Gabriel G. Tabarani
A decade ago, on June 8, 2016, the Israeli journalist Aluf Benn published an essay in Foreign Affairs titled “The End of the Old Israel.” It described a country undergoing a profound political and social transformation under Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu. Israel’s traditional secular and liberal elites, who had dominated its institutions since the state’s founding, were losing ground to an increasingly assertive coalition of nationalist and religious forces determined to redefine the country’s identity and priorities.
At the time, this appeared primarily to be an internal struggle over the character of the Israeli state. Ten years later, after three years of regional warfare, its consequences have reached far beyond Israel’s borders. The changes that took shape during Mr. Netanyahu’s long tenure now influence Israel’s relationship with the Palestinians, its approach to neighboring countries and its understanding of what military power can achieve.
That is what makes Israel’s Oct. 27 election significant, regardless of who ultimately succeeds in forming a government.
The contest has exposed deep divisions over Mr. Netanyahu’s responsibility for the security failures of Oct. 7, 2023, the independence of the judiciary, the power of religious parties and the future of Israeli democracy. These are consequential disputes. But they should not obscure an equally important reality: The distance separating Israel’s political rivals on domestic governance is often much greater than the distance between them on the country’s fundamental security assumptions.
The central question, then, is not simply whether Mr. Netanyahu will remain prime minister. It is whether a government led by his opponents could meaningfully depart from the policies that have become embedded in Israel’s political culture and security establishment.
That question has acquired new urgency as Israel seeks to translate its military gains across the region into something more durable. Its armed forces have demonstrated their ability to inflict severe damage on adversaries in Gaza, Lebanon and beyond. Yet the political arrangements that might turn battlefield advantages into lasting security remain elusive. Israel may be stronger militarily in several respects than it was before the wars. Whether it is closer to a stable regional order is another matter.
From Managing Conflict to Reshaping the Region
Mr. Netanyahu did not create the forces that transformed Israel. The decline of faith in the peace process began well before his long period in power. The collapse of negotiations in the 1990s, the violence of the second intifada, Palestinian political divisions and successive wars in Gaza gradually convinced many Israelis that a negotiated settlement was either unattainable or too dangerous to pursue.
Mr. Netanyahu turned that disillusionment into a governing philosophy.
His political promise was that Israel could secure itself without making the territorial and political concessions that a peace agreement would require. Superior military capabilities, intelligence gathering, technological innovation and economic strength would allow the country to contain its adversaries while preserving the status quo. Meanwhile, closer relations with Arab governments could advance Israel’s regional integration without requiring substantial progress toward Palestinian statehood.
For a time, the strategy appeared to work.
Israel’s economy expanded, its technology sector flourished and its military retained a commanding advantage over many of its adversaries. Settlement construction continued in the occupied West Bank, while the prospect of a viable, contiguous Palestinian state receded. The normalization agreements with several Arab countries reinforced the belief that Israel could deepen its regional relationships even as the Palestinian question remained unresolved.
But the Hamas-led attacks of Oct. 7, 2023, shattered the assumption that a conflict left politically unresolved could be indefinitely contained through surveillance, deterrence and military superiority.
The attacks revealed catastrophic failures in Israel’s security system. They also demonstrated that the Palestinian question could not simply be set aside while the region pursued a new economic and diplomatic order.
The response, however, did not produce a broad Israeli reconsideration of the political assumptions behind the old strategy. Instead, Israel increasingly embraced a more expansive use of military force, seeking not merely to contain threats but to alter the security environment from which they emerged.
That shift has extended far beyond Gaza, where the war has caused immense destruction and loss of life. Israel has changed the military balance along its northern frontier with Lebanon, expanded its military presence in parts of Syria and moved from a long-running shadow conflict with Iran into direct military confrontation.
The underlying logic is clear: If deterrence and containment proved inadequate, Israel would seek to weaken adversaries more decisively, prevent them from rebuilding their capabilities and maintain greater freedom to strike beyond its borders.
This approach may yield substantial military advantages. It also carries a strategic risk. Destroying an adversary’s military infrastructure does not necessarily eliminate the political conditions that sustain conflict. Buffer zones, repeated strikes and open-ended security operations can create new obligations, new grievances and new opportunities for escalation.
Military success, in other words, cannot be measured solely by the damage inflicted on an enemy. It must also be judged by whether it produces a political environment in which renewed conflict becomes less likely.
The difficulty for any future Israeli government is that this reliance on force is no longer simply Mr. Netanyahu’s personal preference.
Over the past decade, religious and nationalist movements have gained influence across Israeli society and politics. The settlement enterprise has become more deeply embedded in the country’s institutions. Positions once associated primarily with the political right — particularly opposition to Palestinian sovereignty and a preference for military solutions to regional threats — have gained wider acceptance.
Reversing those changes would require more than replacing a prime minister. It would demand a shift in public attitudes, political incentives and the assumptions of the security establishment itself.
A Different Government, but a Different Strategy?
Israel’s election has highlighted a genuine struggle over the country’s democratic institutions.
Mr. Netanyahu’s opponents have challenged his approach to the judiciary, his dependence on religious parties and his handling of the failures surrounding Oct. 7. They have also questioned the political arrangements that exempt many ultra-Orthodox men from military service and the extent to which coalition politics has shaped decisions of national security.
These disputes matter. A government more committed to judicial independence, institutional accountability and the rule of law could change the character of Israeli governance in important ways.
But domestic reform should not be confused with a fundamental change in foreign or security policy.
Gadi Eisenkot, the former military chief who emerged as Mr. Netanyahu’s principal rival, represents a different style of leadership. He has emphasized the importance of functioning institutions, criticized the government’s tolerance of settler violence in the West Bank and argued for a more disciplined relationship between military objectives and diplomatic strategy.
Yet his approach does not amount to a comprehensive alternative to the security consensus that has taken shape in Israel.
Mr. Eisenkot has not embraced a political program centered on ending the occupation and establishing an independent Palestinian state under present conditions. Nor does he fundamentally dispute the importance of military deterrence in confronting Iran and other regional threats.
The differences are significant, but they often concern how force should be used, how military campaigns should be managed and how diplomacy should complement security operations. They do not necessarily extend to the political assumptions underlying Israel’s regional strategy.
That distinction is essential.
A government led by the opposition might seek to repair strained relations with Washington and European capitals. It might adopt a firmer approach toward settler violence, engage more seriously with international institutions and show greater willingness to negotiate security arrangements in Gaza or Lebanon.
Such changes could reduce tensions and open diplomatic opportunities. They should not be dismissed as cosmetic.
But their longer-term significance would depend on whether they were accompanied by a willingness to address the political conflicts that repeatedly produce instability — above all, the occupation and the absence of a credible path toward Palestinian self-determination.
A government can govern more responsibly without fundamentally changing its strategic objectives. It can exercise military power more selectively without questioning the belief that military power remains the principal instrument of national security.
The election’s preliminary results have added another layer of complexity. With neither major bloc assured of the 61 seats needed for a majority in the 120-member Knesset, coalition negotiations could give smaller parties considerable influence over the next government.
Arab parties may also play an important role in the parliamentary arithmetic. But their potential numerical influence does not automatically translate into political leverage, particularly when major Jewish parties remain reluctant to depend on Arab lawmakers to form a government.
That tension raises questions about the place of Arab citizens in Israel’s political system. It also illustrates how coalition constraints could limit the room for maneuver of any new prime minister, even one determined to pursue a different course.
The larger obstacle, however, may lie outside electoral politics altogether.
Israel’s security strategy rests on a relationship with the United States that has supplied military assistance, advanced technology, intelligence cooperation and diplomatic protection for decades. American support has been indispensable to Israel’s ability to maintain its military superiority and conduct prolonged operations.
Yet that relationship is becoming more politically complicated.
The war in Gaza has intensified debate in the United States over the scale and conditions of support for Israel. Questions about settlement expansion, civilian suffering and the costs of continued American involvement in Middle Eastern conflicts have become more prominent in American political life.
None of this means that the U.S.-Israeli alliance is on the verge of collapse. It rests on deep institutional ties and strategic interests that extend beyond individual leaders.
But neither can Israel assume that American political support will remain equally strong under all circumstances, regardless of the duration, scope or consequences of its military campaigns.
There is a paradox here. Israel has sought greater freedom to act militarily on its own terms, yet sustained operations make its dependence on American weapons, technology and diplomatic backing more consequential. The longer its regional confrontations continue, the greater the possibility that Israeli military objectives and American political priorities will diverge.
A future Israeli government will therefore face two difficult tasks at once: managing domestic demands for security and preserving the international partnership that helps make its security strategy possible.
Changing the prime minister may alter how those competing pressures are handled. It will not make them disappear.
Military Power Is Not a Regional Order
For the rest of the Middle East, the question of what comes after Mr. Netanyahu is not merely an Israeli domestic concern.
The wars since October 2023 have altered military calculations across the region, forcing Arab governments to reconsider their security priorities and economic assumptions. They have also brought the Palestinian question back to the center of international diplomacy after years in which regional integration increasingly appeared capable of advancing without a settlement of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.
That earlier approach was not without logic.
Economic cooperation and normalization agreements can create shared interests, expand diplomatic channels and provide governments with additional ways to influence one another. They may help reduce tensions even when political disagreements persist.
But the experience of the past three years has exposed the limits of expecting economic integration to insulate the region from unresolved conflicts over territory, sovereignty and national rights.
Those limits are especially consequential for the Gulf states.
Across the Gulf, ambitious economic transformations depend on attracting investment, expanding trade, developing technology and tourism, and maintaining reliable access to global markets. These efforts require secure shipping lanes, stable energy markets and a regional environment in which businesses can assess risks with reasonable confidence.
Every major military escalation complicates those calculations. It can raise shipping and insurance costs, unsettle energy markets, disrupt supply chains and force governments and investors to reconsider the security of critical infrastructure.
The confrontation between Israel and Iran is therefore not a separate geopolitical concern for Gulf economies. Its potential consequences are woven into the practical conditions under which their development strategies must operate.
In Lebanon and Syria, the connection between security and economic recovery is even more immediate.
Lebanon’s prospects for reconstruction and renewed investment depend in part on stability along its southern border, an end to attacks and Israeli military presence on Lebanese territory, and security arrangements that can endure beyond a temporary cessation of hostilities.
Syria faces its own challenge of rebuilding institutions and restoring sovereignty while contending with external military operations and Israeli control of areas of Syrian territory.
A change of government in Israel would not necessarily resolve these problems. Israeli security calculations concerning both countries have become embedded in a broader strategic approach, even if different governments might disagree over how aggressively to implement it.
For Arab governments, the lesson is not that all Israeli administrations are interchangeable. They are not.
A new government might create opportunities for de-escalation, negotiated security arrangements or renewed diplomatic engagement. Such opportunities could matter greatly, particularly for countries seeking to rebuild after years of conflict.
But their value should be measured by what they achieve, not simply by a change in rhetoric or leadership.
The deeper challenge is that the region’s economic and security interests are increasingly interconnected. A confrontation in one country can affect energy prices, shipping routes and investment decisions across several others. The absence of a credible political horizon for Palestinians continues to generate tensions that complicate efforts to build a more stable regional framework.
Arab states have different interests and relationships with Israel, Iran and the United States. They are unlikely to adopt a single approach to every crisis. But they share an interest in preventing the Middle East from becoming a region in which recurring military operations substitute for durable political arrangements.
That requires treating diplomacy, economic development and national security as interconnected priorities rather than separate policy domains.
It also requires recognizing the distinction between a shift in the military balance and the emergence of a stable regional order.
Israel has demonstrated that it can change military realities on several fronts. What remains uncertain is whether those changes can support political arrangements that neighboring states and affected populations regard as legitimate and sustainable.
Israel may retain its military superiority for many years. It may also be able to bear the costs of repeated confrontations longer than some of its adversaries. But the capacity to sustain military dominance is not the same as the capacity to resolve the conflicts that make such dominance necessary.
That is the inheritance awaiting Israel’s next government.
Mr. Netanyahu helped entrench a security doctrine built around military superiority, the containment or weakening of adversaries and the belief that Israel could advance its regional position without resolving the Palestinian question. Over time, that doctrine acquired support and institutional momentum extending well beyond his party.
His successors, should they take power, may govern differently. They may improve Israel’s relations with allies, strengthen democratic institutions and use military force with greater restraint. Those would be meaningful changes.
But they would still inherit a political system, a society and a security establishment shaped by years of conflict and by assumptions that cannot be overturned through an election alone.
For Arab governments, this means that regional planning cannot depend on whether Mr. Netanyahu stays or goes. It must account for the possibility that the essential features of Israeli policy will endure under leaders with very different political identities.
The real test of Israel’s post-election future, then, is not who occupies the prime minister’s office. It is whether that leader can — and will — challenge the belief that military power can provide a lasting substitute for political settlement.
Until that question is answered, the Middle East will remain confronted with a familiar danger: a changing balance of power without a corresponding path to peace.
This article was originally published in Arabic on the Asswak Al-Arab website
