– Syed Azharuddin
Benjamin Netanyahu’s swagger, once defined by his claim to be the indispensable guardian of the “Jewish State,” is giving way to apologies, concessions, and desperate attempts to retain the support of allies. The illusion of invincibility that Israel projected for decades is collapsing under the weight of global rejection, internal dissent, and its own brutal conduct in Gaza. What was once framed as a struggle of “security” versus “terror” has been unmasked before the world as a prolonged occupation, and the mask is slipping faster than Netanyahu’s government can hold it in place.
The most striking example of this reversal came when Netanyahu was forced to apologise to Qatar’s Prime Minister Mohammed Bin Abdulrahman al-Thani after an Israeli strike on Doha. For a leader who has often dismissed Arab concerns and publicly scorned mediators, to now be compelled into contrition is nothing short of historic. Qatar, long viewed by Israel’s strategists as a manageable irritant, has emerged as a diplomatic centre of gravity in the Gaza crisis. This apology is not a footnote; it is a confession that even regional powers once dismissed as marginal now hold leverage over Tel Aviv.
Meanwhile, resistance is not only found in governments but in the streets and campuses of Europe. Student collectives across France, Italy, Germany, Belgium, the Netherlands and beyond have declared they will suspend classes if the flotillas en route to Gaza are blocked. This wave of academic civil disobedience recalls the university uprisings of the Vietnam era – reminding us that moral outrage among the young has the capacity to shift entire national discourses. These students are not just symbolic voices; they are the seedbed of a generational rejection of Israeli impunity. Their demand is simple yet powerful: allow humanitarian lifelines into Gaza or face mass disruption.
“The world is against Israel in a way it never, ever has been. That is huge.” Those words, spoken at ArabCon 2025 by journalist Rania Khalek, capture the zeitgeist. Israel is not merely criticised; it’s being isolated in ways its founders never imagined possible. The collapse of its information dominance is evident in its frantic attempt to curb dissent on TikTok, the very platform where images of Gaza’s devastation circulate unfiltered. What Tel Aviv once dismissed as “social media noise” has become a strategic battlefield, and Israel is losing badly. Attempts to shut down online resistance no longer look like control but desperation.
Nowhere is this isolation clearer than in the United States, Israel’s bedrock ally. Recent polls show American support for Israel has plummeted, particularly among younger voters. Once unquestionable bipartisan backing is being replaced with scepticism and, in many quarters, outright hostility. More Americans than ever view Israel’s military campaign in Gaza not as “self-defence” but as the reckless destruction of a trapped civilian population. The erosion of Israel’s American shield is not a passing trend but a seismic shift in political consciousness. For Netanyahu, this is an existential threat to the entire edifice of U.S.-Israel relations.
Yet recognition of Palestine by France, Britain, Canada, Portugal, Belgium, and other nations – once unimaginable in the Western bloc – raises another profound question: what has actually been achieved? Recognition without enforcement may offer moral satisfaction but does little to halt bombs or lift sieges. The deeper dilemma lies in justice, security, and accountability. Who will ensure Palestinians are not subjected to perpetual cycles of destruction? Who will provide security guarantees not only for Israelis but also for Gazans? And who will pay the immense human and economic costs of rebuilding what Israel has systematically destroyed? These unresolved questions hover like shadows over the bright announcements of recognition.
Into this void of clarity enters Donald Trump with his so-called 20-point Gaza ‘peace plan’. Ostensibly a roadmap to stability, it is in fact an attempt to reshape Gaza into a compliant protectorate while eliminating Hamas as a political force. The plan demands “demilitarisation,” external oversight, and the installation of a governance model tailored to Israeli security demands. Critics have rightly called it the end of Gaza by another name – a post-war structure designed not to empower Palestinians but to domesticate them. Strikingly, many Muslim-majority states have endorsed the plan, either out of fatigue, political expediency, or a desire to curry favour with Washington. Hamas, for its part, has yet to issue a formal response, aware that outright rejection may isolate it further but acceptance would undercut its legitimacy. This uneasy silence underscores the dangerous crossroads at which Gaza stands.
Outside diplomatic chambers, the people are refusing to be silenced. On October 2, solidarity protests erupted in more than 20 cities across the world, not only in support of Gaza but specifically against Israel’s blockade of the Sumud Flotilla. The imagery of boats defying Israel’s siege has galvanized movements from Latin America to South Asia. In an age when symbolism travels faster than diplomacy, the flotilla has become a moving emblem of defiance, inspiring demonstrations that governments cannot easily suppress. For Netanyahu, every ship that sails and every march that follows is a reminder that he is fighting not just Palestinians but a moral tide that no army can bomb into submission.
Inside Israel itself, Netanyahu is facing a political collapse. The situation in Tel Aviv has grown combustible, with mass protests not only against the Gaza war but against Netanyahu’s own leadership. Jews in Israel – ordinary citizens, opposition parties, even former security chiefs – are increasingly speaking the unspeakable: that the Prime Minister is driving the nation into ruin. Once-untouchable myths of unity and existential necessity are breaking down as more Israelis question whether this endless war has any horizon but disaster. Netanyahu, who for decades thrived on cultivating fear and division, now finds those tactics backfiring as his citizens demand accountability.
It is against this backdrop that Netanyahu’s vision of a “Greater Israel” meets its harshest reality check. The myth was built on two assumptions: that Israel could maintain military superiority indefinitely, and that diplomatic impunity would shield it from consequences. Both pillars are now cracking. The military superiority remains, but what does dominance mean when legitimacy is in freefall? Bombs can level buildings, but they cannot rebuild the global trust that Israel has squandered. Diplomatic cover, once guaranteed, now evaporates in the very halls of the UN, where walkouts, rebukes, and resolutions define Israel not as a model democracy but as a rogue state.
Even those countries traditionally aligned with the Palestinian cause – India, China, and Russia – have offered little more than muted statements, choosing geopolitical caution over moral clarity. Their silence is deafening, especially when smaller nations like Sri Lanka or leaders once demonised as “terrorists” in Syria speak with conviction for Gaza. This divergence exposes a harsh truth: not every government that professes solidarity will act upon it. But it also highlights that global public opinion has outpaced governments, creating a gap that no amount of silence from great powers can cover.
Netanyahu’s predicament, therefore, is not just political but existential. He is not merely losing votes or facing protests; he is losing the very architecture of immunity that has sustained Israel’s project for decades. Recognition of Palestine, civil resistance in Europe, declining U.S. support, defiant flotillas, internal dissent – all converge to create a storm that his traditional playbook cannot manage. Apologies to Qatar and censorship of TikTok are not strategies; they are signs of a leader trapped between collapsing legitimacy abroad and collapsing credibility at home.
The “Greater Israel” myth was always sustained by illusion: that time was on Israel’s side, that global opinion could be ignored, that force would silence memory. Today, those illusions are shattered. The world has not united because of sentimentality but because the human cost of Gaza has become unbearable to witness. Netanyahu stands exposed – not as a protector of his people but as the architect of a failing vision. His slide into isolation is not accidental; it is the natural consequence of decades of hubris colliding with a world finally demanding accountability.
The verdict is not yet sealed, but history is already drafting its judgment. For Netanyahu, the question is no longer whether he can secure “Greater Israel,” but whether he will be remembered as the leader who presided over its undoing.
