The October 27 election will be a plebiscite not only on Netanyahu but on the very essence of Israeli statehood.
Israel is a country trapped in an “interregnum.”
The political situation on the eve of the vote is paradoxical. The country is militarily strong but psychologically traumatized and dangerously divided—so much so that observers speak of a “cold civil war.” Turnout, intra-bloc discipline, and the votes of several small parties will decide the outcome with a precision that has so far eluded all pollsters.
A Tie Worse Than Defeat
Ten days before the election, four leading polls—Maariv, Channel 13, Kan News, and Channel 12—painted an almost identical picture: the “Zionist opposition” bloc averages 51.25 seats, while Netanyahu’s bloc gets 51. Neither side comes close to the coveted 61 of 120 seats needed to form a stable coalition. The Arab parties, affiliated with neither bloc, average about 14 seats, while Yoaz Hendel and Yaron Zelekha’s Reservists–Economy party gets four seats, making them potential “kingmakers” in any scenario.
This arithmetic tie is not merely a technical problem. It reflects a fundamental split in Israeli society, which cannot agree not only on who should govern but on where the country should go at all. According to a survey by the Israel Democracy Institute, 56% of Israelis consider it possible that the losing side will not recognize the election results and will resort to “physical force.” This is not a forecast but a diagnosis of the state of the political system.
Eisenkot vs. Netanyahu: A Duel Without a Triumphant Victor
The main drama of the campaign is the confrontation between Benjamin Netanyahu and former Chief of Staff Gadi Eisenkot, whose Yashar (“Straight”) party consistently leads in the polls. According to Walla, Yashar gets 23 seats to Likud’s 19. Eisenkot builds his campaign on contrast: humble origins, the loss of his son in Gaza, and the image of a “man from the trenches,” set against Netanyahu’s decades in power and his corruption cases. He positions himself as a military hawk but also as a figure capable of “returning the country to normal life.”
However, Eisenkot’s lead does not translate into a parliamentary majority. The opposition bloc remains loose: within it, there is a struggle between Yashar and its partners, and Avigdor Lieberman is publicly promoting a law barring anyone facing criminal charges from running for prime minister—a direct blow to Netanyahu. Netanyahu himself is reportedly unsure of victory and “extremely concerned” about the prospect of low turnout among right-wing and ultra-Orthodox voters, which could cost Likud seats.
Fragmentation on the Right: Ben-Gvir as the Nightmare of Coalition Talks
The key threat to Netanyahu comes not only from the opposition but from his own flank. Itamar Ben-Gvir’s Otzma Yehudit party is gaining strength: polls show it could win a double-digit number of seats. For Likud, this is a double-edged sword. On the one hand, Ben-Gvir is a natural ideological ally. On the other, his strengthening makes coalition negotiations unbearably difficult: Ben-Gvir will demand ministerial portfolios and a political course that will finally formalize the state’s “religious-nationalist” vector. Ofer Winter and his Amcha Israel party are also pulling votes away from Likud, and Netanyahu’s campaign has focused its attacks on him rather than on the center-left opposition.
The fragmentation of the right-wing camp means that even if Netanyahu’s bloc wins a relative majority, he will have to assemble a coalition of parties, each of which will dictate its own terms. Bezalel Smotrich’s Religious Zionists and Otzma Yehudit are no longer merely satellites—they have become an independent political force without which a right-wing government is impossible.
Arab Representation: The Quiet Factor That Could Change Everything
The Arab parties, which in previous years did not recommend any candidate for prime minister, may this time find themselves in a position where their votes become decisive. In the polls, they receive 13 to 15 seats. If the opposition can reach an agreement with the Arab factions—at least at the level of “external support” for a minority government—it will open the path to power without Netanyahu. However, this is exactly where the trap lies: Lieberman’s Yisrael Beiteinu has already rejected the idea of a minority government, and within the opposition bloc there is no unity on whether it is acceptable to rely on the Arab parties.
Turnout in the Arab sector is traditionally lower than in the Jewish sector, and this could play a cruel joke on those counting on the “Arab factor.” Yisrael Beiteinu has calculated that if overall turnout exceeds 76%, the opposition will get 61 seats or more. The turnout threshold has become a political story in its own right—both sides’ campaigns are focused not only on persuading undecided voters but also on the basic work of getting their voters to the polling stations.
The Economy of Fear and the External Factor
The campaign is taking place against the backdrop of a deep social and psychological crisis. The families of the October 7 hostages are demanding accountability, depression and suicide rates are alarming, and emigration and the decline in trust in institutions have reached unprecedented levels. At the same time, Netanyahu is trying to mobilize the electorate around the theme of external threat: he has stated directly that Israel must complete its “tasks on all fronts” while Donald Trump remains in the White House. Trump, in turn, publicly supported Netanyahu’s reelection nine days before the vote.
This creates a dangerous paradox: Israeli voters are, on the one hand, tired of war, but on the other, they see no alternative to a “strong hand.” The Eisenkot and Bennett opposition also supports a hard line in Gaza, which blurs the divide between the blocs. As one commentator put it, voters are being offered “a choice between different wars, traumas, and enemies,” not between war and peace.
The Specifics of the Moment: Arithmetic Without an Arithmetic Solution
The complexity of Israel’s political situation on the eve of October 27 is determined by three intersecting factors.
First, structural deadlock. Neither bloc has a stable majority, and a gap of one or two seats is within the margin of error. The election outcome will be decided not so much by the vote for the large parties as by whether small lists clear the electoral threshold (3.25%)—Winter’s Amcha Israel, Hendel–Zelekha’s Reservists–Economy, Ben-Gvir’s Otzma Yehudit—and how the “residual votes” are distributed. Every tenth vote could cost a seat, and every seat could cost a government.
Second, the erosion of institutional trust. The readiness of a significant part of society to allow the use of force to challenge election results turns the electoral process into a test of democracy’s own resilience. The political crisis has ceased to be a dispute about course—it has become a dispute about the rules of the game.
Third, the uncertainty surrounding the figure of the prime minister. Even if Eisenkot’s bloc wins a majority, it is far from certain that Eisenkot himself will become prime minister: competition remains within the opposition between Yashar, Bennett’s Beyahad, and other forces, and the legal restrictions on Netanyahu can be changed only through complex coalition deals. If the right-wing camp wins, Israel faces a further drift toward religious nationalism, with increased ultra-Orthodox and settler influence on state policy.
The October 27 election will not bring Israel a “solution”—it will bring only a new configuration of the same contradictions. But it is precisely this configuration that will determine whether the country can emerge from a state of permanent war and internal split or finally entrench it as the norm. That is the main specificity of the moment: Israel is choosing not the future but the way the present is governed.
Muhammad Hamid ad-Din is a well-known Palestinian journalist.
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