Mansour Abbas: A Lesson in Politics

In Israeli politics, Mansour Abbas’s name is on everyone’s lips. Abbas, the head of the United Arab List (Ra’am), also known as the “Islamic movement” with his almost sure 5 seats, poses a threat to Benjamin Netanyahu. He has the power to change the electoral balance and break the stalemate between the blocs. But he is no small headache for the opposition too. How can the opposition parties partner with an Arab party—especially the Islamic Movement—after the October 7 massacre? For his part, Abbas is doing everything he can to ease the opposition’s concerns and enable it to renew the partnership that led to the unfortunate short-lived (Naftaly) Bennett–(Yair) Lapid government (June 2021 – June 2022).

With forecasts about early elections taking place,  Abbas has been giving interviews to the Israeli media, announcing that his party, Ra’am, is severing ties with the Shura Council—the party’s spiritual authority—thereby transforming it from a religious party into a fully civic one.

To save what remains of Israeli democracy, defeating Netanyahu’s government in the next elections is an urgent historical necessity. Every democratic institution, without exception, is under attack by an extreme right wing, seeking to turn Israel into an illiberal democracy with strong theocratic tendencies. The Supreme Court has been cast as an enemy of the people; the opposition is portrayed as representing the old elites; and the media is accused of spreading lies and slander. There is little doubt that a right-wing victory would give Netanyahu a free hand to destroy what little remains of democracy—and absolve him entirely of responsibility for the disaster of October 7.

Replacing Netanyahu is a top-tier priority for Mansour Abbas too. He sees Netanyahu as responsible for the catastrophe afflicting Israel’s Arab population, as the spread of organized crime, protection, violence, and murder has turned Arab citizens’ lives into a living hell. Yet it turns out that reluctance to rely on the Arab vote is not limited to opposition parties; within the Arab parties themselves, there are those unwilling, under any circumstances, to join Zionist parties to form an alternative government.

In mid-December, at a conference organized by the Arab Center for Alternative Planning on re-establishing the Joint List, the heads of its components were present: Ahmad Tibi of Ta’al, Ayman Odeh of Hadash, Sami Abu Shehadeh of Tajamu, and Mansour Abbas of Ra’am. The Joint Arab List was formed in January 2015, as a way to by-pass the raising of the electoral threshold a year before.  Among the speakers of the conference, Abbas stood out—both for his candor and for the courage with which he stated the facts plainly, while in the process, slaughtering a few sacred cows.

The question facing Arab political leaders is simple: How do you bring about the replacement of Netanyahu’s government? The immediate answer is to rebuild the Joint List, win 15 seats, and thereby block Netanyahu from forming a government. But Mansour Abbas thinks differently:

“Yes, raising turnout is important, but the central question is: What kind of representation do we want in the Knesset? If we reach 20 seats but none of our Members of Knesset can influence a government—or bring it down and form another—what have we achieved? We will end up strengthening the growing trend in Arab society of (non-)participation in politics and push people toward boycotts and direct confrontation with the state.”

In other words, what Abbas is saying—correctly—is that blocking Netanyahu is not enough; one must work to form a better alternative government. Otherwise, we will again find ourselves in a situation where the Joint List wins 15 seats but fails to bring down the government. Abbas goes on to explain his position to his partners in the Arab parties: “All the injustices committed against us indeed invite unity among us, but the question is—what kind of unity, and along what political line? The line of active, influential political partnership—whether within a coalition or in government—is the heart of the debate, because it shapes our daily political discourse and practice.”

Unity, Abbas explains, is important, and so is the number of seats—but most important is how to give that unity substance so that it truly has impact and brings change. “I am leading a project of political partnership with the Jewish-Zionist public, and therefore I cannot speak in the same style as Sami Abu Shehadeh (from the nationalist Balad) or Ayman Odeh (from Hadash),” he clarifies. For Odeh and Abu Shehadeh, the “Jewish-Zionist public” is responsible for genocide, is racist, rejects any partnership with Arabs, and therefore must not be joined in a Zionist government or shared in responsibility for its actions.

This is a principled position, but it undermines the very political goal the Joint List now claims to pursue—toppling Netanyahu’s government. “Politics is not just slogans; it is the art of the possible,” Abbas replies, adding: “Every political project must be judged by its feasibility and applicability, not only by its moral nobility.” Abbas’s words reflect sound political logic: an electoral achievement has no meaning if it cannot be translated into political power.

Mansour Abbas’s position contains an important step toward breaking the wall which is separating Jewish and Arab societies in Israel. If the discourse truly changes, it would be a significant contribution not only to Israeli society, but to Arab society as well. Abbas recognizes that the experiment of the Joint List (2015), which won 15 seats, ended in failure, and that the isolationist, national rhetoric of the Arab leadership only contributed to the continued deterioration of Arab society itself.

Yet, the question remains: What is the nature of this political partnership with the “Jewish-Zionist” public? The Jewish public—at least the part currently in opposition—is not fighting today for narrowly “Zionist” values, but for universal ones: democracy, civil and gender equality, human rights, freedom of expression, and artistic freedom—values now facing an existential threat from the far right.

Is Mansour Abbas’ party, leaning on Islamic principles a genuine partner in defending democracy? Does the break from the Shura Council also entail a distancing from strict Islamic values? Asked about the army draft law of the Haredi population, tearing the Israeli society apart, Abbas responded elegantly that as a representative of a population that does not serve in the Army, he prefers not to take a position. Asked whether he supports a pardon for Netanyahu, he said he trusts the president’s judgment. Had he been asked about a state commission of inquiry concerning the disaster of the 7 of October, his answer would likely have been similar. This is a utilitarian partnership whose sole purpose—by Abbas’s own account—is to rescue Arab society from the dire state it has reached.

Yet while representatives of the Democratic Front (Hadash) and Balad voluntarily remove themselves from influencing the formation of the next government, it is far from certain that Mansour Abbas’ participation in a governing coalition would deliver the hoped-for outcome. Anyone unwilling to be a full partner in the struggle for liberal values will hardly work to instill them within Arab society. The values promoted by the Islamic Movement over the past forty years have fostered Arab society’s conservatism, isolating and deepening its gap with the Jewish society.

The Islamic Movement rests on clan structures and the preserving rigid family hierarchies, suppressing women, and denying artistic freedom. What is unfolding in Nazareth’s municipality today mirrors Arab society as a whole: crime families that have penetrated from the margins into the heart of weak, corrupt local government, turning society at large into a victim of violence and murder. There is not a single Arab citizen untouched by the anarchy and terror that have seeped into every corner. Budgets are essential for Arab society’s development, but without a change in values and a civic—rather than clan-based—outlook, there will never be genuine equality between Jews and Arabs. Arab society needs a social-moral revolution, and at present there is no leadership capable of leading such a change.

And yet, despite all of the above, Mansour Abbas’s position contains an important step toward breaking the wall which is separating Jewish and Arab societies in Israel. If the discourse truly changes, it would be a significant contribution not only to Israeli society, but to Arab society as well. Abbas recognizes that the experiment of the Joint List, which won 15 seats, ended in failure, and that the isolationist, national rhetoric of the Arab leadership only contributed to the continued deterioration of Arab society itself.

If Israeli society on the other hand values life, truly believes in democratic principles, and sees the defeat of the right-wing government as a national priority of the highest order, it must accept Mansour Abbas’s outstretched hand. Bringing Abbas into government carries significance beyond toppling a government: it would enable a civic-based dialogue between Jewish and Arab society—one that could bring profound change among both Jews and Arabs, to the benefit of all.