October 28, 2026|י"ז חשון ה' אלפים תשפ"ז Principles and Partnerships: A Torah Perspective on Coalition Politics By Rabbi Jonathan Muskat

Can a religious party join a government with parties whose values it fundamentally rejects? Can it sit with Netanyahu? With the Charedim? With Ben Gvir? With Arab parties?

I understand why political parties sometimes declare that they will not sit with certain other parties. They may have serious ideological disagreements, concerns about particular leaders, or fundamental differences over the direction of the country. Those concerns deserve to be taken seriously.

But I think there is an important distinction between ruling out a party categorically and deciding that a particular coalition agreement would require unacceptable compromises. From a Torah perspective, the question is not simply who our political partners are, but what we are agreeing to do together.

I can imagine circumstances in which a partnership with any of these parties could be justified, and circumstances in which it could be problematic. The Torah offers a framework for evaluating these decisions.

Yehoshafat and Ovadiah: Two models of political partnership

Pirkei Avot (1:7) teaches:

"Keep your distance from a bad neighbor, do not associate with a wicked person."

The Rambam similarly explains in Hilchot De'ot (6:1) that we should distance ourselves from the wicked because our surroundings influence our character and behavior.

This concern extends beyond personal relationships. Political partnerships can blur moral boundaries. A party may enter a coalition intending to advance its principles but eventually find itself defending positions it once opposed simply because it wants to remain in power.

The Tanach offers a powerful example. When King Yehoshafat allied himself with Achav, king of Israel, the prophet rebuked him:

"Should you help the wicked and love those who hate Hashem?" (Divrei Hayamim II:19:2).

Avot de-Rabbi Natan (Chapter 9) cites this episode in explaining the warning against associating with the wicked. The lesson is that political alliances are not morally neutral. The benefits of a partnership do not automatically justify its costs.

But another biblical figure complicates the picture.

Ovadiah was a deeply religious man who served in Achav's household (Melachim I:18:3). Through his position, he was able to save one hundred prophets of Hashem from Izevel, hiding them in caves and providing them with food and water (Melachim I:18:4).

Rabbi Menachem Mendel Kasher draws on Ovadiah's example to explain why religious participation in the Knesset need not violate the prohibition against associating with the wicked. Ovadiah's service to Achav was not an endorsement of Achav's worldview. It enabled him to accomplish something vital.

Rabbi Eliezer Waldenberg, in Hilchot Medinah (vol. 3, pp. 103–109), similarly argues that refusing to participate in government can itself have serious consequences. Religious representatives can influence legislation, oppose policies contrary to Torah, and articulate Jewish values publicly. Abstaining from political participation may mean surrendering influence rather than preserving principle.

These examples do not, by themselves, settle every modern halachic question. But they highlight an important distinction: working alongside someone whose conduct or beliefs we reject is not necessarily the same as endorsing that conduct or those beliefs. The purpose of the relationship and what it enables us to accomplish matter.

From the identity of our partners to the substance of our agreements

This distinction is especially relevant to Israeli coalition politics.

Should a party rule out sitting with Netanyahu, the Charedim, Ben Gvir, or Arab parties? There may be legitimate reasons for drawing political red lines. A party might believe that a particular leader's conduct, a partner's ideological commitments, or the policies a coalition would pursue make cooperation unacceptable.

But there is a difference between saying, "We cannot support the policies this party is demanding," and saying, "We will never sit with this party under any circumstances."

The first position focuses on the substance of the agreement. The second makes the identity of the partner decisive, regardless of what the partnership would actually entail.

That distinction matters because political parties rarely agree on everything. They may disagree profoundly on some issues while sharing goals on others. A coalition agreement can advance certain public interests while leaving room for disagreement elsewhere.

This does not mean that a party's identity, ideology, or record is irrelevant. These are important considerations when assessing what a partner is likely to demand, what it may do in government, and whether its commitments are credible. But they should inform an assessment of the proposed partnership rather than automatically replace it.

The questions are concrete: What policies will the coalition pursue? What concessions are required? Which principles would we have to compromise? What could we accomplish by participating, and what might happen if we refused?

Two dangers: Compromising our principles and abandoning our responsibilities

There are two opposing dangers.

The first is pragmatism without principles. A party becomes so committed to retaining power that it justifies almost any compromise as necessary to accomplish something good. Over time, the desire to remain in government can become more important than the values that originally motivated its participation.

The second is principled isolation. A party refuses to work with anyone who disagrees with it, even when cooperation could advance important religious, communal, or national goals. It preserves its ideological purity but relinquishes opportunities to exercise responsibility.

Hillel teaches us to be among the disciples of Aharon, "loving peace and pursuing peace" (Pirkei Avot 1:12). Cooperation across differences can be a genuine religious value. But the rebuke of Yehoshafat reminds us that not every alliance is justified simply because it is useful.

The prohibition against associating with the wicked cannot simply be equated with a prohibition against working with anyone whose values differ from ours. How that prohibition applies to political cooperation requires examining the nature of the relationship, the goals being pursued, and the compromises involved. The examples of Ovadiah and Yehoshafat offer a framework for that analysis, not an automatic ruling on any particular coalition.

What are we agreeing to?

I understand why parties draw red lines and declare that they will not sit with particular partners. Sometimes those positions reflect serious and legitimate concerns. But a categorical refusal should not exempt us from asking what makes a partnership unacceptable. Equally, the promise of political influence should not exempt us from scrutinizing the price of obtaining it.

Ultimately, maintaining our principles is not just about choosing the right partners. It is about deciding what we will and will not agree to once we enter the partnership.

The question is not only who we are willing to sit with. It is what we are willing to agree to to sit with them.