WhatsappThe summer of 2025 marked not only diplomatic confusion; it was when Israel realized that even friends act according to their own interests first.
Since Israel’s founding, one assumption guided its leaders: that America would always stand as the ultimate guarantor of its security. From Truman’s recognition in 1948 to Kennedy’s arms deals and Reagan’s intelligence coordination, this belief became almost sacred.
Even moments of tension—such as Eisenhower’s rebuke after Suez or Obama’s Iran deal—were seen as temporary storms in a permanent alliance.
By 2025, that illusion was fractured. The world has changed: Washington’s focus drifts between Asia and domestic politics, while Israel’s enemies grow bolder and its friends more conditional. The summer of 2025 marked not only diplomatic confusion; it was when Israel realized that even friends act according to their own interests first.
U.S. President Donald Trump’s “deal-making diplomacy” once seemed refreshing—direct, transactional and bold. But his “quick ceasefire” left Israelis stunned. Washington spoke of friendship; Jerusalem saw disregard, especially after Hamas failed to lay down its weapons and did not release all the deceased hostages.
When Trump announced that Israel had agreed to a 60-day ceasefire—something Israel and Hamas immediately denied—it was more than a miscommunication. It was humiliation. For Israel’s right-wing, it became proof that no one, not even a friendly U.S. administration, should dictate its red lines.
Leaders like Bezalel Smotrich and Itamar Ben-Gvir voiced what many felt: Israel’s security could not depend on political mood swings in Washington. Even Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s polite tone could not hide the growing anger within his coalition.
By mid-summer, the phrase “strategic solitude” began to appear in conservative circles and think tanks. The concept was simple but profound: Israel must work with allies, but depend on none. Editorials in Israel Hayom gave shape to this thinking:
Aug. 1: “Foreign backing is unreliable. Israel must chart its own course.”
Aug. 24: “We cannot live on Washington’s timeline.”
Aug. 30: “Partnership with America? Yes. At any cost? Never.”
Sept. 4: “We kept fighting despite U.S. pressure—lesson learned: independence matters.”
The idea spread like wildfire. Within weeks, it stopped being a slogan and became a mindset—independence not as isolation, but as dignity.
September brought a flood of defining moments. Trump’s private assurances to Arab leaders that he would block any Israeli annexation of the West Bank (Judea and Samaria) outraged Israeli conservatives. Ministers like Smotrich warned that “leadership fleeing from mission” was dangerous, while Ben-Gvir labeled Trump’s plan “a hole-filled document that threatens Israel’s security.”
Meanwhile, writers such as David Weinberg and analysts like Erez Linn argued that Israel must embrace realism: diplomacy should never come at the cost of sovereignty. This shift wasn’t anti-American; it was post-American.
Across opinion columns and television panels, the same refrain echoed: “Israel’s friendship with the United States endures, but the age of dependence is over.”
The Dor Moria Institute’s survey, conducted in August and September, confirmed what many had suspected. Israelis were tuning out of the “great power game.”
• 41% had heard of the Trump–Putin Alaska Summit but didn’t care.
• 29% didn’t even know it happened.
• Only 6% felt their expectations were met.
Among lower-income Israelis, 37% missed the event entirely; among wealthier citizens, 18% did. Education showed a similar divide: 61% awareness among high-school graduates, 78% among university graduates.
While experts worried about Iran and Russia, ordinary Israelis focused on daily life—security, prices and family stability. The message was unmistakable: foreign policy had become an elite conversation. The people had chosen normalcy.
Israel’s shift doesn’t happen in isolation. The post-Ukraine landscape, China’s rivalry with the United States, and Russia’s reassertion have reshaped the Middle East. Traditional alliances now resemble fragile deals—temporary, tactical and easily broken.
America’s “pivot to Asia” has left its Middle Eastern allies competing for attention. Saudi Arabia and the UAE are building ties with Beijing and Moscow; Iran is deepening coordination with Russia. In this storm, Israel faces the same question every small nation must answer: rely on others or rely on yourself?
By the end of 2025, “standing alone” has become more than a slogan; it has become an identity. Israel is not turning away from the world; it is learning to stand upright within it.
The courage to stand alone means acknowledging that friendship is valuable but never absolute. It is the maturity to cooperate without submission, to accept help without surrendering choice.
In a world of shifting powers and fading certainties, Israel’s new doctrine is both pragmatic and philosophical. America remains a friend, but no longer a pillar. Russia is an interlocutor, not a guardian. And nations like Azerbaijan show that sovereignty, wisely guarded, is still the highest form of security.
The liberal world order may be fading, but Israel’s independence is only beginning to shine—not as defiance, but as destiny.
