Donald Trump’s latest Middle East tour was not just another round of diplomatic pageantry – it was a declaration of regional strategy. By lavishing attention on Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates while giving Israel little more than a pro forma nod, Trump made clear that his administration now sees the Gulf monarchies – not the U.S.-Israel alliance – as the new centerpiece of American regional strategy. It was a shift rich in optics and symbolism, but dangerously short on substance. In elevating brittle autocracies over America’s most capable and consistent ally, Trump has mistaken flattery and transactional convenience for strategic wisdom – and in doing so, has undermined the very foundation of U.S. influence in the region.
This wasn’t some careless diplomatic shuffle. It was calculated. Trump gave the red-carpet treatment to Gulf royals, brokered yet another round of defense deals measured in billions, and flattered his way through ceremonial pomp in Riyadh and Abu Dhabi. Israel, by contrast, received a brief courtesy call and little more than boilerplate affirmations of the “special relationship.” The message was clear: the Gulf is in, and – for now – Israel is out.
Some will call this realism. They’ll say Trump is simply updating U.S. strategy to reflect new realities: Gulf monarchies with deep pockets, expanding influence, and shared hostility toward Iran. They’ll argue Israel can take care of itself, and that America is better served by focusing on where the money, oil, and arms deals are. And on the surface, it might even look like a smart pivot.
But they’re wrong. Not just in the details, but in the premise.
For all their wealth and ambition, the Gulf monarchies are brittle, unaccountable regimes with limited staying power. Their rulers can buy F-35s and hire lobbyists, but they cannot buy legitimacy. They repress dissent, jail reformers, and manage their populations through surveillance and fear. Their foreign policies – see Yemen, Libya, Sudan – tend toward recklessness. And while they may temporarily align with U.S. interests, there is no moral, institutional, or historical bedrock to anchor those relationships when the winds shift.
Israel, for all its challenges, is different. It is the United States’ most capable, battle-tested partner in the region – militarily, technologically, and politically. It shares a democratic ethos, however frayed at the edges, and it anchors an alliance that has proven resilient across decades of war, diplomacy, and shifting administrations. You don’t discard that kind of ally because a Saudi crown prince flashes a checkbook.
The Trump doctrine – if it can be called that – reduces foreign policy to the logic of the deal: Who pays? Who buys American weapons? Who flatters the president most convincingly? But this kind of transactionalism only works until the transaction no longer serves both parties. And in the Middle East, the stakes are far too high to gamble on the loyalty of regimes that would just as easily pivot to China or Russia if the price were right.
Strategic partnerships are not retail exchanges. They are long-term investments in reliability, trust, and common purpose. The U.S.-Israel alliance, for all its recent tensions, still rests on foundations the Gulf monarchies cannot replicate. Joint military exercises, intelligence sharing, arms co-development, cyber cooperation, and institutional familiarity across defense and diplomatic corps – these are not things one can manufacture with a state dinner and a press release.
And then there’s the matter of perception. In the Middle East, symbolism is power. The order of meetings, the tone of press conferences, the presence or absence of flag pins – these things matter. Trump’s decision to relegate Israel to the margins while exalting Gulf autocrats was noticed not only in Jerusalem but in Tehran, Ankara, and even Moscow. It suggested a wavering commitment. It invited speculation. And it raised precisely the kinds of doubts that, over time, invite miscalculation and instability.
This is not to say that America should ignore the Gulf. Far from it. Saudi Arabia, the UAE, and others play indispensable roles in oil markets, maritime security, and counterterrorism. But treating them as strategic equals – or worse, as preferred partners – risks hollowing out the one alliance that actually functions on a level deeper than money or mutual convenience. It’s one thing to broaden your base of support. It’s another to rearrange your strategic architecture on the basis of flattery and finance.
Trump has never been a man burdened by consistency, and it’s entirely possible he’ll pivot again—perhaps if Israel escalates against Hezbollah, or if Iran resumes overt nuclear brinksmanship. But for now, his priorities are plain. He has chosen to embrace the Gulf monarchs not just as partners, but as symbols of a new American approach to the region: one that prizes immediacy over endurance, gesture over substance, and gold-plated palaces over democratic grit.
The problem isn’t that Trump has lost faith in Israel. It’s that he has failed to understand what kind of ally actually matters in a region as combustible as the Middle East. He’s mistaken transactional compliance for strategic dependability. And in doing so, he’s not only undermining a cornerstone of American foreign policy – he’s betting on the wrong horse.
If this is the shape of things to come, the United States will find itself surrounded not by friends, but by clients – useful in the short term, but indifferent or even hostile when the calculations change. Israel has been many things to the U.S. – difficult at times, even defiant. But it has never wavered in its alignment with American core interests. The same cannot be said of the palace regimes currently enjoying their moment in the Trumpian sun.
Strategic clarity means knowing who your real allies are. Trump, ever the showman, may think he’s rewritten the regional script. But in downgrading Israel and upgrading the Gulf, he’s made a category error – confusing flash for substance, and forgetting that in geopolitics, loyalty built over decades still counts for more than applause bought for a day.
About the Author: Dr. Andrew Latham
Andrew Latham is a non-resident fellow at Defense Priorities and a professor of international relations and political theory at Macalester College in Saint Paul, MN. You can follow him on X: @aakatham.
