One thing’s for sure: U.S. relations with Arab nations are sailing through stormy seas these days. Every unilateral move by Washington further erodes the delicate balance established after the Cold War. Recent proposals from Donald Trump regarding Gaza—forced relocation of Palestinians, U.S. control over the enclave, turning it into the “Riviera of the Middle East”—aren’t just diplomatic blips. They highlight a deep strategic shift, blending disregard for historical realities, short-sighted security calculations, and a lack of understanding of the moral drivers that shape Arab political consciousness. This critical moment exposes a fundamental tension: Arab regimes’ dependence on their American ally clashes with the Palestinian cause, which remains, despite recent normalizations, the cornerstone of their domestic and regional legitimacy.
It’s no surprise that these measures sparked rare unanimous rejection in an otherwise fractured Arab world. Egypt’s President Sissi, usually quiet on Israeli excesses, firmly condemned any population transfers to the Sinai, evoking the specter of the 1948 refugees. Jordan, where Palestinians make up nearly 60% of the population, warned of an irreversible identity crisis. Even Saudi Arabia, engaged in a strategic way with Washington over Iran’s nuclear program and the Abraham Accords, reaffirmed its commitment to East Jerusalem as the future Palestinian capital. These reactions aren’t just outdated sentimentality; they reveal an existential anxiety. By using Gaza as a geopolitical bargaining chip, Trump isn’t just threatening a territory—he’s attacking one of the last unifying narratives of the Arab world, already weakened by civil wars, failed uprisings, and Iran’s rising influence.
Instability with Far-Reaching Consequences
In the short term, Arab regimes find themselves in a tough spot. Their survival often hinges on American security support. Egypt, the third-largest recipient of U.S. military aid, can’t afford to break ties with Washington, even when it talks about relocating millions of Gazans to the Sinai. Saudi Arabia, despite its strong rhetoric, remains entangled in a symbiotic relationship with the U.S. – from arms sales to securing oil fields. Yet, this dependence is backfiring. Arab public opinion, inflamed by images of the war in Gaza, might start seeing any collaboration with Trump as betrayal. Social media is already buzzing with comparisons between Gulf monarchies and colonial-era collaborator regimes. This gap between realpolitik and popular legitimacy creates fertile ground for jihadist groups or Hamas, who exploit the anger of the younger generation. The risk isn’t just theoretical: in 2021, pro-Palestinian protests in Jordan forced the government to recall its ambassador from Israel, showing that the Arab street remains an unpredictable yet crucial player.
This strategic paralysis is worsened by the unpredictable style of the new U.S. administration. Their shocking announcements—threatening to cut aid to Egypt one moment, promising a fanciful “deal of the century” the next—make any planning impossible. Arab capitals are flying blind, torn between fearing Washington’s wrath and the need to calm their populations. The “Gaza Riviera” project, seen as a throwback to 1930s schemes to “make the desert bloom,” has particularly ignited passions. From Cairo’s cafes to those in Beirut, it’s viewed as the ultimate insult: not only denying Palestinians their right to an independent state but also turning their sacrifice into a tourist attraction. This perception isn’t just emotional; it’s rooted in a collective memory where every Western “modernization” effort is seen as a guise for domination.
The real danger looms in the medium term. If Trump’s proposals were to materialize, even partially, they would set a precedent with unpredictable repercussions. His administration has broken away from established diplomatic principles, adopting a transactional approach where immediate national interests overshadow any multilateral logic. The mass displacement of Palestinians would too blatantly echo the 1948 Nakba, a foundational trauma that’s never been resolved. Over the decades, leaders of certain Arab countries have highlighted the Palestinian cause to divert attention from their own internal challenges, like corruption, inequality, and authoritarian tendencies. This strategy could backfire if international decisions made without consultation were to radically redefine Gaza’s situation. In such a scenario, it would become hard to justify the sacrifices made over the years—be it unsuccessful armed conflicts or significant military spending—if Gaza’s fate could be sealed by a mere foreign declaration. The legitimacy of Gulf monarchies, already shaken by their rapprochement with Israel, would take a fatal hit. Jordan’s king, whose dynasty claims guardianship over Jerusalem’s holy sites, would see his credibility crumble. Even Egypt, which has quietly accepted Gaza’s blockade since 2007, would be accused of passive complicity.
This crisis unveils a truth that’s often overlooked: the Palestinian issue isn’t just a territorial conflict. It embodies a struggle for recognition, a quest for dignity that transcends borders. When Trump says he wants to “solve the problem once and for all,” he ignores that for millions of Arabs – from Morocco to Iraq – Palestine has become the symbol of their own powerlessness in the face of a perceived unjust international order. The Abraham Accords, signed in 2020 between Israel and several Arab states, haven’t lessened the symbolic and moral weight of the Palestinian cause. On the contrary, they’ve added a new layer of complexity, forcing Arab leaders into a dilemma: strengthening diplomatic and economic ties with Israel while appeasing publics deeply committed to Palestine. This normalization, meant to be a diplomatic step forward to resolve the conflict, hasn’t erased feelings of injustice or historical claims. Instead, it’s widened the gap between state policies and public expectations, making any balanced approach even more challenging. The UAE and Bahrain, by normalizing relations with Tel Aviv, thought they could separate economic realpolitik from pan-Arab solidarity. The plans for Gaza show the limits of this approach. By touching the very heart of the conflict—the Palestinians’ right to stay on their land—Trump forces Arab regimes to choose: betray their rhetoric or risk Washington’s ire.
In this context, the national security of Arab countries takes on a paradoxical dimension. Traditional threats—terrorism, Iranian interference, and economic crises—are now coupled with an existential risk: the loss of credibility among their leaders. A scenario where Gaza is retaken by a foreign force (American, Israeli, or international) wouldn’t just be a military defeat; it would mark the collapse of the last grand Arab narrative—the resilience in the face of adversity. The consequences would be systemic. In Lebanon, already on the brink of collapse, Hezbollah would lose its main rallying point against Israel—or conversely, become even more radical. In Saudi Arabia, Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman, who seeks to build modernizing legitimacy, would be accused of sacrificing Palestine on the altar of Vision 2030. As for Egypt, it would have to manage not only an influx of refugees but also the anger of the Muslim Brotherhood and other groups opposed to the regime, who would make Gaza a new symbol of resistance.
Lessons from history: the dangers of hasty and ideological decisions
Recent history offers troubling precedents. The 2003 American invasion of Iraq, conducted without an international mandate, had already shaken the credibility of pro-Western Arab regimes. Moreover, history demonstrates with cold regularity that decisions made under the influence of urgency, ideology, or political pride rarely foster peace; instead, they fuel enduring cycles of violence. The Treaty of Versailles (1919), designed to punish Germany rather than rebuild European balance, turned a military defeat into collective humiliation, providing fertile ground for revengeful nationalism and World War II. Similarly, the 2003 invasion of Iraq, justified by a fabricated urgency over nonexistent weapons of mass destruction, replaced realpolitik with a neoconservative ideological logic, destroying Iraqi state structures and paving the way for the rise of the Islamic State in the Levant. The hubris of great powers, often blind to local realities, is also evident in the Soviet handling of Afghanistan (1979): by attempting to impose a communist regime by force, Moscow sparked a decade-long war, radicalized political Islam, and contributed to the rise of al-Qaeda. These examples reveal a recurring pattern: urgency legitimizes hasty actions, ideology obscures human complexities, and pride turns mistakes into catastrophes. The Munich Agreement (1938), where London and Paris believed they could buy peace by sacrificing Czechoslovakia, illustrates this tragic illusion: by yielding to the immediate fear of conflict, democracies strengthened Hitler, precipitating a far more deadly war. These decisions, made with disregard for international law and collective memories, leave systemic scars—artificial borders, ethnic resentments, and eroded institutional legitimacy—that hinder any future reconciliation. They remind us that peace is neither built in haste nor in contempt of the fragile balances that unite territories, populations, and historical narratives.
However, the current crisis is more insidious. It doesn’t rest on open military intervention but on a slow erosion of the principles of international law—right of return, territorial sovereignty, and prohibition of forced displacements. If Gaza falls, who can say that the West Bank, Jerusalem, Sinai, or even the Golan Heights will be spared? This fear explains the vehement reaction of countries like Jordan, whose stability depends on maintaining the status quo over the Holy Places. Behind the scenes, Arab diplomats even mention the specter of a “domino effect”: popular uprisings inspired by the Palestinian cause, coupled with external manipulations (Iranian, Turkish, or others), could ignite an already tense region.
Faced with this peril, the options of Arab countries seem particularly limited. Their political fragmentation—between Sunnis and Shiites, monarchies and republics, hydrocarbon-rich nations and bankrupt states—prevents them from forming a united front. Recent diplomatic initiatives aimed at resolving the Palestinian issue have highlighted persistent challenges in regional coordination. Despite notable efforts, structural divergences within regional organizations like the Arab League make it difficult to develop a unified response. Furthermore, some nations might consider bilateral agreements to secure specific advantages, potentially compromising regional cohesion and leading to long-term political costs. In this sense, the solution may lie in a return to the fundamentals of Arab diplomacy. The 1950s and 1960s, despite their failures, saw the emergence of a collective vision centered around the defense of Palestine. The American project, by provoking a shock similar to the 1967 defeat, could paradoxically push Arab countries to rethink their approach. Some signals point in this direction: the recent rapprochement between Saudi Arabia and post-Assad Syria, talks between Egypt and Turkey, or Jordanian calls for an international conference on Gaza. It remains to be seen whether these initiatives will go beyond declarations of intent. Moreover, several Arab countries play a crucial role in seeking a solution to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Morocco, for instance, has recently demonstrated its commitment by facilitating the release of Palestinian funds withheld by Israel, following the intervention of King Mohammed VI. This diplomatic action underscores the importance of active involvement by Arab nations in promoting a lasting and equitable peace in the Middle East.
Toward a realignment of alliances
No one can deny that the stakes of this crisis extend far beyond Gaza. It touches on the place of the Arab world in the emerging international order. By relegating international law to the background, the United States could accelerate the erosion of the multilateral system—a system that, despite its imperfections, offered Arab countries a platform to defend their strategic and critical interests. The rise of China and Russia, less invested in the Palestinian issue but eager to challenge Western hegemony, could offer alternatives. Already, Beijing proposes its mediation, while Moscow relies on its alliance with Iran to establish itself as an indispensable actor. Arab countries will have to navigate between these new poles without falling into a new dependency.
In another vein, the decision to seize control of the Gaza Strip and relocate its Palestinian population is poised to upend regional and global geostrategic balances. From an energy standpoint, tapping into offshore gas reserves like Leviathan, Tamar, and Dalit would bolster U.S. influence against competitors such as Qatar and Iran, while decreasing Europe’s reliance on Russian gas. Regionally, this move is fracturing alliances: Arab nations like Egypt, Jordan, and Saudi Arabia view it as a breach of international law and a threat to their stability, whereas Iran and Turkey might exploit the crisis to sideline Washington and its allies. Legally, the plan violates international norms, notably the prohibition of forced population transfers and the two-state solution endorsed by the Arab League, further weakening institutions like the UN and the ICC. Regarding the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, it sidelines the Palestinian Authority, buries any hope for coexistence, and risks fueling a cycle of violence through radicalization. Globally, this decision could intensify rivalries with Russia and China, who might capitalize on Arab resentment, while also fracturing Western unity on the Palestinian issue. These dynamics reflect a desire to reshape the Middle East through power politics, at the risk of prolonged instability.
At the heart of this turmoil, Palestine remains a mirror of Arab contradictions. It exposes the gap between official rhetoric and the realities of power, between proclaimed solidarity and selfish calculations. Trump’s plans for Gaza, by their very brutality, could have an unexpected effect: forcing Arab regimes to align their strategic interests with their peoples’ aspirations. This is the ultimate challenge—not just for Gaza, but for the very survival of an Arab world seeking coherence and dignity.
In this context, Middle Eastern stability cannot be imposed through unilateral decisions detached from local realities and historical legacies that shape regional balances. Any approach that overlooks the region’s deep-seated dynamics can only lead to increased tensions and undermine prospects for peace. Only inclusive diplomacy, grounded in respect for international law and consideration of the Palestinian people’s aspirations, can offer a viable alternative to chronic instability. The pursuit of lasting balance should be guided not by immediate security imperatives but by a strategic vision based on dialogue, cooperation, and mutual interests.
Without concerted will and a comprehensive approach, each crisis will only rekindle existing fractures, exposing several Arab countries to existential risks. Revisiting Gaza’s status threatens not only the Palestinian cause but also shakes the internal cohesion of several states, notably Jordan, Egypt, and some Gulf countries, whose stability partly hinges on a delicate balance between diplomatic engagement and managing national sensitivities. Such dynamics could fuel identity tensions, exacerbate political divisions, and strengthen protest movements capable of further destabilizing regimes already facing multiple crises. Far from serving regional security, such a policy risks creating a domino effect with repercussions extending well beyond Gaza, plunging the entire region into a new era of uncertainty and heightened rivalries.
In light of this, Arab countries find themselves at a critical crossroads: a hasty reaction to this decision could exacerbate threats to their national security and internal stability. In this regard, hastily aligning with a project perceived as illegitimate could trigger massive public backlash, weakening regimes already vulnerable to socio-economic challenges and political divides. In Egypt or Jordan, where the Palestinian issue remains a symbol of pan-Arab solidarity, leaders would lose legitimacy if they appeared complicit in a measure contrary to international law, fueling frustration and mobilization. Moreover, the diplomatic credibility of Arab states would be durably undermined, eroding their role in regional negotiations and their ability to defend common interests, such as access to energy resources or border security. The danger also lies in the erosion of Arab unity: a disordered or divided response would weaken structures like the Arab League, already criticized for inefficiency, and open the door to external interference. To avoid such a scenario, a collective and thoughtful strategy is imperative: firmly denouncing forced transfers while developing counterproposals that guarantee Palestinian rights without compromising Arab strategic interests. Without such an approach, regimes risk marginalization, both in the eyes of their public and on the international stage, accelerating an already underway geopolitical decline.
An illusion collapsing
Thus, the decision to take control of Gaza and relocate its Palestinian population constitutes a geopolitical shift with multifaceted consequences, whose impact will vary over time. In the short term, the region faces immediate instability: Arab countries (Egypt, Jordan, Saudi Arabia, etc.) massively reject what they perceive as a disguised annexation, risking popular uprisings and a humanitarian crisis if Israeli military operations resume to facilitate the plan. Hamas and the Palestinian Authority, though weakened, could exploit resentment to resume attacks, undermining fragile truces. Diplomatically, the United States could find itself isolated. It is highly likely that the EU, the UN, and key partners to Arab countries like France would condemn a blatant violation of international law, undermining Washington’s moral credibility.
In the medium term, systemic repercussions crystallize. The Abraham Accords, cornerstone of normalization between Israel and Gulf monarchies, risk unraveling, with Saudi Arabia refusing to sacrifice the Palestinian cause for its energy interests. Moderate Arab regimes (Jordan, Egypt) could face radicalization of their public opinion, exacerbating internal tensions related to unemployment or inequalities. Meanwhile, legal proceedings intensify: NGOs and institutions like the ICC mobilize international law to pursue those responsible for forced transfers, despite the refusal of the United States and Israel to recognize their jurisdiction. Furthermore, the prospect of a new Arab Spring, accompanied by a resurgence of political Islam, poses a major strategic challenge that the American administration must consider carefully. The popular uprisings of 2011 demonstrated that socio-economic and political frustrations can quickly transform into large-scale movements, redefining regional balances and directly impacting American interests in the Middle East. A new wave of protest could lead to increased instability, providing fertile ground for Islamist movements aiming to fill power vacuums. This dynamic could not only threaten U.S.-allied regimes but also complicate counterterrorism efforts and disrupt global energy markets.
In the long run, the plan to take control of Gaza and relocate its Palestinian population could significantly reshape regional dynamics. By tapping into offshore gas reserves like Leviathan and Tamar, the U.S. and Israel might sideline competitors such as Qatar and Turkey, bolstering Western energy dominance. However, abandoning the two-state solution and increasing Palestinian economic dependence could create a demographic and social “ticking time bomb,” fueling cycles of intergenerational violence. Moreover, this move could weaken America’s standing; seen as acting unilaterally, Washington might open the door for China and Russia to exploit Arab discontent and expand their influence.
While President Trump’s announcement appears aimed at electoral gains—wooing a pro-Israel base—and making a bold statement with a “disruptive” policy, its potential fallout could be deeply destabilizing. The proposal to relocate 2.2 million Palestinians to neighboring countries is widely viewed as unrealistic, drawing sharp criticism for its impracticality and disregard for Palestinian rights. Implementing such a plan risks escalating regional tensions, weakening international institutions, and further entrenching the Israeli-Palestinian conflict in a prolonged deadlock. In this light, a unified international response—combining coordinated diplomatic pressure, strong support for Palestinian rights, and a strategic realignment of alliances—is essential to mitigate these risks and foster lasting peace in the Middle East.
Far from delivering the promised stability, the current U.S. approach in the Middle East is generating strategic uncertainty and unpredictable regional shifts. By favoring unilateral action over collaboration, Washington is weakening post-Cold War balances and increasing skepticism about its role as a global mediator. This stance reflects a profound shift in geopolitical paradigms, where force takes precedence over consensus-driven diplomacy. Ignoring the region’s socio-political realities and collective consciousness accelerates the erosion of multilateral frameworks and encourages new power centers, redefining traditional alliances. Handling the Palestinian issue unilaterally, perceived as flouting international norms, fuels widespread dissent that transcends national boundaries and reactivates deep-seated social mobilizations. In this evolving landscape, the illusion of an American-imposed order in the Middle East gives way to a fragmented strategic environment, with narrowing options and emerging local actors gradually shaping a multipolar governance structure.
In this context, the American “offshore balancing” doctrine – historically designed to project power without direct military involvement – now faces a paradoxical challenge. Attempting to reshape Gaza’s power structure through unilateral control and forced demographic changes introduces an asymmetric strategic shift that undermines the very foundation of this approach. Instead of stabilizing the geopolitical landscape, this initiative risks triggering a strategic domino effect, intensifying conflicts, and reigniting latent tensions within the Arab and international systems. Departing from the proxy deterrence model that once defined U.S. intervention in the Middle East, this strategy disrupts strategic interdependencies and accelerates the erosion of America’s diplomatic capital. This decision signifies a move toward disruptive interventionism, where attempts at territorial reengineering jeopardize Washington’s ability to navigate regional dynamics without becoming entangled in high-cost political and military commitments.
This shift exposes Washington to polarized spheres of influence: the strategic void left by sidelining Arab actors could foster a Sino-Russian synergy centered on the Palestinian issue, potentially diminishing the U.S.’s role as the architect of a fluid regional order. Overlooking the internal dynamics of the conflict may thus amplify Middle Eastern fragmentation and pave the way for coercive geoeconomics, where regional and global players adjust their strategies within a new power matrix. If this stance continues, it could lead to a systemic shift in Middle East conflict management, hastening the rise of a polycentric order where adaptability outweighs sheer dominance. In this scenario, the Gaza decision might not only redefine regional balances but also act as a catalyst for restructuring America’s position on the global chessboard.