The most revealing result of last week’s Likud primary was not who came first. It was who failed to emerge.
Benjamin Netanyahu’s name did not appear on the ballot, yet he was its undisputed winner. Energy Minister Eli Cohen topped the poll, followed by Knesset Speaker Amir Ohana, Justice Minister Yariv Levin and Transportation Minister Miri Regev.
However, importantly, none established themselves as Netanyahu’s heir, or even as a serious counterweight to him.
The primary therefore exposed the central paradox of today’s Likud: almost every senior figure dreams of succeeding Netanyahu, but none can afford to behave like a successor.
This is not merely an internal party drama. It has potentially profound implications for Israel after the election on October 27. Even if Netanyahu loses, replacing him as Likud leader may prove far more difficult than many of his opponents assume.
Recent revelations about the days following the October 7 massacre help explain why.
According to recent reporting, Economy Minister Nir Barkat attempted to assemble support for a constructive vote of no confidence. This would have replaced Netanyahu without immediately sending the country to an election.
The report claimed that numerous Likud MKs knew of the initiative and that several ministers supported removing Netanyahu. However, they could not agree on who should replace him. Some reportedly offered their support only if they themselves became prime minister.
Barkat has denied the allegations. Nevertheless, the account is entirely plausible because it reflects Likud’s deeper pathology. The party may contain considerable private discontent with Netanyahu, but it possesses no organised opposition to him. Potential successors view one another as rivals before they see themselves as partners.
Even in the traumatic aftermath of October 7, when Netanyahu was at his most politically vulnerable, those contemplating rebellion could not unite around a single figure. The plan reportedly failed to secure the 13 Likud MKs it required. As soon as Netanyahu learnt of the initiative he moved rapidly to extinguish it.
That episode demonstrated both Netanyahu’s vulnerability and his extraordinary strength. Several senior members of his party may have wanted him gone, but they remained frightened of challenging him openly.
Netanyahu, meanwhile, retained the authority and political intelligence to isolate the plotters.
Last week’s primary appears to have completed the punishment and confirmed the ailment.
Barkat, who in the last primaries finished seventh, finished 16th among the nationally elected candidates and is currently expected to occupy only the 24th position on the full Likud slate, a precarious place when polls put the party at around 22 to 24 seats.
Reports suggest that Netanyahu could yet use the composition of the list to push him even lower.
Yisrael Katz avoided testing his strength among party members by accepting a reserved position. Ohana performed respectably but failed to secure the emphatic first-place finish that might have made him the obvious crown prince. Eli Cohen won the primary, but is not widely perceived as a prospective prime minister.
The result is a leadership contest without a challenger.
Netanyahu has also acquired unprecedented influence over the parliamentary slate. He controls eight reserved positions within the top 30, compared with the three normally available to the party leader.
The prime minister sought even greater control, including considering the replacement of the primary with an appointed selection committee. Although Likud’s internal court ensured that the primary proceeded, Netanyahu still emerged with substantial powers to bring in new candidates, protect allies and restrict the prospects of internal critics.
The official justification is electorally rational. Netanyahu wants the freedom to introduce candidates who can appeal to constituencies beyond Likud’s traditional membership and to subdue outspoken and disliked figures unpopular with the wider target public.
Yet these reserved places serve another purpose. They make every ambitious Likud politician more dependent upon Netanyahu. The prime minister can decide who receives a realistic position, who is pushed towards the danger zone and who might be rehabilitated with a future appointment. The slate is therefore not only an electoral list. It is an instrument of discipline.
This matters because Israeli elections do not always produce decisive outcomes. Netanyahu could lose the election in the sense that Likud fails to assemble a governing coalition, yet remain prime minister during prolonged negotiations.
If the opposing bloc also cannot form a government, Israel could face another election.
Under those circumstances, Likud members would have to decide whether to depose the leader who had failed to win, knowing that no agreed successor exists and that Netanyahu still controls much of the party machinery.
For decades, Netanyahu has ensured that no tree grows tall beneath him. Those who became credible threats left, were marginalised or discovered that their colleagues preferred waiting for their own opportunity to uniting behind somebody else.
The assumption has long been that the post-Netanyahu era will begin when he loses an election, although that was disproven by the 2021 election. The Likud primary makes a post-Netanyahu scenario even harder to imagine.
Netanyahu’s most consequential political achievement may be that even after defeat, his party will not know how to replace him.
He has not simply retained control of Likud’s present. He is attempting to control the timing, terms and identity of its future.
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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