Netanyahu’s Bold Pardon Plea Rocks Israeli Legal System

Paul Riverbank, 12/1/2025Netanyahu’s bold pardon plea during his corruption trial shakes Israel’s legal and political landscape.

If this seems like unfamiliar territory, that's because it is. Israel has never seen a sitting prime minister attempt to sidestep an active prosecution by appealing for clemency before a verdict. In fact, some legal observers were left thumbing through law books, trying to remember if a comparable scenario had ever played out here—or, frankly, anywhere.

Netanyahu's request reached the desk of President Isaac Herzog with the weight of history behind it but with peculiar timing. The court proceedings—focused on charges of bribery, fraud, and breach of trust—have lingered since 2020, becoming a kind of national theater. Three times a week, as required by the court, the prime minister must trade his seat at the heart of government for one in the defendant’s box. And with every session, the public divides further. “The trial is putting Israel on edge,” one Knesset staffer remarked to me, glancing nervously at headlines trickling in.

The prime minister’s case for clemency doesn’t hinge on guilt or innocence. In his letter, Netanyahu argued that the legal wrangle is overshadowing the business of state—implying that the demand for his courtroom presence distracts from bigger duties. “Reconciling our people must take precedence,” he wrote, suggesting that ending the trial would ease a countrywide rift. He stopped short, notably, of admitting wrongdoing; instead, he cast himself as a casualty of relentless political gamesmanship, pursued “at all costs.”

Yet, not everyone is convinced. “If leaders can campaign for a pardon before a single finding,” one Tel Aviv-based legal scholar told me, “what’s left of judicial accountability?” That sentiment has cropped up everywhere—from parliament to crowded city squares—where some see a justice system potentially bent by the very figures it is meant to check.

Adding to the pressure, just a few weeks back, Donald Trump, still an outsized figure in Israeli political circles, weighed in from across the Atlantic. He sent his own letter to President Herzog, speaking admiringly of Netanyahu’s leadership and openly questioning the merit of the charges. “A formidable and decisive ally,” Trump called him, lending a note of transatlantic gravity—or interference, depending on whom you ask. Israeli newspapers picked up on the gesture quickly, some suggesting it was a favor returned for years of close diplomatic ties.

With the president now holding Netanyahu’s request, the machinery of state grinds forward. Herzog’s office is consulting ministers and government lawyers—and, notably, is choosing every word with caution. “It’s an extraordinary request,” his spokesperson said in a statement, pointedly noting its deep consequences. In all likelihood, the president will find little comfort in precedent; nearly every step he takes will be watched at home and abroad.

All this unfolds as Israel edges toward another national election, the specter of which hangs over the debate like a gathering thundercloud. Herzog's decision—expected months before ballots are cast—could well become the flashpoint on which political fortunes rise or fall.

Right now, Israelis find themselves caught in a sort of holding pattern, waiting as institutions wrestle with questions about the foundations of their democracy. Whether the president opts for reconciliation or insists on judicial process, the effects will ripple outward—long after this storm subsides. For now, the uncertainty itself is telling. Even seasoned insiders, accustomed to the country’s relentless pace, admit they can’t quite see which path the nation will follow from here.

Israeli politics has had its share of turbulence, but few could have predicted this particular fork in the road. Over the past week, the usually measured halls of power in Jerusalem have been rattled by an unprecedented move: Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, while still entangled in an ongoing corruption trial, penned an official request for a presidential pardon.If this seems like unfamiliar territory, that's because it is. Israel has never seen a sitting prime minister attempt to sidestep an active prosecution by appealing for clemency before a verdict. In fact, some legal observers were left thumbing through law books, trying to remember if a comparable scenario had ever played out here—or, frankly, anywhere.Netanyahu's request reached the desk of President Isaac Herzog with the weight of history behind it but with peculiar timing. The court proceedings—focused on charges of bribery, fraud, and breach of trust—have lingered since 2020, becoming a kind of national theater. Three times a week, as required by the court, the prime minister must trade his seat at the heart of government for one in the defendant’s box. And with every session, the public divides further. “The trial is putting Israel on edge,” one Knesset staffer remarked to me, glancing nervously at headlines trickling in.The prime minister’s case for clemency doesn’t hinge on guilt or innocence. In his letter, Netanyahu argued that the legal wrangle is overshadowing the business of state—implying that the demand for his courtroom presence distracts from bigger duties. “Reconciling our people must take precedence,” he wrote, suggesting that ending the trial would ease a countrywide rift. He stopped short, notably, of admitting wrongdoing; instead, he cast himself as a casualty of relentless political gamesmanship, pursued “at all costs.”Yet, not everyone is convinced. “If leaders can campaign for a pardon before a single finding,” one Tel Aviv-based legal scholar told me, “what’s left of judicial accountability?” That sentiment has cropped up everywhere—from parliament to crowded city squares—where some see a justice system potentially bent by the very figures it is meant to check.Adding to the pressure, just a few weeks back, Donald Trump, still an outsized figure in Israeli political circles, weighed in from across the Atlantic. He sent his own letter to President Herzog, speaking admiringly of Netanyahu’s leadership and openly questioning the merit of the charges. “A formidable and decisive ally,” Trump called him, lending a note of transatlantic gravity—or interference, depending on whom you ask. Israeli newspapers picked up on the gesture quickly, some suggesting it was a favor returned for years of close diplomatic ties.With the president now holding Netanyahu’s request, the machinery of state grinds forward. Herzog’s office is consulting ministers and government lawyers—and, notably, is choosing every word with caution. “It’s an extraordinary request,” his spokesperson said in a statement, pointedly noting its deep consequences. In all likelihood, the president will find little comfort in precedent; nearly every step he takes will be watched at home and abroad.All this unfolds as Israel edges toward another national election, the specter of which hangs over the debate like a gathering thundercloud. Herzog's decision—expected months before ballots are cast—could well become the flashpoint on which political fortunes rise or fall.Right now, Israelis find themselves caught in a sort of holding pattern, waiting as institutions wrestle with questions about the foundations of their democracy. Whether the president opts for reconciliation or insists on judicial process, the effects will ripple outward—long after this storm subsides. For now, the uncertainty itself is telling. Even seasoned insiders, accustomed to the country’s relentless pace, admit they can’t quite see which path the nation will follow from here.