Sanctioning the Untouchables: Why Five Western Powers Took Aim at Israel’s Hardliners

Until now, even the most extreme rhetoric or policies from members of Israel’s government have rarely provoked more than handwringing or carefully worded rebukes from its Western allies. But this week, a coalition of five countries—Australia, Canada, New Zealand, the United Kingdom, and Norway (four of the Five Eyes group)—ventured into uncharted territory: imposing travel bans and asset freezes on two of Benjamin Netanyahu’s most controversial ministers: Itamar Ben-Gvir and Bezalel Smotrich.

To describe Ben-Gvir and Smotrich as “hardliners” would be an understatement. Both have built their political brands on incendiary, openly racist, and at times outright genocidal rhetoric—calling for the displacement of Palestinians and encouraging violence that most Western governments, until now, had only condemned in words. Their continued presence at the top of Israel’s government has made a mockery of so-called “shared democratic values,” and shone a powerful spotlight on the double standards of many Western governments, yet until now, the cost to Israel’s political class for such extremism was essentially zero.

The U.S. government openly opposed this move. The EU as a bloc failed to join. That left these five countries, acting outside the traditional centers of Western power, to take the unprecedented step of personally sanctioning Israeli cabinet ministers—an act unthinkable just months ago. The world is left to ask: Why these governments? Why now? And what does it mean that the dam finally broke—not in Washington or Brussels, but in Canberra, London, Ottawa, Wellington, and Oslo?

The Context: International Pressure and a Shifting Diplomatic Landscape

The decision by these five governments did not arise in a vacuum. It comes against a backdrop of extreme violence in Gaza and escalating attacks the West Bank, a humanitarian catastrophe broadcast daily to global audiences, and the increasingly brazen rhetoric and actions of Israel’s far-right ministers.

The Global South has hammered Western governments extensively over what it calls blatant double standards: sanctions and outrage over Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, but little more than sternly worded statements in response to Israeli actions that have resulted in tens of thousands of civilian deaths, open talk of forced displacement, and collective punishment.

The International Court of Justice issued an advisory opinion on the illegality of Israel’s actions, the International Criminal Court issued warrants for Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and former defense minister Yoav Gallant. The United Nations and international human rights organizations unequivocally condemned Israel’s actions, and yet Western governments, the self anointed champions of the rules based order and human rights, did nothing more. This left Western credibility in tatters, its much-trumpeted “rules-based order” ringing more hollow than usual.

This crisis of legitimacy comes at a critical diplomatic juncture. France and Saudi Arabia are preparing to co-host a conference ostensibly aimed at reviving the two-state solution—a process widely seen as moribund. Meanwhile, pro-Palestinian protests and outrage have swept capitals from across the world, forcing political leaders to reckon with public anger, not only from diaspora communities but from a new generation of voters and activists.

At the same time, divisions within the so-called “collective West” have become impossible to ignore. The U.S. is openly opposed to sanctioning Israeli government officials – Itamar Ben Gvir was recently on a visit to the U.S.- while the European Union remains gridlocked by internal dissent, with countries like Hungary and Germany steadfastly blocking joint action against Israel. Into this vacuum stepped five countries that, while not the largest or most powerful, have their own reputations—and their own incentives to act when larger actors will not.

What makes this move even more striking is that four of these five countries—Australia, Canada, New Zealand, and the United Kingdom—are members of the elite Five Eyes intelligence alliance, traditionally known for their lockstep alignment with the United States on matters of security and foreign policy. Their break with Washington on such a high-profile and sensitive issue signals a willingness to assert moral and political autonomy, even at the risk of straining one of the closest intelligence and security partnerships in the world. It also puts them at an advantage compared to EU countries, seizing the initiative on the eve of France’s cohosting of the Two State Solution Conference.

The Unprecedented Step: Sanctioning Sitting Israeli Ministers

For years, Israel’s cabinet members—no matter how incendiary or openly violent their rhetoric—have enjoyed near-total immunity from Western sanctions. When punitive measures did come, they targeted only marginal figures or rogue settlers, never those holding real power. This long-standing deference was not a sign of principle, but of political calculation: the costs of angering Israel, or breaking with the U.S. consensus, always outweighed any supposed commitment to international law.

That changed only after months of mounting outrage and, crucially, after tens of thousands of Palestinian civilian deaths—deaths that, by any standard, dwarfed the immediate Western response to Russian aggression in Ukraine. The same governments that moved with breakneck speed to impose sweeping sanctions on Moscow, and called for international accountability within days, dragged their feet for months as Gaza was reduced to rubble. The sanctions against Ben-Gvir and Smotrich, while breaking an old taboo, come conspicuously late—and only when it became politically safer to act.

There’s no mistaking the symbolism of this step. For the first time, Western governments have put senior Israeli officials in the crosshairs, but only after their behavior became impossible to ignore and only after their continued presence began to threaten the reputations—and domestic political fortunes—of Western leaders themselves. The sanctions are a first crack in the wall of impunity, but a small one, and for many observers, a reminder of just how much can be tolerated before the calculus finally shifts.

Incentives and Drivers Behind the Move

This decision was not the product of sudden moral clarity. It was, instead, the inevitable outcome of mounting pressures that finally tipped the scales. For months, these five governments found themselves in the crosshairs of critics abroad and at home, hemmed in by the gap between their professed values and their conspicuous silence.

The turning point came as the cost of inaction began to outweigh the risks of acting. In capitals from London to Wellington, the daily images of devastation in Gaza, amplified by relentless media coverage and social media campaigns, ignited mass protests and forced the issue onto the domestic political agenda. It was no longer possible to dismiss the outrage as marginal. Activists, student groups, and diaspora communities flooded the streets, demanding more than statements and warnings. For ruling parties—many already struggling with public trust—the fear of losing support among a younger, more mobilized electorate became palpable.

But the pressure was not just domestic. On the international stage, the chorus of condemnation from the Global South grew louder by the week. The hypocrisy of instantly sanctioning Russia while dithering over Israel had become an embarrassment in every multilateral forum. For countries like Canada and Australia, who style themselves as champions of the “rules-based order,” the credibility gap was turning into a strategic liability, undermining their influence abroad.

It was here, in this storm of outrage and reputational risk, that the calculations shifted. Unencumbered by the paralysis gripping the European Union, and increasingly willing to act without Washington’s blessing particularly since the Trump administration shifted U.S. global polocy, these five governments saw an opening: to salvage their standing, signal their independence, and perhaps reclaim a measure of leadership among Western democracies. For the four Five Eyes states, diverging from the United States on such a central issue was a statement in itself—a calculated break meant to show that even in the closest of alliances, they still held a degree of autonomy.

Country-specific motives layered on top of these broader drivers. The UK, eager to redefine itself after Brexit and in competition with both France and Germany for leadership on the continent, seized a chance to project moral relevance beyond Europe. Canada’s Liberal government, under siege from its own urban base, acted before outrage became a political wound. Australia balanced U.S. alignment with the expectations of its Asia-Pacific neighbors. New Zealand leaned into its tradition of principled foreign policy. Norway, with its peace process legacy, had little to lose and some credibility to regain.

In the end, this was not a leap of conscience, but a slow, pressured shuffle to the edge—then a step forward when standing still became unsustainable. These sanctions were less a show of boldness than a barometer of just how much pressure, outrage, and political risk it took for even “friendly” governments to finally act.

Testing the Waters: The Strategic Logic of “First-Mover” Sanctions

For all the headlines, these sanctions are less a bold leap than a careful toe-dip into uncharted waters. By targeting two ministers—albeit two of the most notorious—these governments have chosen a path of controlled escalation. The measures are punitive but narrow, designed to send a message without triggering a diplomatic rupture or backlash that would jeopardize deeper economic or security interests.

This is the logic of “first-mover” action: act just enough to claim the moral high ground, but not so much as to invite genuine fallout. It is, in effect, a stress test for what comes next. If the response from allies and adversaries alike is manageable, these governments can claim a precedent—and perhaps push for wider action, whether through expanded sanctions, arms embargoes, or coordinated international pressure. If the blowback is too severe, the limited scope of the sanctions allows for quick recalibration or quiet retreat.

Crucially, by acting outside of U.S. and EU frameworks, these five governments have sidestepped the paralysis that so often accompanies consensus-driven diplomacy. This maneuver not only highlights the gridlock at the heart of Western policymaking, but also offers a potential blueprint for how “middle powers” might drive action on issues where the traditional heavyweights refuse to budge.

Yet the very caution of this approach reveals its limitations. It is a step that breaks precedent, yes, but one that also makes clear just how much outrage and political pressure must accumulate before even a small crack appears in the wall of impunity. Whether this is the beginning of meaningful accountability or just a passing moment of expediency remains to be seen.

France and the EU: The Calculated Absence

What’s as telling as the countries that acted is the one that didn’t: France. Paris is currently preparing to co-host a major conference on the two-state solution alongside Saudi Arabia—a summit billed as a potential turning point, at least in optics, for the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, despite the recent backpedaling from recognition of a Palestinian state.

In this context, the sanctions imposed by Australia, Canada, New Zealand, the UK, and Norway are not just about Israel—they are about seizing the diplomatic initiative, setting the agenda, and preempting France’s claim to moral leadership on the issue. This is a classic case of middle-power competition, with each government seeking to bolster its own credibility and relevance before the international spotlight returns to Paris.

France, for its part, is hardly on the sidelines. It moved earlier, imposing travel bans on extremist settlers and publicly threatening to halt arms deliveries if Israeli actions in Gaza crossed certain lines. With these measures in place, Paris can claim it has already acted—and can afford, for now, to stay its hand on the riskier step of sanctioning sitting ministers. The timing is deliberate: by not joining the Five Eyes-led move, France preserves flexibility for the upcoming conference, keeps channels open with all parties particularly Washington, and avoids being seen as simply following others’ lead.

The European Union, meanwhile, is gridlocked by familiar divisions. Member states such as Hungary and Germany remains steadfastly in Israel’s camp, leaving Brussels limited to statements of grave concern. The inability of the EU to forge consensus on Israel-Palestine policy has again created space for more nimble coalitions to shape the conversation.

Ultimately, this moment reflects a scramble for diplomatic relevance. For France, holding back is a calculated play to position itself as the indispensable broker at the two-state conference—while pointing to its previous measures as evidence that it is not standing idly by.

The Road Ahead: Implications and What Comes Next

With the diplomatic ice finally broken, the path forward remains uncertain—but some things are clear. The immediate impact of these targeted sanctions will be modest. Ben-Gvir and Smotrich will almost certainly leverage their new pariah status to rally support among Israel’s nationalist right, while the Israeli government will issue the usual protests and accusations of hypocrisy.

For the five sanctioning countries, talk of serious backlash is mostly theater. There may be the usual diplomatic displays—summoned ambassadors, harsh statements in the press, perhaps even a chilly pause in high-level visits—but the fundamentals of security, intelligence, and economic cooperation are not at risk.

The real question is whether this precedent will lead anywhere substantive. Now that the taboo is broken, larger players—including EU heavyweights and the United States—may face growing public and diplomatic pressure to follow suit, especially if violence continues or escalates. The “first movers” have made it easier for others to act, but also exposed how high the bar remains for any meaningful accountability.

It is just as likely, however, that this crack in the wall of impunity remains cosmetic. These measures are calibrated for maximum optics and minimum cost, and governments may quickly revert to caution as the news cycle moves on. What happens next—expanded sanctions, arms embargoes, or simply a return to the status quo—will reveal whether this was the start of a new phase of Western engagement, or just another symbolic gesture in a conflict littered with them.

In the coming months, the test for Western governments will not be their rhetoric, but their willingness to sustain pressure—and to absorb even the limited diplomatic discomfort that might come with it. Anything more than that remains, for now, unlikely.

A Watershed or a Blip?

The decision by five Western governments to sanction Israeli cabinet ministers will be remembered as a rare breach in the wall of diplomatic protection that has shielded Israel’s political elite for decades. But for all the headlines and “firsts,” this dies not yet ring as a sign of a genuine shift, but rather a carefully calculated response to mounting discomfort.

It took tens of thousands of civilian deaths, relentless public protest, and mounting diplomatic embarrassment for even this limited move to materialize. The United States and European Union sat this one out. The initiative fell to a handful of middle powers, acting just far enough to ease the pressure but not enough to threaten any real interests.

By contrast, last month, the same group of countries joined others in leveling the 17^th sanctions package aimed at Russia for its war in Ukraine, signaling that if they chose to do so, they would be capable of taking actual concrete steps.

This has all the markers of a one-off gesture—a blip—calibrated to deflect criticism rather than address root causes or signal lasting change. Unless governments are prepared to follow with real, sustained pressure, the wall of impunity remains intact. Outrage may have forced action this time, but accountability is still as elusive as ever.

So, was this the first crack in a long-shut door, or just another gesture soon to be forgotten? The answer, as always in this conflict, will be found not in what is said, but in what comes next.