The footage released from the port of Ashdod did not capture an aberration. When National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir uploaded a video of himself parading past handcuffed, kneeling international aid activists, the ensuing diplomatic explosion was entirely predictable. Western allies, accustomed to the curated, security-first language of traditional Israeli diplomacy, reacted with swift fury. Italian Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni called the images unacceptable. The Spanish foreign minister labeled them monstrous.
Yet, the shock expressed by Western capitals misreads the mechanics at play. The theatrical humiliation of the Global Sumud Flotilla detainees was not an impulsive breakdown in discipline. It was the deliberate application of a highly successful domestic political script. For years, Ben-Gvir has utilized the controlled environment of the Israeli prison system as a studio to broadcast messages of dominance directly to his voter base. The only novelty this time was the passport color of the people on the floor.
Understanding the Ashdod incident requires looking past the immediate diplomatic crisis and examining the specific media strategy Ben-Gvir has perfected since taking control of the police and prison services.
The Optics of Absolute Dominance
The video follows a precise visual choreography. Dozens of foreign activists are forced to kneel on the concrete, their hands secured with zip ties, their heads held low. In the background, Hatikvah, the Israeli national anthem, blares from a loudspeaker. Ben-Gvir walks through the rows waving a large Israeli flag, turning to the camera to declare, "Welcome to Israel, we are the landlords." When a bound detainee attempts to speak or object, the camera captures security personnel immediately forcing them to the ground.
This is structural theater. The production relies on a stark, easily digestible contrast: the absolute helplessness of the captive versus the absolute authority of the minister.
[The Ashdod Port Video Choreography]
│
├─► Audio: National anthem blaring on loop via loudspeaker
├─► Visual Layout: Rows of bound, kneeling foreign nationals
└─► Political Action: Minister parading with flag, declaring domestic ownership
For a Western audience, these images evoke violations of basic human dignity and international norms regarding the treatment of detainees. For Ben-Gvir’s domestic constituency, however, the video delivers exactly what was promised. The core of his political appeal rests on the rejection of traditional diplomatic subtlety in favor of raw, visible enforcement. The presentation is the policy.
The Palestinian Proving Ground
The framework applied to the European, American, and Asian activists in Ashdod was developed and refined inside Israel's military and civilian detention facilities. Over the past three years, Ben-Gvir has frequently published self-produced footage of his high-profile tours through prisons like Ofer and Megiddo.
In February, a similar video showcased Palestinian security prisoners subjected to aggressive physical management while the minister walked the corridors. In those clips, the staging was identical: lines of men forced to face walls or floors, heavy security presence, and a direct-to-camera monologue detailing the reduction of prisoner privileges, from the removal of electronic devices to the rationing of hot water.
By treating international peace activists with the exact same disciplinary severity used against high-security Palestinian prisoners, Ben-Gvir explicitly signaled to his base that external identity offers no protection against state power. The message is clear: inside the borders controlled by his ministry, the rules of global public relations do not apply.
The Strategic Collapse of State Hasbara
The outrage from within the Israeli political establishment highlights a fundamental rift over how the state should project power. Foreign Minister Gideon Sa'ar publicly rebuked Ben-Gvir, writing on social media, "You knowingly caused harm to our State in this disgraceful display. No, you are not the face of Israel." Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s office quickly issued a statement claiming the stunt was not in line with Israel's values and ordered the rapid deportation of the activists.
This internal pushback is driven by a pragmatic crisis in Hasbara, the state's traditional public relations infrastructure. Historically, Israel has defended its maritime blockades and military operations by utilizing highly technical legal frameworks, focusing on security imperatives, and maintaining a tone of professional necessity. Millions of dollars are spent annually to present the state as a rational, defensive actor operating under strict international standards.
Ben-Gvir’s media strategy completely bypasses this apparatus. He does not offer legal justifications; he offers a celebration of dominance.
| Traditional Hasbara Strategy | The Ben-Gvir Media Strategy |
|---|---|
| Emphasizes adherence to international legal norms | Emphasizes absolute domestic sovereignty |
| Utilizes official military and diplomatic spokespersons | Utilizes direct-to-consumer social media broadcasts |
| Frames detentions as necessary security measures | Frames detentions as symbolic victories over adversaries |
| Focuses on managing international opinion | Focuses on mobilizing the domestic populist base |
The panic within the prime minister's office stems from the realization that this video provides critics with overt, state-sanctioned footage that complicates the work of diplomatic defense teams worldwide. For Netanyahu, the problem was not the processing or the restraint of the flotilla participants; the problem was the deliberate broadcasting of their humiliation.
The Domestic Imperative Over Foreign Policy
To assume that international condemnation will force a change in Ben-Gvir’s behavior is to misunderstand his political incentives. He does not operate within the consensus of traditional statecraft. His political survival depends entirely on maintaining a distinct identity separate from the broader coalition government.
Every condemnation from a Western capital, every summoned ambassador in Paris or Rome, and every critical statement from a political rival inside Israel serves to validate his anti-establishment credentials. To his supporters, the anger of foreign governments is proof that he is effectively dismantling what they view as a compromised, overly sensitive diplomatic status quo.
The strategy relies on a calculated gamble. Ben-Gvir gambles that the material consequences of international anger will remain limited to rhetorical statements and diplomatic theater, while the domestic political rewards of appearing uncompromising remain immediate and tangible.
This approach has successfully shifted the center of gravity within Israeli political discourse. By consistently pushing the boundaries of what can be filmed and broadcast, he has normalized a visual language of detention that would have been politically untenable a decade ago. The international activists who boarded the Global Sumud Flotilla intended to challenge a maritime blockade through the power of global media attention. Instead, they found themselves integrated into a sophisticated domestic political broadcast designed to show they had no power at all.
The incident at Ashdod confirms that the internal political logic of the ruling coalition now supersedes the traditional requirements of international diplomacy. The production of domestic political content has become a primary driver of state security behavior, transforming real-world detention operations into stages for digital performance. This system does not require external approval; it thrives on external outrage.
