When the “Traitors” Accomplish Something Extraordinary

Israel’s latest elections have not brought the struggle for power to an end. They have merely shifted it from the ballot box to negotiations over the formation of a government. The results have given neither Benjamin Netanyahu nor his main opponents the parliamentary majority needed to govern. Israel thus finds itself facing a political landscape open to several possible outcomes, perhaps the most significant of which would be Gadi Eisenkot’s emergence as prime minister. Such a change would amount to more than replacing the head of government. It could also reshape the political alliances that have governed Israel in recent years.

According to the final results announced by the Central Elections Committee on October 30, 2026, Netanyahu’s camp secured 53 seats, compared with 48 for the opposition bloc built around Gadi Eisenkot. The two Arab lists won 19 seats between them, with 11 going to the Joint List and eight to the United Arab List. Neither camp, therefore, commands the 61 members of the Knesset needed to secure parliamentary confidence and form a government.

These figures place the Arab parties in an exceptional position, giving their lawmakers a potentially decisive role in the negotiations over the next government. Yet translating this numerical strength into a genuine political partnership remains difficult, given the ideological differences and coalition constraints within the opposition itself.

From Accusations of Treason to Shaping the State’s Future

In his book From the Tall el-Zaatar Camp to the Corridors of the United Nations, Nabil Maarouf, a former Palestinian ambassador to Spain, Turkey and Canada, recounts his family’s exodus from their native village of Deir al-Qassi, in the Acre district, barely five kilometers from the Lebanese town of Rmeich.

According to his account, the village had not come under attack by Zionist militias. Rather, its evacuation and the displacement of its inhabitants to Rmeich took place at the request of the Arab Liberation Army, commanded by Fawzi al-Qawuqji. He had urged residents to leave their villages and seek refuge in Lebanon while awaiting the entry of Arab armies into Palestine and their victory over Zionist forces.

Maarouf adds that residents of neighboring Druze and Christian villages tried to persuade his father and uncle to remain in their homes rather than leave. But the fear of being accused of treason, and of having their refusal to obey the Arab Liberation Army interpreted as a breach of national consensus, ultimately led them to leave Deir al-Qassi and abandon their village.

At the time, anyone who questioned the Arab Liberation Army’s ability to join forces with the Arab armies in Palestine and defeat the Zionist forces risked being branded a traitor. According to Maarouf’s testimony, his father and uncles left their village for fear of being regarded as cowards or collaborators with the enemy.

By contrast, those who remained in their homes and villages, on territory that would subsequently become part of the State of Israel, numbered approximately 160,000, according to generally accepted historical estimates. Their descendants came to be known as the Arabs of Israel or Palestinians of the interior. This community has produced prominent literary, cultural and political figures, including Mahmoud Darwish, Samih al-Qassem, Emile Habibi, Azmi Bishara, Ahmad Tibi, Youssef Jabareen and many others.

Maarouf’s account attributes to Yitzhak Rabin, during the negotiations that led to the Oslo Accords, an acknowledgment that allowing this Palestinian population to remain within the Jewish state had been a strategic mistake made by the Zionist movement in 1948. As Maarouf presents it, however, the political significance of that acknowledgment lies in the paradox created by the events of that period.

Indeed, those whom some activists at the time regarded as having abandoned the liberation struggle, or suspected of desertion, became part of Israeli society. Over time, they established an increasingly substantial demographic, economic, professional, academic and political presence.

Today, Arab citizens account for more than 25% of Israel’s population, according to official statistics published in September 2026, and their participation in public life continues to expand. Their presence is no longer merely a demographic or social matter. It has become an unavoidable political factor in calculations over power and in any assessment of the Israeli political system’s future.

This development raises questions that extend far beyond the results of the current elections. They concern the very nature of the Israeli state, how it defines itself, the future of its relationship with its Arab citizens, and its relations with neighboring and more distant Arab peoples.

The Democratic Paradox and the Jewish State

The first paradox is political and particularly striking: Israeli political forces that have long sought to marginalize Arab citizens and diminish their political role now find themselves compelled to seek the votes of their parliamentary representatives to break the deadlock created by the elections.

The deeper paradox, however, concerns Israel’s very definition as a Jewish and democratic state. How can the state’s Jewish character be reconciled with a demographic reality in which more than a quarter of the population consists of non-Jewish Arabs? How can a political system claim to be democratic when major forces within it regard the participation of these citizens’ representatives in government as an illegitimate partnership, or even a political burden best avoided?

Democracy cannot be measured by voting rights alone. It must also be judged by political and civil equality and by citizens’ ability to participate in governing the state without discrimination based on religion or national identity. If Jewish parties persist in boycotting Arab parliamentary blocs and keeping them on the sidelines, how can they claim that the political system represents all the state’s citizens?

When national and religious identity becomes a determining criterion for the allocation of political rights and access to positions of responsibility, the door opens to a system of institutionalized discrimination. The debate over apartheid then returns to the forefront, with all its legal, political and human rights implications.

Another equally important question arises: if Jewish political forces in Israel cannot establish normal relations with Arab parties operating within the Israeli political system itself, how can they hope to achieve natural and lasting normalization with other Arab peoples in their own countries?

Eisenkot and the Impasse of a Jewish Majority

The current balance of power shows that Netanyahu has lost the ability to form a stable government relying exclusively on his own camp. Yet it offers Eisenkot no easy path to the premiership.

Eisenkot does not command a parliamentary majority of his own, and not all his allies are prepared to accept a government dependent on the support of Arab parties, whether as coalition partners or from outside the coalition.

His camp faces a twofold dilemma: it needs additional votes to secure a majority, but it cannot easily cross the political and ideological red lines some of its members have drawn against any cooperation with Arab parties.

Conversely, the two Arab lists, with their combined 19 seats, face an unprecedented opportunity to influence the composition of the next government, provided they can translate their parliamentary weight into a common political position or specific agreements setting out the terms of their support and possible participation.

This does not necessarily mean that Arab parties will join an Eisenkot government. External support, abstention that allows a government to survive, or an agreement on a defined political program may prove far more achievable than direct participation in the cabinet.

Scenarios for a Political Realignment

Faced with this impasse, several scenarios are being discussed within Israeli political circles as ways to reshape alliances and redistribute parliamentary strength.

The first involves promoting the formation of a national unity government. This option has attracted some interest among American circles close to President Donald Trump, which see it as a possible way out of the political deadlock and, potentially, a means of distancing certain far-right forces from the center of decision-making.

However, if such a unity government were led by Netanyahu, it would run up against Eisenkot’s clearly stated refusal to participate in a government headed by the incumbent prime minister. The scenario could therefore become an attempt to rescue Netanyahu politically rather than a genuine project for a change in leadership.

The second scenario rests on the possibility of attracting Ashkenazi ultra-Orthodox parties, particularly the Agudat Yisrael faction, and breaking their automatic alignment with Netanyahu’s camp.

In this context, the name of Yitzhak Goldknopf, leader of Agudat Yisrael, has emerged following Israeli media reports suggesting that he might refrain from voting against an Eisenkot-led government if certain political conditions were met.

This opens the possibility of a bolder political maneuver: the Joint List could take the initiative to establish a channel of negotiations with Goldknopf, perhaps even putting his name forward as part of a political arrangement concerning his position in government or the place of his faction in the next administration.

This in no way means that his possible candidacy for prime minister or deputy prime minister has become an officially announced initiative or an established, realistic prospect. Rather, it remains a hypothetical scenario illustrating how far some actors might be prepared to go in reshaping alliances if political and parliamentary interests were to prevail over traditional considerations.

The Ultra-Orthodox Dilemma and New Alliances

Ultra-Orthodox parties are not an entirely homogeneous political bloc in their calculations, even though they share common interests concerning exemption from military service, public funding for religious institutions and the preservation of the autonomy of their educational and social systems.

These interests could prompt them to reconsider their alliances if they concluded that Netanyahu was no longer capable of guaranteeing their demands or protecting their positions within the government.

Attracting Agudat Yisrael, however, would not necessarily mean securing the support of all the components of United Torah Judaism, which also includes Degel HaTorah, a faction with its own political and religious considerations and reference points.

Moreover, Eisenkot himself supports extending military service obligations and abolishing the exceptional privileges enjoyed by the ultra-Orthodox in this regard.

Any rapprochement between Eisenkot and Ashkenazi ultra-Orthodox forces would therefore require an especially difficult political and social compromise, particularly concerning the future of compulsory military service and public funding for religious institutions.

It is consequently essential not to confuse the abstention of certain ultra-Orthodox lawmakers during a vote of no confidence with support for, or participation in, a new government. There is a considerable difference between allowing a government to be formed and joining its coalition.

Could Likud Lawmakers Join the New Camp?

Another possibility could have an even greater impact on calculations surrounding the formation of a government: the potential defection of Likud lawmakers or members of forces aligned with Netanyahu, should they conclude that tying their political future to the incumbent prime minister has become an electoral and personal liability.

The issue is not confined to differences over policy. It also concerns the future leadership of the Israeli right and the possibility of rebuilding it without Netanyahu.

This prospect could become more appealing to certain lawmakers if they believed that keeping Netanyahu at the head of Likud would lead to another early election or further weaken the party’s standing and ability to govern.

If the interests of some lawmakers converged with Eisenkot’s determination to form a new government, switching camps could become a conceivable option. Such a development would reduce the new government’s dependence on Arab or ultra-Orthodox votes.

This hypothesis, however, remains contingent on concrete political positions and officially announced defections. It cannot be presented as something that has already occurred.

Israel Faces a Test That Goes Beyond the Prime Minister’s Identity

The results of the 2026 elections reveal more than a passing coalition crisis. They expose a deeper crisis in the structure of Israel’s political system and in how it defines the sources of legitimacy, representation and participation.

Netanyahu, who for many years succeeded in building solid alliances between the right and religious forces, now finds himself heading a camp that has lost a considerable share of its parliamentary strength.

Eisenkot, who presented himself as a political alternative, has discovered that bringing Netanyahu down is not enough to secure a governing majority. His path to the premiership necessarily involves compromises with forces whose interests and positions diverge on fundamental issues.

As for the Arab parties, they have moved from a form of political representation that Jewish political forces had long sought to sideline to a position in which they have become an indispensable parliamentary force in the calculations surrounding government formation.

This development confronts them with a historic political responsibility: will they be content to act as arbiters in the rivalries among Jewish parties, or will they turn their new position into an opportunity to place equality, citizenship, and civil and political rights at the heart of the state’s agenda?

The historical paradox deserves reflection. Those who left their villages in 1948 for fear of being branded traitors if they disobeyed the Arab Liberation Army, and those who remained on their land to become citizens of the state built upon the ruins of their society, now see their descendants emerging as a political force with considerable influence over who will govern Israel.

Thus, the question raised by the 2026 elections is not simply whether Gadi Eisenkot will succeed in bringing down Benjamin Netanyahu. It reaches much further, posing a more fundamental question: can Israel redefine its democracy so that its Arab citizens are recognized as equal partners in determining its future, or will it remain captive to the contradiction between the Jewish character of the state and the demands of democracy?

For replacing a prime minister may be made possible through a parliamentary compromise. Transforming the nature of the state and the system governing its relations with its citizens, however, presents a historical and political challenge far more complex than merely assembling 61 votes in the Knesset.