Donald J. Trump’s address before the Knesset was presented as “historic.” . Yet it served less the cause of history than the narration of a silent shift: the moment when America, beneath misplaced applause, signaled to Israel that the era of the Greater Israel is over. A moment of apparent exaltation that was, in truth, a distancing — a masterclass in realpolitik cloaked in biblical fervor.
The Israeli government — Amir Ohana, Speaker of the Knesset, alongside Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and President Isaac Herzog — did more than roll out the red carpet for the President of the United States.
Through a concert of praises and standing ovations, some even assuring him that “Israel would remember him in two thousand years,” they sought to place Donald Trump in a position of obligation, flattering him into submission, turning the very sanctuary of Israeli democracy into a stage for ritualized sycophancy.
The only one who seemed to hold himself apart from this unhealthy choreography was Yair Lapid, head of the main opposition party and chairman of the Permanent Forum, to whom Trump extended an unusually warm and sincere greeting.
While every newsroom hailed a “historic day” for Israel, none bothered to translate the speech of the man embodying Israel’s democratic awakening — the same Lapid whom Trump honored on Truth Social and via the White House account, twice posting images of the mass peace rallies organized by the opposition.
The long introductory tributes from Netanyahu’s majority validated, with almost theatrical excess, an old adage:
“If an event is forced upon you, pretend to have inspired it, guard it jealously, and become its memory for centuries to come.”
Yet body language betrayed the unease. Both Trump and Herzog looked stiff, uncomfortable.
And “Bibi,” as Trump kept calling him by his nickname rather than his state title, behaved like a game-show host, warming up the crowd with forced exuberance fit for prime-time television.
The question hung in the air: how would Trump escape this suffocating trap?
Especially after, upon taking the podium, he was told twice — “Here, the teleprompter is working” — a barely veiled jab at the United Nations, where, according to him, 142 sovereign nations had bent to Hamas’s will by paving the way for the recognition of a Palestinian state.
The Cognitive Riposte
How do you outplay a suspect excess of flattery?
By being even more flattering than the flatterer — and Donald Trump is a virtuoso of that art. His opening was greeted by rapturous applause. Netanyahu thought the script intact: Iran as eternal enemy, war as destiny, and U.S. alignment as a given.
But gradually, Trump dismantled the narrative. The verbs changed tense, the story shifted from the present of threat to the past of victory, and then ascended to the biblical time of Abraham — the time of promises and covenants.
“Abraham… I love saying that name. Abraham.”
By invoking this founding figure, Trump moved the stage itself. Israel was no longer the perpetual besieged citadel but the cornerstone of a new era, called to move from the age of terror to the age of peace.
Then came the key passage:
“I want to thank the Arab and Muslim nations for their commitment, because they’ve made — to support a safe rebuilding of Gaza and beyond. I have many Arab countries, very wealthy countries, that came up and said we’ll put up tremendous amounts of money to get Gaza rebuilt. … They want dignity… and they want to see it be good for Israel too.”
Israel cannot turn its back on the future.
Under the guise of gratitude, Trump drew a red line: peace would come at a price, and Israel would have to take part in its own moral and political reconstruction.
The Sheldon Moment
Then came the apocalyptic moment, around the fifty-fifth minute.
Trump called upon Miriam Adelson (née Sheldon), the American-Israeli billionaire and historic GOP donor, to stand.
He quipped, half-joking, that she had “sixty billion in the bank” and that, under her influence and that of her late husband Sheldon, he had recognized Israel’s sovereignty over the Golan Heights.
But after the homage came the sting:
“She loves this country. She and her husband are so incredible. We miss him dearly. But I actually asked her once — Miriam, I know you love Israel, but what do you love more — the United States or Israel? She refused to answer. That might mean it’s real.”
A chill swept through the Knesset.
Trump had just exposed, in the brightest light, the unspoken question: where does loyalty end?
The coup de grâce came after nearly an hour of speech.
Turning toward President Herzog, Trump said, half-smiling:
“Hey, I have an idea. Mr. President, why don’t you give him a pardon? Cigars and some champagne — who the hell cares?”
The room froze.
Trump had just called, before all of Israel, for Netanyahu’s pardon.
It was no endorsement — it was a symbolic burial.
A forced laugh, a nervous grin, and then:
“Ah, that wasn’t in my speech. Enough controversy for the day.”
The message had landed.
Netanyahu’s trial was over.
The post-Netanyahu era had been sealed — under applause from those who mistook a dismissal for a coronation.
Among the few genuine smiles, that of Yair Lapid.
Netanyahu, meanwhile, was buried alive, carrying with him the anachronistic dream of a “Greater Israel.”
Trump, in a single gesture, inverted the symbolic weight of the moment. War became past; peace — tied to the reconstruction of Gaza and the inclusion of Arab nations — became horizon.
“It’s time to rebuild Gaza. … They want dignity.”
Yet through that regained dignity, Trump was also asking Israel itself — while avoiding any mention of the financial dimension entrusted, for now, solely to the Board of Peace and its billionaire patrons — to contribute morally and politically to the building of a new order.
All of it without seeming to say it, nor even to have said it — which is, undeniably, a great art of the deal.
That is what I saw and heard.
And I have not seen a single media outlet acknowledge these cognitive shockwaves, though they were so clearly delivered.
En attendant la Renaissance 