Netanyahu often revels in rhetoric suggesting that he is the emissary of a “spiritual/hidden force” that supports and empowers him to achieve his vision of a “New Middle East”—a euphemism for Greater Israel. He has repeatedly tied his so-called “mission” to the outcomes of the war on the Lebanese front, exuding confidence as if carrying a “guarantee card” from that hidden force, alongside a map of this so-called “New Middle East.” This illusion serves as Netanyahu’s “soothing balm” for the deep Israeli wound inflicted since October 7, 2023. However, even among his own political camp, particularly the more moderate and rational voices, many see this vision as a utopian fantasy—akin to “milking a bird,” as the Arabic proverb suggests.
Since Israel’s defeat in the 1973 October/Ramadan War, it has failed to achieve any significant victories—except against civilians and refugee camps. More than 15 months of brutality have left it struggling in a refugee camp the size of Jabalia and mere villages in southern Lebanon. Yet, Israel continues to speak brazenly about its dissatisfaction with “Little Israel” and its aspirations to realize its “Greater Israel” vision under the guise of the New Middle East.
As the saying goes, “constant dripping wears away the stone.” Within Israel, journalists and commentators have been tirelessly pushing this demagoguery, embedding it into the extremist populist right-wing mindset. They boldly claim that the “post-Hezbollah era” will serve as Israel’s gateway to reshaping the Middle East into a “peaceful region”—one that would manage conflicting interests either voluntarily or under Israel’s iron fist.
This ambitious thinking is nothing new. After the Gulf War in 1991, the Oslo Accords in 1993, and the Arab Spring in 2011, Israeli experts similarly propagated utopian scenarios. The most famous among them was Shimon Peres’s vision in his book The New Middle East, written in the 1990s. However, Israeli thinker Ephraim Inbar later dismissed Peres’s vision as “nonsense.”
For a while, this grandiose discourse—armed with religious justifications and arrogance backed by military power—receded into Israel’s “collective unconscious.” This was largely due to a calculated, gradual softening in the region since the 1970s, aimed at integrating Israel as a “normal” state. That is, until the Al-Aqsa Flood operation disrupted normalization efforts, derailing everything and scattering Israel’s plans alongside the bodies of Gaza’s victims buried under the rubble.
However, an image of an Israeli soldier taken during operations in Gaza in June 2024 reignited fury across the Arab world. The soldier was seen wearing an insignia featuring a map of Greater Israel—reminiscent of Theodore Herzl’s century-old declarations. The map stretched from the Nile to the Euphrates, encompassing Medina, Lebanon, Syria, and all of Jordan.
What triggered Arab outrage this time was not just the existence of the plan, but its blatant visibility on social media. In early 2024, Israeli politician Avi Lipkin had also made inflammatory remarks, stating in a recorded speech: “Eventually, our borders will stretch from Lebanon to the Sahara Desert, and from the Mediterranean to the Euphrates.” He then added: “And who lies beyond the Euphrates? The Kurds! And the Kurds are our friends. So we have the Mediterranean behind us, the Kurds in front of us, and Lebanon, which truly needs Israel’s protective umbrella. After that, I believe we will take over Mecca, Medina, and Mount Sinai, and cleanse those places.”
At the time, this outrageous statement failed to provoke widespread backlash—likely because the war was still in its early, euphoric stage for Israel. The initial collapse of Israel’s “invincible state” myth and the growing sentiment of a Gazan victory left little room for concern over such delusions. Many in the Arab world began to sense that a different Middle East was emerging—one that might exclude Israel altogether.
The Revival of the Greater Israel Myth
The Greater Israel/New Middle East project gained renewed traction following Netanyahu’s tactical successes in the initial stages of his war on Hezbollah—particularly in assassinating key political, security, and field commanders. While Israeli territorial expansion, justified by religious and historical narratives, remains a rhetorical tool in the Arab world—used either for mobilization against normalization or as a political opposition tool—it undergoes continuous scrutiny within Israeli elite circles.
Each crisis subjects the Greater Israel discourse to intense internal debates, often surfacing in research institutions studying the future of the Middle East. These debates question the historical and academic legitimacy of Herzl’s land claims, with many scholars agreeing that the Bible lacks scientific credibility as a historical reference. As a result, narratives of “returning to Israel” or “Greater Israel” are seen more as ideological rhetoric than as accurate accounts of the region’s demographic and historical realities.
Professor Ekaterina Matui, Director of the Middle East Partnership Program (MEPEI), critically examined Herzl’s expansionist claims, subjecting them to a rigorous legitimacy test. She questioned:
“If this land belongs to Israel, why must it be purchased from its legal owners? And if the so-called ‘barren land’ narrative promoted by media is true, or if the land was truly ‘empty’ as Herzl claimed, why would Israelis need to buy it at all?”
MEPEI concluded that Herzl’s territorial claims are not rooted in science. While the Zionist movement had reasons to pursue an independent Jewish state, the location and implementation of this project were dictated by prolonged negotiations with colonial powers—first Germany, then later the United States. The project was thus shaped by external geopolitical agreements rather than any intrinsic or historical entitlement.
The Impossible Dream
The Jerusalem Institute for Strategy and Security, founded in 2017, dismisses the notion of a “New Middle East” emerging post-Hezbollah. In a sarcastic tone, the institute states: “It is naive to believe that a single event could reshape the entire region. Even monumental events such as the Cold War’s conclusion and the U.S. victory over Saddam Hussein had little effect on Middle Eastern geopolitics.”
The institute argues that the complex web of local and international dynamics does not favor peaceful coexistence. While striving for a more peaceful Middle East is a noble aspiration, it remains an uphill battle. The ultimate lesson for Israel, according to the institute, is that it must continue to “live by the sword” for years to come. Even during periods of de-escalation—such as Israel’s relatively stable relations with Egypt and Jordan—this does not equate to fundamentally different bilateral relationships akin to U.S.-Canada ties. Conflict could erupt at any time, and Israel must always be prepared for such an eventuality.
There are no clear indicators that Israel will abandon its Greater Israel ambitions. However, the overarching theme emerging from these discussions suggests that the fantasy of an eternal “New Middle East” is becoming increasingly implausible.
As the world moves beyond the oil era and global trade routes expand, traditional powers will need to adopt new paradigms to compete peacefully with rising industrial and economic giants. While Israel claims relative independence and fortifies its self-defense, foreign support remains crucial to its regional policies. When analyzing the Greater Israel project, one must consider whether a perpetual war-state is compatible with economic aspirations in an era demanding peaceful competition. This renders the Greater Israel/New Middle East concept not just an improbable dream, but a sheer impossibility.
With rising regional resentment toward Tel Aviv and the emergence of an Israeli introspective current more convinced than ever that a new Middle East may indeed be forming—one without Israel—the illusion of Greater Israel is fading into the realm of myth.
