Israel frequently presents itself as a nation surrounded by hostility, relying on close alliances with Western countries for both security and legitimacy.

Yet time and again, its leaders seem to interpret friendship not as partnership, but as unquestioning loyalty. The recent controversy over Australia’s decision to refuse a visa to an Israeli official — and the indignant reaction from Tel Aviv — illustrates a broader pattern: Israel does not easily tolerate criticism, even from allies, and often responds with disproportionate outrage when its conduct is questioned.

This episode is not isolated. Similar tensions have arisen in the past between Israel and its staunchest allies, particularly when issues of human rights, settlement expansion, or military actions are raised. The pattern reveals an expectation of subservience rather than dialogue, leaving little room for the kind of frank discussion normally associated with international partnerships.

A pattern of diplomatic indignation

When France criticised Israeli settlement policy in the occupied West Bank, Israeli officials swiftly accused Paris of bias and interference. When the United Nations Security Council passed Resolution 2334 in 2016, condemning settlement construction, Israel lashed out at the United States — its closest ally — for abstaining rather than vetoing the motion. Then-Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu called the resolution “shameful” and temporarily curtailed ties with several countries that had voted in favour, including New Zealand.

Even Germany, often considered Israel’s most reliable European partner due to its historic responsibility, has not been spared. In 2017, a planned meeting between Netanyahu and then German foreign minister Sigmar Gabriel was cancelled after Gabriel met Israeli human rights groups critical of the occupation. This was a striking demonstration of how Israel often views engagement with its domestic critics as an act of hostility.

Australia’s experience

Australia has traditionally been one of Israel’s most supportive allies, often backing it in international fora and maintaining close defence and intelligence ties. Yet, when Canberra deviates even slightly from Israel’s expectations — as in the recent visa refusal incident — the reaction is telling. Rather than treating the matter as a normal diplomatic disagreement, Israel portrays it as a betrayal, raising the temperature in bilateral relations unnecessarily.

This pattern has a history. In the 1970s, Gough Whitlam’s Government attempted to pursue a more balanced Middle East policy, acknowledging the rights of Palestinians and recognising the legitimacy of the Palestine Liberation Organisation as a negotiating party. Israel’s response was one of open hostility, accusing Australia of jeopardising its security and siding with its enemies. The fallout strained ties, and Canberra was sharply criticised by pro-Israel lobby groups at home and abroad.

Decades later, when former foreign minister Bob Carr questioned settlement expansion and urged greater recognition of Palestinian statehood, the backlash from Israel was equally sharp. Officials implied that such statements represented a betrayal of Australia’s long-standing “pro-Israel” stance, making clear that even moderate criticism would not be tolerated.

The underlying message, then as now, has remained consistent: support is welcome, but only if it is unconditional.

Historical echoes beyond Australia

This belligerent style of diplomacy is not new. In the aftermath of the 1967 Arab-Israeli war, Israel’s occupation of East Jerusalem, the West Bank and Gaza drew criticism even from Western partners. Yet Israeli leaders insisted that the world recognise Jerusalem as its “eternal and undivided capital” – a demand few countries accepted. Relations with the US were strained when Washington warned against settlement activity as early as the 1970s, but Israel pressed ahead regardless, often framing criticism as a lack of loyalty.

During the 1982 Lebanon War, Israel faced widespread condemnation, including from the Reagan administration, for the devastating siege of Beirut. Far from recalibrating its approach, Israeli officials accused critics of undermining its security and moral legitimacy. Similar patterns emerged during the First Intifada in the late 1980s, when images of Israeli soldiers confronting Palestinian youth led to unease among allies. Israel’s response was often to double down on accusations of bias, rather than acknowledging legitimate concern.

Arrogance or insecurity?

Supporters of Israel argue that its reactions stem from insecurity, given its history of conflict and existential threats. Yet the ferocity with which it often confronts allies who voice even mild dissent suggests another dynamic: an insistence on shaping the narrative on its own terms. This approach risks alienating partners who might otherwise remain sympathetic, particularly as public opinion in many countries — including Australia — becomes more critical of Israeli policies in Gaza and the West Bank.

The cost of one-sided friendships

Healthy alliances rest on the ability to disagree, to challenge, and to debate openly. Israel’s tendency to equate criticism with hostility undermines this principle. For allies like Australia, the challenge lies in maintaining support for Israel’s security while refusing to be drawn into an expectation of silence or complicity.

Ultimately, the lesson of this latest incident is that friendship cannot mean subservience. If Israel demands unconditional support from its allies, it risks isolating itself further on the global stage – and transforming valuable partnerships into strained, transactional relationships.

The views expressed in this article may or may not reflect those of Pearls and Irritations.