The minister without portfolio, and without tact, Tzahi Hanegbi, spoke in an interview on Saturday as if the entire matter of hungry people and the economic effects of the coronavirus pandemic was "nonsense." The denunciations came quickly and from all directions, the minister himself issued an apology, and on the right, too, officials distanced themselves from the miserable comment.
Hanegbi's sentiment is part of a general mode of conduct reflecting a certain detachment from the people: from the discussion about the prime minister's tax returns to the Finance Ministry's insistence not to provide an economic safety net for the many people harmed by the pandemic. More so, however, Hanegbi's sentiment is a symptom of something deeper, which right-wing governments have been blind to for decades.
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To be sure, Likud rule has given Israelis of Sephardic descent and who live in the periphery the opportunity to truly partake in the political process and system. It has also created and strengthened the Sephardic middle class and opened new avenues for personal advancement and socio-economic horizons to groups that until 1977 were excluded from the story. The right celebrates its achievements, but the struggle isn't over: The complex issues of distributive justice and resource allotment, mainly in terms of the periphery, are not being addressed and many people are being left behind. And yes, unequivocally, the vast majority of voters in the developmental towns and neighborhoods – in Israel's geographic and social periphery – vote right and support Benjamin Netanyahu. However, a deeper analysis of the voting figures illuminates a picture that isn't so cut and dry; a picture that reflects complex attitudes toward the Likud in the deeper periphery.
Based on a rough estimate, some 2.3 million eligible voters are Sephardic Israelis from the periphery, residents of developmental towns and neighborhoods, and the large-city slums. Voter turnout in these areas is low and is dwindling from election to election. In the last election, voter turnout in these "right-wing strongholds" reached record lows of 50% on average. This figure is lower in comparison to other sectors that usually don't participate in the election process, for example, the Arab sector.
Yes, the other 50% gave their vote to the right, mostly to the Likud. And yes, just a minuscule minority of these votes go to left-wing parties, which have failed to propose relevant alternatives. But the fact is that a great many people have simply stopped voting.
The despair and understanding that Likud doesn't offer solutions to their harsh daily problems compel people not to vote – a type of growing protest movement. If in 2006 900,000 people eschewed their democratic right to vote, in 2020 that number stood at 1.3 million.
This protest stems from a lack of hope; despair over an unforgiving bureaucratic system, and despair over a static situation that shows no signs of changing, not before or during the coronavirus pandemic. And where is the Likud? It throws around promises of big changes, but for years now, essentially, it has been absent from the periphery and poor neighborhoods. It, too, has moved on up, right into the new luxury high-rises in areas such as west Rishon Lezion.
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