Netanyahu: Master of all or master of none? 

Benjamin Netanyahu has done it again—threaded the needle of Israel’s fractious politics with a move so sly it’s almost admirable. Today, he unleashed the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) on a fleet of Toyota jeeps in Gaza, vehicles he’s branded as rolling symbols of Hamas’s October 7, 2023, terror spree. The white pickups, famously used by Hamas gunmen to storm southern Israel, are now smoldering wrecks—courtesy of precision airstrikes. It’s a genius stroke, if you squint: appease the war hawks, dodge the endgame, and keep his prime ministerial perch intact. We see through it, sure—but damn if it doesn’t work.

The Jeep Trick: Symbols Over Substance

Picture this: IDF jets roaring over Gaza, zeroing in on Toyota jeeps—icons of that grim day when Hamas killed 1,200 and snatched 251 hostages. Netanyahu’s not wrong to call them symbols; footage from October 7 showed those rugged rides tearing across the border, guns blazing. Today’s bombings are a visceral nod to that trauma, a fiery “we’re doing something” for a nation still raw. And it’s a PR win—war footage of mangled jeeps plays well to a public baying for action, per polls showing most Israelis back pounding Hamas harder.

Yet it’s also a dodge. Destroying jeeps isn’t crushing Hamas’s tunnels or leadership—it’s a loud, flashy sidestep. Netanyahu’s betting the optics will quiet the clamor from his far-right flank, like Itamar Ben Gvir, the security minister who’d happily see Gaza flattened. Ben Gvir’s been pushing for all-out war, and the country’s mood—fed up with ceasefire wobbles—leans that way too. Netanyahu’s giving them red meat without committing to the full feast.

Risk-Averse Ruler: War Lite Keeps Him Alive

Here’s the kicker: Netanyahu doesn’t want this war—not the big one, anyway. He’s risk-averse, always has been. A full-scale escalation could end Hamas, sure, but it’d also end the war—and with it, his political lifeline. When the guns fall silent, the spotlight swivels to his corruption trials, his coalition’s cracks, and a public that’s soured on him since October 7’s security flop. Polls have long pegged him as toast post-conflict; war’s his shield, and he knows it.

So he bombs jeeps. It’s war enough to say, “Look, we’re hitting back,” but not enough to tip into the decisive clash Ben Gvir craves or the nation thinks it wants. He’s a maestro of half-measures—keeping the IDF busy, the hawks sated, and the ceasefire talks (those endless, fruitless chats) on life support. It’s not victory; it’s survival. And it’s working.

We See You, Bibi

Let’s not kid ourselves—we’re onto him. This isn’t about Hamas’s defeat; it’s about Netanyahu’s defiance of the inevitable. The jeep strikes are a middle finger to fate, a way to juggle Israel’s bloodlust with his own dread of the exit door. He’s making everyone happy—Ben Gvir gets his explosions, the public gets its vengeance, and he gets another day in the PM’s chair—without risking the all-in bet that could finish him.

It’s genius, really, how transparent it is. Netanyahu’s not hiding his game; he’s playing it in broad daylight. Bombing Toyota jeeps isn’t a strategy to win—it’s a tactic to not lose, not yet. And as Gaza’s dust settles over twisted metal, one thing’s clear: Bibi’s still in the picture, grinning through the smoke.