Save a Torch for Steve Witkoff
Maariv, Israel, October 18
During one of the joint briefings in recent months—details of which need not be elaborated—an American special forces officer entered the room and said a sentence that has echoed in the minds of many Israelis in uniform: “Our mission is to rescue you if anything goes wrong. We will stand by you no matter what. That’s our job, and we will not leave you alone in the battlefield.”
It was a simple sentence, but one that carried profound meaning—a pledge of solidarity that resonated deeply. It recalled the words of Special Envoy Steve Witkoff, spoken from Tel Aviv Museum Square last Saturday evening before hundreds of thousands. We’ve spoken endlessly about the Nobel Prize, about regional deals, about shifting alliances and unpredictable politics—but we often forget the human dimension, the soul players, those who keep pushing forward when everything seems impossible.
As Jared Kushner said from the same stage, “When we hit a wall, Steve immediately suggested we come up with another plan.” Like the late soccer player Udi Ashash—who was once described as a “soul player”—there are still people who embody that spirit. And today, the president of the United States has proven himself one of them—playing for our league and our team. Instead of scrambling for candidates to light torches on Independence Day, perhaps we should dedicate one to him, to Witkoff, in the name of the American people and their president.
Donald Trump may yet receive the Nobel Prize—not because he seeks it, nor because global conflicts have vanished, but because he has earned it. His tireless efforts, now becoming clearer as an entire nation waits anxiously for the Red Cross to speak, have unified Israel in one of its most emotional and defining moments. This transcends politics and partisanship; it is a moment that all can feel. Leadership, after all, is not merely about leading one’s own people—it’s about leading other leaders, weaving together competing interests into a shared purpose, and making things happen. That is what this president—so often caricatured as self-serving or megalomaniacal—has managed to do.
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This man is the president of the United States, and we owe him a measure of gratitude that words can scarcely capture. When he addressed the Knesset this week, he emerged once more as a leader capable of achieving what others could not—and left the nation inspired. The hostages’ ordeal may be nearing its end, but a larger chapter for Israel is beginning: the struggle over the country’s character, over who will lead it, represent it, and shape its moral and strategic future.
Similar tremors are being felt in America, and Trump, ever perceptive, understands this. He is working with both hands to leave behind a more stable world when he steps down—not long from now—in a ceremony that promises to be as commanding as his presidency itself, wielding both a firm stick and a generous handful of carrots. That is how real power operates, especially in the Middle East, where diplomacy often resembles combat more than choreography.
When Air Force One touched down in Israel, it was preceded by the familiar armada of heavy transport planes—vehicles, equipment, personnel, even helicopters—because that is how power moves. Traffic jams are a small price to pay on such a day. After speaking in the Knesset, the president departed for Sharm El Sheikh, where his ceasefire agreement was signed—an agreement that did more than mark the end of a war; it marked the dawn of a new era.
Turkey now possesses stealth aircraft, Egypt is on the brink of emerging from a long economic crisis, and a new balance of power is taking shape—one that counters the dominance of the Persian Gulf’s regional powers. This is the essence of the plan. Israel, now entering the fourth quarter of its first century, finds its destiny increasingly shaped by international alliances rather than by purely independent decisions—a sign of partnership and friendship, yes, but also of a dependence we never fully intended. The image of the president’s envoy—a real estate magnate turned diplomat—sitting with his son-in-law, also a businessman, alongside our prime minister and a strategic affairs minister with no military background and barely a grasp of Hebrew—says much about who truly makes decisions.
This is the quartet that decides. And in truth, there’s little room left for anyone else. To ensure that our decisions continue to be made in Hebrew, not merely translated from English, we must hold fast to our strategic advantage, to our partnerships, and to the clear-eyed understanding Kushner shared in Tel Aviv: after two years of war and resilience, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity is before us. We must seize it with both hands—externally and internally—because divided, we risk losing far more than public opinion or fleeting diplomatic favor; we risk losing each other.
When the president’s plane ascended into the night sky, a new phase began—a reckoning. Every victory has its price, and soon patience will give way to accountability. The world will demand a process of correction. Those who do not yet see this should listen to Steve Bannon’s blunt assessments, or to Kushner’s words about the suffering of Palestinians and the inevitability of their state, which now seems closer than ever. The annexation that never happened has set in motion a new Middle East, and whether we like it or not, we are all aboard its train—most of whose passengers, incidentally, speak Arabic.
We have lived through extraordinary moments and will live through more. But as the American president—the soul player—will not remain forever, we must ensure that our tent in this regional camp is sturdy, upright, and unmistakably ours. In this neighborhood, weakness is visible, and loose threads unravel quickly. To endure here, one must not just play the game—but play to win. And when Independence Day arrives, save a torch for Steve Witkoff.
Meidan Barr (translated by Asaf Zilberfarb)
