In Israeli politics, compromise is often seen as surrender – a betrayal of core values. To give an inch is to give up everything.
This mindset fueled the judicial reform battle before October 7.
On one side were the reform’s champions, empowered by their electoral victory and convinced they finally had the mandate to fundamentally reshape the system and restore a balance of power they felt the judiciary had taken from the government and the Knesset.
They saw the judiciary as having overreached and believed trimming the Supreme Court’s powers would ensure Israel remained a Jewish state first and foremost. And who could compromise on that?
On the other side were the anti-reform zealots, who viewed any weakening of the court as nothing less than a direct threat to Israeli democracy. For them, democracy is the supreme value, the Supreme Court its guardian, and therefore, they could not allow any change to the system. This was not something open to compromise. Who compromises on core values?
Neither side – or rather, the extremes on both sides who were drowning out everyone else – was willing to give ground. And that deadlock brought the country to the brink of internal collapse. Until October 7.
The Hamas massacre shattered political routines and temporarily put all else on hold. A clear and present threat replaced ideological trench warfare. For a time, the country was united in purpose, and a spirit of conciliation took hold.
Reservists, bereaved parents, and everyday citizens began calling not for total agreement but for a new way of talking to each other – one rooted in mutual recognition and restraint. It felt, briefly, like a turning point.
But the mood faded. Before long, the country had reverted to its entrenched camps: pro-Netanyahu and anti-Netanyahu. The pro-Netanyahu side fears that losing power will mean the end of its world; the anti-Netanyahu side feels that if Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and his government remain in power, it has no future here.
That polarization – driven by divisive politicians and agitators on both sides and amplified by a media that gives disproportionate space and airtime to the most strident voices – does not necessarily reflect the country at large. Most Israelis sit somewhere in the middle, but this quieter middle is drowned out, and the polarization persists.
How Gadi Eisenkot's departure shook up the Israeli political landscape
Into that mix came Gadi Eisenkot’s dramatic, though not entirely surprising, resignation Tuesday from Benny Gantz’s National Unity Party, followed by his formal departure from the Knesset on Wednesday.
Eisenkot’s departure was not a call for compromise. On the contrary, it was a sign of dissatisfaction with what he saw as Gantz’s passivity. He wants to build a broader, more determined alliance with the Zionist opposition parties to decisively defeat Netanyahu, not just talk about unity. He said he had no ideological dispute with Gantz, but he wanted to create space for a broader political alliance – one that could win.
Eisenkot, widely respected though not particularly charismatic, made clear that he saw himself fit for any role, including that of prime minister. But he tried to frame his move as not about ego – not a power grab – but an effort to shape a more potent political force.
Eisenkot’s departure, ironically, provided Gantz and his party an opportunity to rebrand themselves, something they did immediately. They revived the name of his original party, Blue and White, and introduced a new slogan: “Yisrael overet l’haskamot” – loosely translated as “Israel is moving toward agreements” or “Israel is heading toward consensus.”
The contrast is striking. Where Eisenkot seeks to build a big-tent alliance capable of confronting and defeating the pro-Netanyahu camp, Gantz pivoted in the opposite direction, toward conciliation. While Eisenkot was focused on consolidation for confrontation, Gantz rebranded around compromise and consensus.
Gantz’s new message is clear: neither side of the pro-Bibi/anti-Bibi divide is going to eliminate the other. What’s needed now is not escalation but agreement. And agreement – real, lasting agreement – only comes through compromise.
“We’re continuing the journey we began on day one: to connect and unite all parts of Israeli society,” Gantz said. “Especially now – after the disaster of October 7, after Hezbollah and Iran – this is the time to move toward agreements and to mend the fractures.”
That might sound vanilla, even boring. But in Israel’s zero-sum political culture, where “to the victor go all the spoils” is still the reigning ethos, it’s practically revolutionary. And it may resonate with a public tired of politics always being a high-stakes, no-compromise showdown.
When Netanyahu’s government launched its judicial overhaul in January 2023, it did so simply because it could. The coalition had the numbers, and that was all that mattered. They had the ball, and they were going to run with it. Concerns from the other side? Irrelevant.
It was a classic example of the mindset: “We won. We’re in power. We can do whatever we want.”
That attitude didn’t start with Netanyahu. It echoes back at least to Yitzhak Rabin’s government in 1992, which, after narrowly defeating Yitzhak Shamir, pressed ahead with the Oslo Accords, brushing aside concerns from half the country. As Rabin famously said of Golan residents protesting his land-for-peace policies: “They can spin like propellers” for all he cared.
Ariel Sharon adopted a similar approach in 2005 when he uprooted 10,000 settlers from Gush Katif in Gaza – despite widespread public discomfort with the move and concerns about its consequences. But Sharon, too, had the numbers. And so he pushed forward.
In all those cases, a broader consensus would have served the country better than one camp imposing its vision on the other because it could. But that’s not how Israeli politics have worked.
The next elections – not yet called but clearly approaching, as indicated by the quickening pace of political maneuvering – will likely follow the same pattern: each side warning that a victory for the other would spell catastrophe.
But Eisenkot’s departure has inadvertently created space for a counter-message. With him gone, Gantz was forced to define what his party now stands for, and he has chosen to stand for reaching agreements and building consensus. Not pinning the other side to the mat but reaching across to avoid a sense of defeat or threat.
That may sound bland. But in a post-October 7 reality, it’s a message that resonates more and more – not with the zealots, not with the cynics, but with the ordinary people caught in between and tired of the type of politics that predated October 7. “Israel is moving toward agreements” may be the message this fractured moment needs to hear.