Israel's post-election deadlock highlights deep societal divides, Arab political ceiling - opinion

Yet within this paralysis, one constant emerged: Netanyahu reaffirmed his status as the enduring “magician” of Israeli politics and the right-wing base, particularly among significant segments of the Mizrahi Jewish electorate. His ability to mobilize loyal supporters remains formidable, even as his Likud party lost five seats compared with the 2022 election and his governing bloc suffered a substantial setback.

Shas was particularly hard hit, losing five seats, while the parties led by Bezalel Smotrich and Itamar Ben-Gvir together won 13, compared with 14 for the joint list on which they ran in 2022. Netanyahu remains the dominant figure on the right, but his political survival has come at the expense of the strength of his broader camp.

With a national unity government appearing remote, the country faces the prospect of another early election within months - a contest in which Netanyahu would undoubtedly wager on breaking the stalemate and reclaiming control.

This impasse is not merely a technical breakdown of coalition arithmetic; it reflects the deeper ideological center of gravity within Jewish Israeli society, where meaningful distinctions between the mainstream camps have narrowed on questions of national identity, security, and the role of Arab citizens in government.

Much of the Zionist political establishment remains firmly on the right or center-right, particularly on security issues. Even the left-wing Democrats party has a former general, Yair Golan, at its helm, demonstrating the enduring importance of military credentials in Israeli political life. Golan’s willingness to include Arab parties in government distinguishes him from other opposition leaders, but his position remains an exception rather than the prevailing approach.

At the extreme, this outlook finds expression in calls for the removal or transfer of Palestinians. More commonly, it manifests itself in the conviction that Arab citizens may enjoy individual civil rights but should have little influence over the state’s fundamental political and security decisions.

Even the high voter turnout of nearly 78%, routinely celebrated as an indicator of democratic vitality, cannot be understood without considering the security anxieties that dominate Israeli political life. Alongside genuine civic engagement, elections are shaped by an enduring faith in military superiority and the perception of threats from beyond the country’s borders.

For significant parts of the Jewish political establishment, fear of Arab political power, whether beyond Israel’s borders or within them, remains a potent instrument of electoral mobilization.

Trapped at the center of this political storm are Israel’s Arab citizens. Holding 19 seats, their parliamentary representation offers the very arithmetic needed to break the deadlock, yet their political influence is treated by much of the Jewish political establishment as something to be contained rather than welcomed.

Netanyahu made fear of Arab political influence a recurring feature of his campaign, reviving familiar scare tactics designed to alarm Jewish voters. These included warnings that an opposition victory would threaten the Jewish character of the state, alongside claims that Arab parties were attempting to “steal the election.” Transportation Minister Miri Regev presented voters with the choice of “either the Right or Palestine,” echoing the old political ultimatum of “either Bibi or Tibi.”

Election officials rejected claims of systematic electoral fraud, yet the political message remained unmistakable: large-scale Arab participation was portrayed not as an expression of Israeli democracy but as a threat to its outcome.

Much of the opposition camp adopted a similar exclusionary logic. Conceding to the rightward shift in public sentiment, prominent opposition leaders repeatedly pledged that they would not sit in a coalition with Arab parties or depend on their parliamentary support. The Democrats’ willingness to consider Arab participation has done little to change the prevailing resistance among other opposition leaders.

This rhetoric is calculated to appease Jewish voters whose attitudes toward their Arab fellow citizens have been shaped by decades of conflict, suspicion, and political incitement. For some, even hearing spoken Arabic on a public bus, in a shop, or down a hospital corridor can evoke unease.

The result is a persistent pattern of political exclusion and discrimination confronting the country’s Arab minority.

Arab citizens carry Israeli identity cards, pay taxes, abide by the law, and participate in the state’s formal institutions, yet they face a profound double standard. If they abstain from voting, they are condemned by some as disloyal elements who reject the state’s existence. If they exercise their democratic rights and vote in large numbers, their participation is portrayed as an attempt to subvert the political outcome.

It illustrates a reality in which the state readily welcomes the Arab individual as a skilled doctor tending to the sick, a dedicated nurse, a bus driver, an academic, or an essential worker across key public infrastructure. In these service roles, their contributions are praised and often described as indispensable.

But the moment these same citizens seek genuine political agency and a place at the decision-making table, a hard ceiling descends. Parliamentary representation is accepted as a democratic formality, while meaningful participation in governing the country is too often treated as an exclusively Jewish prerogative.

The contradiction could hardly be clearer: Arab citizens are welcomed as essential participants in Israeli society, yet their elected representatives are repeatedly told that they have no legitimate place in shaping the state’s collective future.