ByHERB KEINON

JULY 17, 2026 12:52

Updated: JULY 17, 2026 16:17

Rabbi Yitzhak Yosef, former chief rabbi and Shas spiritual leader, extended a political embrace to Yashar Party head Gadi Eisenkot on Saturday night. Eisenkot spent the week methodically creating distance from that gesture.

Understanding Eisenkot's measured reply - and why an endorsement that once helped politically now poses risks - reveals how dramatically Israeli politics has transformed.

"Due to our many sins, we are in a secular, non-haredi state," Yosef lamented in his weekly sermon. "We pray that everyone repents. There are those who will repent; there are those who will not."

Then came the unexpected turn.

Shas may back Eisenkot for prime minister

Yosef, whose party has anchored Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu's right-wing bloc for years, stated there was "not a chance" Netanyahu would repent. Regarding Eisenkot, however, he suggested, "perhaps he will."

Yosef even indicated Shas might back Eisenkot as the next prime minister.

"Gadi Eisenkot is a good person, a warm Jew; he loves those who study Torah," Yosef said, drawing from Eisenkot's recent interview with the haredi site Kikar Hashabbat. "His grandmother voted Shas and wanted him to be a rabbi; while that did not occur, you could trust him."

In contrast, Yosef criticized Netanyahu for advancing contentious legislation on haredi draft exemptions. "Netanyahu cheated us on the conscription law," he said. "He cannot be trusted; he is a liar."

Political opportunity, correct? The spiritual leader of a party expected to secure eight seats - potentially enough to help an Eisenkot-led coalition reach 61 - was openly signaling willingness to move beyond Netanyahu.

In past times, such signals would have been welcomed.

During Shimon Peres's contests with Netanyahu in the 1990s, an endorsement from a prominent haredi rabbi represented a major win. Leaders from Labor and Likud visited haredi rabbis, wore kippot, sought blessings, and viewed such support as a triumph.

But not now.

Questioned on Channel 12 on Wednesday about Yosef's comments, Eisenkot distanced himself promptly.

"I saw them in the media," he replied coolly, noting he had not met Yosef in ten years.

He rejected suggestions of outreach to haredi parties even more firmly. "I am not flirting with them," he said. "I have not seen a single Shas MK over the past year. I have not seen one, and I have not spoken to one."

This stance underscores a major change in the issues driving Israeli elections.

In the 1990s, centrist and left-leaning voters focused on the Oslo Accords and peace efforts; complaints about religious influence and yeshiva funding existed but often yielded to diplomatic priorities. Coalition needs prevailed if they advanced peace.

Today the main divide has shifted.

Much of Eisenkot's likely support base - including soft-right voters - sees haredi conscription as essential, given the personal costs borne by many families.

Any sign of accommodation would invite claims that Eisenkot is sacrificing draft reform for political advantage.

This holds especially true given Yosef's positions. He has maintained that yeshiva students should stay exempt and that even non-full-time students should avoid service. He has advised throwing draft notices away and suggested emigration if haredim face conscription.

For a candidate focused on post-October 7 recovery and IDF manpower needs, accepting Yosef's backing would not build strength. It would be used by opponents as a new version of a "stinking maneuver," recalling Peres's failed 1990 effort to topple a unity government via secret haredi deals.

Yet keeping distance from Shas does not mean closing the door entirely, and that nuance defines Eisenkot's approach.

Eisenkot told Channel 12 he would exclude any party rejecting military, national, or civilian service. The reverse follows: he would partner with parties accepting those principles, including haredi and Arab groups if they agree.

This sets him apart from Avigdor Liberman of Yisrael Beytenu, who has ruled out sitting with haredi or Arab parties.

'We will form a Zionist, statesmanlike government'

Eisenkot is taking care not to limit his options.

In the Kikar Hashabbat interview, when asked if he would rely on Arab parties, he replied, "We will establish a Zionist, statesmanlike government," avoiding a direct answer.

Pressed repeatedly, he sidestepped each time. Finally asked to choose between Arab or haredi parties, Eisenkot again declined.

Instead he listed three coalition principles.

First, recognition of Israel as the nation-state of the Jewish people with a solid Jewish majority. Second, acceptance of the Declaration of Independence. Third, commitment to service in the IDF or National Service.

"I say this both to the haredim and to the Arabs," he added.

The reply stood out because it left options open rather than resolving the question.

The same pattern appeared when Dana Weiss of Channel 12 pressed him on ruling out Netanyahu.

Netanyahu and his security cabinet members are "not fit to hold any leadership position," Eisenkot said. Asked for a clear yes or no, he avoided it. "It is a question I do not even need to answer."

Actually, it is a question he prefers not to answer.

For good reason. Why narrow coalition possibilities months before an unpredictable election?

Naftali Bennett offers a warning.

Before 2021, Bennett pledged not to join Yair Lapid or rely on Mansour Abbas's Ra'am. He even signed a pledge.

After the vote, reality led him to do exactly that. Years later, some soft-right voters still cite the reversal as a trust issue.

Eisenkot aims to avoid that error. He preserves flexibility ahead of Election Day, aware that post-vote math may differ from current polls.

This also invites comparisons with Benny Gantz, another former IDF chief entering politics with high expectations.

Similarities are clear. Both entered after serving as chief of staff. Both enjoyed strong public trust. Both benefited from views of generals as capable leaders. Both saw quick poll gains.

Yet a key difference exists. Gantz's 2018 appeal relied on ambiguity. Voters knew little of his positions, and he revealed little, allowing projection of their own views.

Eisenkot has been more direct.

He enters with Knesset experience as a National Unity MK and time in Netanyahu's emergency government after October 7.

The public knows more about him than it did about Gantz in 2019.

Still, Nahum Barnea noted last month in Yediot Aharonot that Eisenkot's rise draws heavily on emotion: affinity for a former chief of staff, a bereaved father whose son and nephews fell in Gaza, a man from the periphery in Eilat, and of Moroccan descent.

These markers matter to many but do not capture everything.

Eisenkot's draw may rest on more than emotion.

For three decades Netanyahu built a coalition around ideology and identity, rooted in the periphery, Mizrahi voters, traditional Jews, and those feeling dismissed by the old Ashkenazi establishment.

Eisenkot shares many of those cultural ties. He is Moroccan, from the periphery, respectful of tradition, and a former chief of staff.

Yet he offers a different political path. That may explain his focus on campaigning outside Tel Aviv, in the North and South.

It may also explain why, despite criticizing government performance, he has avoided personal attacks on Netanyahu common elsewhere in the opposition.

Eisenkot appears to recognize that voters considering leaving Likud may not respond to constant criticism of a leader they have backed for years.

His campaign tests whether identity politics on the Israeli Right can be challenged by a candidate sharing that identity but offering different leadership.

Whatever the electorate decides, Yosef's gesture and Eisenkot's response already reveal a key story.

It shows how one candidate plans to navigate the race and how much the political map has changed.