A few years ago, I urged MK Yuli Edelstein to do something that, in retrospect, Israel’s political leadership has still not done: say “no” to the Supreme Court.

Not reinterpret. Not delay. Not negotiate. Simply refuse.

At the time, the issue was procedural—a demand that the Speaker of the Knesset bring a matter to a vote. But the principle was far larger: who actually governs Israel—the elected representatives of the people, or an unelected judiciary that increasingly claims the final word on political decisions?

Edelstein, a man of uncompromising integrity and courage, was in a unique position to draw that line. He didn’t (for admirable reasons). And the line has continued to move ever since.

Over the past few decades, the Israeli Supreme Court has steadily expanded its authority beyond what was established in law or prior practice—often in ways that are highly unusual among democratic systems. Legal scholars such as Eugene Kontorovich have argued that the Court now exercises powers that go well beyond those typical of courts in comparable democracies. This evolution is closely associated with former Chief Justice Aharon Barak and what he himself called his “constitutional revolution.” (Full disclosure: my son Yonatan recently published a book on this subject, Rogue Justice, examining in detail the history and implications of that transformation.)

One of the central doctrines to emerge from this period is the idea that the Court may rule on the “reasonableness” of government decisions. In practice, critics argue, this doctrine has evolved into something far more sweeping: a judicial license to override political judgment. Former Justice Minister Daniel Friedmann, among others, has warned that the “reasonableness” standard allows judges to substitute their discretion for that of elected officials.

Related to this came the “Deri Doctrine,” under which the Court asserted the authority to determine who is fit to serve as a government minister—famously ordering Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin to dismiss Aryeh Deri while under indictment.

In most democratic systems, courts may review legality—but they do not substitute their judgment for that of elected officials on matters of political discretion. Israel’s departure from this norm lies at the heart of the current crisis.

Today, we are witnessing a further—and deeply troubling—extension of this logic. Petitions, sometimes brought by NGOs with no direct personal stake, seek to transform political disputes into legal ones. Supported at times by the State Attorney—whose increasingly activist role blurs the line between legal counsel and political intervention—these efforts now aim to compel Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu to dismiss National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir, despite the absence of any indictment, charge, or formal allegation of illegality.

On what legal basis can a court order the dismissal of a sitting minister who has not even been accused of a crime?

What exists instead is a doctrine that has evolved into a form of judicial veto over democratic choice. Scholars such as Moshe Koppel have argued that decisions about who serves in government are fundamentally political, and that turning them into legal questions risks distorting democratic choice. At some point, that distortion becomes something more serious: a transfer of power from voters to judges.

Even scholars who support robust judicial review acknowledge the tension. As Yoav Dotan and others have noted, democracy depends on both majority rule and institutional checks—but it cannot function properly when unelected bodies dominate elected ones.

Supporters of judicial intervention argue that it serves as a necessary safeguard against abuses of power. That concern is real, and it deserves to be taken seriously. But safeguards must themselves operate within clear legal boundaries. When courts move beyond questions of legality into questions of political judgment, they cease to be a check on democracy and begin to replace it.

This is not merely a legal debate. It is a question of responsibility—of leadership, and of duty.

The Prime Minister, the minister in question, and the Knesset as a whole face a moment of decision. Their obligation is not only to govern, but to defend the authority entrusted to them by the public. When unelected institutions exceed their mandate, elected officials have not just the right but the duty to say so—clearly, firmly, and without apology.

They should state, unequivocally: absent illegality, the composition of the government is a political matter. It is determined by elected representatives, and ultimately by the electorate itself. Voters—not judges, not legal advisers, and not NGOs—decide whom to support, whom to reject, and whom to hold accountable.

Would this provoke a constitutional crisis? That question misunderstands the moment. Israel is already in a constitutional crisis—one in which authority has steadily shifted from elected officials to unelected institutions, without clear legal foundation and without public consent.

The real question is whether anyone will finally fulfill their responsibility and say: enough.

This is not about support for Netanyahu or Ben-Gvir, nor about their policies. It is about the structure of Israeli democracy itself—and whether that structure still reflects the will of the people. Analyses from institutions such as The Israel Democracy Institute reflect the broader reality of an ongoing struggle over the balance of power between the judiciary and elected officials in the legislative and executive branches.

Either Israel is governed by its voters—or it is governed by its judges.

There is no middle ground.

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)