Our friends’ WhatsApp group began debating Netanyahu’s UN speech before he had opened his mouth.
Someone shared a link to watch without translation or commentary. Someone else suggested watching together. One friend wondered what there was to look forward to. Victory, achievements, Iran. She could already imagine it.
Another said she loved hearing him address the world. She admired his speechwriters and enjoyed the references. She also made clear that enjoying the performance said very little about whether she believed him.
Once he started, even the skeptics gave him credit.
“He’s a master at speaking,” one message read. A friend agreed, then added that he was ruining things at home. There was room in the conversation for both reactions.
When he finished, the friend who had been looking forward to the speech was annoyed. Why didn’t he talk this way to Israelis, she asked. In Hebrew. Explain his vision. Talk about our right to live here. Say these things to us.
“Come and say this here too. At home.”
I agreed with her. I still do.
Netanyahu was very good on Thursday evening. His English is impeccable, his confidence extraordinary. He knows when to pause, when to make a joke, and when to let a personal story do the work. He is smart, and he assumes his audience can follow an argument about history even while he simplifies the politics.
I enjoyed parts of it. I suspect quite a few Israelis who have no intention of voting for him did, too. Hearing someone defend your country well can feel good, especially after listening to it being attacked.
Bible diplomacy shapes Netanyahu’s message
The biblical references worked. Call it Bible diplomacy. He told Syria’s president that Jews had been on the Golan “since the days of Moses.” He brought biblical figures into his explanation of who we are and why we are here. For a Christian listener familiar with those names, there is an obvious point of connection. For a Jewish listener, there is the satisfaction of hearing our history spoken about confidently.
I initially wondered whether he had used the Bible more heavily than usual. Reading the previous two speeches made me reconsider. In 2024, the choice Moses put before the Israelites, between blessing and curse, organized much of the address. Even Thursday’s closing reference to the eternity of Israel appeared two years ago.
What caught my attention in the comparison was how much more specific he had previously been about peace.
In 2024, he spent time on what an agreement with Saudi Arabia could achieve, including trade and regional infrastructure. Last year, he spoke about negotiations with Syria and invited Lebanon to direct talks. He described opportunities to expand the Abraham Accords.
You could be skeptical of those prospects and still know what he was proposing.
This year, I came away with a much clearer sense of whom he was answering than of what diplomatic initiative he wanted to advance. There were plenty of arguments against Israel’s critics and relatively little about the agreements he hoped to reach.
I wouldn’t judge the speech by whether it produced a breaking-news alert. Answering accusations is part of a prime minister’s job. Some of the people watching needed to hear Israel’s case again.
Personal stories of Yoni Netanyahu, the Leiter family frame vision for Israel’s future
But Israelis needed something from it, too. After three years of war, a list of achievements leaves a fairly obvious question: Where are we going?
The story about his brother Yoni, and the passage about the Leiter family, were among the moments that gave the speech a human weight. He spoke about people who had paid for the country’s survival. That makes an explanation of what comes next all the more necessary.
Then there was this description of Israel: “one nation fighting for one future, left and right, young and old, religious and secular.”
I liked that sentence. I would like to hear more of it in Israel, followed by an explanation of what it asks of him.
People who oppose Netanyahu also serve, raise children here, and worry about the country. They should be able to hear their prime minister explain his plans without feeling that the conversation is intended for somebody else. He has the ability to reach some of them. The messages in our group suggested as much.
Of course, a UN address serves a different purpose from a domestic interview. And of course Israelis can watch him speak in New York. We were doing exactly that.
Domestic audience looks for a message of unity, belonging
The frustration was with how much effort he was making to explain Israel to everyone else. My friends wanted some of that attention. They wanted to hear a future they could believe in, to feel proud of their country, and to feel included when its leader said: “we.”
I share that feeling. I would like him to explain which opportunities he thinks the military achievements have created, what he is prepared to do to pursue them, and what he expects the rest of us to carry. I would like to hear him answer the follow-up questions, too.
A serious conversation with the Israeli public would include people who disagree with him. Some would remain unconvinced. That is part of the job. He manages to stand before a hostile international audience and make his case; surely he can make more time for questions from home.
We have an offer, Mr. Prime Minister. At The Jerusalem Post, we’ve been trying to interview you for three years, with about as much luck as many of our colleagues in the Israeli media. It’s not too late. We can even do it in English.