversely, if a new Israeli government changes its public image without changing policies toward Palestinians, the benefits of normalization may remain limited. Cooperation may continue in areas of mutual interest, but it will be harder to present it as evidence of a wider transformation toward regional peace. The relationship could become increasingly compartmentalized, with strategic and economic contacts maintained while cultural and public diplomacy struggle to overcome political distrust.

Morocco’s historical experience can contribute to a wider discussion of pluralism, but it should not be instrumentalized to silence Palestinian claims or to portray normalization as a substitute for justice. The existence of Jewish-Muslim coexistence in Moroccan history does not prove that the Israeli-Palestinian conflict can be resolved through cultural affinity alone. Political conflict requires political solutions. Historical memory can help create a language of mutual recognition, but it cannot replace negotiations over land, sovereignty, security, refugees, Jerusalem, and the rights of both peoples.

The same caution applies to the use of the Abraham Accords as a model for the future. They demonstrated that diplomatic relationships can develop even in the absence of a final settlement of the Palestinian question. Yet their long-term contribution to regional stability depends partly on whether they create incentives for broader peace or merely allow governments to separate strategic cooperation from the unresolved conflict. If normalization is understood as a platform for wider engagement, it may help open diplomatic channels. If it is presented as proof that the Palestinian question no longer matters, it risks deepening distrust.

A constructive Moroccan-Israeli relationship could support academic exchanges, cultural preservation, environmental cooperation, water management, public health, and research on religious pluralism. It could also encourage dialogue among Jewish, Muslim, and other communities. Such initiatives are valuable in themselves, but their political significance should be measured realistically. They cannot resolve territorial disputes, and they should not be asked to conceal them. Their strongest contribution may be to preserve channels of communication, demonstrate that cooperation is possible, and support a regional environment in which a political settlement becomes more attainable.

The election therefore matters beyond Israel’s borders. A government that pursues a credible political horizon for Palestinians would make it easier for regional partners to defend cooperation with Israel as part of a broader strategy for peace. A government that perpetuates indefinite occupation and rejects Palestinian self-determination would place greater strain on the argument that normalization contributes to a more stable regional order.

The deeper lesson is that historical coexistence and contemporary diplomacy must reinforce, rather than substitute for, political justice. Morocco’s Jewish heritage can challenge exclusionary narratives and encourage mutual recognition. Morocco–Israel cooperation can generate practical benefits and maintain diplomatic channels. But neither heritage nor diplomacy can make the Palestinian question disappear. Sustainable regional peace requires the recognition of all peoples’ legitimate rights and the construction of political arrangements capable of protecting them.

11. Israel’s Democratic Identity: Jewish National Self-Determination and Equal Citizenship

Israel’s democratic identity is shaped by a fundamental tension: the state defines itself as the national home of the Jewish people while also maintaining institutions of citizenship and electoral representation that include Arab citizens and other minorities. This combination is not necessarily incompatible with democracy. Many states recognize a particular national history, language, or cultural identity while protecting the equal rights of citizens who do not share the majority’s identity. The challenge lies in determining whether national self-definition is compatible with substantive equality and effective minority participation.

The debate over Israel’s political future is often framed as a choice between Jewish identity and democracy. That formulation is too simple. The more precise question is whether the state can sustain Jewish national self-determination without treating non-Jewish citizens as politically secondary, and whether it can protect minority rights without requiring Jewish citizens to abandon their national identity. A democratic framework must be capable of accommodating both collective identity and individual equality.

Scholarship on Israel’s political system has examined the tensions between electoral democracy, national privilege, land, citizenship, and state power. Smooha’s concept of ethnic democracy seeks to explain how democratic institutions can coexist with the privileged status of a dominant national group (Smooha, 2002). Yiftachel’s analysis of ethnocracy examines the relationship between territory, identity, and political control in Israel/Palestine (Yiftachel, 2006). Peled and Rouhana and Sultany explore related questions concerning the legal construction of citizenship and the boundaries of political inclusion (Peled, 1992; Rouhana & Sultany, 2003). These frameworks do not settle every normative question, but they provide analytical tools for examining how formal democratic procedures may coexist with unequal access to power and resources.

The political consequences are visible in the debate over Arab parties. If Arab citizens have the right to vote but their representatives are treated as permanently unsuitable for national government, democratic participation is restricted in practice. If public resources are distributed unequally, or if law enforcement fails to protect certain communities effectively, formal citizenship does not guarantee equal treatment. These issues do not require the abandonment of Jewish national identity; they require a clearer account of what equal citizenship means within a state that recognizes a particular national character.

The same issue arises in the relationship between religion and state. Religious parties can participate legitimately in democratic politics, and religious citizens have the right to organize around their beliefs. The difficulty arises when religious authority is used to restrict the rights of others, weaken institutional accountability, or impose particular interpretations of identity on the entire population. A democratic state must negotiate the relationship between religious tradition, national history, civil law, and individual liberty without allowing any one constituency to claim unlimited authority.

Judicial independence is crucial in this context. Courts can provide a mechanism for reviewing government action, protecting legal rights, and resolving disputes about the limits of executive power. Judicial institutions are not infallible, and their decisions can legitimately be criticized. But attempts to weaken judicial independence without a credible system of checks and balances risk concentrating power in the executive and reducing the ability of citizens to challenge state decisions. The controversy over judicial reform is therefore not merely a technical debate about institutional design. It concerns the balance between majority rule and the protections necessary for a constitutional democracy.

The election will also reveal how Israeli society understands the relationship between collective security and civil liberties. Security threats can justify particular measures, but they should not become a permanent rationale for restricting political expression, excluding minority representatives, or weakening independent oversight. Democratic institutions are most important precisely when governments face pressure to act quickly and when public fear makes expansive powers politically attractive.

A credible democratic renewal would not require Israel to deny Jewish historical experience or the importance of a national homeland. It would require political leaders to recognize that the protection of Jewish national self-determination and the protection of equal citizenship are not necessarily zero-sum objectives. A state can acknowledge the historical persecution of Jews, protect Jewish cultural and religious life, and maintain meaningful connections with Jewish communities abroad while ensuring that Arab citizens enjoy equal legal protection and political opportunity.

The challenge becomes more difficult in the occupied territories, where Palestinians live under Israeli power without enjoying the same political status as Israeli citizens. The distinction between citizens of Israel and Palestinians living under occupation is legally and politically significant, but it does not eliminate the broader democratic question created by prolonged control. If the occupation is temporary, there must be a credible political process leading to its end. If Israeli control is intended to be permanent, the state must confront the implications for rights, representation, and the relationship between national identity and democratic governance.

A political system cannot resolve this contradiction indefinitely through terminology. Calling a situation temporary does not make it temporary if policies continually entrench it. Describing territorial control as a security necessity does not eliminate the need to define its limits, duration, and political purpose. A credible government must be prepared to explain how its policies lead toward a sustainable arrangement rather than merely reproducing the conditions of conflict.

The next election is therefore an opportunity to reconsider the institutional meaning of Israeli democracy. It may produce a government that is more committed to judicial independence and less dependent on extremist coalition partners. It may also produce a government that retains the same restrictive assumptions about Palestinian sovereignty and Arab political participation. The distinction will be visible in the policies it adopts and the rights it is willing to protect.

Democratic renewal must ultimately be assessed by the treatment of those who lack the greatest political power. It is easy for leaders to defend institutions when those institutions serve the interests of the majority. The more demanding test is whether they preserve the rights of minorities, tolerate dissent, protect independent oversight, and accept that political opponents remain legitimate members of the national community. Israel’s future depends in part on whether its political leaders can make these principles more than campaign language.

12. Security, Deterrence, and the Limits of Military Power

Security is central to Israeli political life for historical, geographical, and strategic reasons. The country has faced wars, terrorism, rocket attacks, hostage-taking, and threats from regional actors. These experiences have shaped public expectations and strengthened the political influence of leaders who present themselves as capable of protecting the state. Any analysis that dismisses Israeli security concerns as mere rhetoric fails to understand the environment in which voters make political choices.

At the same time, security policy must be judged by its results, not simply by the strength of its language. Military superiority does not automatically produce long-term security, and deterrence can fail when adversaries perceive opportunities, miscalculate the likely response, or believe that the political costs of confrontation are acceptable. The attacks of 7 October 2023 exposed the limits of assumptions that a combination of surveillance, military technology, border infrastructure, and periodic force could indefinitely contain the threat from Gaza.

The lesson is not that deterrence has no value. Deterrence can reduce the likelihood of attack when adversaries believe that aggression will fail or carry unacceptable costs. But it is not a substitute for political strategy. A deterrence system must be continuously evaluated, and its effectiveness depends on intelligence, institutional coordination, credible communication, and an understanding of the adversary’s incentives. When political leaders treat deterrence as self-sustaining, they risk confusing a period of relative quiet with a durable settlement.

Security policy also requires a clear distinction between immediate threats and long-term political objectives. A military operation may be necessary to disrupt an imminent attack or reduce the capacity of an armed group. But the question of what political order should follow cannot be answered by military means alone. If the underlying conflict remains unresolved, the state may face repeated cycles of violence even after achieving temporary operational gains.

The relationship between military action and political settlement is especially important in Gaza. The destruction of an armed group’s infrastructure does not automatically produce a legitimate administration capable of governing the territory, delivering services, and preventing renewed violence. If the post-war environment lacks political legitimacy, reconstruction, and credible security arrangements, another armed movement may emerge or existing networks may reconstitute themselves. Military force can alter the balance of power, but it cannot alone create institutions that command public trust.

The same principle applies to the West Bank. Permanent military control may provide tactical advantages in certain circumstances, but it can also deepen resentment, fragment Palestinian society, and make the emergence of a negotiated political settlement more difficult. Security measures that lack clear limits or a credible political purpose risk becoming self-perpetuating. Their continuation may then be justified by the instability that the wider policy environment helps sustain.

A sustainable security strategy would require Israel to identify the conditions under which military control could be reduced, what guarantees would be necessary, how armed attacks could be prevented, and what political authority would govern Palestinian territory. It would need to involve partners capable of supporting reconstruction, monitoring arrangements, and the development of institutions. These tasks would be difficult, and failure would carry risks. But the difficulty of a political process does not establish that indefinite military control is a viable alternative.

Security also depends on the legitimacy of state institutions among citizens. The failure to protect Arab communities from organized crime, for example, reveals a different but related dimension of state capacity. A state may possess advanced military technology while failing to deliver basic security to vulnerable citizens. National defence and public safety are distinct policy domains, but both depend on institutional competence, public trust, and the willingness to apply the law consistently.

The election will therefore test whether security is understood narrowly as the capacity to use force or more broadly as the ability to sustain a political order in which civilians can live safely. Military strength remains important, but durable security also requires effective governance, credible diplomacy, social cohesion, and a realistic approach to political conflict. A government that can combine these elements will be better positioned to protect its citizens than one that relies on force while postponing the political questions that make force necessary.

13. The Economy, Public Services, and the Social Foundations of Political Trust

Although security and national identity dominate the election debate, the economy and the delivery of public services are also essential to Israel’s political future. Voters judge governments not only by their handling of war and diplomacy but also by employment, housing, education, health care, taxation, infrastructure, and the cost of living. In a polarized political environment, economic concerns can either reinforce existing political divisions or create incentives for cooperation across ideological boundaries.

Coalition politics influences the distribution of public resources. Parties often negotiate budgets and policy commitments as part of the process of forming a government. This can enable smaller constituencies to secure funding for local priorities, but it can also encourage a fragmented approach in which resources are allocated according to coalition bargaining rather than a coherent national strategy. The result may be uneven development, weak accountability, and recurring disputes over who benefits from public expenditure.

The situation of Arab municipalities illustrates the importance of equitable public investment. Local authorities need resources to maintain infrastructure, provide services, support schools, regulate construction, and create conditions for legitimate economic activity. Where municipalities lack adequate capacity, residents may experience the state primarily through its failures: overcrowded classrooms, insufficient public spaces, limited transport, housing constraints, or inadequate protection from crime. These conditions can weaken trust even when citizens continue to participate in elections.

Economic inequality should not be reduced to a single ethnic or political explanation. Regional disparities, differences in education, labour-market structure, infrastructure, demographic pressures, and public administration all matter. Yet public policy has a responsibility to ensure that these differences do not become permanent barriers to equal opportunity. A government that seeks social cohesion must examine whether the distribution of resources reinforces existing divisions and whether local institutions possess the capacity to respond to residents’ needs.

Housing is another politically sensitive issue. In both Jewish and Arab communities, access to affordable housing and the availability of land for development can influence family decisions, economic mobility, and confidence in government. In Arab localities, planning restrictions and difficulties obtaining permits have been recurring sources of grievance. Addressing these problems requires more than emergency funding: it calls for transparent planning, effective municipal administration, infrastructure investment, and the application of rules that protect legitimate interests without producing discriminatory outcomes.

Education also shapes the long-term prospects of democratic inclusion. Schools and universities can provide opportunities for social mobility and intercommunal contact, but they may also reproduce divisions when educational resources and pathways differ substantially. A comprehensive strategy should ensure that students have access to quality education, language skills, vocational training, and higher education opportunities. It should also create space for critical thinking and civic education, enabling young people to participate in democratic life without being required to abandon their cultural or national identity.

The wider economy is affected by political instability and international reputation. Investors consider regulatory predictability, access to markets, security risks, labour-force skills, infrastructure, and the durability of government policy. Diplomatic tensions may not automatically produce economic isolation, but they can create uncertainty and complicate relationships with international partners. A government that seeks economic resilience must therefore consider how its political decisions affect the country’s broader institutional and diplomatic environment.

Social policy cannot resolve the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, but it can influence the domestic conditions under which political change becomes possible. Citizens who believe that public institutions are responsive may be more willing to support compromise and participate constructively in political life. Communities that experience persistent neglect may become more distrustful of government and less confident that democratic participation can deliver meaningful results. These relationships are complex and should not be treated as deterministic, but they are important to the long-term legitimacy of the state.

The election should therefore be assessed partly by the extent to which competing parties offer coherent plans for economic security and equal access to public services. Campaign promises should be evaluated against realistic budgets, institutional capacity, and measurable outcomes. A government that promises national renewal while neglecting the everyday conditions of citizenship will struggle to sustain public trust.

14. The Generational Question: Political Fatigue, Historical Memory, and the Future

The political future of Israel will also be shaped by generational change. Younger voters inherit a society formed by historical trauma, national achievement, repeated wars, security threats, and deep internal divisions. Their political outlooks are not uniform: some prioritize national security and Jewish identity, others emphasize civil liberties and equality, while still others are primarily concerned with housing, employment, education, and the prospects of raising families in an uncertain environment.

Generational change matters because political assumptions that once appeared stable may become less persuasive over time. Younger Israelis may question the effectiveness of strategies that have failed to produce lasting security, while younger Palestinians may grow increasingly skeptical of diplomatic processes that appear to offer no realistic path to sovereignty. These attitudes are not inevitable, and they should not be generalized across entire populations. But a political system that offers no credible prospect of change risks deepening disillusionment among those expected to sustain it.

Historical memory plays a complicated role in this process. Jewish historical experience, including persecution, antisemitism, displacement, and the Holocaust, remains central to the rationale for a secure Jewish national home. The memory of these experiences is neither incidental nor interchangeable with other historical narratives. It helps explain why many Israelis view security guarantees as existential rather than merely strategic concerns.

Palestinian historical memory is equally central to understanding the conflict, particularly memories of displacement, dispossession, occupation, and the failure to achieve national independence. These experiences shape Palestinian identity and political expectations. A durable settlement cannot require either society to erase its history. It must instead create institutions and political arrangements that allow historical memory to coexist with a future in which neither people’s security and identity depend on denying the other’s rights.

The political danger arises when historical suffering becomes a permanent justification for the exclusion or domination of another population. Historical experience can inform security policy and moral responsibility, but it cannot establish that every action taken in the name of national protection is justified. The same principle applies to all sides. Past injustice does not authorize attacks on civilians, and current suffering does not remove the obligation to respect the rights of others.

Education and public discourse are therefore important. If young people encounter only narratives that portray the other community as an existential enemy, the political space for compromise becomes narrower. If they are taught to recognize the humanity, history, and legitimate aspirations of others without denying their own identity, the possibilities for dialogue may expand. Such education cannot replace political agreements, but it can influence the social environment in which agreements are accepted or rejected.

The concept of coexistence should be approached as a practice rather than a slogan. It requires the capacity to disagree without dehumanization, to recognize rights without demanding ideological uniformity, and to build institutions that protect people who do not share the majority’s national or religious identity. It also requires political leaders to avoid presenting compromise as betrayal. In a society shaped by fear and historical trauma, the language of compromise must be accompanied by credible guarantees and practical evidence that security will not be sacrificed.

The election may intensify polarization if it is framed as a struggle between patriots and traitors, or between those who defend security and those who supposedly undermine it. Such rhetoric can mobilize voters, but it makes democratic deliberation more difficult. A mature political debate should allow citizens to disagree over the best way to protect Israel without treating every disagreement as disloyalty. It should also permit criticism of government policy without turning criticism into hostility toward the Jewish people as a whole.

The future will depend partly on whether political institutions can offer younger generations a credible sense of agency. If elections repeatedly change leaders but not the policies that shape everyday insecurity, political fatigue may deepen. If the state demonstrates that democratic participation can produce accountability, better public services, and a more credible political horizon, public trust may recover. The question is not whether every citizen will agree with the outcome, but whether the political system remains capable of responding to legitimate demands for change.

15. Four Possible Futures After the Election

The 2026 election does not determine Israel’s future in advance. Its consequences will depend on the parliamentary result, the coalition negotiations that follow, the regional environment, the evolution of the war’s aftermath, and the policy choices of the government that emerges. Nevertheless, several broad scenarios help clarify the stakes.

Scenario One: A Change of Leadership Without a Change of Strategy

In the first scenario, Netanyahu leaves office and a coalition led by centrist or security-oriented opposition figures takes power. The new government restores a more conventional public tone, reduces the influence of the most controversial ministers, improves relations with international partners, and seeks to stabilize domestic institutions. It may permit more independent scrutiny of the failures surrounding 7 October, pursue a more disciplined approach to military operations, and adopt a less confrontational style toward the judiciary.

These changes could be meaningful. Political leadership matters, and a government that respects institutional independence and avoids inflammatory rhetoric can reduce immediate tensions. It may also create diplomatic opportunities that were difficult to pursue under Netanyahu’s coalition. A more predictable government could improve cooperation with allies and help restore confidence in Israel’s administrative competence.

The limitation is that such a government might preserve the central features of the existing strategic approach. It could continue to oppose Palestinian statehood, retain extensive control over the West Bank, and regard Arab parties as unacceptable partners in national government. It might condemn settler violence while failing to reverse the territorial policies that make a negotiated settlement more difficult. In this scenario, the election would produce a change in style without a fundamental change in direction.

The international consequences would be mixed. Some partners might welcome the restoration of diplomatic normality, while continuing to criticize settlement expansion and the absence of a credible Palestinian political horizon. Relations could improve without resolving the sources of recurring tension. The government might gain time and goodwill, but the underlying conflict would remain.

This scenario is plausible because opposition parties do not necessarily share a commitment to Palestinian sovereignty. Their common opposition to Netanyahu could support a government that is more competent and institutionally restrained while remaining strategically hawkish. Whether that outcome should be regarded as a success depends on the standard applied. It would represent an improvement in some areas, but not a comprehensive political renewal.

Scenario Two: A Broader Democratic Coalition and Greater Civic Inclusion

In the second scenario, the election produces a coalition that places institutional reform, public accountability, and equal citizenship at the centre of its programme. It includes or formally cooperates with Arab parties, adopts a sustained strategy against organized crime in Arab communities, increases investment in local services, and strengthens the independence of public institutions. It also establishes clearer standards for law enforcement in the West Bank and rejects violence by settlers regardless of political affiliation.

Such a government would not need to agree on every question of national identity or foreign policy. Its significance would lie in treating democratic inclusion as a practical responsibility rather than a symbolic aspiration. Coalition negotiations would be based on policy commitments, and Arab parties would be considered legitimate participants in parliamentary government. Public security would be addressed through a combination of policing, prosecution, witness protection, and social investment.

The principal obstacle would be political resistance. Parts of the electorate might regard cooperation with Arab parties as unacceptable, and coalition members could disagree over religion and state, military service, or the relationship between Israel and the Palestinians. A government built around civic inclusion would therefore need a clear programme, disciplined negotiation, and an ability to demonstrate measurable results.

Its international reputation could improve, especially if institutional reforms were accompanied by greater accountability and a credible approach to Palestinian rights. But democratic renewal within Israel would not automatically resolve the occupation. The government would still have to decide whether to halt settlement expansion and establish a meaningful political horizon for Palestinians. Domestic inclusion and Palestinian self-determination are related, but neither can substitute for the other.

This scenario would represent a significant development if it transformed the everyday relationship between citizens and public institutions. It would demonstrate that political participation can produce tangible improvements and that the legitimacy of a democratic state depends on protecting the rights of all citizens. Its long-term success would depend on whether these changes became institutional practices rather than temporary coalition arrangements.

Scenario Three: Continued Polarization and a Fragile Coalition

In the third scenario, no bloc secures a clear majority and the parties struggle to form a stable government. Negotiations may produce a narrow coalition held together by temporary compromises, or the political system may face another period of uncertainty. Parties could remain divided over judicial reform, military conscription, the war’s aftermath, relations with Arab parties, and the future of the occupied territories.

A fragile coalition would have difficulty establishing a coherent strategic direction. Its members might agree on the need to avoid another election but disagree over the policies required to govern. As a result, the government could postpone difficult decisions, rely on emergency arrangements, and prioritize political survival over long-term reform.

Such a government might be capable of passing budgets and managing day-to-day administration, but it would struggle to establish public confidence if its policy positions changed in response to every parliamentary dispute. International partners could find it difficult to determine whether Israeli commitments would survive the next coalition crisis. Domestic institutions could remain under pressure, while the unresolved conflict continued to generate security and diplomatic challenges.

The danger of this scenario is not simply instability. It is the possibility that political paralysis becomes a substitute for decision-making. The absence of a clear majority could allow leaders to avoid confronting the occupation, settlement expansion, or the status of Arab parties in coalition politics. The government would continue to administer the crisis without addressing its underlying causes.

This outcome would not be inevitable. Coalition governments can govern effectively when their agreements are clear and their members accept the need for compromise. But a coalition whose principal objective is the avoidance of another election may lack the political authority required for major strategic decisions. Its performance would depend on whether it can convert parliamentary arithmetic into a coherent programme.

Scenario Four: A More Substantive Strategic Reorientation

The fourth scenario would involve a more ambitious change in policy. A new government would acknowledge that the strategy of managing the Palestinian question indefinitely has failed to deliver durable security. It would halt settlement expansion, strengthen enforcement against violence in the occupied territories, establish a credible framework for negotiations, and work with international and regional partners to define a political future for Gaza and the West Bank.

Such a reorientation would be difficult. It would encounter opposition from constituencies committed to settlement expansion, from voters who distrust Palestinian political leadership, and from politicians who regard territorial compromise as a security risk. The government would need to explain how security guarantees could be maintained, how armed threats would be addressed, and what mechanisms would prevent the recurrence of attacks on civilians.

A credible strategy would not assume that goodwill alone could resolve the conflict. It would require phased implementation, monitoring, security arrangements, clear obligations, and international support. It would also require Palestinian political institutions capable of exercising authority and a process that addresses the legitimate concerns of both peoples. The details would be contested, and the prospects for success would depend on developments beyond Israel’s control.

Nevertheless, this scenario would create the clearest opportunity for restoring international confidence. A government that combined security planning with a credible political horizon would be better placed to demonstrate that its policies were directed toward a durable settlement rather than indefinite control. It could also strengthen the position of regional partners seeking to maintain relations with Israel while responding to public concern about Palestinian rights.

This scenario should not be mistaken for an easy or immediate path to peace. Palestinian political divisions, armed groups, regional rivalries, Israeli domestic opposition, and mutual distrust would remain formidable obstacles. Yet the absence of a guaranteed outcome does not make the effort unnecessary. The relevant comparison is not between a difficult political process and an imaginary world without risk. It is between a serious attempt to alter the conditions of conflict and the continued management of a status quo that has repeatedly failed to deliver lasting security.

These scenarios are not mutually exclusive in every respect. A government might begin with institutional reforms and later move toward a more substantive strategic change. It might improve relations with Arab parties while remaining divided over Palestinian statehood. It might restore diplomatic credibility in some areas while continuing policies that generate legal and political criticism in others. The actual outcome is likely to combine elements from more than one scenario.

The decisive indicators will be concrete. Will the government support an independent inquiry into the failures surrounding 7 October? Will it protect judicial independence? Will it treat Arab parties as legitimate participants in coalition politics? Will it establish an effective strategy against organized crime? Will it halt settlement expansion and enforce the law against settler violence? Will it define a credible political horizon for Palestinians? Will it cooperate with international partners on humanitarian access, reconstruction, and post-war governance?

These questions provide a more reliable measure of political change than campaign slogans. They distinguish the symbolism of a new government from the substance of its decisions. The election will determine who receives the authority to govern, but the future of Israel will depend on how that authority is used.

16. What a Credible Programme of Renewal Would Require

If Israel’s next government seeks to move beyond the present crisis, it will need a programme that connects institutional reform, domestic equality, security, and regional diplomacy. These objectives cannot be achieved through a single policy or a short list of public commitments. They require a sequence of decisions, credible implementation, and mechanisms through which citizens and international partners can assess progress.

First, the government should establish clear standards of accountability. The failures surrounding 7 October require a credible process capable of examining institutional decisions and political responsibility. Such an inquiry should not be designed to confirm a predetermined partisan narrative. Its legitimacy would depend on independence, access to evidence, the ability to question relevant officials, and a willingness to publish findings that may be uncomfortable for those in power. Accountability is not a sign of weakness; it is a condition for institutional learning.

Second, the government should strengthen the independence and credibility of democratic institutions. Judicial review, professional public administration, transparent decision-making, and the protection of political expression are essential to maintaining confidence in the state. Institutional reform may be necessary, but it should be pursued through transparent procedures and should preserve effective checks on executive power. A government that claims to restore democracy must demonstrate that its own authority remains subject to law.

Third, public security should be treated as a universal responsibility. The crisis of organized crime in Arab communities requires sustained investment in law enforcement, prosecution, witness protection, prevention, and municipal development. The government should publish measurable targets and regular assessments, allowing residents and independent observers to evaluate progress. Such a programme should protect communities without stigmatizing them and should ensure that enforcement respects due process.

Fourth, coalition politics should reflect the principle that Arab citizens are legitimate participants in democratic life. Parties should be considered according to their programmes and conduct, not excluded categorically because they represent Arab voters. This does not mean that every party must enter the government. It means that political negotiations should not begin with the assumption that a substantial constituency is inherently unfit for national representation.

Fifth, settlement policy requires a clear decision. A government cannot credibly support a negotiated two-state settlement while allowing policies that make the necessary territorial arrangements increasingly difficult. Halting settlement expansion and enforcing the law against settler violence would be important initial measures. A more comprehensive strategy would also need to address the status of outposts, restrictions affecting Palestinian communities, and the relationship between Israeli security arrangements and Palestinian territorial continuity.

Sixth, the government should define a credible political horizon for Palestinians. This would not require ignoring Israeli security concerns or accepting unrealistic assumptions about the intentions of armed groups. It would require recognizing that indefinite control is not a sustainable political settlement. A framework for negotiations should specify the objectives, sequencing, security guarantees, and institutional responsibilities required to move from conflict management toward a durable arrangement.

Seventh, the humanitarian consequences of the war in Gaza must be addressed through practical measures. Humanitarian access, civilian protection, reconstruction, and the restoration of essential services are not merely diplomatic gestures. They are necessary conditions for stabilizing the territory and reducing the likelihood of renewed violence. The government would need to work with credible partners on governance and security arrangements that do not simply reproduce the conditions that led to the crisis.

Eighth, international law should be treated as a framework for accountability rather than solely as an arena of political contestation. Israel can defend its legal positions and challenge interpretations it considers mistaken. It should also demonstrate that alleged violations are investigated credibly, that civilian protection is taken seriously, and that international obligations are not dismissed simply because compliance is politically difficult. A state’s credibility is strengthened when it applies legal principles consistently.

Ninth, regional diplomacy should be used to support rather than bypass a political settlement. Relations with Morocco and other regional partners can contribute to economic cooperation, academic exchange, cultural preservation, and dialogue. They can also help maintain channels of communication during periods of crisis. But such relationships will be more sustainable if they form part of a wider approach that recognizes Palestinian rights and seeks to reduce the sources of regional instability.

Finally, the government should communicate honestly with the electorate. Political leaders often promise immediate security, diplomatic rehabilitation, and national unity, but these outcomes cannot be guaranteed by rhetoric. A credible programme should explain the trade-offs involved, identify realistic objectives, and acknowledge uncertainty. It should distinguish between measures that can be implemented quickly and changes that require prolonged negotiations. Public trust depends not on the promise that every problem can be solved immediately but on evidence that leaders are willing to confront problems honestly.

These steps would not guarantee peace, nor would they eliminate political disagreement. They would, however, establish a more coherent relationship between the objectives of Israeli policy and the standards by which the government can be judged. The central requirement is consistency: a government cannot claim to defend democracy while weakening accountability, demand international respect for law while dismissing scrutiny of its own conduct, or promise a negotiated settlement while allowing the conditions for that settlement to disappear.

Conclusion: Israel’s Future Depends on More Than a Change of Government

The Israeli general election of 27 October 2026 is a moment of significant political uncertainty. Benjamin Netanyahu’s opponents have made the case that his departure is necessary to restore public trust, repair international relationships, and reverse the influence of extremist coalition partners. Their argument has force. Leadership matters, accountability matters, and a government’s tone and institutional conduct can have immediate consequences for the country’s political environment.

Yet the election’s deeper significance lies in the questions it may expose rather than the individual it may remove. Israel’s crisis cannot be understood solely as a consequence of Netanyahu’s personality or political tactics. It is also connected to unresolved questions of Palestinian self-determination, settlement expansion, the distribution of political power, the status of Arab citizens, the independence of institutions, and the relationship between security and democratic legitimacy.

A new prime minister could restore a more conventional style of government, improve relations with allies, reduce the influence of particular ministers, and strengthen institutional accountability. These would be valuable changes. But if the new government continues to reject Palestinian statehood, permits the territorial consolidation of Israeli control in the West Bank, and treats Arab parties as permanently unsuitable for national government, the fundamental contradictions of the political system will remain. The country could experience a change of leadership without a corresponding change in strategic direction.

The Palestinian question is therefore central to the election’s long-term meaning. Israel’s security concerns are real, and the attacks of 7 October 2023 cannot be minimized or excused. The state has a responsibility to protect its citizens from armed attacks and hostage-taking. But security cannot be reduced to the permanent denial of another people’s political rights. Military force may achieve immediate objectives, yet durable security requires a political framework capable of addressing the conditions that sustain conflict.

The future of Gaza and the West Bank will reveal whether Israeli leaders understand this distinction. If the next government treats the war’s aftermath as a question of indefinite military control, the underlying conflict will remain unresolved. If it combines credible security arrangements with humanitarian reconstruction, Palestinian political participation, and a genuine horizon for self-determination, it could create space for a more durable settlement. Neither outcome is guaranteed, but the difference between them is fundamental.

The condition of Arab citizens of Israel provides another test. A democracy is measured not only by the rights enjoyed by its majority but also by the protection it provides to minorities and the legitimacy it grants their political representatives. The crisis of organized crime, the need for equitable public investment, and the exclusion of Arab parties from coalition calculations reveal the distance that can separate formal citizenship from substantive equality. A government that makes measurable progress on these issues would strengthen the democratic foundations of the state.

Israel’s international standing will likewise depend on conduct rather than communication alone. Diplomatic relationships, technological achievements, economic partnerships, and regional agreements are important assets. They cannot indefinitely compensate for unresolved legal and humanitarian concerns. The International Court of Justice’s proceedings, United Nations scrutiny of settlement policy, and criticism from international partners demonstrate that the question of legitimacy is not simply a public-relations problem. It concerns the relationship between the state’s declared principles and its actual policies.

The legal distinctions must remain clear. The International Court of Justice’s provisional measures in the case brought by South Africa were not a final judgment that genocide had occurred, while the Court’s July 2024 advisory opinion addressed the legal consequences of Israel’s policies and practices in the occupied Palestinian territory. Accuracy on these matters is indispensable to serious debate. Legal scrutiny should neither be exaggerated for political effect nor dismissed as inherently hostile. A state committed to the rule of law should be prepared to engage with legal claims on their merits.

The relationship between Morocco and Israel provides a further lesson. Historical memory, cultural exchange, diplomatic normalization, and strategic cooperation can create valuable opportunities. Morocco’s Jewish heritage demonstrates that Jewish-Muslim relations cannot be reduced to an inevitable history of hostility, while contemporary cooperation illustrates the potential benefits of regional engagement. Yet coexistence should not be romanticized, and normalization should not be treated as a substitute for resolving the Palestinian question. Regional diplomacy will be most sustainable when it contributes to a wider political order based on security, mutual recognition, and the rights of all peoples.

Four broad futures remain possible. Israel could change leadership while preserving its existing strategic assumptions. It could develop a broader democratic coalition committed to institutional accountability and civic inclusion. It could remain trapped in political polarization and fragile coalition arrangements. Or it could undertake a more substantive strategic reorientation that connects security with a credible political horizon for Palestinians. The actual outcome may combine elements of these scenarios, but the criteria for evaluation are clear: accountability, institutional independence, equal citizenship, public security, restraint in settlement policy, humanitarian responsibility, and a credible approach to Palestinian self-determination.

The election should therefore be judged not simply by whether Netanyahu wins or loses. It should be judged by whether the next government is prepared to confront the political realities that have made his tenure so consequential. Can Israel build a political system in which minority citizens are treated as legitimate participants? Can it protect its population without allowing security to become a permanent justification for indefinite occupation? Can it maintain its Jewish national identity while strengthening democratic equality? Can it restore international credibility through policies that demonstrate respect for law and civilian life? Can regional partnerships be used to support a broader peace rather than to bypass the conflict at its centre?

These questions will not be answered by one election alone. Political institutions, social attitudes, regional conditions, and the decisions of Palestinian and Israeli leaders will continue to shape the possibilities for change. But elections matter because they determine who receives the authority to make consequential decisions and what political mandate those leaders can claim. The 2026 contest offers Israeli society an opportunity to reconsider the direction of the state.

The central lesson is that leadership change is necessary in some circumstances but never sufficient by itself. A different prime minister may change the tone of public life, improve the functioning of government, and restore some diplomatic confidence. A different political trajectory requires more: a willingness to confront the costs of indefinite occupation, protect the rights of all citizens, strengthen independent institutions, and recognize that the security of Israelis and the self-determination of Palestinians must be addressed within a sustainable political framework.

Israel’s future will not be determined only by who enters the prime minister’s office. It will be determined by whether the government that emerges from the election can translate political authority into a credible programme of democratic renewal and regional peace. The decisive question is not simply who governs Israel after 27 October 2026. It is what kind of Israel the next government intends to govern—and what future it is prepared to make possible for Palestinians, Arab citizens of Israel, and the wider region.

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About Dr. Mohamed Chtatou

Dr. Mohamed Chtatou is a Professor of education science at the university in Rabat. He is currently a political analyst with Moroccan, Gulf, French, Italian and British media on politics and culture in the Middle East, Islam and Islamism as well as terrorism. He is, also, a specialist on political Islam in the MENA region with interest in the roots of terrorism and religious extremism.

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