The Middle East is entering a period of strategic improvisation. Saudi Arabia, Türkiye, and Pakistan have created a mutual-defence pact; Qatar, Türkiye, Pakistan, and Indonesia have deepened defence-industrial cooperation; Iran continues to sustain a resilient network of regional partners; and India, Israel, the UAE, and the United States maintain an economic-technological mini-lateral. These developments suggest that regional states are hedging against uncertainty in American security commitments. But they do not yet replace the U.S.-led security order. They are political insurance policies—useful for signalling resolve but still lacking the integrated command, industrial depth, and political cohesion needed to deter or defeat a sustained regional threat.
The central question is not whether the Middle East is becoming “post-American.” It is whether regional powers can build security arrangements credible enough to reduce their dependence on Washington without provoking a wider confrontation. So far, the answer is mixed: the region is diversifying its partnerships, but it has not yet produced a self-sustaining security system.
A landscape of overlapping alignments
The Middle East is no longer organised around a simple pro-U.S. versus anti-U.S. divide. It is becoming a network of overlapping, issue-specific alignments. The most important are the Mecca Joint Defence Agreement, the Badr defence-industrial arrangement, Iran’s Axis of Resistance, I2U2, and the continuing U.S. base-and-partner network.
These are not equivalent entities. The Mecca Pact is a formal defence agreement; Badr is chiefly a defence-industrial memorandum; I2U2 is an economic and technological grouping; and Iran’s network combines state and non-state actors with very different degrees of control and reliability. The original analysis correctly identifies these structures, but it should avoid treating them as equally coherent “alliances.”
The Mecca agreement, signed by Saudi Arabia, Türkiye, and Pakistan in August 2026, states that an armed attack against one member is an attack against all. It also provides for joint exercises, intelligence sharing, defence-industrial cooperation, logistics, and a Saudi-based secretariat. This is more than symbolism. It creates a formal political commitment and gives Saudi Arabia a visible security partnership beyond its traditional reliance on the United States.
But it is not NATO. NATO’s Article 5 rests not merely on a legal clause but on a vast military-industrial ecosystem, integrated planning, common standards, interoperable forces, intelligence sharing, logistics, command structures, and a credible assumption that the United States would bring decisive power to bear. The Mecca Pact has the language of collective defence, but not yet the institutional machinery or demonstrated willingness to fight collectively.
Türkiye, Saudi Arabia, and the Muslim world contest
A deeper current beneath these alignments is the contest over leadership of the Muslim world. Saudi Arabia possesses the two holiest cities, immense financial resources, the Arab world’s largest economy, and a central place in Gulf diplomacy. Türkiye has a powerful military, a large defence-industrial base, NATO membership, and a claim to political leadership across the broader Muslim world. Iran offers a revolutionary, anti-Western narrative and a network of armed partners across the region.
These three visions are not compatible. Saudi Arabia seeks regional stability, regime security, and a leading role in the Arab and Islamic world. Türkiye seeks strategic autonomy and influence across the Arab world, the Caucasus, Africa, and Central Asia. Iran seeks to preserve its “Axis of Resistance” and prevent Saudi, Israeli, and American influence from consolidating around it.
The Mecca Pact therefore does not simply unite Sunni-majority states. It also creates a potential arena for Saudi-Turkish competition. Ankara’s participation strengthens Riyadh’s immediate deterrence posture, but it also gives Türkiye a seat at the heart of a Saudi-led arrangement. If the pact matures, Türkiye may seek a greater role in command structures, defence procurement, training, and regional diplomacy. Saudi Arabia will want Turkish capabilities without surrendering control of its security policy.
This is why the “Sunni bloc” label is incomplete. Sunni-majority states may lead the agreement, but its logic is geopolitical rather than purely confessional. Saudi Arabia has explicitly rejected the idea that the pact is a sectarian or religious axis. The real driver is threat perception: Iran-aligned forces, Houthi attacks, Red Sea insecurity, and uncertainty about American commitments.
The Houthi test: protection without commitment
The Middle East’s New Security Architecture: Alliances Without an Anchor
The Middle East is entering a period of strategic improvisation. Saudi Arabia, Türkiye, and Pakistan have created a mutual-defence pact; Qatar, Türkiye, Pakistan, and Indonesia have deepened defence-industrial cooperation; Iran continues to sustain a resilient network of regional partners; and India, Israel, the UAE, and the United States maintain an economic-technological mini-lateral. These developments suggest that regional states are hedging against uncertainty in American security commitments. But they do not yet replace the U.S.-led security order. They are political insurance policies—useful for signalling resolve but still lacking the integrated command, industrial depth, and political cohesion needed to deter or defeat a sustained regional threat.
The central question is not whether the Middle East is becoming “post-American.” It is whether regional powers can build security arrangements credible enough to reduce their dependence on Washington without provoking a wider confrontation. So far, the answer is mixed: the region is diversifying its partnerships, but it has not yet produced a self-sustaining security system.
A landscape of overlapping alignments
The Middle East is no longer organised around a simple pro-U.S. versus anti-U.S. divide. It is becoming a network of overlapping, issue-specific alignments. The most important are the Mecca Joint Defence Agreement, the Badr defence-industrial arrangement, Iran’s Axis of Resistance, I2U2, and the continuing U.S. base-and-partner network.
These are not equivalent entities. The Mecca Pact is a formal defence agreement; Badr is chiefly a defence-industrial memorandum; I2U2 is an economic and technological grouping; and Iran’s network combines state and non-state actors with very different degrees of control and reliability. The original analysis correctly identifies these structures, but it should avoid treating them as equally coherent “alliances.”
The Mecca agreement, signed by Saudi Arabia, Türkiye, and Pakistan in August 2026, states that an armed attack against one member is an attack against all. It also provides for joint exercises, intelligence sharing, defence-industrial cooperation, logistics, and a Saudi-based secretariat. This is more than symbolism. It creates a formal political commitment and gives Saudi Arabia a visible security partnership beyond its traditional reliance on the United States.
But it is not NATO. NATO’s Article 5 rests not merely on a legal clause but on a vast military-industrial ecosystem, integrated planning, common standards, interoperable forces, intelligence sharing, logistics, command structures, and a credible assumption that the United States would bring decisive power to bear. The Mecca Pact has the language of collective defence, but not yet the institutional machinery or demonstrated willingness to fight collectively.
Türkiye, Saudi Arabia and the Muslim world contest
A deeper current beneath these alignments is the contest over leadership of the Muslim world. Saudi Arabia possesses the two holiest cities, immense financial resources, the Arab world’s largest economy, and a central place in Gulf diplomacy. Türkiye has a powerful military, a large defence-industrial base, NATO membership and a claim to political leadership across the broader Muslim world. Iran offers a revolutionary, anti-Western narrative and a network of armed partners across the region.
These three visions are not compatible. Saudi Arabia seeks regional stability, regime security, and a leading role in the Arab and Islamic world. Türkiye seeks strategic autonomy and influence across the Arab world, the Caucasus, Africa, and Central Asia. Iran seeks to preserve its “Axis of Resistance” and prevent Saudi, Israeli, and American influence from consolidating around it.
The Mecca Pact therefore does not simply unite Sunni-majority states. It also creates a potential arena for Saudi-Turkish competition. Ankara’s participation strengthens Riyadh’s immediate deterrence posture, but it also gives Türkiye a seat at the heart of a Saudi-led arrangement. If the pact matures, Türkiye may seek a greater role in command structures, defence procurement, training, and regional diplomacy. Saudi Arabia will want Turkish capabilities without surrendering control of its security policy.
This is why the “Sunni bloc” label is incomplete. Sunni-majority states may lead the agreement, but its logic is geopolitical rather than purely confessional. Saudi Arabia has explicitly rejected the idea that the pact is a sectarian or religious axis. The real driver is threat perception: Iran-aligned forces, Houthi attacks, Red Sea insecurity, and uncertainty about American commitments.
The Houthi test: protection without commitment
The Houthi attacks on Saudi Arabia provide the first serious test of the Mecca Pact, and the result is revealing. The pact was invoked, and Saudi Arabia, Türkiye, and Pakistan agreed to activate collective deterrence measures and ensure the rapid deployment of agreed forces and capabilities. Yet the practical response has been cautious.
Türkiye has said it may provide technical and defensive support and participate in Red Sea navigational-security efforts, while explicitly ruling out an offensive role against the Houthis or the deployment of Turkish troops to Yemen. Pakistan has said that no military response was under discussion at one stage while maintaining that it would act under the agreement “when the time comes.” In other words, both partners have offered diplomatic solidarity and selective assistance, but neither has embraced an open-ended combat commitment.
This is understandable. Türkiye has no desire to become embroiled in Yemen’s war, particularly when its priorities include managing relations with Iran, protecting trade and maintaining influence across the region. Pakistan faces economic fragility, internal security pressures, and a need to preserve its relationship with Saudi Arabia without becoming a frontline belligerent against an Iran-aligned actor.
But the implication is serious: the Mecca Pact currently provides a fig leaf of protection rather than an ironclad deterrent. It may raise the political cost of attacking Saudi Arabia, but it does not yet guarantee that Türkiye or Pakistan will fight alongside Riyadh if the conflict escalates. A mutual-defence clause is only as credible as its signatories’ willingness to accept costs when deterrence fails.
The missing industrial backbone
The document correctly notes that the Mecca agreement includes Article 5-style language. But it is important to distinguish between a legal formula and a functioning alliance.
NATO’s Article 5 works because it is embedded in a wider system: American power projection, European basing, shared intelligence, interoperable command, common procurement, logistics networks, and a defence-industrial base capable of sustaining high-intensity conflict. The United States remains the indispensable backbone because it can surge forces, sustain operations, provide command and control, move supplies at scale, and offer nuclear extended deterrence.
The Middle East’s new arrangements lack that backbone. Türkiye has a growing defence industry and a large army; Pakistan has nuclear weapons, military experience and a large standing force; and Saudi Arabia has money, strategic depth, and advanced Western equipment. But their capabilities are not yet integrated into a common command system. Their weapons systems, intelligence architectures, logistics chains, rules of engagement, and political risk tolerances differ.
The Badr arrangement may eventually help close part of this gap. Signed by Qatar, Türkiye, Pakistan, and Indonesia, it focuses on defence-industrial cooperation, joint research and development, technical training, technology transfer, and supply-chain resilience. That is valuable. But industrial cooperation is not the same as collective war-fighting capacity. It may reduce dependence on external suppliers over time, but it does not automatically create a force that can defend Saudi Arabia, secure shipping lanes, or deter Iran-aligned networks.
The limits of sectarian solidarity
The most dangerous assumption in the emerging debate is that shared religion can substitute for shared strategic interests. The Mecca Pact may be composed of Sunni-majority states, but Sunni identity does not automatically produce military cohesion. Saudi Arabia, Türkiye, and Pakistan have different threat perceptions, different relationships with Iran, different levels of military capability, and different domestic political constraints.
Saudi Arabia’s priority is regime security and protection from Iranian-aligned missile, drone, and maritime threats. Türkiye’s priority is strategic autonomy, defence-industrial expansion, and influence across the Arab world. Pakistan prioritises economic survival, Gulf financial support, and avoiding a costly confrontation that could further strain its limited resources. These interests overlap, but they do not merge.
The Houthi conflict illustrates the gap between religious solidarity and operational commitment. When Saudi Arabia faced renewed Houthi attacks, the Mecca Pact partners invoked collective deterrence and discussed rapid deployment of agreed capabilities. Yet Türkiye limited its role to defensive and technical assistance, while Pakistan avoided committing to a military response. This does not invalidate the pact, but it shows that a collective-defence clause can coexist with a strong preference for avoiding war.
A durable regional order cannot rest on slogans of Islamic unity. It must rest on credible capabilities, agreed rules of engagement, and a shared assessment of when escalation is necessary. Until then, sectarian language will remain more useful for domestic mobilisation than for deterrence.
Iran’s advantage in asymmetric conflict
Iran’s position remains strong not because it can match Saudi Arabia, Israel, or the United States in conventional power, but because it has mastered asymmetric competition. Its network of partners and proxies lets it apply pressure across multiple theaters without a formal, unified army. Hezbollah, Iraqi militias, Yemen’s Houthis, and other aligned groups can operate with different degrees of autonomy while still advancing Iranian strategic objectives.
This creates a problem for conventional alliances. Saudi Arabia may possess advanced aircraft, missile-defence systems and financial resources. Still, it faces an adversary that can strike shipping, infrastructure, border areas, and energy facilities at relatively low cost. Iran’s approach is designed to impose sustained costs without triggering a full-scale conventional war.
The Mecca Pact’s response must therefore go beyond troops and aircraft. It requires integrated air and missile defence, early-warning systems, counter-drone capabilities, maritime patrol, cyber defence, intelligence fusion, and resilient energy infrastructure. It also requires a political strategy to prevent Iran-aligned groups from exploiting divisions among Saudi Arabia’s partners.
Iran’s improving diplomatic ties with Gulf states should not be mistaken for the disappearance of rivalry. De-escalation can coexist with competition. Gulf states may trade with Iran and maintain diplomatic channels while still fearing its missile forces, proxy networks, and nuclear ambitions. The relevant question is whether Iran’s influence becomes a managed part of regional politics or an expanding challenge to the sovereignty of its neighbours.
The nuclear shadow
Iran’s nuclear programme remains the region’s most consequential variable. A nuclear-armed Iran would not merely alter the military balance; it would change the political psychology of the entire region. Gulf states would seek stronger security guarantees, Israel would intensify its deterrent posture, and Türkiye and Pakistan would face new pressures to define their own roles.
The concern that Pakistan’s alignment with Saudi Arabia and Türkiye could encourage Iranian nuclear ambitions is plausible, but it should not be overstated. A wider set of pressures drives Iran’s nuclear calculus: Israeli military superiority, American capability, sanctions, domestic politics, regional encirclement, and the perceived credibility of diplomatic guarantees.
Still, a Saudi-Turkish-Pakistani defence arrangement could reinforce Tehran’s perception of strategic encirclement. If Iran believes that conventional deterrence is weakening and that regional adversaries are consolidating, it may see nuclear capability as the ultimate insurance policy. That would be profoundly destabilising, particularly because it could trigger further proliferation pressures among Gulf states.
The international response must therefore combine deterrence with diplomacy. Military pressure alone may weaken Iran without changing its strategic incentives. Diplomatic engagement alone may fail if Iran concludes that restraint brings no security benefit. The challenge is to create a framework in which Iran’s regional influence is recognised, but its nuclear ambitions, proxy warfare, and maritime coercion are constrained.
Israel’s neighbourhood policy under Eisenkot
Israel’s political transition adds another variable. Gadi Eisenkot has been tasked with forming the next government, and his stated conditions for coalition partners include support for Israel as a Jewish and democratic state, recognition of Hamas as a terrorist organisation, and military or national service. He has presented himself as seeking a more stable and internationally acceptable course after years of turbulence, while still rejecting Palestinian statehood and maintaining a hard line on Iranian and Hezbollah threats.
For the region, this creates a paradox. An Eisenkot-led government may be less confrontational in style than its predecessor, but it is unlikely to alter Israel’s core security doctrine fundamentally. Israel will continue to regard Iran’s missile, drone and proxy network as an existential strategic challenge. It will also continue to seek security cooperation with Gulf states, particularly the UAE, while pursuing any possible opening with Saudi Arabia.
The key question is whether an Eisenkot government can convert Israeli military superiority into diplomatic restraint. A more disciplined Israeli approach could make Saudi-Israeli security cooperation more politically feasible. Conversely, continued escalation in Gaza, the West Bank, Lebanon or against Iranian targets would make it harder for Riyadh to move toward public normalisation, regardless of shared concerns about Iran.
Israel’s security policy will therefore shape the broader architecture. If Israel pursues deterrence alongside diplomatic caution, it may reinforce a loose convergence with Gulf states. If it pursues escalation, it may push Arab states back into defensive ambiguity and strengthen Iran’s narrative that normalisation with Israel is incompatible with regional stability.
I2U2: cooperation, not alliance
I2U2 is often misdescribed as a security bloc. In reality, it is a quadrilateral partnership of India, Israel, the UAE, and the United States, formally launched in 2022 to promote joint investment and cooperation in water, energy, transport, space, health, food security, and technology. It has no mutual-defence treaty and no formal collective-security mandate.
Its value lies in its bilateral and functional layers. India-Israel cooperation supports defence technology, intelligence, and innovation. India-UAE cooperation strengthens trade, energy links, diaspora connections, maritime access, and investment. Israel-UAE cooperation enables normalisation, technology exchange, cyber cooperation, and selective intelligence sharing. India’s relationship with the United States adds strategic convergence without requiring formal alliance membership.
Calling I2U2 an “Israel-UAE-led hegemonic alliance” is inaccurate. India is not a subordinate partner; the United States is a full member, and the grouping’s declared agenda is cooperative, not hegemonic. Its security relevance is indirect: stronger economic ties and technological cooperation can create stakes in stability, even without a mutual-defence treaty.
For India, this is the correct model. India should avoid joining an anti-Iran bloc or treating the Middle East as a sectarian chessboard. Its interest is in secure sea lanes, stable energy supplies, diaspora protection, technology partnerships, and a region that does not become wholly dominated by either Iran or a narrow Sunni-Israeli alignment.
Can China replace the United States?
China’s growing presence in the Middle East is real, but it should not be mistaken for a replacement for American security leadership. Beijing has deep economic interests in Gulf energy, infrastructure, technology, and trade. It has also positioned itself as a diplomatic actor, calling for dialogue among Saudi Arabia, Iran and other regional states and supporting a political settlement in Yemen.
Yet China remains, in the words of recent reporting, more an “engaged observer than a decisive broker.” It has not offered Gulf states the kind of security guarantee that the United States provides: forward-deployed forces, intelligence integration, air and missile defence, maritime protection, logistics, and a credible deterrent against major-state aggression.
China prefers commercial influence without strategic entanglement. It wants stable energy flows and market access, but it is reluctant to assume responsibility for regional wars, alliance obligations, or military intervention. That makes it a useful economic partner and a potential diplomatic mediator, but not yet a security guarantor.
The United States is therefore unlikely to vacate the region. Its bases, naval presence, intelligence relationships, arms sales, and defence partnerships remain strategically valuable. The more likely trajectory is not American withdrawal but conditional American engagement: Washington will remain present, but regional states will increasingly hedge by diversifying partners, building indigenous capabilities, and creating regional arrangements of their own.
Energy security beyond oil dependence
The argument that the United States remains dependent on Gulf oil because it cannot refine light crude is too narrow. The more important point is that the United States has an enduring interest in the stability of global energy markets, maritime chokepoints and allied economies.
Even if American oil imports decline, disruptions in the Strait of Hormuz, the Red Sea, or the Gulf of Aden can raise global prices, disrupt supply chains, and create inflationary pressure. Energy security is no longer only about barrels of oil; it is about shipping routes, undersea cables, port infrastructure, cyber systems, insurance markets and the resilience of refineries and pipelines.
China has an even more direct interest in these corridors. Much of its imported energy passes through the Indian Ocean and the Strait of Hormuz. This gives Beijing a reason to support regional stability, but it also gives it leverage. If China becomes the principal economic partner of Gulf states while the United States remains the principal security partner, the region could become dependent on two external powers with different interests.
That division of labour may be unstable. Economic dependence on China does not automatically produce security dependence on China, but it can reduce the political cost of defying American preferences. Conversely, American security protection does not automatically produce economic loyalty if Gulf states see Chinese investment, technology and market access as more valuable.
A more realistic agenda
The Middle East does not need another grand alliance. It needs a practical security agenda built around shared vulnerabilities.
- Maritime security: Joint patrols, information sharing, protected shipping corridors and rapid response to drone and missile threats.
- Air and missile defence: Interoperable early-warning systems, layered interception and shared threat assessments.
- Counterterrorism and intelligence: Cooperation against financing networks, armed groups and cross-border militant activity.
- Cyber resilience: Protection of energy infrastructure, financial systems, ports, and government networks.
- Defence-industrial cooperation: Joint production, maintenance, logistics, and technology development to reduce dependence on external suppliers.
- Crisis diplomacy: Standing channels among Saudi Arabia, Iran, Türkiye, Pakistan, the UAE, Egypt, Jordan, and Israel to prevent miscalculation.
These measures would not eliminate rivalry. They would make rivalry more manageable. The goal should not be to erase competition but to prevent competition from becoming catastrophic.
Conclusion: insurance, not order
The Middle East is building insurance policies, not yet a security order. The Mecca Pact offers Saudi Arabia a political shield and a potential deterrent. The Badr arrangement offers a path toward defence-industrial resilience. I2U2 offers economic and technological connectivity. Iran’s network offers asymmetric leverage. The United States still provides the indispensable military anchor.
But none of these arrangements, alone or together, yet constitutes a stable regional order. The Mecca Pact has not yet demonstrated that Türkiye and Pakistan will fight for Saudi Arabia. Badr has not yet produced an integrated military-industrial base. I2U2 is not a defence alliance. Iran’s network remains resilient but vulnerable to fragmentation, sanctions and military pressure. And the United States remains both indispensable and increasingly unpredictable.
The next phase will be decided by three tests: whether the Mecca Pact can move from declaration to credible deterrence; whether Israel under Eisenkot can combine security firmness with diplomatic restraint; and whether China can become a genuine stabiliser rather than merely an economic beneficiary of regional instability.
Until those tests are passed, the Middle East will remain caught between two realities: a declining confidence in American guarantees and an inability to build a fully autonomous alternative. The region is hedging, but it has not yet found its anchor.
The missing industrial backbone
The document correctly notes that the Mecca agreement includes Article 5-style language. But it is important to distinguish between a legal formula and a functioning alliance.
NATO’s Article 5 works because it is embedded in a wider system: American power projection, European basing, shared intelligence, interoperable command, common procurement, logistics networks, and a defence-industrial base capable of sustaining high-intensity conflict. The United States remains the indispensable backbone because it can surge forces, sustain operations, provide command and control, move supplies at scale, and offer nuclear extended deterrence.
The Middle East’s new arrangements lack that backbone. Türkiye has a growing defence industry and a large army; Pakistan has nuclear weapons, military experience, and a large standing force; and Saudi Arabia has money, strategic depth, and advanced Western equipment. But their capabilities are not yet integrated into a common command system. Their weapons systems, intelligence architectures, logistics chains, rules of engagement, and political risk tolerances differ.
The Badr arrangement may eventually help close part of this gap. Signed by Qatar, Türkiye, Pakistan, and Indonesia, it focuses on defence-industrial cooperation, joint research and development, technical training, technology transfer, and supply-chain resilience. That is valuable. But industrial cooperation is not the same as collective war-fighting capacity. It may reduce dependence on external suppliers over time, but it does not automatically create a force that can defend Saudi Arabia, secure shipping lanes, or deter Iran-aligned networks.
The limits of sectarian solidarity
The most dangerous assumption in the emerging debate is that shared religion can substitute for shared strategic interests. The Mecca Pact may be composed of Sunni-majority states, but Sunni identity does not automatically produce military cohesion. Saudi Arabia, Türkiye, and Pakistan have different threat perceptions, different relationships with Iran, different levels of military capability, and different domestic political constraints.
Saudi Arabia’s priority is regime security and protection from Iranian-aligned missile, drone and maritime threats. Türkiye’s priority is strategic autonomy, defence-industrial expansion and influence across the Arab world. Pakistan prioritises economic survival, Gulf financial support, and avoiding a costly confrontation that could further strain its limited resources. These interests overlap, but they do not merge.
The Houthi conflict illustrates the gap between religious solidarity and operational commitment. When Saudi Arabia faced renewed Houthi attacks, the Mecca Pact partners invoked collective deterrence and discussed rapid deployment of agreed capabilities. Yet Türkiye limited its role to defensive and technical assistance, while Pakistan avoided committing to a military response. This does not invalidate the pact, but it shows that a collective-defence clause can coexist with a strong preference for avoiding war.
A durable regional order cannot rest on slogans of Islamic unity. It must rest on credible capabilities, agreed rules of engagement and a shared assessment of when escalation is necessary. Until then, sectarian language will remain more useful for domestic mobilisation than for deterrence.
Iran’s advantage in asymmetric conflict
Iran’s position remains strong not because it can match Saudi Arabia, Israel or the United States in conventional power, but because it has mastered asymmetric competition. Its network of partners and proxies lets it apply pressure across multiple theatres without a formal, unified army. Hezbollah, Iraqi militias, Yemen’s Houthis and other aligned groups can operate with different degrees of autonomy while still advancing Iranian strategic objectives.
This creates a problem for conventional alliances. Saudi Arabia may possess advanced aircraft, missile-defence systems and financial resources. Still, it faces an adversary that can strike shipping, infrastructure, border areas and energy facilities at relatively low cost. Iran’s approach is designed to impose sustained costs without triggering a full-scale conventional war.
The Mecca Pact’s response must therefore go beyond troops and aircraft. It requires integrated air and missile defence, early-warning systems, counter-drone capabilities, maritime patrol, cyber defence, intelligence fusion and resilient energy infrastructure. It also requires a political strategy to prevent Iran-aligned groups from exploiting divisions among Saudi Arabia’s partners.
Iran’s improving diplomatic ties with Gulf states should not be mistaken for the disappearance of rivalry. De-escalation can coexist with competition. Gulf states may trade with Iran and maintain diplomatic channels while still fearing its missile forces, proxy networks and nuclear ambitions. The relevant question is whether Iran’s influence becomes a managed part of regional politics or an expanding challenge to the sovereignty of its neighbours.
The nuclear shadow
Iran’s nuclear programme remains the region’s most consequential variable. A nuclear-armed Iran would not merely alter the military balance; it would change the political psychology of the entire region. Gulf states would seek stronger security guarantees, Israel would intensify its deterrent posture, and Türkiye and Pakistan would face new pressures to define their own roles.
The concern that Pakistan’s alignment with Saudi Arabia and Türkiye could encourage Iranian nuclear ambitions is plausible, but it should not be overstated. A wider set of pressures drives Iran’s nuclear calculus: Israeli military superiority, American capability, sanctions, domestic politics, regional encirclement and the perceived credibility of diplomatic guarantees.
Still, a Saudi-Turkish-Pakistani defence arrangement could reinforce Tehran’s perception of strategic encirclement. If Iran believes that conventional deterrence is weakening and that regional adversaries are consolidating, it may see nuclear capability as the ultimate insurance policy. That would be profoundly destabilising, particularly because it could trigger further proliferation pressures among Gulf states.
The international response must therefore combine deterrence with diplomacy. Military pressure alone may weaken Iran without changing its strategic incentives. Diplomatic engagement alone may fail if Iran concludes that restraint brings no security benefit. The challenge is to create a framework in which Iran’s regional influence is recognised, but its nuclear ambitions, proxy warfare and maritime coercion are constrained.
Israel’s neighbourhood policy under Eisenkot
Israel’s political transition adds another variable. Gadi Eisenkot has been tasked with forming the next government, and his stated conditions for coalition partners include support for Israel as a Jewish and democratic state, recognition of Hamas as a terrorist organisation, and military or national service. He has presented himself as seeking a more stable and internationally acceptable course after years of turbulence, while still rejecting Palestinian statehood and maintaining a hard line on Iranian and Hezbollah threats.
For the region, this creates a paradox. An Eisenkot-led government may be less confrontational in style than its predecessor, but it is unlikely to alter Israel’s core security doctrine fundamentally. Israel will continue to regard Iran’s missile, drone and proxy network as an existential strategic challenge. It will also continue to seek security cooperation with Gulf states, particularly the UAE, while pursuing any possible opening with Saudi Arabia.
The key question is whether an Eisenkot government can convert Israeli military superiority into diplomatic restraint. A more disciplined Israeli approach could make Saudi-Israeli security cooperation more politically feasible. Conversely, continued escalation in Gaza, the West Bank, Lebanon or against Iranian targets would make it harder for Riyadh to move toward public normalisation, regardless of shared concerns about Iran.
Israel’s security policy will therefore shape the broader architecture. If Israel pursues deterrence alongside diplomatic caution, it may reinforce a loose convergence with Gulf states. If it pursues escalation, it may push Arab states back into defensive ambiguity and strengthen Iran’s narrative that normalisation with Israel is incompatible with regional stability.
I2U2: cooperation, not alliance
I2U2 is often misdescribed as a security bloc. In reality, it is a quadrilateral partnership of India, Israel, the UAE and the United States, formally launched in 2022 to promote joint investment and cooperation in water, energy, transport, space, health, food security and technology. It has no mutual-defence treaty and no formal collective-security mandate.
Its value lies in its bilateral and functional layers. India-Israel cooperation supports defence technology, intelligence and innovation. India-UAE cooperation strengthens trade, energy links, diaspora connections, maritime access and investment. Israel-UAE cooperation enables normalisation, technology exchange, cyber cooperation and selective intelligence sharing. India’s relationship with the United States adds strategic convergence without requiring formal alliance membership.
Calling I2U2 an “Israel-UAE-led hegemonic alliance” is inaccurate. India is not a subordinate partner; the United States is a full member, and the grouping’s declared agenda is cooperative, not hegemonic. Its security relevance is indirect: stronger economic ties and technological cooperation can create stakes in stability, even without a mutual-defence treaty.
For India, this is the correct model. India should avoid joining an anti-Iran bloc or treating the Middle East as a sectarian chessboard. Its interest is in secure sea lanes, stable energy supplies, diaspora protection, technology partnerships and a region that does not become wholly dominated by either Iran or a narrow Sunni-Israeli alignment.
Can China replace the United States?
China’s growing presence in the Middle East is real, but it should not be mistaken for a replacement for American security leadership. Beijing has deep economic interests in Gulf energy, infrastructure, technology and trade. It has also positioned itself as a diplomatic actor, calling for dialogue among Saudi Arabia, Iran and other regional states and supporting a political settlement in Yemen.
Yet China remains, in the words of recent reporting, more an “engaged observer than a decisive broker.” It has not offered Gulf states the kind of security guarantee that the United States provides: forward-deployed forces, intelligence integration, air and missile defence, maritime protection, logistics and a credible deterrent against major-state aggression.
China prefers commercial influence without strategic entanglement. It wants stable energy flows and market access, but it is reluctant to assume responsibility for regional wars, alliance obligations, or military intervention. That makes it a useful economic partner and a potential diplomatic mediator, but not yet a security guarantor.
The United States is therefore unlikely to vacate the region. Its bases, naval presence, intelligence relationships, arms sales and defence partnerships remain strategically valuable. The more likely trajectory is not American withdrawal but conditional American engagement: Washington will remain present, but regional states will increasingly hedge by diversifying partners, building indigenous capabilities, and creating regional arrangements of their own.
Energy security beyond oil dependence
The argument that the United States remains dependent on Gulf oil because it cannot refine light crude is too narrow. The more important point is that the United States has an enduring interest in the stability of global energy markets, maritime chokepoints and allied economies.
Even if American oil imports decline, disruptions in the Strait of Hormuz, the Red Sea, or the Gulf of Aden can raise global prices, disrupt supply chains, and create inflationary pressure. Energy security is no longer only about barrels of oil; it is about shipping routes, undersea cables, port infrastructure, cyber systems, insurance markets and the resilience of refineries and pipelines.
China has an even more direct interest in these corridors. Much of its imported energy passes through the Indian Ocean and the Strait of Hormuz. This gives Beijing a reason to support regional stability, but it also gives it leverage. If China becomes the principal economic partner of Gulf states while the United States remains the principal security partner, the region could become dependent on two external powers with different interests.
That division of labour may be unstable. Economic dependence on China does not automatically produce security dependence on China, but it can reduce the political cost of defying American preferences. Conversely, American security protection does not automatically produce economic loyalty if Gulf states see Chinese investment, technology and market access as more valuable.
A more realistic agenda
The Middle East does not need another grand alliance. It needs a practical security agenda built around shared vulnerabilities.
- Maritime security: Joint patrols, information sharing, protected shipping corridors and rapid response to drone and missile threats.
- Air and missile defence: Interoperable early-warning systems, layered interception and shared threat assessments.
- Counterterrorism and intelligence: Cooperation against financing networks, armed groups and cross-border militant activity.
- Cyber resilience: Protection of energy infrastructure, financial systems, ports and government networks.
- Defence-industrial cooperation: Joint production, maintenance, logistics, and technology development to reduce dependence on external suppliers.
- Crisis diplomacy: Standing channels among Saudi Arabia, Iran, Türkiye, Pakistan, the UAE, Egypt, Jordan and Israel to prevent miscalculation.
These measures would not eliminate rivalry. They would make rivalry more manageable. The goal should not be to erase competition, but to prevent competition from becoming catastrophic.
Conclusion: insurance, not order
The Middle East is building insurance policies, not yet a security order. The Mecca Pact offers Saudi Arabia a political shield and a potential deterrent. The Badr arrangement offers a path toward defence-industrial resilience. I2U2 offers economic and technological connectivity. Iran’s network offers asymmetric leverage. The United States still provides the indispensable military anchor.
But none of these arrangements, alone or together, yet constitutes a stable regional order. The Mecca Pact has not yet demonstrated that Türkiye and Pakistan will fight for Saudi Arabia. Badr has not yet produced an integrated military-industrial base. I2U2 is not a defence alliance. Iran’s network remains resilient but vulnerable to fragmentation, sanctions and military pressure. And the United States remains both indispensable and increasingly unpredictable.
The next phase will be decided by three tests: whether the Mecca Pact can move from declaration to credible deterrence; whether Israel under Eisenkot can combine security firmness with diplomatic restraint; and whether China can become a genuine stabiliser rather than merely an economic beneficiary of regional instability.