In the weeks before a pivotal Israeli election, a nation shaped by war, grief, and fracturing trust finds itself suspended in a democratic deadlock — neither Benjamin Netanyahu nor his challenger Gadi Eisenkot commanding the votes needed to govern. The exhaustion is not merely political but existential: public faith in Israeli institutions has fallen by nearly half since 2012, and the question before voters is not simply who should lead, but whether leadership itself can still mean something. From Jerusalem's markets to its occupied eastern neighborhoods, the election is less a contest of visi
Israel's election deadlock: Netanyahu faces uncertain path as voters express deep disillusionment
I don't see any future for this country.
So we have a deadlock where neither Netanyahu nor Eisenkot can actually form a government on their own. How does that even happen in a parliamentary system?
Israel's Knesset has 120 seats, and you need 61 to govern. Netanyahu's coalition has been polling below that for two years, but Eisenkot won't partner with Palestinian parties even though they'd give him the numbers. It's a self-imposed constraint that leaves everyone stuck.
But wait—the latest poll shows opposition at 52 and Netanyahu at 51. That's not a deadlock, that's a narrow opposition lead. Why frame it as equal?
Because neither number gets to 61. And because Eisenkot has ruled out the 12 seats that would get him there. So mathematically, yes, opposition is ahead, but politically, both sides are blocked.
Why would Eisenkot refuse to work with Palestinian parties if it means he can't govern?
He's worried about his political legitimacy. Palestinian parties are seen by much of the Jewish Israeli right as delegitimizing. He wants to govern as a centrist, not as someone dependent on Arab votes.
That's his calculation, but it's not a fact about what's necessary. It's a choice. And it's worth noting that Ra'am actually joined Netanyahu's coalition in 2021, so there's precedent for Arab parties governing with Jewish Israeli parties.
What about the economy angle? That seemed to move some voters.
Food prices have jumped 9.5 percent in two years. People are struggling. Eisenkot's campaign emphasizes education, social policy, the economy—things the current government has neglected while focused on war. That resonates, especially with people like Turgeman who've never voted Likud.
But we don't have data on how much that's actually moving the needle versus security concerns. The poll says 68 percent cite October 7 as central to their vote. That's a bigger number than economic anxiety, at least in what people say.
And the ultra-Orthodox conscription fight—is that really going to break their voting bloc?
It could. Pinchas, a 24-year-old Haredi who served, said younger ultra-Orthodox voters might defy their rabbis this time over how Netanyahu handled the draft law. But that's one person's impression, not a trend we can measure yet.
Right. And rabbinical authority over voting has held for decades. One election cycle of anger doesn't necessarily break that. We'll know in a month.
What happens if the Palestinian parties get banned from running?
Eisenkot's path becomes nearly impossible. The supreme court has overturned similar bans before, but if this one sticks, the opposition loses its only way to reach 61 seats.
And that's a huge unknown. The court hasn't ruled yet. So we're reporting on an election where one of the key variables—whether Palestinian parties can even run—is still in the hands of judges.
The Pulse
- Neither Netanyahu's bloc nor Eisenkot's opposition can reach the 61-seat threshold needed to govern, leaving the country mathematically gridlocked weeks before the vote.
- Public trust in Israeli institutions has cratered to 34%, driving some voters — like a former centrist who once believed in 'a future' — to abandon the ballot entirely.
- The October 7 Hamas attacks and nearly three years of war have fractured the electorate along fault lines of accountability, economic pain, and conscription resentment, with no single issue uniting a majority.
- Palestinian parties that could tip the balance for the opposition now face a potential election ban challenged in the supreme court, throwing the opposition's arithmetic into further doubt.
- Ultra-Orthodox voters, long disciplined by rabbinical guidance, are showing signs of rebellion over the conscription dispute — a crack in Netanyahu's coalition that could quietly reshape the outcome.
In the weeks before a pivotal Israeli election, a nation shaped by war, grief, and fracturing trust finds itself suspended in a democratic deadlock — neither Benjamin Netanyahu nor his challenger Gadi Eisenkot commanding the votes needed to govern. The exhaustion is not merely political but existential: public faith in Israeli institutions has fallen by nearly half since 2012, and the question before voters is not simply who should lead, but whether leadership itself can still mean something. From Jerusalem's markets to its occupied eastern neighborhoods, the election is less a contest of visions than a mirror held up to a society struggling to recognize itself.
Less than a month before Israelis vote, the country is suspended between two futures it cannot clearly see. On the streets of Jerusalem — crowded with secular and ultra-Orthodox Jews, settlers, Palestinians, and soldiers on leave — the mood is one of exhaustion. The election could reshape the nation, yet the arithmetic of power offers no clear winner, and many voters have lost faith that any winner will change much.
The polls have told a consistent story for over two years: Netanyahu's coalition falls short of the 61 seats needed to govern, but so does his main challenger, former IDF chief Gadi Eisenkot. Eisenkot has ruled out partnering with Palestinian parties projected to win 12 seats — a self-imposed constraint that leaves him mathematically stranded. The latest survey showed the opposition at 52 seats, Netanyahu's bloc at 51, with both camps falling well short of a majority. Public trust in Israeli institutions has collapsed from 61% in 2012 to 34% in 2025. One West Jerusalem resident, a former centrist voter, has decided not to vote at all. She once supported a party whose name means 'there is a future.' She no longer sees one.
Voters are divided on what matters most. Some hold the government responsible for October 7, pointing to reports that Netanyahu was warned of a possible major Hamas attack — which he denies. Others, like a café owner in Jaffa, are driven by economic desperation: food inflation has climbed 9.5% over two years, and many feel the government has prioritized war and ultra-Orthodox subsidies over ordinary livelihoods. 'They think about wars,' one voter said, 'while nobody is dealing with the economic crisis.'
The ultra-Orthodox community is fracturing in ways that could matter. A 2024 supreme court ruling ended the long-standing exemption from military service for Haredi seminary students, sparking protests and clashes. Some younger ultra-Orthodox men say they plan to defy rabbinical voting guidance and support Eisenkot, angered by how Netanyahu handled the conscription dispute and the crackdown on protesters. Ultra-Orthodox Jews make up about 14% of Israel's population and have traditionally voted as directed by religious leaders — but that discipline may be breaking down.
Netanyahu retains a loyal base. A longtime Likud supporter at Mahane Yehuda market expressed confidence that Netanyahu would win and finish the job across multiple war fronts. A 23-year-old about to begin military service said he would vote for the far-right Moshe Feiglin because 'he has never changed his principles.'
The opposition's greatest potential advantage — Palestinian parties — has been thrown into jeopardy by a Central Elections Committee vote to bar Ra'am and the Joint List, following a petition from the far-right claiming they support terrorism. The supreme court is reviewing the ban, having overturned similar decisions before. Palestinian citizens themselves are deeply divided: some seek strong Arab representation on equality issues, others favor the pragmatic approach of Ra'am, which in 2021 became the first independent Arab party to join an Israeli governing coalition. In a 2025 survey, 70% of Palestinian citizens said they preferred to stay silent about their political views around strangers. The election will be decided not just by what Israelis want, but by whether the system allows them to choose it.
Less than a month before Israelis head to the polls, the country finds itself suspended between two futures, unable to clearly see either one. On the streets of Jerusalem—crowded with secular and ultra-Orthodox Jews, religious nationalists, settlers, Palestinians, and soldiers on leave—the mood is one of exhaustion and uncertainty. The election looming ahead could reshape the nation, yet the arithmetic of power offers no clear winner, and voters themselves seem to have lost faith that any winner will actually change much.
For more than two years, the polls have told a consistent story: Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu's coalition will fall short of the 61 seats required to form a government. Yet his main challenger, Gadi Eisenkot, the former chief of staff of the Israel Defense Forces, has no clearer path to power. He has ruled out partnering with Palestinian parties, which are projected to win a critical 12 seats—a self-imposed constraint that leaves him mathematically stranded even if his support holds. The latest Channel 13 poll captured the stalemate perfectly: opposition parties projected to win 52 seats, Netanyahu's bloc at 51, both falling well short. Eisenkot's Yashar party topped the survey with 22 seats; Netanyahu's Likud came in at 18. The result is a deeply fragmented parliament where neither side is close to securing a majority, and both camps are essentially right-wing, offering voters little sense of fundamental change.
This deadlock is fueling a broader crisis of confidence. Public trust in Israeli institutions has collapsed to 34 percent in 2025, down from 61 percent in 2012—a staggering erosion of faith in the systems meant to hold the country together. Rachel, a 42-year-old living in West Jerusalem, captured the mood plainly: she has decided not to vote at all. She once supported the centrist Yesh Atid party, whose name means "there is a future," but she no longer sees one for her country. The atmosphere in Jerusalem is palpable—a mixture of pessimism and paralysis, deepened by the fact that tensions between Palestinians in occupied East Jerusalem and right-wing Jewish Israelis have intensified since the Hamas attacks of October 7, 2023, and the nearly three years of war that followed in Gaza, Lebanon, and Iran.
Yet voters remain divided on how to respond. Some, like Ilda, who runs a clothing shop on Jaffa Street, one of Jerusalem's oldest commercial thoroughfares, believe the current government bears responsibility for what happened on October 7. She points to reporting that Netanyahu had been warned of a possible major Hamas attack—a claim he denies—and says the government's response was to attack journalists rather than take accountability. A recent poll found that 68 percent of Jewish respondents said October 7 would be central to their voting decision. Others, like Turgeman, are motivated less by security concerns than by economic desperation. Food prices in Israel have reached record highs, with food inflation climbing 9.5 percent over the past two years amid regional conflict and supply chain disruption. Turgeman, sipping coffee with his wife at a café in Jaffa during the Jewish high holidays, said he would vote for Eisenkot because the current government has neglected the economy while continuing to provide financial support that benefits the ultra-Orthodox community. "They think about wars," he said, "while nobody is dealing with the economic crisis."
The ultra-Orthodox community itself is fracturing in ways that could reshape the election. Since October 7, a bitter dispute over military conscription has divided the country. While most Jewish Israelis serve in the military, Haredi men studying in religious seminaries have long been largely exempt. In 2024, as the war dragged on and pressure mounted on reservists, the supreme court ruled there was no legal basis for the exemption to continue. The decision sparked anti-draft protests, roadblocks, and clashes with police. Haredi parties in Netanyahu's coalition have blamed him for failing to pass legislation protecting the exemption. Pinchas, a 24-year-old ultra-Orthodox student who recently completed his military service, said he plans to vote for Eisenkot—and believes others his age will defy their rabbis' guidance this time. "Many are angry about the way Netanyahu handled the conscription law," he said, "and especially about the crackdown on those who protested against it." Ultra-Orthodox Jews make up about 14 percent of Israel's population and have traditionally voted according to rabbinical direction, but that discipline may be breaking down.
Netanyahu retains a loyal base, however. Avraham Levy, a 76-year-old fruit seller at Mahane Yehuda market and a Likud supporter, expressed confidence that Netanyahu would win and secure a majority. "We need to support Netanyahu because he has to finish the job," Levy said, referring to Israel's wars on multiple fronts. Jakub, a 23-year-old about to begin military service, said he would vote for Moshe Feiglin, an extreme far-right former Knesset member now running jointly with the Religious Zionist party. Feiglin declared in 2025 that the conflict in Gaza was not against Hamas but against every child and baby in the territory. "Because he represents my values, and he has never changed his principles," Jakub said.
The opposition's greatest potential advantage—Palestinian parties that could push Eisenkot's coalition over the 61-seat threshold—has been thrown into jeopardy. Last week, the Central Elections Committee voted to bar Ra'am and the Joint List, the country's two main Palestinian parties, after the far-right Otzma Yehudit party filed a petition claiming they support terrorism and deny Israel's existence as a Jewish and democratic state. The decision is being challenged in the supreme court, which has overturned similar bans in past elections. If the ban holds, Eisenkot's path to power becomes even narrower. If it is overturned, Palestinian parties will be crucial to any anti-Netanyahu government.
Palestinian citizens of Israel themselves are deeply divided on how to respond. Tensions have intensified since October 7, with arrests, interrogations, and legal action against Arab citizens often triggered by protests or social media posts. In a 2025 survey, 70 percent of Palestinian citizens said they preferred to remain silent about their political views in the presence of strangers, up from 45 percent in 2016. Amir, a 34-year-old from Mashhad in northern Israel, plans to vote for the Joint List, seeking strong Arab representation on equality and discrimination. Abu Mahmoud, 33, from Kafr Kanna, said he would vote for Ra'am, led by Mansour Abbas, which has pursued a strategy of political pragmatism—in 2021 it became the first independent Arab party to join an Israeli governing coalition, seeking budgets, services, and greater influence for Palestinian citizens. "I want politics that can actually improve people's lives," Abu Mahmoud said. The election, in other words, will be decided not just by what Israelis want, but by whether the system allows them to choose it.
Notable Quotes
After 7 October, everyone in this government has to take the blame. After journalists exposed what happened, look what they did: they attacked the journalists instead of taking responsibility.— Ilda, a clothing shop owner on Jaffa Street
They think about wars, while nobody is dealing with the economic crisis. And what has Netanyahu done? He has continued to provide financial support that benefits the Haredi community.— Turgeman, a voter at a café in Jaffa