The Battle for Israel’s Future: Why the Opposition Still Lacks a National Vision

 Three months before Israel’s elections, the country’s opposition faces a challenge that goes beyond criticism of Benjamin Netanyahu. It has become highly effective at explaining why Netanyahu should leave office, but it has yet to persuade Israelis of what should come after him. It can describe, in great detail, the failures of the present, but it has struggled to articulate a coherent vision for the future.

Netanyahu’s political legacy cannot be reduced to a list of failures or achievements. It includes a clearly defined vision of Israel’s future and its place in the world. Netanyahu himself has given that vision a name: “Super-Sparta.” It is not merely a response to circumstances imposed on Israel, but an active doctrine that translates ancient Sparta into the twenty-first century: a vision of a fortress state built on technological superiority, strategic independence, permanent military strength, and a willingness to endure prolonged diplomatic isolation.

Alongside this security vision operates a complementary political logic: what might be called “Ozempic for democracy,” a gradual weakening of the institutions of liberal democracy, including the separation of powers, judicial oversight, and other checks on executive authority. The goal is not to abolish democracy itself. Rather, the “Super-Sparta” vision sits uneasily with liberal democracy in its fullest sense. When security and national cohesion become the overriding values, institutions designed to restrain majority power can increasingly be portrayed as obstacles rather than safeguards.

One can view this vision as an existential threat to Israel’s character as a democratic state and argue that it condemns the country to a future defined by a permanent siege mentality. But one thing cannot be taken away from it: it is clear, consistent, and offers many Israelis a coherent answer to the question of how to survive in a dangerous region. This is precisely where the opposition’s deeper problem begins.

If the coming election were determined solely by public anger and accumulated frustration, Benjamin Netanyahu would have left office long ago. After nearly two decades at the center of Israeli politics, after the October 7 disaster, the country’s deep social divisions, and the erosion of public trust in state institutions, Netanyahu enters this election carrying more political responsibility than ever before. Many Israelis hold him responsible for the failures that led to the greatest catastrophe in the country’s history. Others accuse him of placing political survival above national leadership, deepening social divisions, and allowing extremist partners to shape the national agenda.

But elections are not merely referendums on the incumbent government. They are choices between competing futures. A public dissatisfied with its government does not automatically embrace an alternative; it wants to know not only who failed, but who can lead it somewhere else. The question that decides elections is not only “Who is responsible?” but also “What do you offer instead?”

This is the central weakness of Israel’s Jewish-Zionist opposition. For years, it has successfully explained why Netanyahu should leave office, pointing to the erosion of democracy, weakened institutions, and social polarization. But it has made a crucial mistake: separating democratic restoration from national security. Rebuilding democracy, strengthening the rule of law, and restoring civic resilience are not merely institutional repair projects. They are essential components of national security itself. A strong democracy is the foundation upon which Israel’s qualitative advantage and national resilience depend. By presenting democratic repair as a separate agenda rather than as part of a broader national security vision, the opposition has allowed Netanyahu to retain a monopoly on the security narrative.

When the average Israeli voter is asked what Israel will look like after Netanyahu, the answers often become unclear. What will be the next government’s security doctrine? How will it prevent another October 7, and what will be its strategy toward Gaza and the Palestinians? How will the state address growing religious coercion and the continuing erosion of the status quo that concerns large parts of the public? What will the relationship look like between secular Israelis, religious Israelis, and the ultra-Orthodox?

Even The Democrats, led by Yair Golan and presenting itself as the clear alternative on the Israeli left, has avoided a definitive position on the central unresolved issue: the occupation and the future of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Even under the most optimistic scenario in which it joins a future coalition, it remains unclear whether it would have the political muscle to push a new government toward a diplomatic resolution of the Palestinian question.

This ambiguity is not accidental. Israel’s Jewish-Zionist opposition is composed of parties ranging from the Zionist left to security-oriented centrists and the right. Any attempt to take a clear position on controversial issues risks exposing internal divisions.

The public support enjoyed by Gadi Eisenkot, who has emerged as Netanyahu’s leading challenger in current polls, reflects more than his record as chief of staff. It comes from the combination he represents: security experience alongside a sense of responsibility, credibility, criticism of the failures that led to October 7, and a commitment to rebuilding public trust in state institutions.

His credibility is also shaped by personal loss. During the Gaza war, his son and two nephews were killed in action. For many Israelis, Eisenkot represents not merely opposition to Netanyahu, but a different model of leadership, one that combines security, national responsibility, credibility, and institutional renewal. Yet at this stage, Eisenkot has not translated the public trust he inspires into a detailed platform or comprehensive plan of action.

Successful political leaders offer a broad interpretation of reality and a vision of the nation’s future. Menachem Begin did not win the 1977 election merely because he opposed the old establishment; he succeeded because he gave a sense of belonging to a broad public that had felt excluded for years. Yitzhak Rabin did not offer only a diplomatic agreement; he offered a worldview in which changing Israel’s relationship with the Palestinians was part of securing the country’s future.

Netanyahu understands this historical lesson well. For years, he has presented a consistent worldview: Israel lives in a dangerous region and must rely above all on military strength, strategic independence, and resistance to external pressure. In his view, peace with the Palestinians is an illusion. Many Israelis share his skepticism about the prospects for a near-term agreement, even if they disagree with the broader conclusions he draws from it. Critics argue that his approach offers no long-term strategy and risks perpetuating conflict at the expense of democratic values. But it is difficult to argue that it does not provide a clear vision.

After October 7, Israel’s public priorities changed. Questions of deterrence, military power, and defensive capability returned to the center of the national conversation, pushing other issues aside. Precisely because of this shift, the opposition needed to offer a broader concept of national security, one that connects military strength with civic resilience, social cohesion, and strong state institutions. Instead, it has remained primarily in the role of criticizing the current government.

The absence of an alternative national vision is also evident in the relationship between Jewish and Arab citizens and their political representatives. The parliamentary reality is clear: almost any government not led by Netanyahu will likely have to confront the question of cooperation with Arab political parties. Yet most opposition leaders have repeatedly and emphatically stated that no Arab party will be accepted as a partner in a future coalition government.

This creates a deep contradiction: an opposition that presents itself as the defender of democracy refuses to recognize one-fifth of Israel’s citizens as legitimate political partners in shaping the country’s future. Civic partnership is not merely a mathematical necessity for forming a coalition; it is a statement about the kind of society Israel aspires to be.

A new government may succeed in restoring some of the weight democracy has lost in recent years because of “Ozempic for democracy,” the forced diet imposed on democratic institutions. Yet today, with the exception of the Arab parties and The Democrats, most opposition parties remain somewhere between the center-right and the right. As a result, no coherent alternative vision has emerged to challenge the “Super-Sparta” model, a vision that sees equality, the rule of law, and the pursuit of a resolution to the conflict with the Palestinians as essential pillars of national security rather than expressions of weakness.

Until such an alternative vision is presented to the Israeli public, even if Netanyahu loses power, the narrative he created may continue to shape Israel’s future.