Israeli Politics: A Soap Opera in a Shtetl with WhatsApp
By someone who once tried to understand what’s going on here—and ended up with three political parties in his pocket and confusion in his eyes.
Let’s Start with Chaos, Move On to Absurdity, and Finish with Democracy Topped with Cornflakes
Israeli politics isn’t a profession. It’s an experience.
It resembles nothing else—except maybe a lost episode of Shemesh, where Meni imagines himself as the Minister of Finance trying to negotiate a national budget with a mole from the sewer.
Some call it theatre of the absurd, but even the theatre has waved a white flag by now.
It’s an ill-advised fantasy with biblical undertones and the structure of a reality show stuck in “loop” mode.
To understand Israeli politics, you first need to understand Israelis: stubborn, loud, and full of opinions—even among those who still aren’t sure what the difference is between a president, a prime minister, and the tribe leader on Survivor.
Forming a Government—More Like Nuclear Physics, Just Without the Physicists
Building a government in Israel has always been like trying to assemble a Lego set inside a sealed bag, wearing boxing gloves, while someone screams at you for being too slow.
Every election (and by now, we’ve had more than anyone cares to count) feels like a new Netflix season—you already know the cast, but have no clue why they hate each other this time.
Coalition? Opposition?
In other countries, it’s about ideology. Here—it’s about pride, grudges, 3 a.m. phone calls, and the immortal promise:
“I’ll never sit with him, not even if they give me the Ministry of Space.”
Political Parties—Where They Begin and Where They Melt Like Pita in Wet Falafel
Right before every election, a new “National-Liberal-Democratic-Moderate Camp B” pops up, claiming to bring the good news:
“We’re not Left, not Right—we’re just sane.”
Two weeks later, they split into “Constructively Sane” and “Sane but Skeptical About Tap Water.”
Parties in Israel sprout like mushrooms after the rain—except instead of moisture, they’re fed by personal disappointment.
“He didn’t give me the Ministry of Fishery Affairs? I’m starting my own movement!”
Within two weeks there’s already a billboard, a slick campaign video, and a tearful interview on prime-time TV.
The Security Situation—The All-Purpose Excuse for Almost Everything
Want to replace the Minister of Education?
“Not now—the security situation.”
Pass a budget?
“Wait, we need to prepare for a northern escalation.”
Discuss healthcare reform?
“Sorry, there’s a southern threat.”
The security situation in Israel is like the towel that always covers the dirty dishes in the kitchen—you know they’re there, you just prefer not to talk about them right now.
And it works. The moment someone says “Iran,” half the public swallows hard, a quarter grab their reserve gear, and the rest post on Facebook that it’s all the Supreme Court’s fault anyway.
The Politicians—Cultural Icons (At Least in Their Own Minds)
Sure, some politicians are hardworking, educated, and idealistic.
And then there are those who’ve been in the Knesset so long they’ve become part of the furniture—you’re not sure why they’re still there, but moving them seems impossible.
The classic caricature: a politician with the charisma of a darbuka, the maneuvering skills of someone reversing a bicycle, and the evasiveness of a snake in yoga class.
But he knows how to yell, accuse, drop memes on Twitter, and circulate edited videos on loop.
Who needs policy when you’ve got a good filter?
So What’s the Problem, Really?
The problem is… there’s no single problem.
It’s a cocktail: a dash of tribalism, a pinch of institutional distrust, a daily shot of populism, and a deep denial that we’re all in the same boat—without a paddle.
Israeli politics focuses less on the big questions of the future and more on the small, noisy questions of the “here and now”—preferably shouted live on Channel 14.
So Why Does It Somehow Still Work?
Like falafel on a holiday eve—it somehow all comes together.
The state keeps running, someone eventually approves the budget (at least for the Matkot Festival in Herzliya), and life goes on.
Because despite everything, Israelis are sharp, critical, and above all—stubbornly unwilling to give up.
Every election cycle, we ask ourselves: “Maybe this time something new will happen?”
And it does—usually just in the party’s name.
Yet we’ll keep voting, shouting, arguing, and posting.
Because that’s Israeli politics: holy chaos—but ours.
The Survival Guide
Don’t try to understand it all. Just go with the flow.
Remember: anyone you see on TV today could be a minister tomorrow.
Always keep two notes in your pocket—one with a catchy slogan for a news studio, and one with the address of the nearest bomb shelter.
A smile, some cynicism, and maybe a shot of arak on the side—these are your tools to survive it all without exploding.
Welcome to Israel—
a country with seven million political commentators,
and zero stable governments.
הירשמו כדי לקבל את הפוסטים האחרונים אל המייל שלכם
