The Likud loves telling us they "represent the people." Culture and Sport Minister Miri Regev is convinced she has helped slay old ethnic demons, and even Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu adamantly claims to possess "a Sephardi gene." But the results of the Likud primary election reveal that outside of Regev and Social Equality Minister Gila Gamliel, the party's leadership consists entirely of Ashkenazi men.
Yisrael Katz, Gideon Sa'ar, Gilad Erdan, Nir Barkat, Yariv Levin, Yoav Gallant and Avi Dichter; they are joined by Yuval Steinitz, Zeev Elkin and Ofir Akunis. Some will argue that "Akunis isn't Ashkenazi, his father is Greek." But when you look at his biography, his privilege is undeniable: raised in north Tel Aviv, studied at the Herzliya Hebrew Gymnasium high school, and served in the IDF as an army reporter.
The others, too, don't really represent the challenges faced by people living in the periphery. Truth be told, these are men whose place in Israeli society is assured, either due to their own financial success or upbringing. Gallant, the former general, hails from the IDF; Dichter headed the Shin Bet security agency; Barkat is a millionaire. Yuli Edelstein was a Prisoner of Zion in the former Soviet Union, and when he moved to Israel he traversed the customary immigrant path.
Aside from Regev and Gamliel, there is no Sephardi representation among the Likud's upper tier of lawmakers, certainly no one from the periphery, which the Likud purports to represent. The list encapsulates all of that which they accuse Labor and Meretz: elitism, privilege and exclusion of anyone who looks and sounds a little different.
How can such a list be perceived as popular and representative, while the Zionist Union, where Avi Gabbay and Amir Peretz vied for leadership, is viewed as condescending? Could it be that the voters don't actually care about their candidates' economic status and social background? Is it possible that the descendants of Israel's first wave of Sephardi immigrants no longer relate to the plight of their forbearers? And is the constant search by new parties, such as the Israel Resilience party, after Sephardi candidates – unnecessary?
Like any brand, it doesn't matter what you really are, rather what you project to the public. The Likud, as a brand name, is perceived as a party that booted the elites and changed the social order in Israel. To this day, it leans on the words and actions of Menachem Begin. Indeed, Begin fought against discrimination and the institutionalized preferential treatment of card-carrying Laborites, but more than anything he managed to paint Likud as the party of Sephardi Israelis and Labor as the party of the Ashkenazi elites.
This seminal branding is still effectual, even though it is entirely unrelated to reality. The people who lead Likud could just as easily belong to Yair Lapid's Yesh Atid party. Facts have long ceased to mean much, but even in the age of fake news we must insist on them: The Likud's Knesset list is elitist, white and rich, and has nothing to do with the values it professes to represent.
