Israel at a Crossroads: Gadi Eisenkot Gets His Shot at Forming a New Government

The former chief of staff and Benjamin Netanyahu’s leading rival has been tasked with assembling a coalition, but Israel’s fractured politics make the road to the prime minister’s office anything but certain.

For years, Gadi Eisenkot was the man Israel called on when the stakes were highest — commanding soldiers on the battlefield, shaping national security strategy, and warning the country about the dangers it could not ignore. Now, after a dizzying series of political maneuvers, the former chief of staff of the Israel Defense Forces has been handed a very different kind of mission: replacing Benjamin Netanyahu as prime minister and building a new government from the wreckage of Israel’s longtime coalition crisis. Eisenkot was formally tapped this week to try to form a new administration, a move that immediately transformed the country’s political landscape and sent negotiators scrambling across the Knesset. The announcement, made after days of closed-door consultations, was greeted with a mixture of hope and skepticism. For millions of Israelis who have grown exhausted by endless partisan warfare, the choice of Eisenkot carries a simple and powerful message: perhaps only someone from outside the regular political class can break the cycle. Yet the path remains deeply complicated. With no single party or bloc commanding a clear majority in the 120-seat parliament, Eisenkot must navigate a maze of competing interests, personal rivalries, and ideological red lines that have already derailed more experienced politicians than him. His mandate is real, but so are the obstacles. In the corridors of the Knesset, the mood is tense, and the clock is ticking.

To understand why Eisenkot has emerged as the leading rival to Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, one has to look at his long and distinguished career. Born in 1960, Eisenkot spent more than four decades in uniform, rising through the ranks of the Golani Brigade and eventually becoming the 21st Chief of the General Staff in 2015. During his tenure, he oversaw military operations along the Gaza border, confronted Iran’s entrenchment in Syria, and worked to prepare the IDF for an era of high-tech warfare and unmanned weapons. He was known as a measured, analytical commander, unusually willing to debate military policy in public and to speak openly about the moral complexities of armed conflict. When he entered politics after retiring from the army, many assumed he would remain in the background — a loyal deputy to Benny Gantz, another former chief of staff who leads the National Unity Party. But as Israel’s political system convulsed through one crisis after another, Eisenkot gradually became the more visible and arguably more influential figure. His calm, understated style, his refusal to engage in petty political attacks, and his repeated warnings about the dangers of internal division won him a following far beyond his own party. In the wake of the October 7 attack and the war that followed, his voice became even more resonant. As a member of the wartime cabinet, he pushed for clearer objectives, insisted on more decisive action, and did not hesitate to challenge the prime minister’s leadership when he believed the country was being led astray. By the time he left the government, he had become the de facto standard-bearer for a broad spectrum of Israelis who believed the nation needed a change at the top. His personality could hardly contrast more sharply with Netanyahu’s: where Netanyahu thrives on confrontation, Eisenkot projects restraint; where Netanyahu excels at endless political maneuvering, Eisenkot seems almost uncomfortable with it. That contrast, as much as any policy platform, lies at the core of his appeal.

The political context in which Eisenkot received his mandate is as fragile as any Israel has known. Netanyahu has led a coalition since the last election, but that government has been holding on by a thread for months, kept alive more by fear of another election than by genuine consensus. The war in Gaza, the unresolved hostage crisis, the ongoing debate over judicial reform, and the prime minister’s legal troubles have all merged into a toxic environment in which trust between coalition partners has collapsed. Netanyahu’s far-right allies have become increasingly assertive, demanding an even harder line in the war and rejecting any compromise that might weaken their influence. Centrist and left-wing parties, meanwhile, have refused to cooperate with the coalition, insisting that the prime minister must go. In this deadlocked landscape, the decision to tap Eisenkot was both an acknowledgment of reality and a bold gamble. It acknowledged that Netanyahu could no longer easily assemble a majority. It gambled that Eisenkot, despite his limited experience in coalition politics, might succeed where career politicians have repeatedly failed. The mandate also carries symbolic weight. Eisenkot is not part of the traditional ruling elite. He has no long list of political favors to repay and no history of bitter legislative battles. His reputation as a military leader devoted to protecting the home front gives him a moral authority that few in the Knesset can claim. But that same inexperience is a double-edged sword. The skills needed to command an army are not the skills needed to hold together a coalition of parties that distrust each other more than they fear the enemy. Reaching the 61-seat threshold for a majority is not a straightforward calculation. It demands patience, tactical cunning, and, above all, the willingness to make promises that may inevitably be broken.

What exactly is standing in Eisenkot’s way? The simplest answer is that Israel’s Knesset has never been more fractured. The right-wing bloc that traditionally formed the backbone of any Likud-led government is now split into several competing camps, each with its own demands and loyalties. The ultra-Orthodox parties are demanding guarantees on religious exemptions from military service and continued funding for their institutions — positions that alienate many secular voters. The far-right factions want to press ahead with settlement expansion and block any move toward Palestinian statehood, making it impossible for Arab or left-wing parties to join a coalition. On the other side, the center-left has its own red lines: many of these parties refuse to sit in a government that includes Netanyahu, but some also refuse to work with factions they consider too extreme. The result is a legislative puzzle with no obvious solution. Eisenkot could theoretically try to build a broad partnership of centrists, leftists, and Arab-majority parties, bringing together groups that have been marginalized in Israeli politics for years. But such an alliance would be unwieldy and might collapse under the weight of its own ideological contradictions. Alternatively, he could attempt to lure Likud members away from Netanyahu, offering them senior posts in a new unity government in exchange for their support. Yet party discipline remains strong, and many Likud lawmakers fear backlash from the prime minister’s base. Every possible coalition formula appears to lead to a dead end, and time is not on Eisenkot’s side. If he fails to assemble a majority within the required period, Israel will almost certainly be forced into yet another election — another long and bitter campaign in a country already exhausted by them. The public is desperate for a functioning government, but the political class has shown time and again that it is unwilling or unable to deliver one.

The reaction to Eisenkot’s mandate has been as polarized as the country itself. Supporters have gathered outside his party offices, waving Israeli flags and chanting that the former general represents the last hope for a stable and inclusive government. Political leaders who have spent years calling for Netanyahu’s departure have said they are ready to give Eisenkot a chance, provided he adheres to democratic principles and refuses to legitimize extremists. But Netanyahu’s allies have been quick to attack the move, describing it as a conspiratorial effort to remove a democratically elected leader. On social media, narratives are being amplified from every side, making the task of any would-be prime minister even harder. Within the security establishment, there is cautious support for Eisenkot, driven largely by the belief that the country cannot afford a prolonged political vacuum while still fighting a war on multiple fronts. Military officials have privately warned that a lengthy period of coalition talks could embolden Israel’s enemies, who might interpret the instability as weakness. Internationally, the appointment is being watched closely, with Western capitals hoping that a new Israeli government might adopt a more constructive approach to regional diplomacy and the humanitarian crisis in Gaza. At the same time, ordinary Israelis are increasingly aware that the country is at a crossroads. The economy is under pressure, families are divided over the handling of the war, and trust in public institutions has eroded to dangerous levels. Eisenkot’s candidacy represents more than a political alternative; it represents a psychological desire for stability and direction. Whether he can deliver that stability is another question entirely. For now, he has become the focal point of a national debate about the future of Israeli democracy, the meaning of security, and the very nature of legitimate leadership.

In the coming days and weeks, Eisenkot will need to prove that he is as skilled at coalition arithmetic as he was at battlefield strategy. The first test will be his ability to secure the support of at least one major party outside his existing bloc. He may also have to decide whether to offer Netanyahu some kind of political lifeline — perhaps a rotation arrangement or a role in a transitional government — in order to win over Likud defectors. But any such deal would come at a heavy price, alienating the very voters who brought Eisenkot to this moment. The clock is already running, and the margin for error is almost zero. If he succeeds in forming a new government, it would be a landmark achievement, marking the first time in years that an Israeli government has been formed without Netanyahu at the helm. It could also set the stage for a serious attempt at national reconciliation after one of the most painful periods in the country’s history. If he fails, Israel will likely face another election campaign, with Netanyahu once again fighting for his political survival and with the same impossible arithmetic returning to haunt the nation. For now, the Israeli public is holding its collective breath, watching to see whether a man who spent a lifetime defending his country can do the impossible in the most unforgiving arena of all: politics. Gadi Eisenkot has been tapped to try to form a new government, and the path remains complicated. But for the first time in a long while, there is a genuine sense that something might change. Whether that change is real — or simply another chapter in Israel’s long and exhausting story of political paralysis — is a question only time, and Eisenkot, can answer.