The Israeli Left’s Protest Addiction

Israel’s protests are back, but they’re not what they say they are. The sad reality is that Israeli leftists are marching against irrelevance, not war.

photo: Yoav Aziz/Unsplash

Please consider supporting our mission to help everyone better understand and become smarter about the Jewish world. A gift of any amount helps keep our platform free of advertising and accessible to all.

---

This is a guest essay by Vanessa Berg, who writes about Judaism and Israel.

You can also listen to the podcast version of this essay on Apple Podcasts, YouTube Music, YouTube, and Spotify.

---

On Saturday night in Tel Aviv’s Habima Square, about a thousand Israelis gathered under the banner of “anti-war” protest. They came despite Home Front Command restrictions, despite a High Court of Justice compromise capping attendance at 600 people, and despite the very real threat underscored minutes later, when sirens sent them rushing into underground shelters as projectiles were fired from Yemen.

This is what protest looks like in Israel in 2026: not theoretical, not symbolic, but unfolding in real time under the pressure of war.

And yet, for all the urgency and drama, something about these protests feels fundamentally misnamed. Because these are not anti-war protests; they are anti-government protests.

And that’s a perfectly legitimate thing to be in a democracy. But it is not the same thing. And pretending otherwise is not just misleading; it’s manipulative, even gaslighting.

The “protest” movement today is less a campaign for justice than a therapy session for the humiliated. Its gatherings are rituals of denial, where the defeated drape their loss in moral costume and call it virtue. They are not protesting the war; they are protesting the unbearable feeling of belonging to a losing cause. And protesting makes them feel like noble losers.

By pretending to be “anti-war,” Israeli leftists can feel both pure and brave. They can perform morality without risk, absolve themselves of responsibility, and channel moral anxiety into spectacle. They can rage without reforming themselves. Once that emotional frame is set, facts about governance, strategy, and survival no longer matter. “Anti-war” becomes a symbol, not a society; a mirror for guilt, not a reality to be examined.

And so they protest. They march not toward change but toward catharsis. Each rally, each megaphone, each chant, each poster is a small act of psychic repair, an attempt to turn the shame of failure into the pride of rebellion. They form a community of the defeated: a movement of people who mistake moral noise for moral courage.

This is why the protests grow louder as their substance grows thinner. When reality no longer cooperates, shouting becomes the last refuge. The “anti-war” activists need the protest not because it achieves anything, but because it keeps despair at bay. It transforms helplessness into identity. It allows them to keep losing while feeling noble about it. They are addicted to the drama of defeat — a performance that spares them from introspection. They need Israel’s Right-wing politicians to play their role: the eternal villain against whom their moral narratives make sense.

So, no, the “anti-war” protesters are not protesting this war. They are protesting their own irrelevance. They are raging against a future that has already arrived, one in which Jewish sovereignty is normal, permanent, and thriving. Their protests are the noise of an increasingly irrelevant Israeli Left, a last attempt to sanctify failure by calling it resistance. They march not for justice, but for the lost illusion of supremacy. They shout not because they are strong, but because they cannot bear silence; for in silence, they might hear the truth — that the vast majority of Israelis support this war.

---

To call these demonstrations “anti-war” is to suggest that the protesters are opposing the very existence of the war itself: that they reject the necessity of military action, that they believe Israel should not be fighting, or that there is a viable alternative to confronting the threats it faces.

But that is not what most of these protesters are actually saying. They are not proposing a coherent alternative strategy for dealing with enemies who are actively attacking Israeli civilians. They are not offering a roadmap to peace in a region where war has repeatedly been imposed, not chosen. What they are doing loudly, passionately, and consistently is protesting the government: its leadership, its policies, its priorities, and its handling of the war.

Again, that is their right. But then say that. Say you are protesting the government. Say you oppose the prime minister. Say you distrust the coalition. Say you want different leadership, different strategy, different outcomes.

That is honest. That is democratic. That is clear.

What is not honest is to wrap all of that in the language of “anti-war,” as if the issue is war itself rather than who is prosecuting it. Because that framing does something subtle but powerful: It positions the protesters on the moral high ground by default. Who, after all, is for war? Who wants more violence, more missiles and rockets, more days and nights spent running to shelters?

It creates a false binary between those who are “anti-war” and those who are not, when in reality, nearly every Israeli would choose peace over war in a heartbeat. The difference is not between those who want war and those who don’t. It is between those who believe this war is necessary and those who oppose the way it is being fought, or the people fighting it.

And when that distinction is blurred, it begins to feel less like messaging and more like gaslighting. Especially in a moment like this. Because while protesters were chanting in Habima Square, the sirens were not theoretical. They were real. People ran for cover. A man in his 50s collapsed in a shelter and had to be resuscitated by emergency teams before being rushed to the hospital.

This is not a metaphorical war. It is not a debate club. It is not a campus demonstration thousands of miles removed from consequence. It is happening.

So if you are going to protest in the middle of it — if you are going to gather in defiance of safety restrictions, strain emergency infrastructure, and challenge the state’s authority in a time of active threat — then the least you can do is be honest about what you are protesting.

We saw this months ago during the protests for the hostages held in Gaza: the same sleight of hand, portraying the rallies as campaigns to secure the hostages’ release, when in reality they were little more than anti-government demonstrations dressed up in moral rhetoric.

---

In a democracy, there is already a mechanism for what you are trying to achieve. It’s called an election.

The current Israeli government did not seize power. It was voted into office by a majority of Israelis. Seventy-one percent of Israelis voted; Netanyahu’s bloc went on to win 64 of the 120 seats.

That does not make his government beyond criticism, and it certainly does not make it immune from protest. But it does mean something important: The ultimate protest is not in the streets, it is at the ballot box.

And another election is coming later this year. If certain Israelis believe this government is failing, they can vote to replace it. If they believe its approach to the war is wrong, they can vote for those who offer a different one. If they believe the country needs a new direction, they can persuade their fellow citizens and win.

That is how democracies resolve these issues — not by rebranding political opposition as moral absolutism, but by making arguments, building coalitions, and earning a mandate.

Protest has its place. It always has. It can raise awareness, apply pressure, and give voice to dissent. But it should not obscure reality. These protesters are not protesting war. They are protesting the government.

And if they believe in their cause, they shouldn’t need to pretend otherwise.

---