The Architecture of Division
Two epithets have accompanied Benjamin Netanyahu for decades: ‘the Angel of Destruction’ and ‘the Ringleader’. Though forged in different political fires, together they encapsulate the essence of a trajectory that has fundamentally reshaped Israeli politics – a legacy likely to haunt the national discourse long after his tenure ends.
The term ‘Angel of Destruction’ was famously coined by former Prime Minister Yitzhak Shamir following Netanyahu’s signing of the 1997 Hebron Protocol, which transferred parts of the city to Palestinian control. Shamir employed the phrase to underscore what he perceived as Netanyahu’s lack of ideological commitment to the doctrine of ‘Greater Israel’. In retrospect, Shamir’s assessment appears prescient. Over the years, Netanyahu has demonstrated a striking flexibility – if not a profound inconsistency – regarding the core political principles traditionally associated with the Likud movement.
Netanyahu’s record includes negotiations with Yasser Arafat, indirect talks with Syria over a possible withdrawal from the Golan Heights, repeated parliamentary support for Ariel Sharon’s Gaza disengagement plan, and, ultimately, the 2009 Bar-Ilan speech endorsing the principle of a two-state solution. Yet, these moves were routinely masked by rhetoric portraying him as the steadfast defender of national interests, standing firm against the perceived ‘weakness’ of the Left.
A panoramic view of Netanyahu’s career suggests not merely ideological pragmatism, but the subordination of all values – including the cultural ethos of Revisionist Zionism associated with Ze’ev Jabotinsky – to a single overriding objective: the attainment and retention of power. To that end, incitement, polarization, and the systematic evasion of responsibility became his primary instruments of governance.
Historically, the notion of Jews as a unified nation is a relatively modern construct. It was articulated most clearly by Theodor Herzl at the First Zionist Congress in 1897 with his declaration: ‘We are one people’. At the time, this idea was far from universally accepted. The Jewish socialist Bund rejected it in favor of cultural autonomy in the Diaspora; Reform Judaism emphasized Judaism as a universal moral mission; and Ultra-Orthodox movements largely opposed secular nationalism altogether. Even today, the concept of a ‘Jewish people’ remains a contested territory.
David Ben-Gurion understood that the success of the Zionist project depended on forging a shared cultural and civic framework (Mamlachtiyut) capable of integrating immigrants from vastly different backgrounds. While the process was fraught with tension, it was underpinned by the assumption that education and social integration would gradually mitigate these fractures. Netanyahu, by contrast, identified these very divisions as political assets – and actively cultivated them.
The phenomenon now known as Israel’s ‘poison machine’ – the systematic delegitimization of political opponents – did not emerge overnight. Its roots can be traced to Netanyahu’s early battles with internal rivals like David Levy and, more fatefully, to his campaign against Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin. According to Shimon Sheves, Rabin’s former director-general, Rabin viewed Netanyahu as the central figure orchestrating the incitement against him, referring to him bluntly as ‘the ringleader’.
Rabin once described Netanyahu as Janus-faced: one side polished and conciliatory, seeking dialogue; the other relentlessly fueling hostility and suspicion. During the campaign against the Oslo Accords, Netanyahu did not shy away from inflammatory imagery – most notoriously, demonstrations where Rabin was depicted in an SS uniform or a keffiyeh. In this climate, extremist groups previously confined to the political margins were drawn into the mainstream – groups that would later find representation in the highest echelons of government.
Despite the tragic outcome of this incitement, Netanyahu did not abandon the strategy; he refined it. In the 1996 election, his slogan – ‘Netanyahu is good for the Jews’ – implicitly framed any alternative as an enemy of the people. Later, he would whisper to a revered Kabbalist that ‘the Left has forgotten what it means to be Jewish’, thereby symbolically excommunicating half the electorate from the Jewish collective. Over time, the labels ‘leftist’, ‘traitor’, and ‘enemy’ became interchangeable. Even Avigdor Lieberman, a right-wing settler leader, was branded a ‘leftist’ the moment he declined to join a Netanyahu coalition.
Equally significant has been Netanyahu’s consistent refusal to assume responsibility, a defiance directed not only at political rivals but at state institutions themselves. Following Rabin’s assassination, journalists Dan Raviv and Yossi Melman recount that Netanyahu attempted to promote conspiracy theories implicating the security services. Though initially dismissed, Netanyahu never unequivocally repudiated them. Years later, when similar theories were echoed from the Knesset podium by his political allies, his silence spoke volumes.
A comparable pattern emerged after the October 7 attacks. As rumors of ‘internal betrayal’ circulated – often targeting the security establishment – Netanyahu avoided condemning them. It was only weeks later that he issued a half-hearted denial, insisting that ‘now is not the time’ for such inquiries.
Netanyahu’s legacy is not merely one of personal indulgence or ethical lapses; it is one of deliberate social fragmentation. Polarization and the erosion of civic solidarity were not collateral damage – they were the strategy. The fact that his political heirs have already adopted and intensified this rhetoric suggests that the damage is firmly entrenched.
In this sense, the titles ‘Angel of Destruction’ and ‘Ringleader’ are not rhetorical excesses. They describe a mode of politics that prizes power over responsibility and division over cohesion – a legacy whose consequences Israel will continue to confront long after Netanyahu himself exits the stage.
