Benjamin Netanyahu’s visit to the White House on 28 July was unlike almost any he had made before. There was no grand public welcome from President Donald Trump, no joint press conference and no lengthy appearance before the cameras.
For a president who has turned meetings with foreign leaders into a form of political theatre, the absence was conspicuous. Only a small collection of official photographs emerged, while the White House press secretary acknowledged Netanyahu’s meeting in the same social media post as Trump’s separate talks with Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky.
The contrast with previous visits could hardly have been greater.
Netanyahu was in Washington principally to pay his respects to Senator Lindsey Graham, who had been one of Israel’s most steadfast supporters. Graham’s funeral provided an opportunity for Netanyahu to meet Trump, but it did not produce the imagery that the Israeli prime minister would have wanted as he prepares for the official campaign ahead of Israel’s election on the 27th October.
This may not be the last time the two leaders meet before Israelis vote. Nevertheless, Netanyahu is approaching the campaign, which many claim is the fight of his political life, without the international spectacle that has so often strengthened his appeal.
In previous elections, enormous photographs of Netanyahu and Trump appeared on buildings and billboards across Israel. The message was unmistakable, that only Netanyahu could stand alongside the leader of Israel’s most important ally as an equal. These images reinforced his carefully cultivated identity as an indispensable statesman with unique access to the most powerful people in the world.
Netanyahu must have hoped that this visit would provide fresh footage, an endorsement and photographs with which to revive that message. Instead, at least publicly, the warmth that once characterised the relationship appeared absent.
The lack of optics made diplomatic and geopolitical sense, as Trump didn’t want a replay of the last time the two met. Shortly after the meeting, the US and Israel launched a concerted operation against Iran, with many detractors claiming that the American President was led by the Israeli Prime Minister into war. However, politically it might have been a blow.
Additionally, Trump has equivocated in recent months when asked whom he would like to see become Israel’s next prime minister. More importantly, his own popularity in Israel has fallen sharply following the American memorandum of understanding with Iran. The image of Trump as Israel’s unstinting ally can no longer be deployed as effectively as it once was.
Netanyahu’s alternative campaign strategy was expected to centre on a decisive strategic achievement on one of the fronts Israel has faced since the 7 October massacre. Yet here, too, the picture is complicated.
Israel and the United States inflicted serious damage on Iran’s nuclear infrastructure and military capabilities during the two rounds of fighting. These were impressive tactical achievements. However, the Islamic Republic’s regime remains firmly in power.
Even optimistic assessments suggest that its nuclear programme has been delayed by years rather than eliminated. Its ballistic missile arsenal could be rebuilt much more quickly, while Iran’s most extreme leaders appear convinced that surviving the confrontation itself constituted a victory.
The American attacks were substantial, but they did not produce the transformative outcome Netanyahu might have presented to voters as the removal of Iran’s existential threat.
Closer to home, there is more encouraging news. Hezbollah has been severely weakened. Its senior leadership has been eviscerated, much of its missile capacity has been depleted, and the Lebanese government is showing a willingness to assert its authority in the south. The trilateral framework involving Israel, Lebanon and the United States could eventually produce a more stable reality along Israel’s northern border.
The political problem is that the immediate pictures are of the IDF withdrawing rather than advancing.
Had this process been implemented by a Centre-Left government, its supporters would probably have celebrated it as responsible diplomacy. Yet many on the Israeli Right see withdrawal as withdrawal, however carefully it is described.
Netanyahu’s right-wing rivals, including Naftali Bennett and Avigdor Liberman, have already attacked the pilot scheme. They understand that it touches the deepest anxieties of voters who supported Likud because it promised security through strength.
Gaza poses an even greater challenge. Hamas has been decimated militarily, but it still exists and retains significant control. There had been growing discussion of a new Israeli operation intended finally to uproot its remaining centres of power.
For now, however, the momentum created by the Board of Peace appears to have stalled such plans.
Hamas understands that it must play along diplomatically if it is to survive. It may therefore accept a limited form of disarmament, perhaps resembling the “decommissioning” of IRA weapons that accompanied the Northern Ireland peace process. Such an arrangement would be very different from the complete dismantling of Hamas promised after 7 October.
Nevertheless, even partial decommissioning could place the diplomatic burden back on Israel. Under the ceasefire framework, Israel would then face pressure to withdraw from additional areas of Gaza. The IDF would certainly not leave the entire territory, and perhaps not even its most strategically important positions. But once again, the dominant image would be one of withdrawal rather than advance, management rather than victory.
That is a serious problem for Netanyahu. To prevail, he must win back right-wing voters who once supported Likud but have become disappointed, disillusioned or simply exhausted. He does not merely need their reluctant votes. He needs to restore enough enthusiasm to bring them to the polling stations.
Of course, Netanyahu is counting on the fact that three months is an eternity in Israeli politics. New developments could overturn every assumption before the campaign has properly begun.
Nevertheless, as matters stand, Netanyahu, who has traditionally won by setting the agenda and forcing everyone else to respond, is searching for one.
In political election campaigns, the side that is constantly responding is usually losing.
This helps explain Likud’s opening attack: portraying the opposition as dependent upon non-Zionist or anti-Zionist Arab parties. It is a familiar attempt to demonise and delegitimise Netanyahu’s opponents while frightening wavering right-wing voters back into the fold.
For now, it is unlikely to bring them back in droves. It is a holding operation, designed to stop further desertions until Netanyahu finds a more compelling campaign theme.
Likud is following one of the oldest rules in politics: before expanding your support, first hold your base.
It is going to be the fight of his life, and events appear to be getting away from him. However, in Israel, there is an even greater truism: you never bet against Bibi.
He is constantly polling, has some of the best American campaign consultants money can buy, and has dug himself out of some almost equally difficult holes.
So far, though, Israel’s prime minister hasn’t yet identified the right shovel.
Ashley Perry is a former senior Israeli government adviser who has worked with eight cabinet ministers, was a former advisor to the Negev Forum, and has been involved in Israeli politics and every election campaign for the past two decades
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