Netanyahu’s Circus Act—Now with Extra Smoke and Mirrors

Dear Reader,

Just when you thought Israeli politics couldn’t get more exhausting, Benjamin “I’m Still Here” Netanyahu proves us wrong again. Like a magician who’s been pulling the same tired rabbit out of the same sweaty old hat for 30 years, Bibi keeps taking center stage, insisting that the world hasn’t caught onto his trick. Spoiler: we have.

Let’s start with the obvious—Netanyahu is the Houdini of accountability. Indicted on charges of corruption? No problem! He just pivots, squints dramatically, and shouts “security threat!” louder than anyone else in the room. Suddenly the headlines move from “Prime Minister under investigation for bribery” to “Nation must rally behind its fearless leader in times of danger.” Convenient timing, don’t you think? A cynic might say that rockets and indictments are the peanut butter and jelly of his political sandwich.

Of course, Netanyahu loves to style himself as Israel’s indispensable man—the only one standing between civilization and chaos. In reality, he’s more like that houseguest who’s overstayed his welcome by a decade, raiding the fridge and leaving dirty dishes in the sink while telling you he’s doing you a favor.

What about his “democratic reforms”? Oh, you mean his carefully choreographed demolition of Israel’s judiciary—the very system designed to keep him (and everyone else) in check. He pitches it as a “necessary correction.” Translation: How dare those pesky judges threaten my ability to rule indefinitely while dodging accountability? Democracy, in Netanyahu’s world, means “as long as I win.”

Let’s not ignore his talent for international showboating. Give Bibi a podium, a graphic of a cartoon bomb, and a felt-tip marker, and suddenly he’s Professor Doom, lecturing the United Nations like a cranky uncle at Thanksgiving. He doesn’t need facts—he has props. He’s the political version of a YouTuber waving red string on a corkboard. Meanwhile, back home, people are struggling with housing costs, wages, and the small matter of living in a society being hollowed out from the inside. But who cares about domestic policy when there’s an opportunity to mug for cameras abroad?

And then there’s his favorite hobby: cozying up to every far-right extremist he can find. The man collects authoritarians like some people collect commemorative spoons. Orban? Bestie. Trump? Soulmate. Putin? Complicated bromance. If democracy is the party, Netanyahu is the guy in the corner exchanging phone numbers with the arsonists.

His crowning achievement, though, may be convincing a weary Israeli public that there simply is no alternative. That’s the Bibi special: manufacture enough crises, deadlock the system, and then declare yourself the only adult in the room. It’s like burning down your own house, then charging your neighbors rent to stay in the shed out back.

Of course, Netanyahu’s defenders will insist he’s a “strong leader,” which in their dictionary translates to “arrogant, manipulative, and incapable of admitting he’s wrong.” They’ll point to his longevity as proof of genius. By that logic, a cockroach surviving the apocalypse is a statesman.

Here’s the truth: Israel doesn’t suffer from a lack of leadership—it suffers from too much of one man’s ego. Netanyahu is not Israel’s savior; he’s its self-appointed king, the monarch of manufactured crises. And like all monarchs, he clings desperately to his throne, convinced the kingdom will crumble without him. In reality, it might finally have a chance to breathe.

So the next time Bibi stands onstage, wagging his finger and warning that only he can save the nation, remember: you’re watching a man terrified of irrelevance. Strip away the smoke, mirrors, and cartoon bombs, and you’re left with a politician who’s built his empire on fear, distraction, and a refusal to exit gracefully.

And then, of course, we arrive at the unspeakable tragedy he’s desperately trying to rebrand as “defense.” Let’s be blunt: Netanyahu’s Gaza campaign has morphed into a humanitarian catastrophe that the world calls genocide—while he insists it’s just “security.” Entire neighborhoods reduced to rubble, families wiped out in minutes, aid trucks blocked or delayed while children starve. Somehow in Netanyahu’s dictionary, collective punishment is redefined as “self-preservation.” The audacity of lecturing the world about morality while dropping bombs on refugee camps would be laughable if it weren’t so grotesque.

And let’s not forget his war on truth itself. Netanyahu’s government has treated journalists in Gaza like they’re enemy combatants, not witnesses. Reporters, photographers, media crews—they’ve been killed in staggering numbers. Their crime? Daring to document the reality that Bibi would prefer stay hidden. When cameras catch the rubble, the funerals, the crying children, suddenly they become “terror sympathizers.” It’s the oldest trick in the authoritarian playbook: silence the storytellers, and maybe the story itself will disappear. But it doesn’t.

Netanyahu may imagine himself untouchable, but history doesn’t forget leaders who bomb civilians and target journalists. It remembers them exactly for what they are: cowards afraid of the truth.

Netanyahu’s act isn’t leadership. It’s theater. Bad theater. The kind with recycled props, forced drama, and an actor who doesn’t know when to leave the stage.

And honestly, the curtain can’t fall soon enough.

Julie Bolejack, MBA

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