Thirty Years of Netanyahu: Power, Politics, and the Cost of Alienating America
June 19, 2026 – ד׳ תַּמּוּז תשפ”ו
Last month (May 29, 2026) marked thirty years since Benjamin Netanyahu was first elected Prime Minister of Israel in 1996. Few leaders in the democratic world have exercised power for so long or shaped their nation’s foreign policy so profoundly. Across three decades, Netanyahu has navigated relationships with five American presidents—Bill Clinton, George W. Bush, Barack Obama, Joe Biden, and Donald Trump. Yet as a new U.S.-Iran agreement takes shape, one of the defining legacies of Netanyahu’s tenure may be the gradual erosion of Israel’s bipartisan and general standing in Washington.
The irony is striking. For decades, Netanyahu built his political identity around being the indispensable guardian of Israel’s security and the foremost voice warning against Iran’s nuclear ambitions. Yet today, as the United States and Iran move toward a new agreement (or memory, Netanyahu finds himself increasingly isolated—not only from Democrats, but from the Republican president many assumed would stand firmly at his side.
The emerging Trump-Iran “agreement” appears deliberately narrow. Rather than attempting a grand regional realignment as the next stage of the Abraham Accords, it is fairly sparse on details, focusing on freedom of navigation through the Strait of Hormuz (including Iran’s demand to collect tolls from ships transiting Hormuz). Major questions remain unresolved, and the agreement leaves many of the most difficult issues to be addressed in future negotiations. Nevertheless, the Trump administration presents it as a framework to prevent Iran from obtaining a nuclear weapon while reducing regional tensions and reopening vital shipping lanes.
What is perhaps most notable is what the agreement does not seek to accomplish. Even Trump, who, unlike Netanyahu, often speaks the language of peace through dramatic diplomacy, has been content with incrementalism this time. His agreement focuses on the nuclear file and maritime security rather than on a comprehensive effort to remake the relationship between Israel and Iran that was severed after the 1979 Islamic Revolution. It reflects a distinctly Trumpian calculation: secure a headline, reduce immediate risks, and leave larger historical transformations for another day.
Netanyahu’s response has been sadly predictable. For decades, he has argued that any agreement with Iran is inherently dangerous. Yet his ability to influence American policy today is far weaker than it once was. That decline is not simply the result of changing circumstances. It is also the consequence of choices he made over many years, including recently the wars in Gaza and Lebanon, both of which have diminished his ability to effect policy, and which have left Israel’s greatest ally a bit, well, exhausted.
Netanyahu’s difficulties with Democratic presidents are well-documented. His relationship with Bill Clinton was strained almost from the beginning of the Clinton presidency. Clinton reportedly viewed Netanyahu as difficult and confrontational, even asking once rhetorically, “Who is the superpower here?” The tensions deepened during the Oslo years as Netanyahu positioned himself against the peace process that Clinton had invested enormous political capital in advancing.
With George W. Bush, Netanyahu found a more sympathetic partner. The post-9/11 focus on terrorism and the “war on terror” created significant strategic alignment between Washington and Jerusalem. Yet even during the Bush years, Netanyahu remained more comfortable speaking to American domestic audiences than nurturing the trust that underpins successful diplomacy.
The rupture became public during the Obama administration. Netanyahu’s 2015 speech to Congress opposing the JCPOA, delivered without any coordination with the White House, was unprecedented and insulting to the American president, and represented a watershed moment in the US-Israel relationship. For many Democrats, the speech crossed a red line. Opposition to the Iran deal became intertwined with partisan politics in a way that transformed how many Americans viewed Israel. Netanyahu may have won applause in the House chamber, but he accelerated a process that weakened Israel’s bipartisan support for years to come.
Relations with President Biden never fully recovered from those wounds. Although Biden repeatedly described himself as a Zionist, visited Israel personally after October 7, 2023, (consoling more bereaved families than Netanyahu did) and demonstrated an empathy that touched most Israelis, and maintained robust military and strategic support for Israel, the US-Israel relationship was burdened by disagreements over settlements, the government’s anti-democratic judicial reform, the destruction of Gaza, and Netanyahu’s extremist right-wing governing coalition. Trust, once damaged, proved difficult to restore.
The assumption among Netanyahu’s supporters was that Trump would be different. During Trump’s first term, that was largely true. Trump recognized Jerusalem as Israel’s capital, moved the U.S. embassy to the Holy City, recognized Israeli sovereignty over the Golan Heights, and brokered the Abraham Accords. No president had delivered more of Netanyahu’s public wish list. Ever.
Yet as journalist Ben Sales recently observed, one of the enduring mysteries of the Trump-Netanyahu relationship is whether Trump ultimately admires or resents Netanyahu. Trump’s approach to personal relationships has always been transactional. Loyalty is one-way and flows only so long as it serves his interests. Sales notes that Netanyahu’s challenge is that Trump can alternate between praise and frustration, support and distance, often with little warning.
That ambiguity matters.
Trump’s foreign policy is not Netanyahu’s. Trump’s instinct is short-term, transactional, and often toward making deals, creating a spectacle, and announcing declarations of success. Netanyahu’s instinct has often been principled, toward confrontation and deterrence, and toward emphasizing worst-case scenarios. Those differences were manageable when both leaders viewed their interests as aligned. They have become far more consequential when those interests have diverged.
The current Iran agreement illustrates that divergence. Trump appears interested in claiming an immediate diplomatic achievement. Netanyahu remains convinced that sustained pressure over the long haul is the only reliable strategy. For the first time in years, it is possible that Netanyahu could find himself not merely disagreeing with an American president but davka with a Republican president whose political coalition he has spent years cultivating.
This raises a profound strategic question for Israel.
If Netanyahu’s relationship with Trump deteriorates, what remains?
Netanyahu’s ability to rebuild trust with Democrats appears, shall we say, limited. Years of partisan identification have left deep scars and distrust. Younger Democratic voters are increasingly critical of Israeli government policies that flattened Gaza and resulted in the killing of tens of thousands of civilians despite the vicious attack by Hamas on 7 October 2023. Progressive activists view Netanyahu himself as a symbol of illiberal super-nationalism, and his open bromance with Trump is, to be mild, off-putting. Even many traditional Democratic supporters of Israel distinguish between support for Israel and support for Netanyahu and his governing coalition.
At the same time, Republicans increasingly support Israel through a partisan lens. That may seem advantageous in the short term, but it carries significant long-term risks. Israel’s greatest strategic asset in Washington has never been to secure support from only one party, but rather from both. Once the bipartisan consensus erodes, every election becomes a potential strategic earthquake.
The danger is not only diplomatic. Military aid, intelligence cooperation, diplomatic protection from the wrath of international institutions, and broader American public support all depend on sustaining a durable American consensus of support for the people and state of Israel. No Israeli prime minister, regardless of ideology, can afford to treat one half of the American political electorate as expendable.
Here, the story echoes the central lesson of Parashat Korach.
Korach’s rebellion is often understood as a struggle over authority, but at its heart, it is also a story about leadership distorted by personal ambition. Korach wraps his challenge in the language of principle, proclaiming that “all the community is holy.” Yet beneath the rhetoric lies Korach’s desire for personal power and status.
The Torah’s warning is not merely about rebellion. It is about leaders who are unable to distinguish between their own political identity and survival and the welfare of the community they claim to serve.
After thirty years at the center of Israeli politics, Netanyahu’s greatest challenge may be precisely this confusion. His political fortunes and Israel’s strategic interests have become so intertwined in public discourse that criticism of one is so often portrayed as criticism of the other.
But they are not identical.
A prime minister’s responsibility is not merely to appear strong before his political base. It is to strengthen the nation and the people as a whole over the long term. Sometimes that requires resisting short-term political incentives. Sometimes it requires investing in relationships that do not produce immediate electoral rewards. And sometimes it requires accepting that personal political victories can come at a nation’s cost.
The emerging Iran agreement will ultimately succeed or fail. Its provisions will prove sufficient or inadequate. Reasonable people can debate its merits.
What should concern Israelis and American Jews alike, however, is the broader reality the so-called “deal” exposes. Thirty years after Netanyahu first entered the Prime Minister’s Office, Israel finds itself with diminished influence among Democrats and uncertain influence even among Republicans. A relationship with the United States that once transcended partisan politics is increasingly marked by division.
That may prove to be one of the most consequential legacies of the Netanyahu era.
Like Korach, leaders can become convinced that their own political standing is synonymous with the identity and well-being of the people and state as a whole. The Torah reminds us that the leader and the nation are not the same. The challenge of good leadership is to know the difference before the ground shifts beneath their feet.
Shabbat Shalom.