The US National Security Strategy unveiled by the US administration marks a sharp departure from the post-Second World War era. For over seven decades, Washington has cast itself as the guardian of a global order built on alliances, democratic promotion, and military interventions to reshape nations. The new security strategy, however, pivots to an “America First” doctrine. It promises to avoid endless wars, reject nation-building abroad, and redirect focus toward the Western Hemisphere. This approach treats foreign policy as a business deal; alliances endure only if they yield clear gains.
Yet, this strategy feels less like a detailed road map and more like a mood board scattered collection of slogans and images that inspire but fail to guide. In a world reshaped by rising powers, economic realignments, and eroding trust in US leadership, such vagueness risks leaving America — and its partners — adrift.
For the Arab region, long entangled in Washington’s orbit, the implications are profound. The Middle East is no longer a perpetual crisis zone demanding US troops. Instead, it emerges as a marketplace for investments in energy, technology, and defense. But this optimism overlooks harsh realities: America’s internal fractures, its diminished moral standing after the Gaza conflict, and the rapid rise of multipolar forces led by China. Arab states must now prioritize self-reliance, forging diverse partnerships to navigate this uncertain terrain. Drawing lessons from the Gulf’s pragmatic diversification, the region can build a more secure, prosperous future.
To understand the American doctrine’s radical turn, consider its historical roots. Since 1945, US strategies have emphasized collective security through institutions such as NATO and the UN. Presidents from Harry Truman to Joe Biden have framed America as the indispensable nation, intervening in Korea, Vietnam, Iraq, and Afghanistan to counter communism, terrorism, or authoritarianism. These efforts, while costly, sustained US primacy.
The 2025 national security strategy discards this legacy. It explicitly warns against “dissipating American power in protracted conflicts or misguided expansions.” Interventions are now off-limits unless they directly safeguard US borders or economy. Political reforms abroad — once a hallmark of American diplomacy — are dismissed as cultural impositions that ignore local traditions. The strategy’s geographic focus narrows to the Americas, prioritizing immigration control, trade deals with neighbors such as Mexico and Canada, and countering Chinese influence in Latin America.
This inward tilt mirrors President Donald Trump’s worldview: Every overseas move must answer one question — does it serve American interests? Allies are not exempt. Favorable deals outweigh loyalty; unfavorable ones invite pressure. Critics argue this transnationalism erodes long-term stability. As one analyst noted in a recent Foreign Affairs piece: “Strategies built on deals alone crumble when crises demand trust, not contracts.” For Arab observers, the echo is familiar: US policy in the region has long swung between idealism and self-interest, from the Oslo Accords’ promise to the Iraq war’s fallout.
The national security strategy arrives amid seismic global shifts that it barely acknowledges. The world Washington once dominated has fractured into competing blocks. China’s Belt and Road Initiative now spans 150 countries, channeling trillions into infrastructure from Africa to Asia. The BRICS alliance — Brazil, Russia, India, China, and South Africa — has expanded to include Egypt and the UAE, amplifying calls for de-dollarization. These moves challenge the US dollar’s role as the world’s reserve currency, with trade in local currencies rising 20 percent annually in BRICS deals.
Washington vows to counter these trends, labeling China the “sole competitor.” Yet the national security strategy offers few concrete tools beyond tariffs and tech restrictions. This gap invites exploitation. As America retreats, Beijing fills voids — building ports in the Arabian Sea, investing in Gulf AI hubs, and mediating Saudi-Iran talks in 2023. The result? A multipolar order where US influence wanes not through defeat, but diffusion.
For the Arab world, this rebalancing is double-edged. Opportunities abound in diversified trade: Saudi Arabia’s Vision 2030 now eyes Chinese partnerships for renewable energy, while Egypt leverages BRICS for infrastructure loans. But risks loom. US countermeasures — sanctions on Chinese firms, naval patrols in the South China Sea — could disrupt global supply chains, spiking oil prices and food costs in import-dependent Arab economies. The security strategy’s failure to address these interconnections leaves allies guessing: Will Washington defend the Strait of Hormuz as vigorously as it once did?
The strategy’s handling of allies reveals its coercive edge. Gone is the era of “integrated deterrence,” where US commitments wove seamlessly with partners. In its place are demands for burden-sharing, laced with threats.
In Asia, the Indo-Pacific pivot targets China. Alliances with Japan and South Korea must now include active roles in Taiwan’s defense, hosting US missiles, joint patrols, even preemptive strikes if Beijing moves. This escalates tensions, as Seoul and Tokyo balance economic ties to China. which buys 25 percent of Japan’s exports, against American security guarantees.
Europe faces sterner rebukes. The strategy portrays the continent as enfeebled by migration, overregulation, and cultural drift. It urges NATO members to hike defense spending to 3-5 percent of gross domestic product within five years — or forfeit US protection. “Europe must defend itself,” the document states bluntly. This echoes President Trump’s first-term complaints but ignores Europe’s post-Ukraine strains: Russia’s invasion has already boosted spending to 2 percent averages, yet energy crises and refugee flows persist.
“Arab states must now prioritize self-reliance, forging diverse partnerships to navigate the uncertain terrain.”
Dr. Turki Faisal Al-Rasheed
The Middle East receives surprisingly benign treatment. Once a quagmire of interventions — from Desert Storm to the Abraham Accords — the region is reframed as a “partnership zone.” Iran’s nuclear program and proxy militias are downplayed as diminished threats, thanks to sanctions and Israeli strikes. US energy independence producing 13 million barrels daily — frees Washington from Gulf oil dependence. Military footprints shrink, bases like Al-Udeid in Qatar remain, but troop levels drop.
Instead, opportunities beckon. The strategy envisions Arab states as co-investors in emerging sectors: nuclear reactors in the UAE, AI data centers in Saudi Arabia, drone tech in Jordan. Vital sea lanes, like the Bab El-Mandeb Strait, stay under US vigilance to block “hostile powers.” No more “forever wars,” the strategy pledges — relief after two decades in Afghanistan and Iraq.
This pivot suits Gulf leaders pursuing economic diversification. Yet it glosses over perils. The Abraham Accords, while normalizing Israel-UAE ties, stalled Palestinian progress. The Oslo framework’s collapse, coupled with US retreat from mediation, has fueled despair, producing cycles of violence.
No factor has accelerated America’s moral decline more than its role in Gaza. From October 2023 to late 2025, Israel’s campaign, enabled by $20 billion in US arms and vetoes at the UN, claimed over 40,000 lives, per UN estimates. Washington’s “ironclad” support, amid global outcry over civilian casualties, branded it complicit in hypocrisy. Polls show US favorability in the Arab world plummeting to 15 percent, rivaling Iran’s lows.
This erosion shatters Washington’s broker status. The Oslo “fiction” — a two-state mirage — crumbled long ago, but Gaza’s devastation buries it. Regional crises metastasize: Yemen’s Houthis disrupt shipping, Lebanon simmers with Hezbollah clashes, Syria’s fragments defy stabilization. Without US leverage, resolutions recede.
Compounding this: America’s domestic rifts. A polarized Congress — split on aid to Ukraine, Israel, and Taiwan — undermines coherent policy. The security strategy’s episodic fixes — tariffs here, summits there — cannot bridge these divides. As historian Niall Ferguson warns: “Empires fall not from external blows, but internal rot.”
Faced with a fickle superpower, Arab states must craft autonomous paths. Self-reliance demands three pillars: diversified alliances, economic resilience, and human capital investment.
The Gulf Cooperation Council exemplifies this. Since 2017, leaders such as Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman and UAE President Sheikh Mohamed bin Zayed have woven a web of ties — China for BRI ports, Russia for oil swaps, India for tech talent, even Turkey for mediation. Arms deals span US F-35s to French Rafales, hedging against any single supplier.
De-escalation defines the approach: The 2023 Saudi-Iran detente, brokered by Beijing, ended proxy shadows in Yemen and Iraq. Domestically, reforms abound — women’s workforce entry in Saudi Arabia doubled to 35 percent, youth unemployment fell via Neom-like megaprojects. Laws eased for foreign investors; revenues diversified beyond oil, with non-hydrocarbons at 50 percent of GDP in the UAE.
Food and water security, long vulnerabilities, now prioritize innovation. Vertical farms in Qatar yield 10 times traditional crops; desalination plants in Oman process 80 percent of needs. Regional pacts, like the Arab Food Security Initiative, pool investments in African farmlands, shielding against disruptions.
This Gulf blueprint merits Arab-wide adoption. A pan-Arab economic union — building on the Arab League — could harmonize trade, standardize tech standards, and cofund desert agriculture. Imagine joint ventures: Egyptian solar powering Jordanian greenhouses, Moroccan phosphates fertilizing Iraqi fields. Such integration fosters sustainability, turning shared challenges into collective strengths.
The American doctrine, for all its bravado, navigates a world it no longer commands. Its “America First” mood board may rally domestic bases, but it invites chaos abroad. For the Arab region, the message is clear: Rely less on Washington, invest more in each other.
By emulating the Gulf’s pragmatism — blending US ties with Eastern outreach, innovation with integration — Arab states can defy volatility. Prosperity awaits not in isolation, but unity: a shared horizon of security, growth, and dignity. In this fractured era, the Arab world need not follow America’s map. It can draw its own.
A Fragile Blueprint: Reimagining the Arab World in a Post-‘America First’ Era (Video Overview)
A Fragile Blueprint: Reimagining the Arab World in a Post-‘America First’ Era (Audio Overview)
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