Israel’s election may not end its political crisis

The election setup and the deep polarisation that has plagued Israel in recent years could mean a prolonged deadlock may be the most likely outcome

Pete Reynolds

Israel’s election may not end its political crisis

Israelis head to the polls on 27 October—the first election since the October 7 2023 attacks—in what could very well end in a disappointing impasse. Many observers (and Israelis themselves) may want a decisive outcome, but the election setup and the deep polarisation that has plagued Israel in recent years could mean a prolonged deadlock may be the most likely outcome. This means that while Netanyahu’s opponents could secure more votes, they might still struggle to form a government, leaving the embattled Israeli prime minister in power.

Recent polls put Netanyahu’s coalition at 50-53 seats in the 120-member Knesset, with the four-party opposition alliance at 52-56. Arab parties account for much of the remainder. This is a recipe for deadlock because no government will have a stable majority without Arab partners, or without poaching a party from the other side.

Paradoxically, this is the first time in decades that an Israeli parliament and government served out a full term without collapsing into early elections. Yet this milestone masks a deeper paralysis: four years of endurance have done nothing to resolve the country's polarisation, leaving both blocs struggling to assemble a viable 61-seat majority. Perhaps more accurately: This endurance is partly due to the country's growing political polarisation. The ruling coalition had bitter, long-lasting internal quarrels, yet they knew they would lose if they let their differences lead to early elections. Fear of the other side has become the glue that ties coalitions together.

The election could consequently deliver several different kinds of change. A clear opposition majority would produce a government committed to investigating October 7, expanding military service, and restoring institutional restraints. A narrower result would force its leaders to reconsider the partners they have excluded. Prolonged deadlock would leave Netanyahu in office while his opponents argued over which promise to break—potentially giving Netanyahu opportunities to manoeuvre and entice some of them to join him.

The central question is whether Israel’s demand for political change can overcome the boundaries that have made change so difficult over the past years.

AFP
Demonstrators in Tel Aviv against judicial changes imposed by the Netanyahu government.

Years in the making

Israel’s current crisis is the culmination of compounding domestic shocks. In early 2023, the governing coalition launched a sweeping judicial overhaul, triggering the largest street protests in the country's history. Lawmakers pushed ahead by curbing the Supreme Court’s oversight powers, only for the court to narrowly strike the measure down in an unprecedented constitutional standoff.

The trauma of October 7 temporarily froze these domestic fault lines, bringing opposition figures Benny Gantz and Gadi Eisenkot into an emergency war cabinet. Yet wartime solidarity soon gave way to familiar political manoeuvring. Centrist allies quit the government over strategic drift, former rivals reconciled to shore up Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s majority, and far-right factions repeatedly leveraged coalition ultimatums to extract concessions. What began as a constitutional battle has evolved into an ongoing struggle over political survival and national cohesion.

The right-wing coalition's ultimate test came from internal ideological disputes regarding Haredi military conscription. Pressure peaked in July 2025 when both factions of the religious United Torah Judaism (Degel HaTorah and Agudat Yisrael) pulled out of the government over stalled draft exemption legislation, followed immediately by minister resignations from Shas, another Jewish religious party. Though Netanyahu managed to preserve the government until its formal term ended, the crisis transformed the 2026 election from a routine parliamentary race into a foundational debate over Israel's democratic institutions, social contract, and national security architecture.

Far from a cliché, compounding institutional crises and existential security challenges have converged to make this election a defining moment in Israel's history.

Israel is choosing between two radically divergent visions for its democratic institutions, its regional alliances, and its wartime recovery

The missing majority

An unforgiving mathematical reality governs Israel's national election. Under its nationwide proportional representation system, the entire country votes as a single district to fill the Knesset's 120 seats.

The three main television polls published Friday give Netanyahu's coalition 50 seats, 11 short of a majority. His opponents do better, but not by enough. The "change bloc" led by former army chief Gadi Eisenkot is projected at between 52 and 56 seats, still short of 61 in every survey. Polls have notoriously underestimated some votes, so a surprise is not out of the question. But those numbers mean something will have to give for one of the two sides to form a government.

On paper, 70 seats oppose Netanyahu. In practice, the opposition has promised not to count about a fifth of them. Three of the four opposition parties reject governing with Arab parties, and Avigdor Lieberman, a veteran politician and founder of the Yisrael Beiteinu party, rejects even their tacit support for a minority administration. He has also excluded the ultra-Orthodox parties, though Eisenkot has left room for a deal with them.

For their part, Arab parties are split over whether to join the government or support it from the outside. Mansour Abbas' Ra'am party notoriously joined the short-lived Bennett-Lapid government in 2021, and some other parties have at times shown they could join Zionist opposition parties to stand against Netanyahu. But a partnership, even a discreet one, remains taboo and will likely give Netanyahu opportunities to fire across the opposition's bow.

Diana Estefanía Rubio

Brutal electoral math

Another key metric is the electoral threshold. To win, a party must clear a strict barrier: 3.25% of all valid votes cast. The consequences of this arithmetic are important. A faction that falls just a handful of votes shy of the line gets zero seats, discarding every ballot cast for it and raising the bar for rival coalitions to secure a 61-seat governing majority. This threshold trap creates an existential game of musical chairs, forcing fragmented parties to merge, sign tactical surplus-vote pacts, or withdraw entirely before election day.

In many ways, the Israeli political battle is as much a struggle between major parties and figures (Netanyahu vs Eisenkot) as it is a fight by smaller parties to survive brutal electoral math—with their fate potentially shaping the broader coalition chances for each side.

With these high-stakes mechanics, both camps have radically reshaped their ranks in the run-up to the 2026 election. Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu's right-wing bloc anchored itself around a broadened Likud, reinforced by absorbing Gideon Sa'ar's faction to expand its parliamentary base. Alongside Likud stand its traditional Ultra-Orthodox partners—Shas and United Torah Judaism—and a nationalist flank led by Itamar Ben-Gvir's Otzma Yehudit and Bezalel Smotrich's Religious Zionist Party. Netanyahu may hope those far-right parties have an untapped reserve of supporters not reflected in the polls.

Yet coalition unity remains fragile. Fearing that split far-right slates could fall below the cutoff and squander crucial ballots, Netanyahu pushed aggressively to engineer a pre-election merger between Ben-Gvir and Smotrich. Ben-Gvir flatly refused, wagering his faction's independent momentum against the risk of electoral oblivion.

Across the aisle, the anti-Netanyahu camp undertook historic mergers to prevent vote wastage and mount a unified challenge. The centrepiece of this effort is a joint ticket headed by former Prime Minister Naftali Bennett and Yesh Atid leader Yair Lapid, who pooled their political capital on a shared slate. Notably, Bennet has been spearheading the campaign, while Lapid is (likely deliberately) taking a back seat, as the party likely seeks to attract right-wing voters disappointed with Netanyahu.

GIL COHEN-MAGEN / AFP
Israeli Foreign Minister Yair Lapid, Prime Minister Naftali Bennett, and Cabinet Secretary Shalom Shlomo attend a weekly cabinet meeting in Jerusalem on 29 May 2022.

On the Zionist left, the historically fragmented Labour and Meretz parties joined forces under Yair Golan to launch The Democrats. This revitalised left-wing union gave historic parties a new coat of paint.

Elsewhere, former military chief Gadi Eisenkot launched his own reform-minded list, while Lieberman maintained his secular-nationalist bastion. The harsh calculus of the threshold claimed its highest-profile casualty when Benny Gantz abruptly pulled his party from the ballot after merger talks foundered, bringing a dramatic close to his electoral efforts and showing how unpredictable Israeli politics are—a few years ago Gantz was a rising star; now he is no longer on the electoral map. To prevent cannibalising one another's support, the five major opposition leaders signed a rare non-aggression pact, pledging to halt cross-party attacks and coordinate joint turnout operations.

Arab representation navigated intense legal drama before reaching the ballot. The Central Elections Committee initially disqualified both Mansour Abbas's pragmatic Islamist faction, Ra'am, and a reunited Joint List. In a familiar institutional showdown, the Supreme Court unanimously overturned the bans, allowing both slates to mobilise their constituencies.

Underneath the tactical realignments lies a quiet generational transition. Longtime fixtures across the spectrum—including Gantz, former Knesset Speaker Yuli Edelstein, veteran Arab lawmaker Ayman Odeh, and ousted Ultra-Orthodox faction chiefs—have stepped aside or been pushed out.

Israel enters election day with two heavily fortified political blocs, each engineered to the decimal point to survive the electoral threshold. Yet this rigid math now collides with an exceptionally volatile campaign environment marked by technological disruption and pervasive security threats.

For Israelis going to the polls, the ballot box may offer clear numbers, but no long-lasting stability

Volatile campaigning

Israel's 2026 election campaign stands out as one of the most volatile in the nation's history. Digital manipulation, intense battles over surveillance, physical violence against candidates, and official curbs on press access have converged to erode public trust in the democratic process.

Despite official regulatory transparency guidelines, tracking data from the Open University of Israel's Ze Be AI research project estimates that about 13% of election-related social media content was synthetic or heavily altered, with the ruling Likud responsible for roughly a third of flagged posts. Deepfakes quickly proliferated: fabricated clips showed opposition figures embracing Arab party leaders, and far-right ministers circulated videos depicting the Supreme Court President and Attorney General being dragged through street protests.

At the same time, political campaigns pushed surveillance technology to the edge of legality. Controversies peaked after a whistleblower alleged that Likud's voter mobilisation software could use smartphone microphones to monitor polling stations and log voter identities as names were called aloud. In late October, the High Court intervened, issuing an emergency ruling that prohibited party observers from harvesting or transmitting real-time turnout data from polling sites.

Apart from the digital battles, candidates experienced overt intimidation and physical violence. Candidates across the ideological spectrum faced explicit death threats, requiring the Shin Bet to upgrade protective details dramatically. Naftali Bennett's security was doubled after an assailant hurled glassware at him in Bnei Brak; Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu's motorcade was struck by a glass bottle during Jerusalem protests; and candidates in the West Bank were targeted by stone throwers. Tensions escalated further when right-wing parties deployed thousands of activists to Arab polling stations under the guise of fraud prevention—a move denounced by Arab lawmakers as deliberate voter suppression—while immigration authorities barred credentialed European journalists, prompting diplomatic protests.

REUTERS/Ronen Zvulun
Former Israeli military chief Gadi Eisenkot attends an event for his Yashar party, ahead of Israel's national election in Tel Aviv, Israel, on 25 October 2026.

Three potential outcomes

Once the ballots are counted, the struggle shifts to the arithmetic of building a 61-seat majority in the 120-seat Knesset. Once the votes are tallied, parliamentary arithmetic points to three potential outcomes, each carrying profound institutional friction.

A Gadi Eisenkot (or Naftali Bennett, the former PM, is rising in the polls) opposition alliance could form a thin minority government by relying on outside support from Arab factions. Balancing hawkish secularists and progressive leftists would leave the government inherently fragile. A narrow Netanyahu-led right-wing coalition could cross the 61-seat threshold if the polls are wrong, but would face an immediate domestic crisis over Ultra-Orthodox draft exemptions and wartime budget allocations.

If neither bloc clears the bar, the country will plunge back into familiar paralysis: Netanyahu would remain caretaker prime minister amid an unresolved deadlock, ultimately triggering another round of snap elections.

The outcome presents a clear fork in the road. A narrow right-wing government will almost certainly revive domestic judicial challenges, reject Palestinian statehood frameworks, and adopt an aggressive regional posture. An opposition government would pivot toward repairing ties with Western capitals, stabilising civil-military relations, tackling universal conscription, and shoring up institutional checks and balances.

Whether through a hardline right-wing majority or an unstable opposition alliance, Israel is choosing between two radically divergent visions for its democratic institutions, its regional alliances, and its wartime recovery. Yet even as Israel chooses, the ballot box may offer clear numbers, but no long-lasting stability.

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