Gadi Eisenkot Poised to Replace Netanyahu as Prime Minister — But a Fraught Path Awaits

Israeli politics entered uncharted territory this week as Gadi Eisenkot, the former chief of staff of the Israel Defense Forces, is poised to receive the presidential mandate to form a new government — a role that sets him on a direct course to replace Benjamin Netanyahu as prime minister. The announcement, delivered after days of whispered consultations and intense lobbying, has resonated far beyond the corridors of the Knesset. In Tel Aviv cafes, Jerusalem marketplaces, and the packed reserve bases dotting the country, the prospect of Eisenkot leading the nation is being met with cautious optimism and, among Netanyahu’s loyalists, with suspicion and alarm. For a country that has weathered five election cycles in under four years, a devastating terrorist assault, and a grinding multi-front war, the notion of a stable, professional hand at the wheel holds undeniable appeal. Yet seasoned political observers are refusing to get ahead of themselves. The mandate to form a government is a constitutional beginning, not a conclusion. Under Israeli law, the president tasks a candidate with building a coalition, but the candidate is given a limited window to succeed, and failure is not merely possible — it has become almost routine in the current political era. Eisenkot must convert the president’s endorsement into a functioning coalition, one that commands a parliamentary majority in the Knesset and can survive the pressures of a country at war. It is a feat that has defeated better-connected politicians than him, and he must do it while contending with the most ruthless political operator in modern Israeli history. His supporters point out that the very fact he has reached this stage amounts to a seismic achievement; that anyone has managed to dislodge Netanyahu’s grip on the premiership, even temporarily, seemed unthinkable only a year ago. The hope that has gathered around Eisenkot is real, and it is deeply felt by millions of Israelis who long for an end to chaos. But so are the hurdles, and they are taller than any he has faced on the battlefield. Few political watchers believe the road will be smooth, and many expect the contest to stretch well beyond the formal deadline, requiring last-minute compromises and eleventh-hour interventions to avert another collapse.

Eisenkot’s journey to this precipice is a study in the virtue of patience — and in the democratic potential of a man who never aspired to political life by conventional means. Enlisting in the IDF as a young volunteer in the late 1970s, he spent nearly four decades climbing the military’s most demanding ladders: infantry and commando operations in southern Lebanon, command of the Gaza Division during the second intifada, leadership of the Northern Command along the volatile border with Syria and Hezbollah, and finally, from 2015 to 2019, the army’s highest uniformed post, chief of staff. Throughout that ascent, Eisenkot developed a reputation uncommon among senior officers: he is known as a listener, a strategic thinker who weighs options with the caution of an engineer and the instinct of a combat veteran. His doctrine of the “campaign between wars” — a policy of preventive strikes against Iranian entrenchment in Syria — became a cornerstone of Israeli defense strategy and was widely credited with keeping the northern front relatively quiet for years. That military pedigree alone was never a guarantee of political success; Israel’s history offers plenty of examples of celebrated generals who struggled to translate battlefield authority into parliamentary power. But Eisenkot’s entry into politics in 2022, as a senior partner in Benny Gantz’s National Unity party, coincided with a moment of profound national disillusionment. He did not seek the spotlight; the spotlight came to him, largely because he behaved differently from those who had occupied it. In the emergency war cabinet formed after the October 7 attacks, Eisenkot’s willingness to state uncomfortable truths, his refusal to engage in partisan spin, and his visible anguish over the failures of that day endeared him to a public hungry for authenticity. Here was a leader who spoke of the country’s wounds as wounds, not as talking points. Over time, that authenticity deepened into something approaching widespread national trust — a rare currency in Israel’s fractured political landscape. His military record, respected across the political spectrum, gave him a moral authority that no amount of campaign spending could manufacture, and it is that authority upon which his bid for the premiership now rests.

The route that led to Eisenkot’s opportunity runs directly through the wreckage of Netanyahu’s coalition — a government that was already fragile before the war and began to unravel as public trust evaporated and parliamentary allies drifted toward the exits. When the end finally came, it was not marked by a dramatic resignation but by the quiet withdrawal of support from key factions and the slow crumbling of the legislative arithmetic that had sustained the prime minister. President Isaac Herzog, whose office carries the delicate responsibility of choosing the individual most likely to assemble a government, ultimately concluded that Eisenkot was that person. The decision was not without controversy; several political veterans argued that other figures, with deeper party linkages and established parliamentary relationships, deserved the first crack at forming a coalition. But Herzog’s choice reflected a broader recognition, shared across much of the opposition and even by some fringe elements of the outgoing government, that Israel’s predicament demands a leader with security gravitas and a genuine capacity for national healing. Eisenkot has spent his first days since the announcement shuttling between party headquarters, unofficial meetings, and quiet conversations with potential partners. The emerging picture suggests a coalition is gradually taking shape — an arrangement built around the centrist bloc, parts of the center-left, and several smaller factions whose leaders see a historic opportunity to exercise influence within a government defined by Eisenkot’s personal authority. Yet the arithmetic is delicate, and every vote must be earned. The negotiating positions of potential partners remain fluid, and the pressures of a wartime environment give every side a reason to demand more — more budgets, more assurances, more policy concessions. The very act of coalition-building in Israel has become a high-stakes theater of brinkmanship, where parties threaten to walk out moments before signing, and where agreements hammered out over weeks can unravel in an afternoon.

But the obstacles that stand between Eisenkot and the prime minister’s office are formidable, and no one is under any illusion about that. The Likud party, though diminished, remains a major force in Israeli politics, and Netanyahu has made it clear that he views any effort to form a government without him as a personal betrayal. Moreover, within the very coalition Eisenkot hopes to assemble, ideological contradictions threaten to tear the enterprise apart before it is even born. Some parties demand an end to the judicial overhaul that convulsed the country; others want to advance parts of the same agenda. There are hawks pressing for a more aggressive military posture in Gaza and the north, while centrists plead for diplomatic openings and de-escalation. Religious factions seek to preserve privileges that secular partners are determined to trim. Each of these competing interests has the potential to consume the nascent government before it takes the oath of office. Beyond the internal tensions, there is the question of Eisenkot’s own political machinery — or rather, the relative absence of it. He does not command a party organization entrenched over decades; his authority depends on alliances with partners whose loyalty is conditional and whose interests are diverse. The expectations placed upon him are immense: supporters already frame him as the nation’s potential deliverer, a narrative that risks inevitable disappointment. And time is not his ally. The clock on coalition talks is short, and political history shows that prolonged negotiations tend to create their own momentum of failure. Managing a country at war, coordinating military objectives with diplomatic aims, and balancing the competing agendas of coalition partners would test even the most seasoned political veteran; for a relative newcomer, the challenge is staggering.

Benjamin Netanyahu, predictably, has refused to fade quietly. The man who has dominated Israeli politics for three decades possesses an almost preternatural ability to transform setback into survival. His legal troubles — including the ongoing corruption trial that has shadowed his premiership — have been reframed by his supporters as evidence of persecution rather than probable cause. His media allies continue to broadcast a narrative in which Eisenkot is a pawn of hostile elites and foreign influences, unfit to wear the crown that rightfully belongs to the man who wore it for so long. And while his coalition may have collapsed, his base remains broad: tens of thousands of Israelis still flock to his rallies, still chant his name, still believe that nobody else can stand up to the international pressures bearing down on the Jewish state. In the weeks ahead, Netanyahu can be expected to use every channel available — parliamentary procedure, legal challenges, social media influence, backchannel pressure on potential coalition partners — to obstruct Eisenkot’s path. If he cannot prevent the government from being formed, he will seek to destabilize it from within, to position himself as inevitable, and to reclaim power at the first sign of failure. There is a pattern to Netanyahu’s politics, a repeating cycle of rise, fall, and resurrection, and no one should be surprised if he is already planning the next chapter. His political longevity has always been his greatest asset; his capacity to wait, to probe for weaknesses, to exploit every misstep of his rivals, has repeatedly turned defeat into opportunity. Eisenkot, for all his strategic brilliance, is now walking onto terrain where Netanyahu has won nearly every encounter for decades.

The broader implications of an Eisenkot premiership extend well beyond the question of who occupies the prime minister’s residence. At a time when Israel’s international standing has been subjected to intense scrutiny, a government led by a measured, security-credentialed figure could open new avenues of diplomacy. Relations with the United States, strained by policy differences and personal frictions under Netanyahu, stand to benefit from a leader who speaks the language of military alliances rather than political confrontation. The Gulf states, with whom Netanyahu helped broker the Abraham Accords, may find an easier counterpart in a prime minister less burdened by legal distractions and divisive rhetoric. Domestically, the promise of a renewed social contract — of a leadership that serves all Israelis rather than one faction — remains the deepest source of Eisenkot’s appeal. Yet that promise is also his greatest vulnerability. Should he fail to deliver a stable government, the country faces yet another round of elections, more paralysis, and a further erosion of confidence in democratic governance. Should he succeed, he will inherit a nation at war, an economy under strain, and a public still grieving. The task before him is not merely political; it is existential. Eisenkot has been handed a rare — perhaps once-in-a-generation — opportunity to reshape Israeli governance. The weeks ahead will reveal whether a soldier who spent his life defending the state can now heal it, and whether the country that has so often been caught between hope and despair can finally choose a new direction.