The speaker does not have time to finish his announcement. The noisy crowd, gathered in Yitzhak-Rabin Square in Tel Aviv, takes care of it for him: “Yaïrrrrr Golaaaan!” The candidate of the left-wing party The Democrats climbs the few steps to the stage, rock star style, fist in the air, determined face. “We are going to change Israel”, whispers the former number two in the army into the microphone, in the introduction to his very last campaign meeting, Saturday October 24, three days before the legislative elections on Tuesday October 27 which promise to be crucial.
Unable to continue his speech, the applause even intensified. In the 10th row, David Berson zooms in with his phone to immortalize the moment. “It’s just historic what we’re experiencing,” comments this 69-year-old Israeli, wearing a cap with the image of his favorite on his head. “A leader, that’s what it is!” Based in Vancouver, in western Canada, he does not regret the twenty hours of flight he has just had to take part in the vote (voting by expatriates abroad is not allowed remotely, even in embassies).
On a plastic table, a mess of goodies: t-shirts, stickers, flags, whistles... A little further on, buses wait. They were chartered from all over the country, including from Binyamina, a village in the northwest, an hour's drive from Tel Aviv. On the balconies of Shlomo Ibn Gabirol Street, residents shout his name or hold up his photo.
Well helped by his stature as a former general, Yaïr Golan is making his way in the Israeli political landscape, where the left is struggling to exist in the face of an increasingly radical right. In the last polls published before the election, the Les Démocrates list was credited with around eight to 10 seats. A score which could prove decisive in a possible future alliance with the centrist candidates Gadi Eisenkot or Naftali Bennett, to succeed in overthrowing Benjamin Netanyahu and the most right-wing ruling coalition in the history of the country.
“For me, he is a national hero”
Aron, who turned 18 in January, will vote for the first time on Tuesday. His report card? “For Yair Golan”. "I discovered him around October 7," says the young computer engineer, with long, curly hair falling to the middle of his shoulders. "I liked his story. The guy didn't run away to help our country. He somehow made up for what the current leaders failed to prevent and failed to do. For me, it was a trigger: he's a national hero." On the morning of the country's worst terrorist attack, the senior officer, retired but still an army reservist, took out his uniform, retrieved a weapon and took the road alone towards the Tribe of Nova festival, then under fire from Hamas terrorists.
According to a poll carried out by the Israel Democracy Institute in September, 68% of Israeli Jews considered the events of October 7 as a central element of their electoral choice. So, in a country traumatized and obsessed by the security issue, Yaïr Golan is “a crazy hope”, greets Mikhail. “We must not be afraid of being left-wing in Israel, we must not be afraid of our ideas, let’s show ourselves,” begs this supporter, with close-cropped hair and square shoulders.
On his t-shirt, at chest level, a pin in the shape of a yellow ribbon, a symbol of support for Israeli hostages held in Gaza. “Even if there are no more hostages, I carry it every day, I keep it as long as there is no independent commission of inquiry into October 7, 2023. What Netanyahu refuses, but what Yaïr Golan demands.”
With a pile of leaflets under her arm, Eveline remembered that Yaïr Golan promised “to stop waging war on everyone”. This is good news: on June 22, 2025, an Iranian missile pulverized his house and those of his neighbors, in Ramat Aviv, a neighborhood in the northeast of Tel Aviv. In the photo she shows us, we can see a disarticulated, charred concrete skeleton. “Because of Bibi, my life is on hold,” says the sixty-year-old, moved. With my husband, we are staying in an apartment while waiting for a solution to be found. When? We don’t know.”
Elizel Balyosef, 82, swings an impressively large Israeli flag from left to right. “What I like about him is that he doesn’t lie,” thinks the retired consultant. Hedva, his 75-year-old wife, joins the conversation: "Yes, and above all openly tells him that we have to live with the Palestinians, and that's what we want, that's what we believe in," she exhales. "Let's stop hiding our faces, our history with them must be common, not separate. Our peace will only be achieved like that."
It is 8 p.m., the first notes of Hatikvah, the Israeli anthem, pierce the black sky of Tel Aviv. A sign that Yaïr Golan's meeting is nearing the end. Sivan leans towards his two children, a boy and a girl aged 9 and 11. “I try to explain to them in simple words what is happening,” confides the lawyer stationed in Tel Aviv. “After the three absolutely horrible years that we have all just experienced, they are the future. The country must change, at least for them. That’s mainly why I came.” The other day, his last told him that he had a dream: "Mom, I wish I no longer needed to go down to the shelters to protect us from death."
