Political change begins when people stop believing that the choices offered by the establishment are the only choices available.
That is the most compelling parallel between Donald Trump's rise in America and Ofer Winter's challenge in Israel. Their backgrounds are different, and their political circumstances are not identical. But the argument connecting them is powerful: a public that has lost confidence in its leadership should not have to ask that leadership's permission to choose something different.
Trump did not enter politics as the Republican establishment's preferred successor. He arrived from outside elected office, defeated established politicians and secured the nomination despite attempts within his own party to stop him. His rise demonstrated that resistance from political insiders does not necessarily weaken a candidate. Sometimes, it exposes the distance between those insiders and their voters.
At his first inauguration, Trump presented his victory as more than a transfer of power between parties. He described it as a transfer from Washington back to the American people. That was the central promise of his movement: citizens who felt ignored would no longer have to accept decisions made on their behalf by people they no longer trusted.
For voters who already believe the political system has stopped listening, another establishment figure denouncing their candidate may accomplish the opposite of what was intended. They hear an argument against the candidate, but also a reminder of why they wanted an alternative.
Winter's campaign deserves to be understood through that same lens.
October 7 is central to the political argument he has made. He has challenged the assumptions behind Israel's previous security policies and demanded accountability from the leadership that presided over the catastrophe. His movement presents itself as a break with that political order, not merely a request for another place within it.
In that sense, Netanyahu represents continuity with the pre-October 7 political order. The case for Winter is that Israel needs leadership prepared to act on what changed afterward.
This is not an argument that every Israeli reached the same conclusions. It is an argument that citizens demanding a different direction deserve genuine representation. Their experience should matter beyond memorial speeches and campaign appearances. It should shape the decisions of the government they elect.
Winter's refusal to abandon his independent campaign gives that argument substance. On October 21, he rejected a ministerial offer from Bezalel Smotrich in exchange for withdrawing from the election, insisting that his movement's principles were not negotiable for a position. His opponents argue for consolidating the right-wing vote. Winter has insisted on preserving an independent choice.
The disagreement is therefore about more than a cabinet appointment. It raises a basic democratic question: should a new movement be absorbed into existing arrangements before voters have had their say?
That is where Winter's path echoes Trump's most clearly. Both challenge the assumption that political legitimacy must first be granted by those already in power.
