After Tumbling in Polls, Netanyahu Clings to Power and Aims to Improve Political Standing during War

Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu chairs a Cabinet meeting at the Kirya, which houses the Israeli Ministry of Defense, in Tel Aviv, Israel, 17 December 2023. (EPA)
Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu chairs a Cabinet meeting at the Kirya, which houses the Israeli Ministry of Defense, in Tel Aviv, Israel, 17 December 2023. (EPA)
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After Tumbling in Polls, Netanyahu Clings to Power and Aims to Improve Political Standing during War

Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu chairs a Cabinet meeting at the Kirya, which houses the Israeli Ministry of Defense, in Tel Aviv, Israel, 17 December 2023. (EPA)
Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu chairs a Cabinet meeting at the Kirya, which houses the Israeli Ministry of Defense, in Tel Aviv, Israel, 17 December 2023. (EPA)

In the wake of Hamas’ brutal Oct. 7 attack, Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s days in office seemed numbered.

Despite his reputation as the ultimate political survivor, the devastation of the attack and the security failures that allowed it to happen on his watch appeared to be too much for him to overcome.

But nearly three months after war erupted following the attack, Netanyahu remains firmly in charge and is putting up a fight. He has increasingly used his perch as wartime leader to test campaign slogans, appease his coalition partners and shirk responsibility for the calamity — all, critics say, with an eye on buying time and notching up his shrinking poll numbers.

“Every moment of his life, he is a politician,” said Mazal Mualem, a Netanyahu biographer. “Bibi always thinks he has a chance.”

Netanyahu — who's served longer than any other Israeli leader, after 17 years in power — has found a formula for success. He appeals to his nationalist base, crafts a catchy political message, and pits his rivals and opponents against one another.

He's maintained that instinct for political survival even through the deadliest attack in the country’s history and as many Israelis view him as responsible for creating conditions for the violence.

Critics say his aspiration for political redemption is clouding his wartime decision-making and dividing a nation striving for unity.

“It is no longer the good of the country Netanyahu is thinking about, but his own political and legal salvation,” wrote military commentator Amos Harel, in the liberal daily Haaretz.

Other critics have said Netanyahu has an interest in dragging out the war to regain public support through military achievements, such as the apparent Israeli strike Tuesday on Hamas' second-in-command in Beirut, or in hopes that time might work in his favor as the nation still reels from Hamas' onslaught.

Supporters say he's been unfairly demonized and that engaging in politics even amid war is unavoidable.

Netanyahu has long been polarizing. In the leadup to the war, Israelis had endured years of political turmoil, facing five elections in four years, each a referendum on Netanyahu’s fitness to serve while on trial for corruption. Netanyahu has used his office to fight the charges that could send him to prison, making it a bully pulpit to rally supporters and lash out against prosecutors and judges.

Former political allies turned on the long-serving leader. Unable to form a coalition government, Netanyahu was ousted for a year. When he returned to office at the end of 2022, he cobbled together the country’s most nationalist and religious coalition ever.

That coalition’s first step was to launch a controversial legal overhaul plan that prompted months of mass street protests and bitterly divided the country.

Many reservists, who make up the backbone of Israel’s military, said they wouldn’t turn up for service as long as the government pursued the legal changes. Top brass from the security establishment, including the country’s defense minister, warned that the divisions sowed by the plan were harmful to security.

The Oct. 7 attacks, in which Hamas killed 1,200 people and kidnapped 240 others, caught Israel at its most divided.

While Israelis quickly rallied behind the military, Netanyahu and his Likud party took a hit in opinion polls. They show Israelis now believe Netanyahu is less fit to govern than Benny Gantz, a rival who agreed to join Netanyahu in an emergency wartime Cabinet. Polls also show Netanyahu's coalition wouldn't win re-election.

As the war churns on, Netanyahu has refused to discuss his political future and berated journalists for asking him about it.

“I am stunned. I am just stunned. Our soldiers are fighting in Gaza. Our soldiers are dying in battle. The families of the hostages are in a huge nightmare, and this is what you have to do? There will be a time for politics,” he said in response to one question about his public support.

Yet critics say Netanyahu is increasingly engaging in politicking.

While a long list of security officials have taken responsibility for failures surrounding Oct. 7, Netanyahu has not, saying only that he has tough questions to answer once the war is over. He has gone so far as to blame his security chiefs.

Live broadcasts meant to update the nation on the war’s progress have often felt more like stump speeches.

“I won’t allow Hamastan to be replaced by Fatahstan,” he said during one news conference, rebuffing a US-backed idea that a revitalized Palestinian Authority, led by President Mahmoud Abbas’ Fatah faction, will govern Gaza.

Netanyahu also has maneuvered between his nationalist coalition government and the downsized yet influential War Cabinet, whose members hold more moderate opinions on how Gaza might be ruled and rehabilitated after the war.

That juggling has delayed any decision about Israel’s post-war plans, to Washington’s chagrin. Netanyahu also has moved ahead on contentious budgets for his ultranationalist coalition partners, even as the country braces for the economic aftershocks of the war.

Aviv Bushinsky, a former Netanyahu aide, said the leader's moves appear intended to set him on better political footing ahead of elections.

Without publicly taking responsibility for any role in the Oct. 7 failures, Israeli media won’t have a damning soundbite they can play once elections roll around. Taking a firm stance against the Palestinian Authority’s role in Gaza distinguishes him from rival Gantz, who hasn’t said whether he’d agree to its inclusion, Bushinsky said.

Avraham Diskin, a veteran political analyst who has served as an informal adviser to Netanyahu, said the prime minister was simply responding to a virulent campaign by opponents that has intensified during the war.

“Is it he who is campaigning or them?” he said.

That hasn’t stopped some supporters from calling for Netanyahu to announce that he intends to step down in the near future.

Veteran Israeli journalist Nadav Shragai wrote in the conservative, Netanyahu-friendly Israel Hayom daily: “How good and how correct it would be if after so many years on the job, Netanyahu were to bring himself to this war without suspicion he is acting out of political interest or egocentrism and is focused only on the objectives of the war?”



Rare Precedents for Lebanon-Israel Talks

US Secretary of State Marco Rubio (C), alongside US State Department Counselor Michael Needham (2L) and US Ambassador to Lebanon Michel Issa (2R), speaks during a meeting with Lebanon's Ambassador to the US Nada Hamadeh Moawad (out of frame) and Israeli Ambassador to the US Yechiel Leiter (out of frame) at the State Department in Washington, DC, on April 14, 2026. (AFP)
US Secretary of State Marco Rubio (C), alongside US State Department Counselor Michael Needham (2L) and US Ambassador to Lebanon Michel Issa (2R), speaks during a meeting with Lebanon's Ambassador to the US Nada Hamadeh Moawad (out of frame) and Israeli Ambassador to the US Yechiel Leiter (out of frame) at the State Department in Washington, DC, on April 14, 2026. (AFP)
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Rare Precedents for Lebanon-Israel Talks

US Secretary of State Marco Rubio (C), alongside US State Department Counselor Michael Needham (2L) and US Ambassador to Lebanon Michel Issa (2R), speaks during a meeting with Lebanon's Ambassador to the US Nada Hamadeh Moawad (out of frame) and Israeli Ambassador to the US Yechiel Leiter (out of frame) at the State Department in Washington, DC, on April 14, 2026. (AFP)
US Secretary of State Marco Rubio (C), alongside US State Department Counselor Michael Needham (2L) and US Ambassador to Lebanon Michel Issa (2R), speaks during a meeting with Lebanon's Ambassador to the US Nada Hamadeh Moawad (out of frame) and Israeli Ambassador to the US Yechiel Leiter (out of frame) at the State Department in Washington, DC, on April 14, 2026. (AFP)

There are few precedents for the direct talks between Lebanese and Israeli officials that began in Washington on Tuesday.

- 1949, Fragile armistice -

The first Arab-Israeli war began on May 15, 1948, the day after the declaration of the establishment of the State of Israel.

Five countries -- Egypt, Syria, Jordan, Lebanon and Iraq -- had rejected a UN plan adopted in November 1947 to partition Palestine into Jewish and Arab states and went to war against the new state.

In 1949, Israel and neighboring countries signed armistice agreements, but they collapsed with the start of the 1967 Arab-Israeli War.

- 1983, Unimplemented agreement -

Israel invaded Lebanon on June 6, 1982, in an operation it dubbed "Peace for Galilee" that was initially aimed at expelling Palestinian fighters, but which resulted in a nearly 18-year Israeli occupation.

On May 17, 1983, Lebanon and Israel signed an agreement on the withdrawal of Israeli forces from Lebanon after four-and-a-half months of direct talks with US participation.

The deal was scrapped less than a year later, in March 1984, under pressure from Syria and its allies in Lebanon.

- 1991-93, Washington talks -

A series of bilateral negotiations between Israel and Syria, Lebanon, and a joint Jordanian-Palestinian delegation was launched in late 1991, following the Madrid conference on Middle East peace.

Ten rounds of bilateral talks were held in Washington over 20 months until 1993, but failed to produce results.

- 2022, Maritime border deal -

After years of US mediation, Lebanon and Israel reached an agreement on October 27, 2022, which demarcated their maritime border and set the terms for sharing offshore gas resources in the eastern Mediterranean.

There was no direct contact between the two sides, with the deal formalized through separate exchanges of letters with the United States.

- 2024, Fragile ceasefire -

A November 2024 ceasefire sought to end more than a year of fresh hostilities between Israel and Hezbollah, but Israeli forces kept up strikes in Lebanon, saying they aimed to prevent Hezbollah from rebuilding its capabilities.

In December 2025, civilian officials for the first time joined Lebanese and Israeli military representatives in ceasefire-monitoring meetings in southern Lebanon, led by the US and also involving France and the United Nations peacekeeping force.

The talks marked the first direct discussions between the two sides in decades.


What Does a ‘Blockade of the Blockade’ in the Strait of Hormuz Mean?

Ships and a boat in the Strait of Hormuz on April 12, 2026 (Reuters)
Ships and a boat in the Strait of Hormuz on April 12, 2026 (Reuters)
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What Does a ‘Blockade of the Blockade’ in the Strait of Hormuz Mean?

Ships and a boat in the Strait of Hormuz on April 12, 2026 (Reuters)
Ships and a boat in the Strait of Hormuz on April 12, 2026 (Reuters)

When Iran moved to close the Strait of Hormuz, it did not physically seal the waterway — for example, by fully mining it. Instead, it barred ships and oil tankers belonging to Gulf littoral states, as well as vessels from countries it considers adversaries, chiefly the United States and Israel, from transiting the strait.

At the same time, Tehran allowed its own tankers to pass, maintaining exports of about 1.5 million barrels per day to global markets.

In effect, Iran imposed a selective blockade on the Strait of Hormuz, closing it to much of the world while keeping it open for its own trade.

By contrast, US President Donald Trump’s proposal to impose a naval blockade on the strait and all Iranian ports would amount to a “blockade of the blockade.” Such a move would deny Iran access to the waterway altogether, halting both its oil and non-oil exports and dealing a severe blow to its economy.

Iran’s Gains and Losses

Oil prices surged after traffic through the strait was disrupted, rising from about $75–$80 a barrel before the February conflict to roughly $120–$126 at peak wartime levels.

With exports of around 1.5 million barrels per day, Iran is estimated to have earned an additional $60 million a day from higher prices. However, because about 90 percent of its crude is sold to China at discounted rates, the net additional gain is likely closer to $45 million a day.

These figures reflect incremental revenue. At an assumed average price of $100 a barrel, Iran’s total oil income would reach roughly $150 million a day, or about $4.5 billion a month, revenues that would be cut off under a full naval blockade.

Such a “blockade of the blockade” would likely push oil prices even higher. But its impact would extend beyond Iran. China, which buys the bulk of Iranian crude, would be among the most affected.

According to Pakistani diplomatic sources, Beijing played a key role in persuading Tehran at the last minute to accept a two-week truce announced on April 7 by Donald Trump. Some analysts believe that if China’s energy supplies are threatened, it could again press Iran to make concessions in talks with Washington aimed at ending the conflict.

Rerouting Shipping Traffic

Iran’s restrictions did more than limit access; they reshaped how ships moved through the strait.

Rather than formally altering internationally recognized shipping lanes, Iran imposed operational controls that effectively redirected maritime traffic. Vessels permitted to transit were steered toward routes closer to Iran’s coastline, particularly between Qeshm and Larak islands, instead of the traditional channels running between Abu Musa and the Greater and Lesser Tunb islands.

This shift created a de facto controlled corridor near Iranian shores without any formal declaration of new navigation routes.

In many cases, passage became contingent on prior coordination with Iranian authorities, permits, or even transit fees, marking a sharp departure from the previously unrestricted flow of traffic.

Iran has allowed “friendly” or neutral vessels to pass under certain conditions, while blocking those it deems hostile. It has also deployed drones, naval mines and fast attack craft to monitor and, when necessary, intercept ships that fail to comply.

The risks have forced many shipping companies to reroute vessels around the Cape of Good Hope or adopt longer, more secure paths, including routes closer to Iranian-controlled waters.

Before the conflict, roughly 130 to 150 ships transited the Strait of Hormuz each day. During the crisis, that number dropped sharply to about five vessels, or fewer, a day.


Baby Born in Tent on a Beirut Roadside Struggles to Survive, Her Family Displaced by War

Haifa Kenjo, who fled Israeli airstrikes on the southern suburbs of Beirut, holds her 15-day-old daughter Shiman inside the tent she uses as a shelter and where she gave birth to her in Beirut, Sunday, April 12, 2026. (AP Photo/Emilio Morenatti)
Haifa Kenjo, who fled Israeli airstrikes on the southern suburbs of Beirut, holds her 15-day-old daughter Shiman inside the tent she uses as a shelter and where she gave birth to her in Beirut, Sunday, April 12, 2026. (AP Photo/Emilio Morenatti)
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Baby Born in Tent on a Beirut Roadside Struggles to Survive, Her Family Displaced by War

Haifa Kenjo, who fled Israeli airstrikes on the southern suburbs of Beirut, holds her 15-day-old daughter Shiman inside the tent she uses as a shelter and where she gave birth to her in Beirut, Sunday, April 12, 2026. (AP Photo/Emilio Morenatti)
Haifa Kenjo, who fled Israeli airstrikes on the southern suburbs of Beirut, holds her 15-day-old daughter Shiman inside the tent she uses as a shelter and where she gave birth to her in Beirut, Sunday, April 12, 2026. (AP Photo/Emilio Morenatti)

All that newborn Shiman knows of the world is a flimsy tent along Beirut’s waterfront — the stench of mildewed blankets, stings of swarming insects and screams of Israeli warplanes striking the Lebanese capital.

As of Monday, she was 16 days old after being born here in the mud, said her mother, Haifa Kenjo.

Kenjo, 34, was nine months pregnant when Israeli attacks on Beirut’s southern suburbs of Dahiyeh sent her, her husband and their 2-year-old son, Khalid, running for their lives in sandals and pajamas. They had no time to bring anything as explosions shook the house, they said — not clothes, not cash.

They took refuge in a donated tent near downtown Beirut and secured the tarp with rocks as the wind threatened to rip it from the ground.

Of the more than 1 million people uprooted in Lebanon by this latest war between Israel and the Iran-backed Hezbollah, 13,500 are pregnant and more than 1,500 are expected to deliver in the next month, the United Nations’ sexual and reproductive health agency said this week, warning that many struggle to access adequate maternal care.

When life had been normal, Kenjo pictured giving birth at Beirut's main public hospital, where she delivered Khalid. She is originally from Syria, and although she has spent almost half her life in the Lebanese capital and married a Lebanese man, she must pay to access the country’s public hospitals, where Lebanese mothers can give birth for free.

When her water broke and she went into labor on March 28, she called an ambulance and her husband scraped together the $40 admission fee. But the $500 they needed to deliver Shiman at the hospital was buried in the ruins of their home, razed the week before in an Israeli airstrike.

They returned to the tent, called a midwife and prayed.

Umm Ali, the midwife, said she did her best, but the tent was filthy. The rain seeped inside. They washed tiny Shiman with bottled water.

Kenjo had no milk in her breasts to give her child. Infant formula costs more than her husband makes in a day installing water tanks.

She knows her baby is hungry. Volunteers passing out food in the displacement camp gave her just enough formula for the next few days.

Shiman doesn’t cry like a normal infant. She coughs. Her skin is cold and clammy, pockmarked with insect bites.

“She is so precious,” Kenjo said, stroking her baby girl. “But for her we have nothing. We have less than zero.”