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Religious fundamentalism is gaining influence within Israel’s own institutions, restricting freedoms while deepening the unequal and oppressive system imposed on Palestinians.

In Israel, ultra-Orthodox and religious-nationalist forces are gaining political influence over issues far beyond their traditional constituencies, including gender segregation, religious education, rabbinical authority, the relationship between religious and civil law, and settlement and territorial control.
Their rise raises a broader question: what happens when religious fundamentalists do not need to overthrow a state because they can gradually reshape it through existing institutions?
Imagine Tel Aviv several years from now. Cafes remain open. Women still walk the streets. Elections continue, the Knesset meets and the Supreme Court remains in operation. There is no coup.
Yet something fundamental has changed.
Gender-separated spaces continue to expand under the justification of accommodating religious communities. Religious schools receive public funding while facing limited requirements to teach subjects such as mathematics, science and English. Religious demands carry greater weight in public life, while individual freedoms are increasingly defined by a religious-nationalist vision of what Israel should be.
This transformation is occurring within a state established as Jewish, while Palestinians have never enjoyed equal standing within the political system. Religion has also long shaped marriage and divorce, conversion, Sabbath observance and the recognition of Jewish identity.
What is changing is the growing ability of religious and religious-nationalist movements to define Israel's Jewish character in increasingly religious terms, including through claims over land and sovereignty.
The direction is already visible in the Knesset, where Haredi and religious-nationalist parties include Shas, United Torah Judaism, Religious Zionism, Otzma Yehudit and Noam. They are not one unified bloc. Haredi parties generally prioritize religious education, military exemptions, budgets and religious institutions, while Religious Zionist and Kahanist parties combine religion with nationalism, settlement and territorial control.
Despite their differences, their importance to coalition governments has moved religious demands closer to the centre of state policy.
For Palestinians, this religious shift does not create the inequality they already face. Instead, it gives existing ethnonational structures a stronger religious justification. As claims to land become connected to the belief that Jewish control fulfils a divine promise, Palestinians can increasingly be portrayed not only as a demographic or security concern, but as obstacles to a religious-national vision of sovereignty.
That inequality is already visible in the Negev, where Bedouin communities have faced demolitions, displacement and restrictive planning policies. In the occupied West Bank, the connection between religious-nationalist ideology and territorial control is even clearer. Settlement policy, settler influence and religious doctrine increasingly reinforce each other, blurring the distinction between security policy and a broader project of territorial control.
Religious framing can also make compromise harder. If territory is portrayed as divinely promised, withdrawal can be presented not as a political decision but as surrendering something no government has the moral authority to give away.



Religious influence is also changing public life within Jewish Israeli society.
Gender segregation is one example. It is often described not as restricting freedom, but as protecting religious freedom. Separating men and women becomes “cultural accommodation,” while restrictions on women are justified as necessary to preserve religious autonomy.
Gender segregation has not become a universal rule, and the issue remains contested in Israeli courts and society. But its movement into legislation, universities, the military and public institutions shows how far these demands have advanced. In July 2026, the Knesset passed legislation expanding gender-separated study in higher education to advanced-degree programmes.
Education presents a similar conflict. Israel provides substantial public funding to the Haredi education system, while disputes continue over requirements to teach core subjects. The issue is therefore not simply whether religious communities should control their children's education, but what the state should require in exchange for public money.
The connection between religious-nationalist ideology and state power is also visible in the military. Religious Zionist influence has grown among combat and command ranks, while debates continue over religious language in the military and tensions between military authority and rabbinical authority, particularly concerning settlements and territorial withdrawal.
The concern is not simply whether individual soldiers obey rabbis instead of commanders. It is the growing overlap between military power, territorial control and an ideology that treats control of the land as more than a political objective.
When war is framed as part of religious redemption or the recovery of land promised by God, compromise can appear as weakness, withdrawal as sin and political solutions as surrender.
Fundamentalism becomes especially powerful when political goals are presented as expressions of divine will rather than matters open to ordinary democratic negotiation.
The existence of religious parties does not make Israel a theocracy. Courts continue to operate, opposition parties exist, the press remains active, civil society pushes back and a large secular population remains politically significant. Religious demands also face resistance within Israeli society and through the courts.
But democracies do not always collapse suddenly.
Sometimes elections continue while the rules of society gradually change: who is treated as a full citizen, where individual freedom ends and who gets to define the common good.
Religious fundamentalism does not need to abolish elections or close the courts to reshape the state.
Tel Aviv's cafes can remain open. Elections can continue. Secular and liberal Israelis can remain influential. Democratic institutions can survive formally while the meaning of citizenship, equality and individual freedom changes underneath them.
At the same time, an already unequal and oppressive order affecting Palestinians can become further entrenched as religious claims to land and sovereignty gain political power.
The question is therefore not simply whether Israel's elections, courts and parliament survive. It is what kind of state those institutions are being used to sustain — and whose vision ultimately defines its future.