The Gulf monarchies that wagered so heavily on Donald Trump's second term are now confronting an uncomfortable truth: the transactional president they thought they understood has made a transaction they never anticipated.
Trump's memorandum of understanding with Iran—the framework for what the administration calls a "historic accommodation" on Tehran's nuclear program—has sent shockwaves through Riyadh and Abu Dhabi. These capitals spent the Biden years quietly lobbying for Trump's return, viewing him as the reliable hawk who withdrew from the 2015 nuclear deal and ordered the killing of Qassem Soleimani. What they got instead is a president who appears more interested in a legacy-defining diplomatic coup than in containing their regional rival.
The betrayal narrative takes hold
Gulf officials, speaking to Western journalists on condition of anonymity, have been uncharacteristically blunt. The phrase "disastrous turning point" has circulated in diplomatic cables, according to multiple reports. The concern is not merely that Trump is talking to Iran—the Saudis themselves have pursued backchannel communications with Tehran—but that Washington appears willing to offer sanctions relief and implicit security guarantees without extracting meaningful concessions on Iran's ballistic missile program or its network of regional proxies.
For Mohammed bin Salman, the Saudi crown prince who has staked his modernization agenda on American security guarantees, the timing is particularly awkward. His kingdom has spent billions on defense partnerships with Washington, hosted Trump's first foreign trip as president, and endured international opprobrium over the Khashoggi affair partly because of Trump's willingness to shield him. The expectation was that this loyalty would be reciprocated with unwavering pressure on Tehran.
The limits of personal diplomacy
The Gulf states' miscalculation reveals the fundamental instability of building foreign policy around personal relationships with Trump. The same impulsiveness that made him willing to tear up the JCPOA makes him equally willing to pursue a grand bargain if he believes it will cement his historical reputation. Trump has never been ideologically committed to confronting Iran; he has been committed to undoing Obama's legacy and, now, to exceeding it.
The Emiratis face a particularly delicate situation. Abu Dhabi has pursued its own quiet rapprochement with Tehran since 2019, recognizing that geography makes permanent enmity impractical. But the UAE's hedging strategy assumed American pressure would keep Iran constrained. A genuine U.S.-Iran accommodation could leave the Emirates exposed, having alienated Tehran without securing the American umbrella they counted on.
Our take
The Gulf states are learning a lesson that Trump's domestic opponents absorbed years ago: his loyalty flows in one direction. The billions in arms purchases, the flattering summits, the willingness to overlook democratic backsliding—none of it creates durable obligations in Trump's mind. He will pursue whatever deal makes him feel like a winner, regional allies be damned. The Saudis and Emiratis built their security architecture on the assumption that American presidents, whatever their rhetoric, would ultimately prioritize containing Iran. They are now discovering that Trump's "America First" means exactly what it says: America's interests as Trump defines them in any given moment, with everyone else left to adapt.
