The choice facing voters in Israel’s Oct. 27 legislative election couldn’t be starker. In the four years since Israelis last went to the polls, constant war—on domestic and foreign fronts—has calcified internal divisions. The upcoming ballot appears to be a straightforward referendum on the performance of incumbent Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu. If he secures a plurality, he stays; if not, he goes.
That calculus, for all its elegant simplicity, belongs in an alternative universe. In the convoluted and cacophonous Israeli political system, the vote alone will not determine what comes next. Instead, arguments over policy and personality will fade after election night, as attention shifts to the technical and procedural questions that will shape the future of Israeli politics.
The choice facing voters in Israel’s Oct. 27 legislative election couldn’t be starker. In the four years since Israelis last went to the polls, constant war—on domestic and foreign fronts—has calcified internal divisions. The upcoming ballot appears to be a straightforward referendum on the performance of incumbent Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu. If he secures a plurality, he stays; if not, he goes.
That calculus, for all its elegant simplicity, belongs in an alternative universe. In the convoluted and cacophonous Israeli political system, the vote alone will not determine what comes next. Instead, arguments over policy and personality will fade after election night, as attention shifts to the technical and procedural questions that will shape the future of Israeli politics.
A multitude of parties—38 different slates have qualified to run—are contending for seats in the next Knesset. Roughly speaking, they form two rigid blocs, separated profoundly by their (dis)approval of the Netanyahu government and their (un)willingness to let him continue as prime minister. In this contested terrain, parties advocating unity between the rival camps have met widespread disdain; just look at how former Defense Minister Benny Gantz’s Blue and White list struggled to gain traction and ultimately withdrew.
According to Netanyahu’s supporters, elements of Israel’s “deep state,” who allegedly conspired to undermine him, bear primary responsibility for the security failures of Oct. 7, 2023. In its aftermath, they argue, Netanyahu reasserted control and dealt crushing blows to Israel’s enemies. The obvious choice, by this logic, is to let him continue fulfilling his pledge to “chang[e] the face of the Middle East.” By contrast, handing the reins to anyone else would, to again quote Netanyahu, cause Israel to “lose everything.”
Netanyahu’s competitors repudiate that view categorically. They demand accountability for what they regard as a profound strategic defeat and argue that Israel, its tactical success notwithstanding, is still mired in conflict across multiple fronts, from Iran and Yemen to Lebanon and Gaza. They also point to manifest corruption and systemic dysfunction within governmental agencies, as well as to the unchecked damage inflicted on Israel’s global standing. Israel, by their telling, cannot survive another Netanyahu tenure.
Yet scant defections have been recorded between the two tribes. Even bombshell allegations leveled recently by Netanyahu’s former military secretary—claiming that the prime minister’s chief of staff doctored official transcripts from the morning of Oct. 7—have had no significant impact on election forecasts.
Yet the relevance of these deep divisions will become secondary as soon as polling stations close on Oct. 27. The ensuing dynamic will have little to do with the genuine preferences of voters and everything to do with how those votes are tabulated. Thanks to the quirks of the electoral system, some ballots will prove worth far more than others. It is entirely plausible, in the most extreme scenario, for Israelis to wind up with precisely the government that a popular majority rejects on election day.
The first hurdle to cross is Israel’s electoral threshold, currently standing at 3.25 percent. Every slate surpassing that minimum wins a proportional share of parliament. However, ballots cast for parties falling short of that bar are discarded entirely, effectively erasing the input of their constituents. A feature originally designed to limit the quantity of small factions—and the resulting unruliness—in the Knesset now threatens to disqualify multiple lists that could otherwise field up to three legislators. Silencing their voices on either side of the divide could artificially obstruct the expression of the nation’s will.
Surplus vote agreements similarly award influence to factions that did not earn it directly. These pacts preserve votes received by a list that passed the threshold but fell short of a full seat, allocating that pool to whichever of the two allied lists holds the larger remainder. These deals, though signed by ostensibly like-minded factions, provide their beneficiaries with an extra seat dividend. The big losers are those left isolated without a partner—such as National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir’s Otzma Yehudit slate—whose surplus votes will be tossed into the proverbial trash alongside the under-3.25 percent casualties.
Parties that survive this gauntlet will then be summoned before President Isaac Herzog as he consults on whom to tap to form the next government. The subsequent weeks of horse-trading will hinge greatly on whether parties honor their campaign vetoes. If all those who have ruled out cross-bloc cooperation stick to their positions—including figures on the center-left refusing to join forces with Netanyahu and center-right factions refusing to sit with the United Arab List—it will be virtually impossible for any candidate to forge a 61-seat majority, rendering a repeat election in the coming months highly probable.
Thus, barring any surprises, Israel’s election appears destined to end in a structural deadlock: one where Netanyahu loses his clear majority but his opponents fail to win one of their own. This will leave both sides hunting aggressively for defectors in the 120-member Knesset. Opposition front-runner Gadi Eisenkot has floated the prospect of a minority government, though it remains a long shot. A more limited option—a temporary alliance voted in solely to supplant Netanyahu before immediately triggering new elections—could meet less resistance from Eisenkot’s allies, who would then administer Israel’s transition period until a stable coalition takes shape.
Israelis harbor no illusions about the predictability of parliamentary coalition-building. Following the 2009 elections, they witnessed the top vote-getter—Kadima’s Tzipi Livni—get outflanked by her close runner-up, Netanyahu. And when Naftali Bennett reprised that feat to seize the helm from Netanyahu in 2021, Bennett’s marginal Yamina list was nearly five times smaller than Netanyahu’s Likud. Of course, Bennett’s tumultuous term was short-lived, collapsing in 2022. And so, while it is impossible to predict the precise makeup of the next government, continued instability remains the one near-certainty of Israeli politics.
