On November 30, 2025, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu made a move that has no parallel in the country’s modern history: he submitted a 111-page request for a presidential pardon to President Isaac Herzog, while still on trial for bribery, fraud, and breach of trust. The request, five and a half years into his ongoing trial, arrived just weeks after former U.S. President Donald Trump personally urged Herzog—both in a speech before the Knesset and in a formal letter on White House letterhead—to "fully" pardon Netanyahu. The timing and nature of this plea have sent shockwaves through Israeli politics and society, raising urgent questions about the rule of law, the future of Israeli democracy, and the deeply polarized state of the nation.
Netanyahu’s request is anything but ordinary. Unlike previous pardon pleas, which typically follow a conviction and include an admission of guilt and expression of remorse, Netanyahu’s letter contains none of these. Instead, he frames himself as a statesman sacrificing personal interests for the greater good. Netanyahu argues that the criminal proceedings "harm Israel’s national interests, inflame divisions among the people, and divert attention from urgent security and diplomatic challenges." He points to his own record on Iran, the economy, and foreign policy as evidence of his indispensability. In a striking move, he does not admit any wrongdoing and repeats his confidence in a full acquittal.
According to Haaretz, Netanyahu’s maneuver is calculated: if President Herzog and the legal establishment grant clemency, Netanyahu could present it as an act of national reconciliation, potentially reshaping the political landscape. He might use the moment to assemble a unity government, moderate his coalition, or rehabilitate his image as a unifier—an image he’s struggled to maintain after years of polarization. Voters who might not otherwise support him could be swayed by the prospect of ending a saga that has gripped Israeli politics for years.
If, however, the president and courts reject the request, Netanyahu still manages to benefit politically. He can tell his loyal base, "I was ready to compromise for the sake of unity; they refused." This narrative, as reported by The Times of Israel, would deepen mistrust of the judiciary and energize his supporters, many of whom already view the legal proceedings as politically motivated.
Netanyahu’s refusal to consider retirement if pardoned is explicit. When asked directly whether he would step down in exchange for clemency, he replied simply, "No." In other words, he seeks a pardon without any admission of guilt, remorse, or exit from political life—no real accountability at all.
The strategic nature of the request is hard to ignore. As the country faces demands for an inquiry into the October 7 massacre, mounting economic strains, and diplomatic setbacks, Netanyahu’s pardon plea pushes these vulnerabilities off the public agenda. It becomes a powerful distraction, and whichever way the decision goes, he stands to gain: legitimacy if granted, proof of a "rigged" system if denied.
But critics see another motive behind the timing. As Ynet reported on December 15, 2025, Netanyahu’s pardon request was not about the burden of his criminal trial but rather an attempt to escape responsibility for the October 7 massacre. The article argues that his plea is aimed at absolving himself from accountability for that day’s tragic events, rather than the legal proceedings themselves.
Reactions across Israel’s political spectrum have been fierce. Opposition leaders—including Yair Lapid, Yair Golan, Naftali Bennett, and Gadi Eisenkot—have insisted that any pardon must be conditional on three elements: admission of wrongdoing, expression of remorse, and immediate retirement from political life. Their argument is simple: the rule of law and minimal accountability must be preserved, especially at the highest levels of government.
Within Netanyahu’s own coalition, the response could not be more different. Government ministers have praised the move as an act of "national responsibility," urging Herzog to "end the Netanyahu trial saga" and linking the pardon to healing societal divisions and advancing the government’s agenda. Echoing Netanyahu’s own appeal, they argue that the trial is hindering his ability to manage matters of national consequence.
Public opinion remains sharply divided. A recent Israel Democracy Institute poll found that 50% of Israelis oppose granting an unconditional pardon that would halt Netanyahu’s trial. Support for the pardon is concentrated almost entirely among right-wing voters, who form the backbone of Netanyahu’s political base. Interestingly, support for a pardon increases slightly if it is conditioned on Netanyahu’s retirement from politics, but even then, there is no clear plurality in favor or against. The numbers reveal not just polarization, but also widespread fatigue. Many Israelis, including some who oppose Netanyahu, are torn between the principle of equality before the law and a desire to bring the prolonged legal and political crisis to an end—a tension Netanyahu seems eager to exploit.
The legal terrain is no less fraught. As outlined in Israel’s Basic Law, the president is authorized to grant pardons and commute or reduce sentences for "offenders," with the custom being that pardons occur only after conviction. The only major exception in recent memory was then-President Chaim Herzog’s pre-conviction pardon of senior Shin Bet officials implicated in the 1986 killing of two Palestinian hijackers. But in that case, the officials admitted guilt and the pardon required the immediate resignation of the Shin Bet’s head. Netanyahu, by contrast, is seeking a pre-conviction pardon without admitting guilt, a scenario for which there is no legal precedent. Legal experts, including former Justice Ministry officials, have stated plainly that there is no mechanism for a mid-trial presidential pardon that simply halts proceedings; only a court verdict, plea bargain, or a decision by the attorney general can do that.
There’s also the unresolved question of what would happen to Netanyahu’s co-defendants if he were pardoned. This legal gray area only adds to the uncertainty and controversy swirling around the request.
Former Supreme Court President Aharon Barak recently offered a sobering diagnosis of the moment. Speaking at a public event on December 16, 2025, he warned that Israel is no longer the democracy it once was, describing a strategy of "flooding" in which "defenders of democracy build a dam to plug a hole, but there are countless holes… ultimately exhausting the public and the gatekeepers’ ability to protect democracy." Barak’s words capture the cumulative impact of repeated institutional pressures—on the courts, law enforcement, media, and now the presidency. Each controversy may seem technical or temporary, but together, they amount to a structural erosion of democratic norms.
Media reports, denied by Herzog’s office, have suggested that discussions about a possible pardon for Netanyahu took place even before Herzog assumed the presidency, including claims of back-channel understandings between the two. Even in the absence of concrete proof, the mere circulation of such rumors deepens public distrust and increases the risk that any presidential decision will be seen as politically tainted.
At its core, the debate over Netanyahu’s pardon request is about more than one man’s fate; it’s about the future of Israeli democracy. As legal scholars and opposition leaders argue, a mid-trial pardon without an admission of wrongdoing and Netanyahu’s retirement would formalize a two-tier legal system—one for ordinary citizens and another for a sitting prime minister who can evade judicial scrutiny by invoking "national unity." Israelis may long for an end to the legal and political chaos, but quiet at the expense of accountability would only further weaken the system. The stakes could hardly be higher.
