In January 2025, National Security Minister Itamar Ben Gvir dramatically resigned from the government. His Otzma Yehudit party quit the coalition in protest over a hostage deal that led to a ceasefire in Gaza. At the time, we agreed to speak “once the picture becomes clearer” – his exact words – not “when Otzma Yehudit returns.” Ben Gvir insisted there was no guarantee of a political comeback.
Observers continue to debate the sequence of events: Did Ben Gvir return because Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu resumed the military operation in Gaza? Or did Netanyahu reignite the fighting because Ben Gvir demanded it?
In politics—and life—every move is a blend of ideology and pragmatism: principles on the one hand and electoral calculus on the other.
Eventually, Ben Gvir’s return took shape when he presented Netanyahu with a list of demands for rejoining the coalition. One by one, they were met. The hostage talks collapsed, Israel launched Operation Strength and Sword, the government opened a new front against the attorney-general, protests reignited across the country, and tensions soared.
Ben Gvir? He re-entered the political arena just as he left it: in a storm and straight into another one.
We met, as promised, when the dust began to settle. Ben Gvir chose a modest Jerusalem café for the conversation. We found a quiet corner, though the occasional request for selfies interrupted us every ten minutes. Still, we managed to cover a wide range of topics.
“I had two months outside the government,” Ben Gvir said at the outset. “Not just to act—but to reflect. It gave me time to take stock, to look at everything from the outside.”
I watched him take the Knesset podium to retake his oath of office. His eyes said it all: I won.
“I felt like I had come full circle,” he recalled. “It was a bold move. As the head of a party with three ministers, committee chairs, and massive influence, we had real power—billions in budgets that we walked away from. I knew the attorney general and others were waiting for us to fall. But I stuck to my truth, my values, my path—and gave everything up for it. There were ups and downs, but in the end, everything I said came true: ending humanitarian aid, removing the attorney general and Shin Bet chief, and resuming the war. After two months, here I am.”
‘It wasn’t a political stunt’
When you stepped down, did you truly believe you might not return? Or was this, as some critics claim, a strategic move — with Netanyahu keeping your portfolios warm?
“It wasn’t a stunt,” Ben Gvir said firmly. “I genuinely considered that I might not return. This job is the project of my life. When I first entered the National Security Ministry, I had to pinch myself—there I was, walking on a red carpet, surrounded by police officers who used to arrest me at demonstrations. This isn’t a game.”
While we’ll later return to what he calls his “life’s work,” our conversation shifted to the turning point — the hostage deal that prompted his resignation.
Sources close to the party said Ben Gvir consulted his spiritual mentor, Rabbi Dov Lior, before making the final call. Otzma Yehudit is not a haredi party — so how does the party’s decision-making process work? And how much weight does the rabbi’s opinion carry?
“Rabbi Lior gives me room for personal judgment,” Ben Gvir explained. “We’re not a haredi party—I don’t ask him how to name my children. At first, I decided not to resign. But then I learned details about the deal: Israel leaving the Netzarim corridor, the release of convicted murderers—82% of whom, according to Mossad and the IDF, return to terror.”
“My wife asked me, ‘Can you look yourself in the mirror? If Naftali Bennett had agreed to this, where would you be?’ I told her: ‘Outside his house with protest signs.’ That’s how it started.”
He quickly convened his party’s Knesset faction. MK Almog Kroizer, serving under the Norwegian Law, said they had to leave—even though it meant losing his seat. MK Zvika Fogel, a committee chair, said, “We can’t stay. They’re stopping the war and not defeating Hamas.” Ministers Amichai Eliyahu and Yitzhak Wasserlauf agreed.
“I smiled to myself,” Ben Gvir recalled. “So proud. What a party I have—driven by principles, not by jobs. Most of our advisers supported the move—except for two.”
He returned to Rabbi Lior with a full explanation. The rabbi responded, “If that’s your decision, follow it.”
“Netanyahu was stunned,” Ben Gvir said. “I had warned him many times that this kind of deal was unacceptable to me. Who walks away from ministries like that? But we did. And I said if the war resumes, I’ll return. That’s what happened. The rest is history.”
The role of Ayala Ben Gvir
Ayala Ben Gvir, his wife, clearly plays a central role in her husband’s political decision-making. He doesn’t deny it—he embraces it.
“Anyone who says a woman shouldn’t be involved in her husband’s work doesn’t understand what partnership means. She’s my partner—through the highs and the lows, in protests and under pressure. When Rabbi Rafi Peretz betrayed me, she was there.”
He’s referring to the broken 2019 agreement with Peretz, who favored Bennett and Smotrich. Today, a photo of Ben Gvir walking alone through a Knesset corridor hangs in his office—a reminder, he says, of “where I am and who surrounds me.”
Why that picture?
“I look at it all the time—to remind myself that politics is a world of knives. Just two hours before that betrayal, I sat with Rabbi Rafi and asked, ‘You’re not turning on me, right?’ He said, ‘My word is my word.’ I’d cross oceans for a word. And yet, he was already planning to dump me.”
“I wanted to quit politics,” he admitted. “I said, ‘This isn’t for me. I believe in people.’ Ayala told me, ‘You’re not quitting anything. You have a mission.’ And now, here I am.”
‘I consult often – and I listen’
Are you someone who consults with others regularly?
“Very much so,” he said. “I’m not the type who ignores input. I have advisers, strategists, friends, and of course, the party — a real family. Wasserlauf, the Golani vet; Fogel, the principled warrior; Kroizer, the farmer; Limor Son Har-Melech — they’re all different, but they trust me.”
And what about Almog Cohen, who turned his back on you? Was it a mistake to include him on your slate?
“He was important, and a good MK, but it was a deep disappointment. I fought for him. We saw Otzma Yehudit’s strength in the polls, and Smotrich gave me the seventh spot on the condition that it go to someone with a kippah. I said: ‘Absolutely not. Our list is for everyone—with or without a kippah, from the north and the south.’ My own parents didn’t wear kippot and were righteous people. In the end, Cohen made it in.”
So how do you explain his shift to Likud?
“Politics,” Ben Gvir replied. “Early in the term, we were polling low, and he connected with Likud’s primary players. I tried to speak with him—no success. He wants to grow there, and that suits him. In Likud, people fall in line with what Netanyahu wants. That’s how it works.”
“I respect Bibi. He knows how loyal I am. But when he makes a mistake, I tell him—face to face.”
Two days after this interview, Almog Cohen accepted Netanyahu’s offer to become a deputy minister and resigned from the Knesset. MK Tzvi Sukkot took his place. The political map shifted—but Ben Gvir’s conclusions did not.
