Netanyahu’s Crisis Driven Grip on Power

Photograph Source: Chenspec – CC BY-SA 4.0

By now, it should surprise no one that Benjamin Netanyahu prefers the echo chamber of his own making to the international chorus demanding accountability. The Israeli prime minister, clinging to office as tenaciously as he clings to delusion, has managed to place himself among the most cynically manipulative leaders of our time, a man who governs not by vision, but by vindictiveness.

Once vaunted as a statesman in the mold of Churchill, Netanyahu now more closely resembles a bunker-dwelling autocrat, lashing out at allies and adversaries alike as his credibility collapses under the weight of his own contradictions. His latest tirade, this time aimed at French President Emmanuel Macron, is emblematic of a broader pattern: weaponizing moral outrage to deflect from moral bankruptcy.

Macron’s offense? A tepid acknowledgment of Gaza’s humanitarian collapse, describing Israel’s blockade as “shameful.” In Netanyahu’s world, even this mild reproach is grounds for hysteria. Accusing Macron of trafficking in “blood libels”—a grotesque invocation that trivializes historical trauma—Netanyahu displayed once again his uncanny ability to turn every diplomatic encounter into an operatic display of self-pity and belligerence.

That the French president stopped short of sanctions, or even a formal condemnation, makes Netanyahu’s outburst all the more absurd. No call for a ceasefire, no explicit criticism of military tactics, just an acknowledgment of the obvious: Gaza is a humanitarian disaster zone, engineered by policies that bear Netanyahu’s fingerprints at every stage.

This, however, is hardly uncharted territory for “King Bibi.” In October, Macron had the audacity to suggest halting weapons sales to Israel, specifically those used to flatten densely populated areas in Gaza. Netanyahu’s retort was a sneering video statement branding Macron a disgrace. And when the French leader reminded him that Israel’s very existence owes much to a UN resolution, Netanyahu responded not with gratitude but with belligerence, boasting that the state was born “in blood,” not in diplomacy, and throwing in a swipe at France’s Vichy past for good measure.

Such eruptions are more than a rhetorical style. They are a political strategy. Netanyahu thrives in crisis, not to resolve it but to prolong it, using chaos as a shield against the ever-looming specter of his own political demise. With corruption charges still dogging him and public opinion slipping, he has fashioned Gaza into both a battlefield and a diversion.

The diplomatic fraying with France is hardly an isolated event. Israeli police stormed a French-owned church compound in Jerusalem last year, detaining consular staff. Macron, in turn, floated the idea of formally recognizing a Palestinian state, a proposal backed by more than 140 countries. Netanyahu’s response was to label the move a “huge prize for terror,” as though empowering the Palestinian Authority, not Hamas, somehow played into the hands of extremism. Logic, of course, has never been Netanyahu’s preferred instrument. Fear is.

Enter Yair Netanyahu, the prime minister’s son and Twitter provocateur-in-chief. Never far from a tantrum, Yair flailed at France’s colonial past, citing Corsica and New Caledonia in a jumbled attempt at moral equivalence. Netanyahu senior distanced himself from the tone, not the content, allowing his son to speak the unspeakable while feigning dignity. It was a family affair in strategic impudence.

Nor is Netanyahu’s estrangement limited to Europe. In 2011, then-French President Nicolas Sarkozy was caught on a hot mic telling Barack Obama, “I can’t stand him. He’s a liar.” Obama replied, “You may be sick of him, but I have to deal with him every day.” That bipartisan distaste spans decades, from Bill Clinton’s wearied attempts at peace talks to George W. Bush’s frustration with his obstructionism, right up to Joe Biden’s belated recognition that Bibi is not a partner, but a problem.

Even Donald Trump, Netanyahu’s most ardent enabler, appears to be losing patience. After Netanyahu rejected a U.S.-Qatari-Egyptian ceasefire deal in March—a proposal backed not only by the Trump administration but by most Israeli citizens and families of hostages—Trump’s camp began to murmur its discontent. Trump’s envoy, Steve Witkoff, reportedly told Netanyahu that prolonging the war was not only immoral but strategically suicidal. And when Washington secured the release of the last American hostage through third-party negotiations, Netanyahu was not only excluded, he was rendered irrelevant.

For a man whose political mythology has long hinged on being indispensable to Israel’s security, this sidelining must have stung. But it was also richly earned. Netanyahu’s Gaza policy—a grotesque mixture of collective punishment, siege tactics, and performative defiance—has brought neither peace nor security. It has only further isolated Israel on the world stage while exacting an unfathomable human cost on Palestinians and deepening divisions within Israeli society.

Netanyahu has weaponized the war to delay his own reckoning. Every rejection of ceasefire terms, every snub of international mediation, buys him more time in power—or so he believes. But the world, and increasingly his own electorate, is beginning to see through the act.

The irony is almost Shakespearean. A man once hailed as the architect of Israel’s international legitimacy now finds himself presiding over its diplomatic erosion. Far from defending the state, Netanyahu is diminishing it, reducing its foreign policy to grievance and paranoia, and treating criticism as betrayal rather than opportunity.

At a time when global challenges—economic fragmentation, rising authoritarianism, climate emergency—demand mature and imaginative leadership, Netanyahu offers none. Instead, he bellows from the balcony, lashes out at allies, and casts every critic as a traitor.

Churchill, he is not. He is not even Begin. He is a leader in free fall, dragging his country with him, increasingly abandoned by allies, and yet still believing himself the indispensable man. The tragedy is not only his. It belongs to Israel—and to all those, Palestinian and Israeli alike, who must live with the consequences of his delusions.

This first appeared on FPIF.