In his address to the Knesset earlier this week, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu declared with deliberate fervour that US President Donald Trump was “the greatest friend Israel has ever had.”
The statement was both effusive and calculated – a mixture of flattery and self-preservation. It was not entirely untrue. Yet, with equal conviction Netanyahu might have added that Trump has also been his greatest personal ally and a political lifeline in an increasingly hostile world.
For Netanyahu, indicted for corruption at home and facing mounting accusations of war crimes and genocide in Gaza, Trump has functioned as an indispensable shield. Indeed, he has leaned on Trump’s unwavering support to sustain his authority and transform Gaza’s catastrophic military campaign into a semblance of triumph.
The Gaza war, the longest and most destructive of Netanyahu’s long political career, did not end as promised. What he once sold to Israelis as a campaign of “total victory” has concluded instead as a grim testament to devastation without resolution.
Nearly 90 per cent of Gaza now lies in ruins, its neighbourhoods flattened into graveyards of concrete and steel. The civilian death toll, estimated at around 70,000, continues to rise as bodies are recovered from the rubble. In raw military terms, Israel’s power was undeniable. In strategic and moral terms, its victory was hollow.
Despite the scale of the destruction, Netanyahu was eventually compelled to accept a prisoner-for-hostage deal with Hamas in a concession he had long rejected. His attempt to engineer the mass displacement of Gaza’s population collapsed under overwhelming regional and international opposition.
Even the United States, Israel’s staunchest defender, grew uneasy about the scale of the suffering. By the cold arithmetic of his own declared goals, Netanyahu failed.
Yet the Trump-brokered ceasefire offered him an improbable reprieve. It has provided him with the political space to rewrite the story of the war and to insist that Israel has achieved its strategic objectives.
In his Knesset speech following the agreement, Netanyahu spoke as a statesman claiming vindication. Israel, he declared, has restored its deterrence and secured the safety of its citizens. It was political theatre aimed at transforming military exhaustion into political momentum.
What happens next is far less certain. The ceasefire has forced Netanyahu into an existential choice, perhaps the most consequential of his four decades in politics. On one side lies the weight of war: economic depletion, domestic division, diplomatic collapse, and the ever-tightening grip of international law. On the other lies ideology, the gravitational pull of his far-right coalition partners, and Netanyahu’s own instinct for brinkmanship.
He stands at a crossroads: will he honour the ceasefire or preserve its fragility as a political tool?
The arguments for restraint are strong. Israel’s economy has been battered by war spending, reserve mobilisation, and international boycotts. Tourism has collapsed, foreign investment has wavered, and internal protests once focused on judicial reform have transformed into a broader rejection of Netanyahu.
The Israeli public is showing signs of fatigue. A society cannot live indefinitely in a state of mobilisation.
Abroad, the damage to Israel’s reputation has reached historic proportions. Once-steadfast European allies now speak of sanctions and embargoes. Humanitarian organisations accuse Israel of genocide and collective punishment. Even Washington’s patience has frayed under public scrutiny. The International Criminal Court (ICC) has accelerated its investigations into Israeli war crimes.
For Netanyahu, then, Trump’s ceasefire offers not just tactical relief but a political escape route. It allows him to shift the narrative: the release of Israeli hostages is framed as a triumph of perseverance, while the cessation of hostilities is cast as evidence of mature, responsible leadership. This dual narrative of victory and restraint may buy him time to recover public confidence ahead of next year’s general elections.
Moreover, a ceasefire enables Israel to redirect resources inwards towards reconstruction in its southern towns, economic stabilisation, and diplomatic repair. For Netanyahu, that pause could be politically invaluable.
COUNTER-CURRENTS: Yet the case for restraint runs up against powerful counter-currents.
Netanyahu leads a coalition dominated by far-right and religious-nationalist figures who see the war not as a tragedy but as a divine mandate. To them, Gaza is not an adversary to be neutralised but a territory to be reclaimed.
Figures such as Itamar Ben-Gvir and Bezalel Smotrich openly reject any peace with the Palestinians. They speak in unapologetic terms of settling Gaza, extending sovereignty over the West Bank, and fulfilling what they call the “historic destiny of the Jewish people.” For these actors, the moment the truce begins to fray, whether over Hamas’ disarmament, border security, or reconstruction, they will demand renewed aggression.
Netanyahu’s coalition, the very engine of his political survival, is thus also his cage. Should he commit fully to peace, he risks their revolt; should he appease them, he courts deeper isolation abroad. Either path carries existential risk.
In recent days, the government’s own statements have exposed this tension. Netanyahu proclaimed that “the war is not over” even as he praised the ceasefire. Defence Minister Israel Katz announced preparations to resume operations to destroy Hamas’ tunnel network once all the living hostages are released and the bodies of the deceased hostages are recovered, framing it as the “implementation of disarmament.”
Such rhetoric reveals an official mindset that sees Gaza as an unresolved “security problem.”
Thus, the door to escalation remains ajar. Trump’s role in this uneasy pause cannot be overstated. He has repeatedly conflated a ceasefire in Gaza with peace in the broader Israeli-Palestinian conflict, yet he has offered no credible roadmap for Palestinian sovereignty or statehood.
His rhetoric blurs the distinction between halting the immediate violence and addressing the structural injustices at its core. By doing so, he grants Netanyahu the political cover to avoid any substantive negotiations towards a two-state solution. As long as the conversation revolves around “ceasefires” and “security arrangements,” Israel faces little pressure to confront the deeper questions of occupation, borders, and Palestinian national rights.
This ambiguity serves Netanyahu well. It allows him to claim diplomatic success while continuing to expand the settlements and entrench control over Palestinian land. Indeed, the pace of settlement construction has accelerated dramatically. According to a United Nations Human Rights Council report, the number of settlement units approved in the West Bank since 2023 exceeds the combined total of the previous nine years.
These are also not temporary outposts but permanent assertions of sovereignty. Each new foundation poured into the hills of the West Bank further erodes the feasibility of a future Palestinian state.
This is Netanyahu’s preferred terrain: the grey zone between peace and war, diplomacy and occupation. He thrives in ambiguity, giving just enough to appease Washington and Brussels while ensuring that the underlying status quo remains untouched.
The ceasefire, in this sense, is not an endpoint but another battlefield and one that is political, rhetorical, and strategic. Netanyahu’s instinct is to hedge. He may publicly embrace the ceasefire and proclaim adherence to its terms while quietly maintaining the capacity and the political appetite for reversal.
He may condition Israel’s full withdrawal from Gaza or cooperation on Hamas’ disarmament, exploiting any delays as pretexts for renewed pressure. He could slow or veto reconstruction projects managed by international agencies, manufacturing humanitarian bottlenecks and justifying further intervention.
HYBRID STRATEGY: Such a “hybrid strategy” would allow Netanyahu to project moderation abroad while retaining leverage at home.
He could claim the mantle of peace while ensuring that the ceasefire remains precarious, contingent, and reversible. In effect, fragility itself becomes a political asset: the truce’s instability ensures that Israel retains control over the tempo of escalation.
Thus, the most ominous scenario is not an outright rejection of peace but a managed collapse of it in an unravelling orchestrated from within. Netanyahu could feign compliance, declare that “Israel tried,” and then blame Hamas for violations, real or fabricated. This pattern of commit, stall, accuse, retaliate has defined many of his previous conflicts. It allows him to appear both restrained and resolute, a man forced reluctantly back into battle by the intransigence of his enemies.
This time, however, the costs are higher. The war has already transformed Israel’s global image, tethering its name to allegations of genocide and moral bankruptcy. For much of the international community, the phrase “war crimes” has become inseparable from the Israeli state itself. In this climate, renewed aggression could accelerate Israel’s descent into pariah status.
Yet, among Israel’s radical religious nationalist right, this very moral isolation is reinterpreted as liberation. Some argue that Israel has already forfeited the “moral high ground” and that acknowledging this loss frees the nation from any ethical restraint. In their eyes, morality is a luxury Israel can no longer afford; history, not morality, must now guide its hand.
They see the state’s moral detachment as an opportunity to fulfill what they call a sacred duty: the realisation of a Greater Israel for future generations and the attainment of uncontested regional dominance.
Thus, despite the intense international pressure for a lasting settlement, it would be naïve to believe that this will be Netanyahu’s last war. His political survival has always been tethered to Israel’s security narrative; his leadership thrives on crisis.
Facing corruption charges, coalition fragility, and popular discontent, Netanyahu has repeatedly weaponised conflict to consolidate power and divert scrutiny. The Gaza war, for all its destruction, has reinforced his standing among those who view him as Israel’s ultimate protector.
The structural realities of the conflict also all but ensure that peace will remain elusive. The blockade of Gaza persists, settlements in the West Bank expand, and Palestinian political divisions endure. Even if international and regional powers succeed in maintaining the current ceasefire, the deeper issues of occupation, sovereignty, and recognition remain unresolved.
The ceasefire may hold for weeks or months, but absent a radical shift in political will, it will not endure. Another war, whether under Netanyahu or in his shadow, is not just possible but also probable.
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* A version of this article appears in print in the 16 October, 2025 edition of Al-Ahram Weekly
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