لحظة ادراك

 

I Will Not Sink Alone

When American Support Becomes an Electoral Bill and War Becomes a Shared Destiny

Not every message of support is a gift, and not every expression of friendship is free from calculation. In politics, a smile may come with a deferred bill, and the hand that shakes yours may turn into a hand pointing toward the ballot box, demanding that you choose for both of you, not merely for yourself.

At its core, this is how one might interpret Donald Trump’s intervention in support of Benjamin Netanyahu just days before the Israeli elections. The American president did not limit himself to praising his ally and describing him as strong and courageous. He also linked the continuation of their partnership to the future of the confrontation with Iran, warning Israelis that choosing a different leadership could leave the United States alone in facing what it regards as an Iranian threat.

It is as though Trump were telling Israelis: Remember what we have given you, and remember what we started together. Then decide whether you want to continue along this path with the man who knows its every detail, or risk handing the helm to others.

But what Trump did not say explicitly, or perhaps did not wish to state so bluntly, is that the war in which the United States has become a principal partner did not emerge from a political vacuum. Netanyahu spent years pushing for a confrontation with Iran, presenting it as a battle that could not be postponed, a danger that could not be lived with, and a gateway that had to be crossed to reshape the Middle East according to the Israeli vision he embraces.

This is where the question begins to extend beyond the ballot boxes: Did the United States enter a war of its own choosing, or did it find itself drawn into a conflict whose course Netanyahu helped chart, until withdrawing from it became more costly than continuing it?

This does not mean that Washington has lost its will or that it is merely a follower of Israeli decisions. The United States is a major power with its own calculations, interests, and objectives. But the relationship between the two allies cannot be measured solely by who possesses the aircraft and missiles. It must also be measured by who can influence the definition of the threat, determine the timing of the confrontation, and shape the vision of what victory might look like.

For years, Netanyahu succeeded in making Iran a central pillar of his security and political rhetoric. Trump, meanwhile, who prefers announcing victories to explaining their costs, found himself facing an equation in which military superiority alone was insufficient to guarantee a politically comfortable ending.

War is not an arithmetic exercise in which destroyed targets are added up and victory is declared once a certain number has been reached. It is a test of the ability to turn power into results, destruction into stability, and military achievements into a sustainable political reality.

If Netanyahu saw the confrontation as an opportunity to curtail Iranian influence and rearrange the regional balance of power, Trump needs to convince Americans that the war has not become an open-ended burden and that the price being paid can be justified by a clear outcome. Between these two visions lies a broad area of disagreement. Netanyahu may want to continue the battle until the strategic environment surrounding Israel has been transformed, while Trump needs a point at which he can tell his supporters: We have accomplished the mission, and now it is time to reap the rewards.

And here lies the great paradox: The two allies may agree on the necessity of war without necessarily agreeing on what its end should mean.

Netanyahu is not seeking merely a military conclusion. He needs an outcome he can present as a historic victory, restoring his image after years of wars, crises, accusations, and security failures. Trump, for his part, does not want to enter history as the president who opened a major front only to discover that closing it was harder than opening it.

Both men need each other, but each needs the other for different reasons. Netanyahu needs American backing, military superiority, and the ability to turn battlefield achievements into strategic gains. Trump needs an Israeli partner capable of delivering tangible results rather than placing the White House before a succession of commitments that expand as the decisive moment approaches.

Seen in this light, Trump’s endorsement of Netanyahu appears to be more than an electoral courtesy exchanged between friends. It is an intervention carrying a message to Israeli voters: Changing the leadership at this moment could disrupt a joint project and raise questions about the future of the confrontation with Iran.

Yet the message also carries within it an indirect admission of another dilemma. If the continuation of the war is so closely tied to Netanyahu remaining in power, does that mean the project presented as a strategic necessity for Israel has become hostage to the future of a single man? Have the war’s outcomes and risks become tied to the survival of the person making the decisions, rather than to an objective assessment of Israel’s interests?

A state that ties its security to the fate of a single leader and reduces its future to the continuation of his government risks turning strategy into an electoral hostage. Political leadership may change, but geography does not change with it, and threats do not disappear simply because a government falls. Nor does a prime minister’s continued tenure automatically guarantee the achievement of the goals he has promised.

Israeli voters, moreover, are not merely numbers in Trump’s calculations, and the ballot box should not be a means of renewing a political mandate for an open-ended war. Israelis have every right to ask about the results, the costs, the limits of the objectives, and the day after the confrontation. Americans, too, have the right to ask why their country should bear the risks of a war in which its interests intersect with those of its ally without necessarily being identical to them.

As for the Middle East that some seek to reshape, it is neither a silent chessboard nor an empty space whose countries and peoples must wait for great-power players to arrive and determine their destinies. Every war launched in the name of security may produce a new threat, and every attempt to impose a regional order by force may sow the seeds of future instability. Weakening an adversary is not enough to establish peace, just as changing the balance of power does not guarantee that the region will accept the new map.

Perhaps the most dangerous aspect of this moment is the possibility that the fear of defeat will become a justification for continuing the war, and that the price already paid will become an argument for paying even more. Instead of asking each other, “Have we achieved an outcome worth all these costs?” the two allies may find themselves asking, “How can we retreat now, after coming this far?”

In this way, the recent past becomes a constraint on the future, and previous losses become a psychological and political investment whose owners are unwilling to admit may have failed. At that point, war ceases to be a means of achieving objectives; instead, the pursuit of the declared objectives becomes a pretext for prolonging the war.

Ultimately, Trump may want Israelis to vote for Netanyahu to preserve a project the two men began together, while Netanyahu may see American support as an opportunity to complete what he regards as an existential battle. But what the Middle East needs is not two leaders afraid that one might leave the war before the other. It needs leadership capable of acknowledging that power, however great, does not grant its possessors an open-ended right to reshape the destinies of others.

Sink Together or Survive Together?

That is the message concealed behind Trump’s endorsement, but it is not necessarily the only choice available to the two men. There is a third path, one that leaders’ calculations rarely favor: to stop before the partnership becomes a shackle, and to redefine success before retreat becomes impossible.

Not everyone who continues sailing is brave, and not everyone who changes course is defeated. Sometimes courage lies in admitting that the ship is heading toward the rocks, and that saving it matters more than proving the captain never makes mistakes.

But if each insists that the other is the guarantee of his own survival, they may discover too late that a partnership which began with the promise of victory has turned into a partnership in paying the price. And that the most dangerous thing binding the two allies together is not what they hope to achieve jointly, but what they fear losing if they go their separate ways.

At the edge of the abyss, it is not enough for two captains to exchange words of confidence. One of them must ask where the ship is heading, what purpose it serves, what price must be paid, and whether there is still time to change course.