Article
Culture
Israel
Middle East
Politics
7 min read

Netanyahu’s baffling ability to bounce back

Disliked and embattled, the Israeli premier’s purpose strengthens him.

Emerson Csorba works in deep tech, following experience in geopolitics and energy.

Between two generals wearing camouflage uniforms, a man in a black shirt listens.
Bibi ponders future plans.
Prime Minister's Office, Israeli Government.

Are the dreams of Bibi Netanyahu about to be crushed? As the Israeli prime minister’s coalition teeters, what is remarkable is that he has survived so long. Central to this survival is his purpose – a dream of a secure Israel. We need to unpack such leaders’ dreams and understand why they are so potent. 

Langston Hughes, in his poem ‘Harlem,’ asks what ‘What happens to a dream deferred?’ Several possibilities are put forward: ‘Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? And an alternative: ‘Maybe it just sags like a heavy load?’ And finally ‘Or does it explode?’   

It’s possible that Hughes referred to Harlem race riots in the 1930s and 1940s, but no-one knows for sure. The question is what happens when a dream is put on hold – or worse, destroyed – in the face of struggle? 

Do we press on? Do we give up? What happens if we press on, and things do not work out? Or perhaps we press on, and things do work out. Hughes’ poem encourages us to ask these questions.  

Looking back, Hughes’ poem is interesting but obviously gloomy, without hope. A dream is deferred. It withers, and then vanishes. But what if a dream is – when encountering struggle – maintained, kept in tact? The dream, perhaps nearly lost, emerges in the end, stronger than it was before.  

Hughes’ poem is one of struggle and eruption. Not struggle and emergence. It is a despairing poem, one that denies the possibility of resurrection from the brink of death, even if the obstacles are significant.  

We all have dreams, perhaps about peace, career, family, community, love, or something else. Inevitably, these dreams are – as dreams always are, in order to test our faith - met with opposition.  

In these moments, we have two options: we can believe in what we see – the dream faltering, withering on the vine, ever so slowly. Or we can believe in the unseen, in which the dream re-emerges from whatever resistance it encounters. The former values the material, what we can actually see. The second values and trusts in what we cannot see. This brings us back to the point of faith.  

'I have lost count of how many political obituaries I have written about Netanyahu — and how many resurrection stories.’ 

Nicholas Goldberg

The ability to struggle and emerge, in which death or near-death is followed by resurrection, is a quality that is in short supply in modern political leadership. It is easily – and not surprisingly – overlooked in a culture prone to despair and hopelessness, in which we are met with a new crisis at every corner.  

But some leaders have a unique, if not baffling, quality: the ability to struggle and emerge stronger, somehow renewed. They resurrect themselves where this was thought impossible. And when they have this quality, they become unrelenting forces, whatever you might think of them.  

No leader better embodies this quality in the political West than Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu (or ‘Bibi’ for short). Netanyahu strengthens whenever he is on the ropes, perhaps because he is on the ropes.  

Although a profoundly disliked figure by many, Netanyahu’s ability to struggle and emerge merits serious study from any student of politics. It is worth asking where his ability to struggle and emerge, resurrecting oneself from the depths of despair – in seemingly impossible situations – comes from? 

Ishaan Tharoor puts it well in a recent Washington Post article: ‘Yet Netanyahu is expert at defying the odds.’ However, puzzlingly few articles are written on this topic – Netanyahu’s ability to come back from seemingly impossible circumstances.  

Columnist Nicholas Goldberg comes even closer to the essence of resurrection in a Los Angeles Times op-ed in 2020, in which he writes ‘Over the years, I have lost count of how many political obituaries I have written about Netanyahu — and how many resurrection stories.’ He later comments on Netanyahu’s single life mission focused on security.  

Both articles are more anti-Netanyahu than they are a reflection on the why and how of his countless resurrections. So it is worth asking: what is behind this quality?  

A mission is fundamental to resurrection, in which certain politicians find a way through whenever the world counts them out. 

While commentators focus on the ills of Netanyahu’s tenure as Israeli Prime Minister – indictments of corruption and possible future jail time, thwarting of a two-state solution in favour of the Abraham Accords, and the security failures that contributed to the October 7 disaster – they fail to consider deeper questions related to Tharoor’s description of Netanyahu as constantly ‘defying the odds.’  

Neglected in analyses on Netanyahu is the deep trauma of his brother Yonatan’s passing in the famous Operation Entebbe.  Neglected is the fact that he was wounded, sometimes severely, on many occasions while fighting for the Israeli special forces. And neglected is the influence of his father Benzion, a notable academic well-known for his writing on the historical oppression of the Jewish people (and on his own later rejection by the Israeli academic community).  

These are powerful, deep-seated experiences if not major traumas, which – as Israeli friends well-acquainted with Netanyahu wisely note – underpin his clear life mission of increasing Israeli security in a dangerous world.  

Goldberg puts this mission, even if uncharitably, as follows in his column: ‘Netanyahu has stood for one key proposition: that peace is not to be trusted; it is a pipe dream pushed by starry-eyed doves who fell hard for the likes of Yasser Arafat. According to Netanyahu, only battening down, fighting back hard, building walls and rejecting compromise protects the country.’  

Netanyahu provides us with a crucial lesson in political leadership: a clear and simple life mission provides the ability to claim victory from the jaws of defeat, even in the most seemingly intractable of circumstances. A mission is fundamental to resurrection, in which certain politicians find a way through whenever the world counts them out.   

A mission – simple because it is grounded in brokenness (the death of his brother) – provides Netanyahu (and other politicians that have this quality) with a strategic and tactical advantage that cannot be replicated by opponents without similar purpose. Such mission is not fleeting but enduring, Netanyahu resisting all temptations that might thwart his single-minded purpose.  

In the case of Israel, no other Israeli political leader has operated with the same sense of mission as has Netanyahu over the last two decades. For if this were the case, Netanyahu would not currently be in power.  

Our focus therefore should never be on dreams deferred, as per Hughes’ poem, but rather on the realisation of our dreams – underpinned by unique and consistent life missions.

Commentators, focusing on external circumstances – the current direction of the war, certain decisions made, the opinions of well-read ‘experts’ – neglect these deeper human questions at their peril, because the answer to the question of purpose helps people find ways through where none seem to exist. Purpose, not circumstance, allows a political leader to struggle and emerge in circumstances where most others falter.   

For wider context, we can here turn to the example of Jesus, whose resurrection follows his trials at Gethsemane. When Jesus prays in Gethsemane, it is not clear how he should act. Jesus does not know what God wants from him. But he knows that he must carry out the will of his Father. 

He asks ‘My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me, yet not what I want but what you want’. Jesus is alone in his deliberation. He asks and waits, and in this waiting, the way forward is revealed. Here we see, in its most poignant form, struggle and emergence. Jesus is resurrected three days following his death, when even his disciples had counted him out. 

Our focus therefore should never be on dreams deferred, as per Hughes’ poem, but rather on the realisation of our dreams – underpinned by unique and consistent life missions. Discerning these missions is not easy. If anything, there is considerable pain involved in doing so.  

Yet, struggle that involves the possibility of failure of a dream, within a consistent and singular life mission, contains within it the seeds of success. The dream emerges intact from whatever short-term struggle it faces, if not strengthened.  

A way is found where none previously existed, when those focused merely on the seen long counted a person out. In the long run, mission enables victory: the realisation – not deferral – of dreams.  

  

Essay
Comment
Community
Identity
Politics
8 min read

The country needs fixing, here’s where to start

Turning back the clock, closing the gates, and putting up more flags, is not the answer
A commemorative blue plaque on a a wall is smashed to pieces
Julian Hochgesang on Unsplash.

This is the third in a series of articles clustered around the ideas of constitutionalism, Christianity and national identity. The first article set out the case for a new written constitution in order to protect against the authoritarian reactionary populism that threatens to undermine democratic norms and institutions. The second article made a distinction between England’s ‘metaphysical’ constitution and its ‘mechanical’ constitution – arguing that the former is in need of restoration, and the latter in need of thorough reform.  

This article concludes with a plea for peace and unity. There is not much, in this increasingly febrile and polarised political climate, that left and right agree upon. Who is responsible for the mess we are in: the Romanians or the Etonians? Against whom should we direct our ire: the people in small boats in the Channel, or the people in big yachts in the Cayman Islands? Was Thatcher a hero or a villain? Was the purity of Brexit bliss betrayed by scheming Remoaners, or was leaving the European Union always going to be a disaster? 

What we can agree upon, however, is that something is deeply broken. While we might disagree on the causes and the solutions, the unavoidable evidence of brokenness is before our eyes. In every area of daily life, things are – to use the most fitting vernacular expression – ‘a bit pants’. Perhaps things are not utterly dire, in the way that much of somewhere like Sudan or Burma is utterly dire, but they are nevertheless far from the standard that one might reasonably expect from the rich, first world, country we still claim to be.  

Park life 

Go, for example, to your local park, if there is one. Observe the broken glass, the graffiti, the used condoms, the discarded drug paraphernalia, the joyless air of bleak menace in a place that should be a happy sanctuary for children and families. If that description does not match your experience, perhaps you are one of the lucky ones, who lives in a good area – but many of your fellows, in dull decaying provincial towns, are much less fortunate.  

Parks are just one manifestation of a land in the doldrums. One might just as well point to the fact that since privatisation water companies have not built any new reservoirs, or to uncollected rubbish piling up in the streets of Birmingham, or to the difficulty of getting an NHS dental appointment. Everything is tired, run down, threadbare, falling apart.  

Those in charge, nationally and locally, are stretched between the irreconcilable demands of expanding needs and tight budgets. Engulfed by short-term crisis-management, they lack the ability to look up, grab the situation by the horns, and bring about the fundamental, structural and systematic change that is needed to actually fix things.  

The decay is evident, too, in society at large. Employment, for those who can get it, is characterised by low wages and precarity. Housing costs are absurd. People at all levels have become exhausted, demoralised, bored and lacklustre, locked in an ‘overwhelm paralysis’. The public mood has become despondent, cynical, ineffectually angry, but also frightened. Many are grimly hanging on, just going through the motions to the minimal extent necessary to endure the week, and afford the month. Even basic civility and politeness have worn thin.  

This is a far cry from a ‘Land of hope and glory’. Indeed, if one were to take honest stock of things, one might conclude that we live in a state where there is none righteous, and where all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.  

Cobwebbed constitution 

In making this sudden metaphysical turn – jumping from the decay, despondency and desperation evident around us, to the realm of the spirit – I do not wish for a moment to minimise the importance of such mundane human affairs as ideologies and policies. What government does and does not do, and what law allows or prohibits, matters. It should be no surprise that if governments leave undone those things which they ought to have done, and do those things which they ought not to have done, then there will be, at the end, ‘no health in us’.  

Still less would I wish to neglect the role of institutions and structures – and, ultimately, the constitution itself. The woes we experience, in terms of bad policy and poor execution, are largely the result of an ill-constituted state. The words of Tom Paine (a man ill-remembered by history, but one of the few Englishmen to have understood the centrality of constitutional matters) are as true today as when he penned them more than two centuries ago:  

‘For want of a constitution in England to restrain and regulate the wild impulse of power, many of the laws are irrational and tyrannical, and the administration of them vague and problematical.’  

When it comes to mending a country in decline, the first thing to do is to make sure the constitution is sound, and that the institutions of democracy and governance work as they should. Behind all the policy and governance failures, of both Conservatives and Labour, lies the fact that we are governed by the cobwebbed remains of a once mighty commercial imperial state, now hollowed out by neoliberalism, without any clear ethical principles to direct or sustain it. To expect good outcomes from such an ill-constituted state would be as absurd as expecting to gather figs from thorns, or grapes from briers. 

We might even put it in these terms: Every good constitution brings forth good government; but a corrupt constitution brings forth evil government. A good constitution cannot bring forth evil government, neither can a corrupt constitution bring forth good government. 

Constitutional renovation has therefore become a precondition for the restoration of the legitimacy, credibility, authority, and moral integrity of the state, as well as for the health, well-being, and prosperity of the people. This calls for quite a different project of national renewal from that offered by offered by the parties of the reactionary right. Simply turning back the clock, closing the gates, and putting up more flags, is not the answer.  

Governo largo 

The centrepiece of a national renewal project should be constitutional: to create a truly ‘public state’ – a democratic state founded upon, oriented towards, and capable of serving, the common good. Tend to that tree, water its constitutional roots, and the fruits will follow.  

Again, Paine tells us what the fruits of that good tree are, and therefore how to recognise when the constitutional tree is healthy:  

‘When it shall be said in any country in the world, my poor are happy; neither ignorance nor distress is to be found among them; my jails are empty of prisoners, my streets of beggars; the aged are not in want, the taxes are not oppressive; the rational world is my friend, because I am the friend of its happiness: when these things can be said, then may that country boast its constitution and its government.’ 

This is little more than a restatement of the basic Aristotelean distinction between good and bad government. Good government (the well-constituted state, or ‘polity’) governs in the public interest, for the common good, while all forms of bad government – tyranny, oligarchy and populism – govern in the private interests of the rulers, perverting public power for personal gain. 

The renaissance Italian statesman, Francesco Guicciardini, highlighted this distinction in clearer, more binary terms. He contrasted the ‘governo largo’ with the ‘governo stretto’. A governo largo is a wide, open, broad-based government, in which power is broadly shared and publicly accountable, so that public life is centred upon public needs. It is system of government not only by and of the people, but also for the people. ‘Governo stretto’, in contrast, is a narrow, restricted, closed, private, self-seeking, public-ignoring state. 

The first attempt at constituting a ‘governo largo’ in England was made during the Civil Wars, with the ‘Agreement of the People’. This went through several drafts between 1647 and 1649. The title was well chosen. Real, working, constitutions are produced through a process of discussion and negotiation – ‘arguing and bargaining’ – that enables a broadly acceptable constitutional settlement to be reached. The constitution expresses what been agreed, amongst the people or their representatives, as the common foundation of the state.  

Reaching such an agreement today, in a society that has become as polarised and divided as ours, will not be easy. It is nevertheless necessary. In order to establish a state that serves the common good, we must have some agreed foundations, ground-rules, shared principles, upon which a general consensus exists. This alone can provide the basis for an inclusive, publicly-oriented, ‘governo largo’.  

This is not a radical innovation. Almost every country which has become independent from the British Empire has adopted a democratic constitution as its supreme and fundamental law. In some cases – in India in 1950, South Africa in 1996, and Kenya in 2010 – a serious attempt was made to establish an inclusive ‘governo largo’ constitution. In so doing, they sought to heal deep divisions, to reach a broadly acceptable settlement, and thereby to make good government – and with it socio-economic development – at least possible. 

Perhaps we think we are better than all that, beyond such constitutional trifles. Yet, the fact remains that our politics today – and our society today – look much more like those of India, South Africa and Kenya than, say, like those of 1950s England. Either we find ways to dwell together in unity, or we face the kind of civil breakdown which the ancients referred to as ‘stasis’, in which all notions of the common good and the public interest are abandoned in partisan, factional, sectarian or ethnic conflict.  

Here then, we must return to matters of the spirit. A good constitution is necessary, but the best constitution cannot save us. A constitution might call us to liberty – to that political freedom which enables us, as responsible citizens, to exercise care for common things, through systems of representative and responsible ‘public government’, but that is not enough, unless we also cultivate the qualities of character to use liberty well and wisely.  

Saint Paul enjoins us not to use liberty ‘for an occasion to the flesh’ – that is, to seek our own, selfish, corrupt or partisan ends. He warns us perils of stasis: ‘But if ye bite and devour one another, take heed that ye be not consumed one of another.’  He also points to that one solution by which the degeneracy of the state, and the corruption of the constitution, might ultimately be overcome: ‘all the law is fulfilled in one word, even in this; Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.’ 

In other words, if we wish to seek the common good, to be well governed, to live in peace and unity, with freedom and justice, then we have to learn to love one another. Civic and political regeneration cannot ultimately be separated from regeneration of our souls.  

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