Politics, unlike the rhetoric that surrounds it, is ultimately arithmetic. And the arithmetic of the upcoming elections presents one key fact that all sides prefer to keep out of public discussion: if the four Arab parties indeed run together on a single list, the seat map everyone is used to drawing will look entirely different-and not necessarily in favor of those expecting a change of government.
Months of exhausting negotiations, meetings ending in shouting, agreements collapsing overnight, and constant uncertainty have defined talks between Ra’am, Hadash, Ta’al, and Balad. Yet in recent weeks a shift has emerged: a technical bloc-joint running without a shared platform or ideological vision, only the recognition that running separately could be costly at the ballot box.
This formula is not real unity, but survival. And in politics, survival is sometimes a major achievement. Mansour Abbas understood this from the start, pushing for a commitment-free technical bloc and waiting, knowing no Arab party can publicly afford to reject unity.
Hadash and Balad, who sought binding ideological constraints, ultimately received an empty framework. Abbas remains free to pursue his coalition options after the election. They accepted this knowingly, as the alternative-running separately and possibly failing to pass the threshold-was worse.
Now, as unification appears closer than ever, internal polls suggest a united Arab list could win 15-16 seats and push Arab voter turnout above 65%.
These are not marginal figures; they reshape the entire picture. Today the Arab parties hold around 10 seats. The additional 5-6 do not appear from nowhere-they come mainly from the center-left bloc.
Here lies the number no one in the “change bloc" wants to say aloud: if the unified list reaches 16 seats, the anti-Netanyahu bloc could be left with only 55 seats-insufficient to form a government even with full coordination among its leaders.
But the nightmare deepens: 55 plus 5 from Ra’am equals 60. Still one short. And that missing seat-or two or three-will come from Hadash, Ta’al, and Ahmad Tibi. This is the silent fear: not dependence on one Arab party, but on at least two or more, something many right-leaning voters may not accept.
Likud has already seized on this narrative, placing Mansour Abbas alongside Bennett in campaign materials, targeting undecided right-wing voters wary of reliance on Arab parties. In this sense, the campaign is grounded in arithmetic rather than invention.
The center-left bloc is aware of the numbers. Lacking clear answers, it shifts the discussion, makes promises without substance, and hopes no one places the calculator on the table. But the elections themselves are unlikely to be so forgiving.
The author is the political commentator for HaMevaser.