By announcing a date for his resignation, Shin Bet (Israel Security Agency) head Ronen Bar ensured that Israel would not sail straight into the looming iceberg of a constitutional crisis — at least for now.
His resignation will also allow this invaluable security agency to retreat from the headlines and return to the shadows where it works most effectively. In recent months, the Shin Bet has made news more for the public sparring between its chief and the prime minister than for thwarting one terrorist attack after another.
Regarding the constitutional crisis, Bar’s announcement on Monday that he will step down on June 15 thankfully renders moot the High Court of Justice’s deliberation over whether the government’s attempt to fire him last month was lawful.
A quick recap: In March, the government voted unanimously to dismiss the agency chief – a move immediately challenged in court. Netanyahu and Bar, two men who should be working hand in hand during wartime, submitted dueling affidavits, each essentially accusing the other of lying.
Following Bar’s announcement, the government on Tuesday voted to rescind its dismissal of the Shin Bet head, so the court can now be spared from having to rule on whether he can be fired — a relief for the country.
Had the court ruled that the dismissal was unlawful, several government ministers had already stated that the ruling should be ignored. That would have plunged Israel into a full-blown constitutional crisis — not just a legal dispute, but a confrontation over who holds final authority: the government or the judiciary. Or, more starkly, what happens when the court says one thing and the government chooses to do another?
At that point, the very rules of the game would have been challenged, as no one would know whose word would be final.
Imagine, too, if the court had ruled that Bar must stay, but the government insisted he was no longer the Shin Bet head. Who, then, should the security agency’s officials take orders from? In this scenario, should they listen to Bar, as instructed by the court, or the government, which dismissed him?
That would have been a moment of ultimate governmental paralysis, precisely the kind of chaos no country can afford, let alone one in the middle of a war. And that was the course Israel was on before Bar preempted the court ruling by announcing the date of his resignation. Mercifully, his decision spared the country that crisis.
But why did it have to come to this? If Bar was going to resign anyway, why not do so earlier without the accompanying brouhaha, without dragging the country through such unnecessary drama?
Appointed in 2021, Bar led the Shin Bet through one of Israel’s most turbulent periods – one that saw mounting Palestinian terror and deepening domestic fractures. Under his leadership, the agency prevented thousands of attacks, gathered critical intelligence, and worked to counter increasingly complex cyberattacks.
The shadow of October 7
Yet all of that now stands in the long, dark shadow of October 7, the worst intelligence failure in the country’s history. On Bar’s watch, Hamas was able to carry out a massacre that fundamentally altered Israel’s sense of security. No operational successes before or after can erase that staggering failure.
His decision to resign may have helped avoid a constitutional crisis, but it comes against the backdrop of a profound breach of public trust in the very security services he was charged with leading.
THE EPISODE also highlights one of the structural deficiencies at the heart of Israel’s democracy: the absence of a formal written constitution. While Israel has a collection of Basic Laws and judicial precedents, it lacks a clearly defined hierarchy between the branches of government.
What are the rules when a prime minister fires a senior official and the court steps in? Who has the final say when government authority is challenged? In a system without a formal “supreme law of the land,” the answers depend not just on legal arguments but on whether all sides are willing to accept the same basic rules. This time, Israel came perilously close to finding out that they were not.
The pattern here isn’t calculated brinkmanship; it’s reckless stubbornness, with each side willing to drag the country to the brink rather than make the compromises that could have spared it so much needless pain.
This same destructive dynamic is playing out in Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s ongoing corruption trials. In an interview published today in The Jerusalem Post, President Isaac Herzog suggested it would be wise to revisit the idea first raised three years ago by former Supreme Court president Aharon Barak of a plea bargain. To which some might understandably respond: “Well, obviously.”
As with Bar’s resignation, a plea deal – had it been reached when first proposed or even earlier – could have spared the country years of political anguish. It could have prevented this exhausting drama, which has consumed the country since police first launched their investigation into Netanyahu almost a decade ago in December 2016, and it could have spared the public the surreal image of a wartime leader spending days in court discussing cigars and press coverage.
Matters of principle
But as with the Bar saga, the sides couldn’t agree on a deal. Each side entrenched itself behind its principles, refusing to compromise.
Bar wanted to demonstrate that he, not the prime minister, would decide when his tenure ended – a matter of principle. Netanyahu wanted to show that he could fire Bar – also a matter of principle.
Similarly, neither Netanyahu’s legal team, convinced of his complete innocence, nor the prosecution, convinced of his absolute guilt, were willing to climb down from their lofty perches and forge a deal. And yet, such a deal would have been the best thing for the country – saving it from the bitter divisiveness that this endless saga continues to stoke.
Bar did the right thing by resigning. It’s just unfortunate that he didn’t do so earlier, sparing the country the unseemly spectacle of its prime minister and its top security official at each other’s throats.
That image does nothing to bolster public confidence in the government or the security services. Nor is it something any country, especially one in the midst of a war, wants its enemies to witness.
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