Writing from Jerusalem, Fathom editor Calev Ben-Dor examines the trends that have brought Israel to its current domestic crisis and expresses his fear that – unlike in March 2023 – public pressure may not be able to stop the government in its tracks.
A siren pierces the calm of a sunny Jerusalem day in late March. It’s not from the Houthis: that was Thursday evening, when the children calmly entered their bedroom-doubling-as-a-mamad to continue reading The Sneetches; and Friday night, when they were fast asleep and we curled up on the floor next to their bunk beds. This siren comes from the street a hundred metres from home, where thousands of demonstrators had gathered near PM Netanyahu’s residence. It’s like a cyclical whirl getting louder: the low frequency – or perhaps the situation in general – making my stomach queasy. ‘You are in charge, you are guilty,’ someone chants through a megaphone, accompanied by a staccato drum beat. DE-MO-CRA-TYA, DE-MO-CRA-TYA, the crowd continue, in a rising cacophony of sound.
There have been several mass anti-government demonstrations since the COVID years. Yet when thousands take to the streets, I recall the week in late March 2023, exactly two years ago after Defence Minister Gallant was unceremoniously fired by Netanyahu. In retrospect, the public response to that act signified the successful peak of popular unrest against the Netanyahu-Smotrich-Ben Gvir government that was pushing its own variant of judicial reform – policies opponents saw as a flagrant, unadulterated constitutional coup. This time however, I worry that success might not be repeated.
The current mass demonstrations followed government decisions to fire the Attorney General Gali Baharav-Miara and head of the Shin Bet Ronen Bar, and have returned the spectre of a constitutional crisis – a situation in which the government rules one way, the High Court of Justice forbids it, and the government overrules the court. The origins of this can be found in fundamental changes that transformed the Israeli right-wing into the ‘New Right’ – less interested in preserving institutions, like good conservatives, than in undermining them, seeing in them reflections of the so-called Deep State (A.K.A, those holding differing opinions).
Framing this battle as between classic right and left-wing, or religious versus secular, misses the point. It also fails to account for why so many ‘classic rightists’, such as former Likud ministers Benny Begin and Moshe Yaalon, as well as former Shin Bet heads Yoram Cohen and Roni Alsheikh, were also opposed to the government. Contemporary battles call for new descriptive paradigms. ‘Today’s division between right and left-wing in Israel is not between territorial hawks and doves, but how these groups prioritise the terms Jewish and democratic,’ Associate Professor in the Political Science Department at the Hebrew University Gayil Talshir, told me in the summer of 2023, as we sat in her in her book-lined office on campus while demonstrations raged outside. For Talshir, ‘parts of the right moved from a “national-liberal” perspective which sought to balance the two, to a “nationalist anti-liberal” one which prioritised Israel’s Jewish character.’ It was a lament I had also heard from former Likud Justice Minister Dan Meridor. ‘I doubt many of the 32 Likud MKs would describe themselves as liberal,’ he told me in January 2023. ‘Likudniks are not fighting for the legal system or human rights. Instead, it is just the nationalist component, and with it comes hatred towards “elites” and “leftists”.’
Netanyahu’s current coalition, formed after the November 2022 elections, very much fits Talshir and Meridor’s nationalist, anti-liberal description. It also reflects a convergence of four connected but independent changes that occurred in Israel in the years prior to 7 October. Some were of longer standing than others. The PM’s need for political survival overpowering his more statesmanly strategic side had been noted by analysts since at least 2015; Likud’s increasingly nationalist, anti-liberal bent had been bemoaned by Meridor and others for years; the more tribal, radical brand of religious Zionism represented by Bezalel Smotrich had always existed. Yet like a carefully calibrated eco-system now out of sync, small changes within the religious Zionist community, Likud, and its leader, created an imbalance with significant consequences. The fourth change, however, was new: the mainstreaming of neo-Kahanism in the form of the Security Minister Itamar Ben Gvir. Ben-Gvir’s rise had several factors (as a previous essay noted). But it was midwifed by the toxic combination of Netanyahu’s political expediency and cynicism on the one hand, with parts of the public’s attraction to an anti-establishment figure’s vague promises of ‘security’ and ‘governance’ on the other.
Spurred on further by ideological opponents of the High Court such as Justice Minister Levin in positions of power, ultra-Orthodox parties sensing an opportunity to legislate IDF exemptions for their members, and Netanyahu facing criminal charges, the coalition created the perfect storm for judicial legislation. The country had never been closer to a constitutional crisis.
Somehow, Israelis pulled back from the brink – a result which was far from inevitable. While the demonstrations in early 2023 had a feel-good factor to them, I often left feeling despondent. Israelis often quote a saying that ‘the dogs may bark, but the caravan passes’. In those days, I feared that the demonstrators were the dogs. We made noise, and raised the temperature to pressure the government. But the structure of Israel’s political system allows any coalition with an assured majority to pass whatever legislation it wants, even if that changes the rules of the game going forward. President Biden’s disapproval, warnings by former security chiefs, or alarm raised by the Governor of the Bank of Israel – all came and went.
In Israel, where there’s an executive will, there’s a legislative way.
Yet that despondency was misplaced. Gallant’s firing in March 2023 for his warning that social division connected to judicial policy was eroding Israel’s deterrence – a warning that proved tragically prescient half a year later – set off a spontaneous public outburst that put a temporary stop to the judicial overhaul. A political consultant friend had joked in December 2022, when protests first began after the government had announced its judicial plans, to wake him up ‘when we head to the streets.’ The “Gallant Night” saw him blocking the Ayalon highway with tens of thousands of others. With public uproar converging, with the Histadrut labor union calling a strike, universities cancelling classes, and some government MKs breaking ranks, the coalition ultimately backed down.
Over a hundred thousand ‘dogs’ had barked and the caravan ground to a halt.
Yet even that victory was temporary and partial. Diluted judicial plans were ultimately pushed through the Knesset, and demonstrations continued. In September 2023, a fortnight before 7 October, with neither the government nor the demonstrators seemingly backing down, I suggested Israelis might discover what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object, adding that whatever the result it was unlikely to be pretty.
Israelis were spared this by 7 October, although ‘spared’ is hardly an appropriate word for the greatest slaughter of Jews in one day since the Holocaust. On its heels have come 18 months of deep trauma – war, death, injury, hostages released and still in Gaza, as well as divisions over the best ways to bring everyone home on the one hand, and destroy the threat of Hamas’ genocidal evil on the other.
Interestingly, it wasn’t just the ‘New Right’ that had experienced a transformation. Stunned by government rhetoric and decisions, the opposition – a mixture of what remains of the classical ‘left’, traditional right-wing liberals, and a large proportion of the Israeli centre – changed too.
In 2001, sociologist Baruch Kimmerling coined the acronym achusal, a term for the Israeli equivalent of the American WASP: Ashkenazi, Chiloni (secular), Vatik (veteran non-immigrant Israeli), Socialist and Leumi (patriotic). This group – hegemonic for decades –first became weakened after former Prime Minister Rabin’s assassination in 1995. It was then, according to Kimmerling, that power slowly dissipated to other groups in Israeli society such as the national-religious, those in the periphery, the ultra-Orthodox and the more right-wing nationalist.
In his essay ‘From Fear to Anger, Dystopian Politics in Israel 1995-2023’, Professor of Sociology at Bar Ilan University Nissim Leon describes how the results of the November 2022 election and the ensuing Netanyahu-led coalition (that replaced the Bennett-Lapid ‘rainbow’ coalition of parties from the right, centre, left and Arab community) broke something within the centre-left. According to Leon, that group moved from ‘a politics that expressed hope in the possibility of improving reality – even if it was mixed with despair – to a dystopian politics that gave legitimacy to a feeling of approaching tragedy.’ In a conversation in 2023, Leon mapped out some of the changes within this group’s politics: from presenting itself ‘as holding a mamlachti approach which was committed to the state at all costs (the Hebrew of costs is mechir), to anger and willingness to carry out “price tags” (the Hebrew of price-tags is tag mechir) due to what it saw as a political emergency.’
This isn’t a both-sideism argument. Rather, it’s a reflection of how Israeli political groups have been transformed to bring the country to where we now find ourselves.
Unfortunately, there were no lack of ‘political emergencies’ in the days and months before 7 October: the government’s judicial plans, a prime minister on trial for fraud, breach of trust, and bribery, and the danger of Kahanist-inspired Ben-Gvir. For the centre-left camp (for want of a better word), the government had irremediably changed the rules of the game and it needed to adapt accordingly. In response, it increasingly adopted an approach that, according to Leon, ‘sees a dichotomy over the essence of sovereignty between the sons of light and darkness, between friends and enemies.’
Further ‘emergencies’ abounded after the greatest tragedy to befall Israel in its history: the government’s refusal to accept formal responsibility for 7 October, nor countenance a state commission of inquiry; the promotion of legislation to exempt ultra-Orthodox from the IDF, while tens of thousands of secular and national religious reservists struggled under the weight of increased service; the callous firing of Gallant for prioritising a hostage deal over continuing the war; and most recently, this past week, the decision to fire both Bar and Baharav-Miara, against the backdrop of investigations into whether Qatar paid thousands of dollars to several of the PM’s closest aides during wartime. For the anti-Netanyahu camp, the independence of state institutions is being purposefully broken. One headline in Maariv describes how economic leaders believe Israel is on the cusp of government-sponsored anarchy. Opposition leaders have called for strikes and a civil rebellion, including refusing to pay taxes.
We are very close to entering uncharted territory.
On Jerusalem’s Azza Street near the PM’s residence, some demonstrators have set up small grey tents by the junction, one with a picture of Tal Haimi from Nir Ytzhak, who was killed on 7 October and whose body is still held in Gaza. Two barricades five metres apart, a large lorry, and an array of police horses and officers stand between the demonstrators and the residence.
One woman with a ‘Shared Home’ t-shirt and a megaphone explains how there are few times in a nation’s history in which there is such a clear case of right and wrong, between justice and injustice as the current moment. The chants are a mixture of anti-Netanyahu (‘the state is ours, not Netanyahu’s’), anti-judicial reform (‘Israel is not a dictatorship’), and the demand for a comprehensive deal to free all the hostages in Gaza (‘Everyone. Now!’).
Later, the crowd sits on the floor, and begins a recitation of a Hasidic saying of Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav, that ‘the whole wide world is a very narrow bridge, but the main thing is not to be afraid.’ With the passion of ultras at a sports stadium, the demonstrators jump up, chanting that they are not afraid.
Despite the song’s direction, I am beginning to be fearful. Not of warnings of civil war, like those voiced by former High Court of Justice President Aharon Barak. Israelis (especially those who have served in the same unit in Gaza) are not about to turn their weapons on one another. And while much of Israel’s political class has broadly failed, the last year and half has seen civil society groups flourishing.
There is of course a possibility that Netanyahu is cynically playing 4D chess – primarily promoting a move to fire Bar and Baharav Miara to shore up his coalition before the government votes on the budget at the end of March (if it passes the government has relative stability until November 2026, if it fails, the country goes to elections). In this reading, Netanyahu knows the moves will inevitably get stuck in committee. But even that would allow him to cry foul of the deep state and solidify his political strength.
In any event, we should worry. My fear is that things have so fundamentally changed since the “Gallant Night” of March 2023 – when public and institutional pressure slowed down the government in its tracks – that this time will be different. That there may be no stopping it.
The first reason is the societal fracture and distrust after 18 months of war, and 59 hostages still in Gaza. Israelis are exhausted. The second is the changes that have taken place in the international context – both the absence of the brakes Biden put on Netanyahu, and the increased strength of the global ‘New Right’ over the last two years. The third factor is Netanyahu himself – the self-styled Churchill who has fundamentally failed to unify the country in war and tragedy. In Yediot Ahronot, Nahum Barnea wrote of how there is no longer any way to hurt Netanyahu, ‘because the things that normally weaken prime ministers no longer affect him.’ ‘Once upon a time,’ Barnea writes,
High Court of Justice rulings used to hurt him; [but] the moment he announced he would not follow High Court of Justice rulings, the pain went away… The October 7 fiasco didn’t hurt him; he’s convinced himself that others were responsible for the debacle. The fate of the hostages and their families doesn’t hurt him; that pain belongs to other people. He watches the tens of thousands of protesters booing when his face appears onscreen and it doesn’t hurt him… in Netanyahu’s new world, public opinion is of little concern.
What could potentially damage Netanyahu are allegations about Qatari financing of his aides, whose investigation by the Shin Bet has given him added impetus to fire Bar. But otherwise, the 2025 Netanyahu stands above the fray, believing himself immune. Bizarrely silent on the numerous warnings of an outbreak of war that he received (and ignored) from the Shin Bet in mid-2023, as well as his facilitation of millions from Doha to enter the Strip (against the Shin Bet’s advice), which almost certainly strengthened Hamas’ military, the PM now promotes the fake news that Bar knew about the Hamas attacks in advance, yet purposefully didn’t wake him. Analysts note how Netanyahu returned from his last trip to Washington with a renewed appreciation (and no small amount of envy) of Trumpism – the prioritisation of loyalty above all, the ability to fire whomever it wants, loathing of the ‘deep state’, and an enthusiasm for pedaling conspiracy theories. He now seems intent on putting the Trump model into practice.
Economists opine that when America sneezes, the world catches a cold. As a small country strategically reliant on the US, Israel is even more susceptible to dangerous unhealthy trends originating in DC. And we face it with a body politic and societal immune system already weakened from the trauma of 7 October and the ensuing war, as well as previous battles over the democratic shape of the country.
I pray we will pull through.
