The U.S. war against Iran has become for the Persian Gulf states more than just another military crisis, more than a new round of Middle Eastern turbulence, and more than a severe trial for oil markets. It has become a moment of political epiphany. It was the very instant when the region's wealthy monarchies finally realized that the American security guarantee is no longer a sacred covenant set in stone. Instead, it has become a subject of bargaining, mood, domestic political calculation, and the personal style of President Trump.
For seven decades, the Gulf countries lived within the logic of an extremely simple deal. They ensured energy market stability, maintained the peg to the dollar system, purchased American weapons, hosted American bases, and accounted for American interests. In return, the U.S. guaranteed protection against external threats. This formula may have been cynical, unequal, and harsh, but it was clear. In a world where oil remained the lifeblood of the global economy and the Strait of Hormuz its artery, clarity was worth more than political sentiment.
Now, that clarity is gone.
Washington first failed to warn its Arab partners about a large-scale operation against Iran, and then began effectively hinting that they should shoulder part of the war’s costs. In the spring of 2026, the White House indeed made it clear that President Trump was interested in Arab nations paying a significant portion of American military expenditures related to operations against Iran. For Riyadh, Abu Dhabi, Doha, Kuwait City, and Manama, this sounded not like a request from an ally, but like a bill from a security guard who failed to warn the homeowner about a fire and then charged him for the buckets of water.
This is precisely where the main deformation began. It was not on the battlefield, not in the strait, nor in the halls of the Pentagon, but in the minds of the Middle Eastern elites. They saw that while the U.S. remains the most powerful military player in the region, it no longer appears to be an unconditional guarantor. These are different things. Power without reliability transforms from a pillar of support into a source of risk.
One Tweet That Cost America Its Trust
A symbolic crack appeared as early as September 2019, when an unprecedented strike was carried out against Saudi oil infrastructure. At that time, Donald Trump, in the middle of his first presidential term, wrote that the U.S. was "locked and loaded" but was waiting for Saudi Arabia to say who they believed was the culprit and under what terms Washington should act.
To an outside observer, this might have looked like standard diplomatic caution. To Riyadh, it was something more. It was a breakdown of the language that the U.S. and Saudi Arabia had spoken since 1945.
Since the historic meeting between Franklin D. Roosevelt and King Abdul Aziz aboard an American cruiser, an unspoken formula had been in effect: oil in exchange for security. Saudi Arabia ensures supply stability; the U.S. ensures the protection of the kingdom and, more broadly, the architecture of energy stability. Later, this formula became part of a wider American strategy in the Persian Gulf known as the Carter Doctrine. Its essence was stark: any attempt by an outside force to gain control of the Persian Gulf region would be regarded as an assault on the vital interests of the United States.
This doctrine was not a beautiful moral declaration. It was a cold imperial calculation. But it worked. The American fleet secured shipping in the Strait of Hormuz during the Iran-Iraq war. The U.S. pushed Iraq out of Kuwait in 1991 not only to restore international law but to prevent oil blackmail. Washington could make mistakes, act bluntly, or disrupt balances, but its partners understood: if the threat concerned oil and strategic allies, the American reaction would be swift.
In 2019, the reaction was different. Trump did not strike immediately, did not restore the previous logic of deterrence, and did not give Riyadh that sense of instantaneous protection upon which the entire psychological foundation of the alliance rested. The U.S. later increased its presence and sent additional surveillance and air defense assets, but the moment was lost. In Middle Eastern politics, what you did not do in the first hours is sometimes more important than what you did two weeks later.
The Carter Doctrine Died Not in Tehran, but in Riyadh
For Saudi Arabia, the strike on oil facilities was not just an attack on infrastructure. It was an attack on the heart of the state. The modern kingdom is building an ambitious Vision 2030, investing in cities of the future, tourism, technology, sports, and logistics, but this entire storefront still stands on a foundation of energy power. If an enemy can strike this foundation and the chief ally responds by asking "what are you willing to offer in return?", it means the old contract is no longer unconditional.
From that moment, Riyadh began to think differently. Severing the alliance with the U.S. would be suicidal. The Saudi army, air force, air defense systems, armored vehicles, and a massive layer of military infrastructure are tied to American supplies, maintenance, spare parts, software, and training. It is impossible to abandon the U.S. quickly. However, one can begin to build a second, third, and fourth perimeter of security.
Thus, a new logic emerged: America remains the primary, but no longer the sole partner. American weapons remain important, but they should no longer be a monopoly. The American base remains a factor of deterrence, but it no longer replaces a national survival strategy.
This is why the Saudi-Pakistani defense pact, signed on September 17, 2025, was not a private bilateral story, but a geopolitical signal. The document established the principle that aggression against one party is considered aggression against both. Pakistan is a nuclear power. Even if the direct extension of a "nuclear umbrella" to Saudi Arabia remains a matter of interpretation and political uncertainty, the very fact of such an agreement changes regional psychology.
Riyadh sent Washington a perfectly clear message: we are not leaving you, but we no longer intend to live only under your roof.
Trump Wanted to Show Strength but Showed the Limits of American Control
The war against Iran, intended as a demonstration of American resolve, produced the opposite effect. It showed not only the U.S. capacity to strike but also its inability to keep allies in their previous state of dependence.
When Washington fails to warn partners whose territories host American bases, data centers, logistics hubs, and energy infrastructure, it effectively turns them from allies into the backdrop of its own operation. And when it subsequently demands money for the war, it turns a strategic partnership into a commercial contract with an unpleasant aftertaste.
The Gulf states are not naive. For decades, they have played an incredibly complex game between the U.S., Europe, China, Russia, Iran, Turkey, India, and internal Arab contradictions. But even for them, Washington's behavior became too sharp a signal. They saw that American policy could be not just tough, but unpredictable. For small and medium-sized states, unpredictability is more dangerous than hostility. One can build a line of defense against an enemy. Against an unpredictable ally, one must hedge in all directions at once.
The crisis in the Strait of Hormuz only intensified this feeling. According to Reuters reports, as of early May 2026, the Pentagon insisted that a ceasefire with Iran formally remained in place, even though the U.S. and Iran had already exchanged strikes over control of the Strait of Hormuz, and the American operation was aimed at restoring navigation. Simultaneously, the U.S. and its Gulf allies submitted a draft resolution to the UN Security Council threatening sanctions against Iran if it did not cease pressure on shipping in the strait. This is no longer the familiar picture of calm American dominance. It is a picture of arduous crisis management in which every participant is looking for an emergency exit.
China Enters the Gulf Not with a Carrier, but with Patience
The most obvious winner from American nervousness is China. It has long acted in the region differently than the U.S. Washington arrives with bases, sanctions, aircraft, political demands, and lectures on proper behavior. Beijing arrives with ports, cables, cloud services, loans, industrial zones, oil purchases, and the quiet smile of a state that is in no hurry.
China does not offer the Gulf countries a full replacement for the U.S. It lacks comparable military infrastructure in the region, lacks such experience in projecting power, and lacks a global network of bases. But Beijing does not promise to immediately become the "new American." It offers something else: reducing dependence on Washington piece by piece.
In energy, China has already become more than just a buyer for the Gulf; it is a key market. In technology, it offers an alternative to American digital infrastructure. In diplomacy, it speaks with Iran without hysteria and with Arab monarchies without moralizing. In finance, it promotes settlements in yuan and new payment circuits. In security, it does not replace the Pentagon but gradually penetrates segments where U.S. dominance once seemed natural: drones, radars, laser systems, artificial intelligence, communications, and clouds.
The technological front has become particularly painful for the U.S. After strikes on American cloud facilities in the region, the issue of data center reliability ceased to be abstract. Reuters reported damage to Amazon Web Services facilities in the UAE and Bahrain during Iranian attacks, causing serious disruptions in cloud services. For Gulf states investing billions in digital transformation, AI, and financial platforms, this was an alarming signal: American digital infrastructure can also become a military target.
Chinese companies, including Huawei, are finding a window of opportunity here. They sell not just equipment, but a political promise: our systems are less vulnerable to strikes because we are not at war with Iran. This, of course, is no guarantee of safety. But in a region where every building can become a target because of the owner's flag, even such relative distance turns into a competitive advantage.
Huawei Has Become a Red Flag for Washington
The Huawei saga has long been a source of irritation for Americans. In Washington, the Chinese corporation is perceived not merely as a technological competitor, but as a potential instrument of the Chinese state. For the U.S., its presence in the communication networks of Gulf countries represents a risk of data breaches, compromise of military infrastructure, access to sensitive technologies, and, specifically, a danger to the operation of the latest American weapons systems.
This explains the American anxieties surrounding the sale of F-35s to the United Arab Emirates. As early as 2021, Abu Dhabi informed the U.S. of a suspension in negotiations for the F-35 acquisition, with the issue of Chinese technological presence serving as a primary backdrop. Later, similar disputes arose regarding possible F-35 deliveries to Saudi Arabia, where American concerns were also linked to rising Chinese influence and risks to advanced technologies.
The problem for the U.S. is that it too often offers its allies a choice in the form of an ultimatum: either our planes or Chinese networks. However, the Gulf states no longer wish to choose within the logic of the Cold War. They want American planes, Chinese networks, Turkish drones, South Korean missiles, and Ukrainian interceptor drones. They aspire to be not junior partners, but buyers, investors, and independent architects of their own security.
Washington may be as irritated as it likes, but the security market in the Gulf became multipolar before global politics itself finally acknowledged multipolarity.
Turkey Arrives Where America Left Voids
The second major winner is Turkey. Ankara does not possess the resources of the U.S. and cannot replace the American military umbrella. However, it possesses what the Gulf states particularly need today: real experience in defense production, an advanced drone school, flexibility in technology transfer, and the political will to turn arms contracts into strategic relationships.
The Turkish defense sector has evolved in recent years from a regional ambition to a global brand. Bayraktar has become more than just the name of a drone; it is a symbol that a middle power is capable of creating weapons that change the balance on the battlefield. In 2023, Saudi Arabia concluded a major contract with the Turkish firm Baykar for Akıncı drones, which was described as the largest defense export agreement in Turkey's history. By 2026, Ankara and Riyadh were already discussing deepening defense cooperation and potential joint participation in the Turkish KAAN fighter jet project.
For the Gulf states, the Turkish direction is valuable for several reasons. First, Turkey not only sells finished products but also eagerly discusses localization, joint production, training, and systems integration. Second, its products are cheaper than American alternatives and often more quickly available. Third, Ankara is itself a member of NATO, meaning cooperation with it is harder to frame as a hostile pivot away from the U.S. This is not China, against whom Washington can threaten sanctions. This is an alliance ally, albeit an inconvenient, independent one that increasingly acts by its own rules.
Turkey provides the Arab monarchies with exactly what they lack in relations with the U.S.: room for maneuver. It does not demand ideological loyalty, does not tie every contract to a large political package, and does not behave like an imperial arbiter. Ankara bargains hard but pragmatically. For Riyadh and Abu Dhabi, this is an attractive format.
Ukraine Sells the Gulf Survival Experience, Not Just Weapons
The third unexpected trajectory involves Ukraine. At first glance, Kyiv is far from the Persian Gulf. But war redraws the geography of expertise. Ukraine has become a country that daily encounters massive attacks by Russian and Iranian drones, cruise missiles, ballistic assets, cheap kamikaze drones, and combined strikes. This experience cannot be bought in a textbook; it can only be gained under fire.
For the Gulf states, Ukrainian expertise is particularly valuable in the segment of interceptor drones and systems to counter Shahed-like apparatuses. The Iranian drone school has long been a threat not only to Ukraine but to the Middle East. Russia has for years employed Iranian drones against Ukrainian cities, while Iran, in turn, learns from the Russian war, adapts tactics, receives new data, and, according to Western intelligence reports, expands military-technical exchange with Moscow.
Against this background, Ukrainian agreements with Saudi Arabia, the UAE, and Qatar appear entirely logical. Reuters reported that Ukraine concluded defense agreements with the UAE and Qatar focused on countering missile and drone threats, while developing similar ties with Saudi Arabia. Later, Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy spoke of a "drone deal" with Saudi Arabia, Qatar, and the UAE, including low-cost drones and joint production lines.
For Kyiv, this means revenue, production capacity, political recognition, and new markets. For the Gulf states, it means access to combat experience that many of the world's wealthiest armies lack. For Washington, it is an unpleasant signal: Ukraine, which President Trump attempted to drive into tight frameworks of dependence, is beginning to conduct an independent policy in one of the most sensitive areas for the U.S.
Russia Itself Pushes Arab Capitals Toward Kyiv
The Russian factor here works against Moscow. The Kremlin may speak of friendship with the Arab world, of multipolarity, and of the struggle against Western hegemony, but in the specific war surrounding Iran, its sympathies are read unequivocally. Moscow is closer to Tehran than to Riyadh, Abu Dhabi, or Doha. And the Arab elites see this.
For the Gulf states, it is particularly unpleasant that Russia and Iran are not just politically close. Their military interaction has become part of a real war. Iranian drones were used by Russia against Ukraine. Russia, in turn, may provide Iran with technology, intelligence capabilities, experience in bypassing sanctions, weapons components, and political cover. Even if some specific accusations remain non-public or controversial, the general vector is obvious: the Russian-Iranian rapprochement has become a threat factor for the Arab monarchies.
Here, a paradox arises. Russia attempts to present itself as an alternative center of power for states tired of the U.S. However, its alliance with Iran makes it toxic for the very states suffering from Iranian missiles, drones, and proxy networks. Ukraine, conversely, proves to be a natural partner along practical lines: how to shoot down, how to intercept, how to protect cities, and how to build cheap, multi-layered defense against mass drone attacks.
War often creates unexpected reputations. Ukraine has gained the reputation of a country that knows how to survive under fire. Russia has gained the reputation of a country that is friends with those who deliver those strikes. For the Gulf, this matters.
South Korea Quietly Takes the Market While Others Dispute Hegemony
Another player winning from the breakdown of the old American monopoly is South Korea. Its role is less loud than that of China or Turkey, but no less significant. Seoul offers the Gulf what it practically needs now: air defense systems, missiles, radars, production localization, and long-term industrial cooperation.
South Korea does not arrive in the region with messianic rhetoric. It does not promise to remake the Middle East. It sells working systems, builds factories, trains personnel, transfers technology, and integrates into national localization programs. For Gulf monarchies that want not just to buy, but to produce, this is extremely appealing.
Reuters reported that South Korea and the UAE signed a memorandum to expand defense cooperation worth over $35 billion, covering air defense, aviation, and naval sectors. Earlier, South Korean Cheongung II systems had already established a foothold in the region through major deals with the UAE and Saudi Arabia. This is not a replacement for Patriot or THAAD, but the addition of new layers of defense. This is precisely how the Gulf thinks today: not one supplier, but a multi-layered architecture; not one center of dependence, but a distributed system of survival.
The U.S. may accelerate the approval of new weapons deliveries to allies, as occurred in May 2026 with packages exceeding $8.6 billion for Middle Eastern partners. But even these decisions no longer look like the restoration of a monopoly, but rather like an attempt to hold onto market share in a world that has become competitive.
India Will Not Watch Silently
The Saudi-Pakistani defense pact inevitably draws India into the Middle Eastern game. New Delhi cannot calmly accept the strengthening of Pakistan in a region where Indian interests have long extended far beyond oil purchases. Millions of Indian workers live and labor in the Gulf states. India depends on energy supplies, develops logistics corridors, builds ties with the UAE and Saudi Arabia, competes with China, and closely monitors any shift in the balance in favor of Islamabad.
The Indian reaction to the Saudi-Pakistani agreement was restrained but anxious. Reuters reported that India stated the need to account for its interests and sensitivities following the signing of the pact. This is a diplomatic formula masking a simple thought: if Pakistan gains a new status in Gulf security, India will seek its own compensatory mechanisms.
For the Arab monarchies, this opens additional opportunities. They can balance not only between the U.S. and China, but also between India and Pakistan, Turkey and Iran, and South Korea and Europe. The old unipolar order was convenient in its simplicity, but the new complexity provides room for maneuver. The only question is whether the Gulf states possess enough political skill to prevent multi-vectorism from turning into chaos.
Israel Becomes Necessary Even to Those Unready to Admit It
There is another player that will be discussed cautiously in Arab capitals but considered increasingly often: Israel. Its air defense systems, reconnaissance platforms, cyber capabilities, data analysis technologies, and experience in repelling Iranian attacks are becoming practical assets for the Gulf countries.
The regional paradox is that politically, Israel remains an extremely toxic topic for a significant portion of Arab society, especially against the backdrop of the war in Gaza. However, from a security standpoint, Israel is one of the few states that has spent decades building the exact defense model the Gulf needs today: multi-layered air defense, rapid intelligence processing, protection of cities and infrastructure, integration of cyber and kinetic assets, and constant readiness for strikes from Iran and its proxies.
The UAE and Bahrain have already recognized Israel under the Abraham Accords. Saudi Arabia officially remains outside normalization, linking it to the Palestinian issue. Yet, security often moves faster than official diplomacy. The more Iranian strikes threaten Gulf infrastructure, the higher the interest in Israeli technologies will grow - even where it will be politically denied until the very last moment.
This is another blow to the old American model. The U.S. wanted to be the chief mediator, the primary guarantor, and the main architect of regional integration. But if the Gulf states begin building practical ties with Israel, Turkey, China, South Korea, Ukraine, and Pakistan simultaneously, Washington’s role will shift from that of a conductor to being just one of many.
Oil No Longer Buys Absolute Protection
The primary lesson of the current crisis is unpleasant for all participants. Oil is still important, the Strait of Hormuz is still critical, the dollar is still strong, and the American fleet is still indispensable. But oil no longer buys absolute protection.
In the 20th century, Saudi Arabia and its neighbors could believe that their energy role automatically made their security a vital interest for the U.S. In the 21st century, this is no longer so clear-cut. America has become the largest producer of oil and gas. Its society is weary of Middle Eastern wars. Its policy has become harsher, more selfish, and more transactional. Its leaders increasingly ask not "how to preserve order?" but "how much does it cost and who will pay?"
President Trump did not invent this pivot, but he brought it to the point of ultimate bluntness. He said aloud what had been brewing in American politics for a long time: allies must pay, security must be profitable, and American power is not a free service. For Europe, this became a shock after the start of the Ukrainian war. For the Gulf, it became a reality after the strikes on Iran and the crisis in Hormuz.
But the wealthy monarchies have an advantage: money, energy, infrastructure, and a will to survive. They will not wait for Washington to change its mind again. They will purchase new systems, build new alliances, develop their own defense industries, attract engineers, create joint ventures, bargain with China, invest in Turkey, talk to Pakistan, open doors to Ukraine, accelerate deals with South Korea, and keep the telephone line to the U.S. open.
This is not an anti-American pivot. It is post-American insurance.
U.S. Hegemony Has Not Collapsed, but It Is Being Tested
One should not fall for beautiful but flawed dramaturgy: the U.S. is not leaving the Middle East. Their bases remain. Their fleet remains. Their weapons remain. Their intelligence, finances, sanctions, diplomacy, dollar system, and technological might remain colossal instruments of influence. Neither China, nor Turkey, nor Ukraine, nor South Korea, nor Pakistan is capable of individually replacing the U.S. in the Persian Gulf.
But they do not need to replace the U.S. entirely. It is enough to bite off segments.
China takes technology, energy, settlements, and a diplomatic channel to Iran. Turkey takes drones, localization, and a flexible defense industry. Ukraine takes the niche of combat experience against Iranian drones. South Korea takes air defense and industrial cooperation. Pakistan takes strategic deterrence. India will fight for its own balance. Israel will become a hidden or overt technological security partner.
In total, this does not destroy American hegemony, but it transforms it from a monopoly into one of the axes of a complex system. And for an empire, the loss of a monopoly is often more painful than the loss of territory.
Trump Has Opened a Door That Is Now Difficult to Close
President Trump may have wanted to show that America has returned to a policy of strength. But strength without trust breeds not submission, but fear. And fear in wealthy, experienced, and pragmatic states breeds not obedience, but diversification.
The Gulf states will not revolt against the U.S. They understand the price of such a step far too well. But they will no longer behave as if American protection is their only source of oxygen. They are beginning to breathe through multiple tubes at once. One leads to Washington, another to Beijing, a third to Ankara, a fourth to Islamabad, a fifth to Seoul, and a sixth to Kyiv. Perhaps one more - covertly - to Tel Aviv.
This is the main outcome of the war against Iran. It did not just destroy facilities, change tanker routes, and spook markets. It changed the political habit of the region. And habits in geopolitics die slowly, but if they die, they almost never resurrect in their former shape.
The U.S. will remain in the Gulf. Но the Gulf will no longer be the same American Gulf. It is becoming a market of competing guarantees, a laboratory of multi-layered security, and an arena where the former master is still powerful but is already forced to look over his shoulder at new players.
And perhaps this is what irritates Washington most of all: not that it is being forced out. It is not being forced out yet. It has simply ceased to be considered indispensable.