A quiet but increasingly intense debate has been taking shape within Jordanian political and intellectual circles, driven by a broader attempt to reassess Jordan’s role at a moment of profound regional volatility. At the heart of this debate lies a deceptively simple question, repeatedly posed in different forms: does a potential change in Israeli leadership through the 2026 elections carry any real significance for Jordan and the Palestinians, or is it merely a reshuffling of faces within a closed political system—one that treats the conflict as a file to be managed rather than resolved, and views the Palestinians primarily as a security problem to be contained, deferred, or displaced?

 

One strand of this debate rests on an assumption that appears, at first glance, difficult to refute. According to this reading, there is no substantive difference between the continuation of Benjamin Netanyahu’s rule and his departure, nor between him and his challengers in the centrist or so-called “moderate” right. The Israeli political system, this argument holds, has reached a stable consensus rejecting Palestinian statehood, advancing the gradual annexation of the West Bank, expanding settlement activity, and sustaining the siege on Gaza. The divergence lies in rhetoric and style, not in core policy. From this perspective, investing political hope in Israeli elections borders on self-deception, while inflating expectations risks another round of strategic disappointment. The peace process, in this view, has not merely stalled; it has effectively exited Israel’s practical political horizon.

 

This assessment resonates deeply with Jordan’s accumulated experience with successive Israeli governments and with the long arc of frustration following Oslo and its collapse. It is a reading that urges realism stripped of illusion, warning against tying Jordanian strategy to internal Israeli shifts that may never materialize. The call, instead, is to build policy on the basis of what Israel is, not what it might one day become.

 

Yet alongside this current, another line of thinking has emerged—no less grounded in realism, but less fatalistic. This approach does not argue that Netanyahu’s removal would usher in a historic breakthrough or resurrect the prospect of a sovereign Palestinian state. Rather, it insists on a distinction between fixed strategic constants and fluctuating political margins. Politics, after all, is not shaped only by end goals, but also by means, timing, coalitions, and degrees of escalation. From this angle, there remains a meaningful—if limited—difference between a government led by Netanyahu, structurally bound to the religious-nationalist far right, and one less dependent on that alliance and marginally more responsive to regional and international constraints.

 

Understanding this difference requires attention to the composition of the competing electoral camps. Netanyahu’s bloc is anchored in an ideologically cohesive alliance bringing together Likud, Religious Zionism under Bezalel Smotrich, Otzma Yehudit represented by Itamar Ben-Gvir, and the ultra-Orthodox parties. This is not a tactical electoral arrangement but a consolidated ideological front, one that regards the West Bank as annexable space, Jerusalem as a zero-sum arena, and Palestinians as a population to be disciplined through force. Netanyahu’s role within this constellation has also changed. He is no longer simply its architect; he has become increasingly constrained by it. His political survival, amid ongoing legal pressures, is now inseparable from satisfying these partners and expanding their reach within state institutions.

 

Facing this camp is a more fragmented and less ideologically coherent opposition, yet one that spans a wider political spectrum. It is led by Yair Lapid, representing the liberal Zionist center, alongside figures such as Benny Gantz, whose security-first pragmatism seeks to manage the conflict with less ideological fervor, without offering a genuine political settlement. The camp also includes former right-wing leaders like Naftali Bennett, who does not diverge fundamentally on Palestinian statehood but differs in governing style and in his approach to relations with Washington and Arab capitals—Amman in particular. Added to this mix is Avigdor Lieberman, whose nationalist discourse remains hardline, yet whose rivalry with Netanyahu is both political and personal.

 

The distinction between the two camps, then, is not about final destinations, but about pathways, escalation thresholds, and regional posture. A Netanyahu government constrained by Smotrich and Ben-Gvir is structurally confrontational, inclined to view Jordan less as a partner than as an impediment to its agenda. This helps explain why Jordanian–Israeli relations have, over the past two years, reached a level of near-complete political rupture—an assessment reflected clearly in royal speeches and foreign-policy statements. By contrast, a less extremist Israeli government, even if far from accommodating, may be more manageable and less prone to testing Jordan’s strategic red lines.

 

A critical variable in this equation is the role of Palestinian Arab political forces inside Israel. Figures such as Ahmad Tibi, Ayman Odeh, Sami Abu Shehadeh, and Mansour Abbas represent a broad spectrum ranging from nationalist and leftist traditions to conservative pragmatism. Fragmentation limits their influence; unity could transform it. A unified Arab list could secure close to fifteen seats, positioning it as a pivotal actor in coalition arithmetic—much as small religious parties have functioned in earlier phases of Israeli politics.

 

Here, electoral dynamics intersect directly with Jordanian strategy. From this second perspective, it makes little sense for Jordan to stand entirely on the sidelines, especially after political communication with Netanyahu’s camp has effectively collapsed. Jordan retains long-standing relationships with Arab political actors inside Israel, a form of political capital that—if used cautiously and intelligently—could encourage Arab electoral unity and tilt the balance, however modestly, toward a less hostile governing coalition. The objective is not to indulge in political fantasies, but to mitigate worst-case scenarios and carve out limited but tangible improvements for Palestinians in the West Bank, Gaza, and Jerusalem, while stabilizing the management of Jordanian–Israeli relations.

 

Finally, Israeli elections cannot be divorced from their wider international setting. Netanyahu has been a central figure in the alliance linking the Israeli right with Christian Zionist forces in the United States—an alliance that peaked during Donald Trump’s presidency. Weakening this axis, even partially, is not a marginal development. A different Israeli leadership, distinct in tone and personnel if not in core policy, may find it harder to mobilize this alliance and more susceptible to external pressure.

 

In a region defined by narrowing options rather than transformative openings, such margins may be limited—but they are not irrelevant.