Trust is not a matter of “chemistry” between people. In relations between the political and military leadership, trust is a basic prerequisite for the functioning of the security establishment in a democratic government. Three decades of mutual suspicion, dating back to Benjamin Netanyahu’s first term in office, demonstrate that the problem is not merely the conduct of generals or politicians. It lies in the ongoing erosion of the space for dialogue in which professional disagreement is supposed to take place under civilian authority. Netanyahu’s remarks on “The Patriots” on August 30, 2026, illustrate just how deep the rupture is, and how much it continues to shape his perception of the military and his relationship with it.
The Israeli discussion of the crisis in relations between the political and military leadership tends to focus on the most recent breaking points that remain fresh in the public’s memory: the 2023 protests against the judicial overhaul, threats of refusal to serve, or threats by reservists to stop volunteering for service, the October 7 massacre, disputes during the “Iron Swords” war, or the resignation of IDF Chief of Staff Herzi Halevi.
Yet such an approach misses the more troubling phenomenon of an accumulated crisis of trust.
Its roots go back at least to the mid-1990s. To a large extent, Benjamin Netanyahu’s first term as prime minister, which began in 1996, is a central starting point for understanding it. Netanyahu entered the Prime Minister’s Office carrying with him a suspicious view of parts of the security establishment. From his perspective, the military was not merely a professional body subordinate to the government. The military, or at least parts of its senior command, was perceived as deeply involved in the Oslo process, broadly identified with it, and even as having contributed to its public legitimacy. Netanyahu therefore saw the military leadership as opposed to the political leadership and as a force eroding the public legitimacy of both himself and his political doctrine.
This was not entirely surprising. In 1994, even before Netanyahu’s first term, Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin appointed Deputy Chief of Staff Amnon Lipkin-Shahak to head the Israeli negotiating delegation with the Palestinians. In doing so, the military became, directly and indirectly, a partner in a political process that was highly controversial in both public and political circles. Rabin trusted the military more than other elements of the state establishment. Moreover, in his view, the considerations guiding the formulation of the agreement had to be security considerations, which is why he preferred military officers over civilians. He found common ground with the officers, trusted their commitment and ability to execute decisions, and saw them as the means of safeguarding Israel’s security interests, which, in his view, were paramount. In addition, the military enjoyed an exceptional level of public standing in Israel and was therefore also an important source of legitimacy. Yet the very use of the military as a source of legitimacy for a political process contributed to blurring the boundary between the military and the political arena.
From Netanyahu’s perspective, the result was significant: if the military is involved in a political process to which he objects, and if senior officers are identified with that process and with the political elite that supports it, then the boundary between the “professional” and the “political” becomes blurred.
From the Oren Shachor Affair to October 7
The affair involving Maj. Gen. Oren Shachor in 1996–1997 illustrated to Netanyahu the danger as he saw it. Shachor, who was involved in the negotiating team with the Palestinians on behalf of the government and managed civilian coordination with the Palestinian Authority in his capacity as Coordinator of Government Activities in the Territories, met with Shimon Peres and briefed him on the progress of the negotiations. The affair ended with his removal from the team and, subsequently, his departure from the IDF. In Netanyahu’s eyes, the affair reinforced the suspicion that the senior command was not merely a professional body implementing policy, but could possess an independent political affiliation.
In Netanyahu’s view, the pattern subsequently reappeared in various forms.
In 2012, amid discussions over a possible attack on Iran, senior figures in the security establishment opposed the policy attributed to Netanyahu. When some of the disagreement reached the public through leaks to the media, and when a meeting between Mossad Director Meir Dagan and his counterparts, and apparently also senior officials in the U.S. administration, came to light, in which he was effectively urging them to thwart Netanyahu’s intentions while warning of their dangerous consequences, Netanyahu’s perception that the opposition could be interpreted not merely as professional disagreement but as political action intended to thwart his policy became stronger.
In 2015–2016, disagreements emerged over how to deal with terrorism during the Stabbing/Lone-Wolf Intifada of 2015–2016, as well as over the Elor Azaria affair. Here too, professional disagreement was infused with broader political and ideological significance.
In 2023, during the crisis surrounding the judicial overhaul, the arena changed, but the pattern did not necessarily. When reservists announced that they would stop volunteering for service, and when the military struggled, or was perceived as unwilling, to confront them, parts of the political right interpreted this as military intervention in a political struggle. The crisis of trust was no longer limited to intelligence, security policy, or situational assessments. It touched on the most fundamental question: Is the military loyal to the elected government, or does it see itself as bearing a broader responsibility to defend the character of the state, as a guardian of the gate?
October 7 deepened the rupture. But here too, it is important to avoid a simplistic explanation. The October 7 attack exposed serious failures within the security establishment, but it also raised questions concerning the responsibility of the political leadership: What did it know? What did it ask? To what extent was it involved in force buildup, in the strategy toward Hamas, and in ensuring alignment between political objectives and military policy?
In other words, the question is not, “Is the military to blame or is the government to blame?” The question is what mechanism of relations between the two echelons allowed the system to reach the point of failure, and how the crisis of trust affected its ability to learn from it.
No Trust, No Disagreement
Most of the classical literature dealing with the relationship between the civilian and military spheres (civil-military relations) focuses on authority, control, oversight, autonomy, or gaps between the military and society. The concept of trust does appear, particularly in Douglas Bland’s theory of “shared responsibility,” but in most cases trust is treated as an outcome, a dependent variable, or at most a kind of “climate variable.” Trust, particularly a crisis of trust that develops over time, is not treated as an independent variable, as an explanatory or even causal factor.
Trust between the two echelons does not mean that the political leadership must agree with the military, nor does it mean that the military must agree with the political leadership. In fact, a system in which everyone agrees all the time is a system that does not engage in genuine professional debate. Trust means that each side is able to assume that the other is acting in good faith within the framework of its role. The political leadership must assume that the military presents it with the professional truth, even when that truth is inconvenient. The military must assume that the political leadership does not seek to use it for political purposes, will not shirk its responsibility, and will stand behind the decisions it has made. When trust exists, disagreement is possible. When trust disappears, disagreement itself becomes evidence of disloyalty. This is precisely the point at which the relationship enters a downward spiral.
When the political leadership does not trust the military, it may interpret professional information through a political lens: “They are trying to thwart me,” “They want to influence policy,” “They think they know better.”
When the military does not trust the political leadership, it may assume that politicians are unable or unwilling to take responsibility for their decisions. The erosion of trust undermines the very essence of shared responsibility as an organizing concept in relations between the two echelons. In such circumstances, the military may expand its discretion, rely more heavily on informal communication channels, or present its position publicly, in a manner perceived as, and reflecting, criticism of the political leadership or reservations about its actions, and as an attempt to “secure” an insurance policy in case the political leadership fails to uphold the principles of shared responsibility and refuses to back the military echelon in the event of failure.
The principle is this: the political leadership holds the authority to make decisions; the military leadership is obligated to present its professional position even when it conflicts with that of the political leadership. This is an “unequal dialogue” , not equality in authority, but openness in the discussion.
Shared Responsibility Is Not Blurred Responsibility
Douglas Bland proposed viewing relations between the two echelons as a system in which both sides share responsibility for controlling the military and for the outcomes of military action. This does not mean that their responsibilities are identical. The political leadership is responsible for setting political objectives, providing direction, and defining the objectives of military action in a way that serves the political goals; the military leadership is responsible for professional execution, warning, and presenting alternatives and risks.
The problem begins when one side seeks to enjoy the benefits of authority without bearing the cost of responsibility. The political leadership cannot say, “The military proposed it, so the responsibility lies with them,” if it itself made the decision and approved the resources and policy. The military cannot say, “It was a political decision,” if it failed to present the full professional implications in real time and warn of the risks.
This leads to an important distinction: shared responsibility is not the distribution of blame. It is the sharing of responsibility and the political leadership’s backing of the military echelon, including in the event of failure.
Netanyahu in 2026: The Crisis of Trust as a Perceptual Stance
The significance of Netanyahu’s remarks in an interview on the Channel 14 program “The Patriots” on August 30, 2026, lies not only in what was said about one event or another. Their significance lies in the fact that they reflect the way the prime minister still interprets his relationship with the security establishment.
During the interview, as reflected in the program’s recording and reports of his remarks, Netanyahu presented a picture in which senior figures in the security establishment believed they knew better than the political leadership how to act, and criticized the notion that civil servants and generals are entitled to place themselves above elected officials. In the context of October 7, he also linked this to the decision by former Shin Bet chief Ronen Bar not to wake him, out of concern that information about the developments would lead to a “miscalculation.”
This is a clear expression of a deep crisis of trust, because the interpretation is not merely that a professional decision was wrong. It assumes the possibility of a relationship in which the professional echelon does not merely make mistakes, but may act on the assumption that it is entitled to withhold information or a decision from the elected leadership because it believes it knows better.
This claim deserves substantive discussion rather than automatic dismissal. But even if one accepts Netanyahu’s concern about the autonomy of security officials, it raises the opposite question: How did a situation arise in which the political and military leadership reached such a profound level of distrust that each side is capable of interpreting the other’s actions as having political significance?
Both Sides Bear Responsibility
The discussion would be incomplete if it placed responsibility for the crisis of trust solely on the military.
Over the years, successive Israeli governments, including Netanyahu governments, expanded the military’s practical autonomy in areas where the political leadership should have been more deeply involved. This is particularly evident in the formulation of IDF strategy and in the military’s force-building processes.
The publication of the “IDF Strategy” documents in 2015 and 2018 illustrated a situation in which the military was required to formulate its own concept of force employment and the relationship between threat, force, and policy, because the political leadership did not always provide the necessary strategic direction. In 2018, greater political involvement was even explicitly called for in order to prevent a situation in which the political leadership would later evade responsibility and claim that it had not been familiar with the military’s capabilities and their implications. The severe military failure on October 7 abruptly magnified the problems associated with the changes made over the years to IDF strategy, from a strategy of decisive victory to one of deterrence and containment.
The “Momentum” plan of then-IDF Chief of Staff Aviv Kochavi also illustrated the paradox: the military was required to formulate long-term concepts and plans, while political involvement in the process was not always sufficient.
In other words, there are two opposing dynamics at work here: on the one hand, Netanyahu fears excessive military influence; on the other hand, the political leadership has, over time, allowed the military significant latitude in shaping military doctrine, building its capabilities, and carrying out tasks that are not clearly military in nature.
This is the paradox of Israel’s crisis of trust: the political leadership fears military autonomy, yet at times creates the conditions for that very autonomy.
The popular call to “restore trust between the two echelons” sounds right, but it is not enough. Trust cannot be merely an emotional objective, nor can it be built through public declarations; a system must be created in which trust is the result of institutional behavior.
The political leadership needs to be more involved in strategy and force building. The military needs to be more committed to professional transparency and to respecting the boundaries of political action. Both sides need to recognize that disagreement between them is part of the system, not a malfunction that must be eliminated. In other words: what is needed is not a system in which the two echelons trust each other because they like each other. What is needed is a system in which they can trust each other because the rules of the game are clear and anchored in appropriate legislation.
Four Steps to Restore the Space for Dialogue Between the Echelons
Alongside a deeper internalization of the concept of shared responsibility, a clear understanding of the essence of civilian oversight by the political leadership over the military leadership, and an update of the existing legislation (the 1976 Military Law) that clarifies the subordination of the military echelon to the political echelon and defines the powers of the political leadership, including appointment and dismissal powers, the challenge is to create a system in which at least four key principles are implemented:
- Involvement in Strategic Decisions
The government and the cabinet must be systematically involved in shaping strategic objectives, force building, and setting priorities. - Allow Professional Disagreement
The matter should be regulated so that the IDF Chief of Staff and the heads of the security establishment can independently present their positions to the political leadership. Such a position may be contrary to that of the political leadership, but it must be presented within the framework of a closed professional discussion. The political leadership may not portray the position of the security establishment as disloyalty or as any form of defiance, but it is certainly entitled not to accept it. - Prevent the Politicization of the Military
Both systems have a responsibility to prevent professional disagreements from being presented as political disputes. A healthy system should be one in which discussions take place and the positions of the security establishment are heard, while it is clear from the outset in which areas the political leadership makes the decisions and the security establishment carries them out. - Build a Mechanism of Responsibility and Learning
A space for open dialogue, free of hierarchy, should be created to enable strategic learning, build a shared conceptual foundation, and generate the knowledge required to ensure the ability to align military action with political objectives. The political leadership must have a close understanding of the military’s capabilities alongside its limitations, while the military echelon must understand the political doctrine of the political leadership and its directives. Such a space for dialogue also enables analysis following a strategic failure, during which the entire chain of decision-making must be examined: What did they know? What was presented? What was asked? What was decided? And what was carried out? Such an examination must distinguish between professional responsibility, command responsibility, and political responsibility.
A Principled Solution, Not a Personal One
The crisis of trust between Netanyahu and the security establishment may end when the people involved are replaced. But if that is all that happens, Israel will miss the truly important lesson, because the problem is deeper than Netanyahu, even though he is a central actor in it. The problem concerns the essence of shared responsibility as an organizing concept in relations between the two echelons, and the structure of relations between a democratic state and a powerful military in a society where the military plays such a central role, where the boundaries between civilian and military society are permeable, and where senior officers sometimes move from the military into politics.
Under such circumstances, trust is a strategic resource. When it exists, it allows the military to tell the government things it does not want to hear, and the government to make decisions the military does not like, without either side interpreting disagreement as disloyalty or betrayal, and while allowing shared responsibility to be fulfilled. When trust erodes, every piece of information becomes suspect, every disagreement acquires political significance, and every failure becomes a struggle over responsibility. This is precisely what must not happen.
The Bottom Line
The crisis in relations between Israel’s political and military leadership did not begin on October 7, nor will it end with the replacement of the IDF Chief of Staff or the prime minister. It developed over three decades of complex interactions, in which the military was sometimes perceived as a professional body and at other times as a political actor; in which the political leadership demanded absolute loyalty from the military, but at times transferred to it responsibilities and powers extending beyond the realm of military activity; and in which every crisis further deteriorated the essential relationship between the security establishment and the elected leadership.
Netanyahu’s remarks on August 30, 2026, are important precisely because they show that the suspicion is not merely a historical memory. It remains part of his perception of his relationship with the security establishment.
But even if one accepts his criticism of the danger posed by military autonomy, this should not lead to the conclusion that it is legitimate to silence the positions of the security establishment; quite the opposite.
The path to restoring political authority runs precisely through opening the space for professional dialogue. A military that is not permitted to disagree with the government is not a professional military. A government that does not oversee the military and does not define its objectives is not a responsible government. The proper system, therefore, is one of clear civilian supremacy alongside open professional dialogue; civilian oversight alongside trust; and legitimate disagreement alongside shared responsibility.
This is the true test of state-military relations in Israel: the challenge is not to create agreement between the systems, but to create a system in which the parties are capable of disagreeing without undermining the relationship of trust between them, and certainly without harming what matters most: safeguarding democracy and safeguarding the security of the state.
