Tag: middle-east

• Borrowed Time – Tough Choices Fiji Can’t Keep Putting Off

  While President Trump insists “talks with Iran are going well,” the US attacked a fuel tanker near Kharg Island. Iran retaliated against targets in Bahrain and Kuwait. The Strait of Hormuz remains shut. And here in Fiji, we are beginning to feel the painful threshold of the coming fossil fuel crisis.

  Trump lives in a Washington bubble where words still matter. But Hormuz doesn’t negotiate. Oil tankers burn or sit idle. The only thing that will reopen that strait is an Iranian decision—not a White House press release. And certainly not an Israeli foreign minister’s spin about a war that Israel nudged the US into, selling it as a quickie. But quickies never provide any satisfaction.

  For Fiji and the Pasifika, this is no longer a foreign war. It is a domestic energy emergency.

  Our Pasifika neighbours face the same vulnerability. No regional fuel reserves, no strategic buffer. If shipping lanes are disrupted further, the entire Blue Pasifika feels the pain together. But Fiji, as the regional hub, must lead. Not with speeches, but with action.

  A major newspaper warned last month that the world is on “borrowed time” because of the growing energy crisis. Seventy-six countries have already taken emergency action. Fiji isn’t on that list—yet. But if we wait until we are, only damage control will be left.

  Global oil demand is far outpacing supply. Stockpiles are draining fast. Fiji has no real fuel reserves. Our economy is fragile. Our power grid already struggles at peak times. Already, families are paying double for bus fares. Market vendors are raising prices because transport costs have exploded. Small businesses are one blackout away from closing for good.

  Government must get off its high horse. The National Security Council (NSC) should now be meeting weekly, track global oil markets, and issue binding orders. Silence right now is negligence.

  Here is what the government must consider seriously—before the crisis forces its hand:

  1. Mandatory work from home – All non‑essential public workers should work from home at least three days a week. Private sector should follow. Every car kept off the road saves fuel immediately.

  2. Cut traffic aggressively – Alternate day driving based on odd/even licence plates; bus lanes on the Suva‑Nausori corridor with cheaper fares; restrict fuel sales for non‑essential trips if shortages hit; vehicle pool mandates for government fleets, including ministers.

  3. Planned power cuts, not random chaos – EFL must prepare load shedding now. Publish a clear rotating schedule in newspapers, on social media, by SMS. Example: “Your area loses power 8am–6pm Tuesday and Thursday.” Hard, but predictable. Hospitals, water pumps, and the airport must be exempted. Predictability saves lives and food.

  4. Government must lead by example – Every ministry: AC at 24°C minimum, lights and equipment off after hours, shift work to daylight hours. You can’t ask families to sacrifice while government lights burn all night.

  5. Four‑day work week for non‑essential sectors – Work four longer days, shut down completely on the fifth. No commuting, no lights, no AC.

  Outer islands and rural areas – Fuel shipments to Vanua Levu, Taveuni, Lomaiviti, Lau, Kadavu, Yasawa, and Rotuma could become irregular. Pre‑position fuel and essentials now. Every district needs a local emergency plan, not waiting for Suva.

  Tourism – Hotels must publish backup plans. Tourists will cancel if they hear of chaos. Acting now protects jobs and foreign income.

  State of Emergency – The mix of energy, drugs, HIV, and NCD crises now calls for a State of Emergency. Not military rule, but legal power to act fast: work‑from‑home mandates, driving limits, load shedding schedules, conservation orders—without parliamentary delays. We did it for COVID. This is just as urgent.

  What ordinary Fijians can do now – Start vehicle pooling. Turn off appliances at the wall. Freeze water bottles—if power goes, they keep your fridge cold for hours. Talk to your neighbours. Community preparedness is our secret weapon.

  Beyond individual action, consider the economic ripple: every week of delayed action pushes more families into poverty. The cost of diesel for fishing boats has already doubled in some areas. If we wait for a full-blown shortage, the price of fish, root crops, and imported rice will spiral beyond reach for thousands of Fijian households. Acting now is not just about lights—it is about food security.

  The war is at a stalemate. The ceasefire shows no sign of moving to the next stage. Negotiations are checkmated. Tit‑for‑tat attacks illustrate the chaos that will return without serious goodwill on both sides. Iran has geography and time. The US has the watch and its midterm elections.

  Fiji must act like it. We are living on borrowed time. The only question is: will our government make these hard decisions before the lights are flickering and the pumps are dry?

  Act now. Because borrowed time runs out faster than anyone expects.

  2026.06.08

• The Fall of the Old Guard and the Emergence of a New West Asian Order

  The post–World War II order is dead. What rises in its place will be shaped by conflicts still raging, diplomatic gambits still unfolding, and economic policies still being written. Nowhere is that truth more stark than in West Asia, where the Iranian regime—by sheer geographic presence and the endurance of a disciplined civilization—has survived the US-Israeli war and retains control over the Hormuz Strait.

  Less than a decade ago, Western strategists could sketch West Asia’s power map with reasonable confidence. Egypt commanded the Arab world’s political weight. Saudi Arabia and the UAE anchored the Gulf’s economic might under an American security umbrella. Iraq and Syria were containment zones for Iranian influence. Today, that map has been tossed aside. The region’s center of gravity is no longer in the Arab heartland. It sits in Ankara and Tehran. The Gulf monarchies that Washington counted on as pillars of a “rules-based” order, have been exposed as brittle dependents—caught in a conflict they did not choose and could not control.

  The war that backfired

  The US-Israeli war against Iran, supported tacitly by the GCC, was supposed to cripple Tehran’s power. Instead, it has hastened a slow-motion transition that strategists had been tracking for years: the emergence of Iran and Turkey as West Asia’s indispensable powers. Worse, the same miscalculation has diminished the Quad as a meaningful counterweight to China and accelerated Beijing’s rise as Asia’s pre‑eminent power. A war intended to restore American deterrence has done precisely the opposite.

  Let’s be clear about what was already happening before February 2026. The regional redistribution of power was visible. The Gulf states—Qatar, Saudi Arabia, the UAE—had leveraged their hydrocarbon wealth into a model of economic integration: advanced technology, logistics, tourism, finance. That “Gulf model” offered a post‑oil future while keeping Washington invested in their security. But it rested on a fragile assumption: that American protection would remain reliable and that the Gulf could insulate itself from geopolitical storms. The war shattered both assumptions.

  As Tehran retaliated against American bases across the Gulf, the very facilities designed to shield the GCC became magnets for attack. Gulf states found themselves in a security trap—unable to join the war offensively for fear of escalation, yet unable to prevent their territory from becoming a battlefield. Their strategic restraint, born of necessity, signaled to every regional actor, that the American security guarantee is conditional at best.

  Western commentators warned that if the Iranian regime survives and retains even limited control over the Hormuz Strait, it would amount to a strategic defeat for the US, Israel, and the Gulf states. After months of war, the regime has not fallen. Tehran has demonstrated it can punish Gulf economies at will—targeting energy facilities, disrupting the Strait, launching sustained drone and missile campaigns—while Washington struggles to articulate a political endgame.

  The unintended rise

  The war’s most consequential effect has been to accelerate the ascent of Iran and Turkey as the region’s indispensable powers. For Iran, survival is victory. Despite relentless airstrikes, the regime has retained control over the Strait, through which a fifth of global oil passes. More importantly, Tehran has shown it can impose costs on the Gulf directly, forcing a reconsideration of alignment with Washington. The GCC, through their restraint, have signaled that they now view Tehran not as a regime to be eliminated but as an unavoidable permanent stakeholder in any future regional order. That is a profound shift: the Arab Gulf’s long‑term calculation now includes Iran at the table, not just as an adversary to be contained.

  Turkey’s rise has been quieter but equally significant. Ankara welcomed the ceasefire and warned against steps that would destabilize Iran, recognizing that instability in Iran would immediately sharpen Turkish anxieties about Kurdish militancy, refugee flows, and border security. By positioning itself as a stabilizing power and a diplomatic interlocutor, Turkey has enhanced its regional standing while avoiding the costs of direct involvement. In a multipolar West Asia, Ankara’s strategic autonomy—its ability to move between NATO, Russia, and regional actors—has become a valuable asset.

  The Quad’s quiet fade

  These shifts have not occurred in isolation. The same American resources consumed by the Iranian war have been drawn from the Indo‑Pasifika, with direct consequences for the Quadrilateral Security Dialogue. Since his return to the White House in 2025, President Trump has refused to participate, leaving the Quad leaderless and degrading its geostrategic value. The downgrade from a leaders’ summit to a foreign ministers’ meeting in New Delhi this week, was a stark indicator of waning US political commitment.

  The Quad is now diminished politically and strategically. Its erosion is not accidental; it reflects a deeper logic. China’s strategy of “managed equilibrium” seeks not to dismantle the Quad by force but to weaken its cohesion, lower its political profile, and encourage accommodation in Washington. As the US becomes preoccupied with West Asia and its European allies face their own pressures, Beijing’s diplomatic space expands. US Secretary of Defence Pete Hegseth’s speech at the Shangri‑La Dialogue this week—calling for “partners, not protectorates” and warning that “the era of the United States subsidising the defense of wealthy nations is over”—sounded less like a reassurance to allies than a notice of retrenchment.

  China has been quick to exploit the opening. Where the Quad has stalled, Beijing has advanced bilateral arrangements—with Indonesia, with the Gulf states, across Central Asia—that quietly extend its influence without the confrontational rhetoric of a formal alliance. The war on Iran, as Chinese state media has noted, is undermining supply‑chain resilience across the Asia‑Pasifika and exposing the contradictions in Washington’s simultaneous pursuit of two distant theaters.

  No plan, no order

  The post–World War II order has come to an end. The war in West Asia has not merely confirmed that verdict; it has written the first chapter of whatever comes next. By launching an ill‑defined campaign against Iran without a credible political endgame, Washington has accelerated the very realignments it feared: the rise of Iran and Turkey as the region’s gravitational centers; the exposure of the Gulf states’ dependence on an increasingly unreliable protector; and the quiet fading of the Quad as Asia’s preferred counterweight to China.

  The new global architecture will not be designed in Washington, Riyadh, or Jerusalem. It will be contested in the Hormuz Strait, on the Turkish‑Iranian frontier, and in the boardrooms where Gulf investors decide whether to bet on the dollar or the renminbi. Geography has reasserted itself, and the lack of strategic thinking in Western interventions has merely hastened its return. The question now is not whether the old order is gone. It is whether anyone has a plan for what replaces it.

  2026.05.30

• The Civilizational Blind Spot: How the US and Israel Miscalculated Iran

  The war with Iran was sold as a quick decapitation—a replay of Venezuela, where a brittle regime would crumble under the first real shock. Instead, it became a strategic catastrophe. The US and Israel believed they were targeting a government. They discovered, too late, that they were confronting a civilization.

  Iran is one of the oldest, most resilient civilizations in human history. The Persians have fought wars for three thousand years, survived invading hordes, and revived every time. This insight—obvious to any student of history—was entirely absent from US and Israeli war planning.

  The False Analogy: Iran as Venezuela

  Weeks before the conflict, Netanyahu briefed Trump on a promise: a quick, easy war. Decapitate the leadership, the regime collapses, victory declared. Trump bought it. The premise was that Iran was a hollow shell like Venezuela. But Venezuela is a 19th-century nation-state. Iran is heir to Cyrus the Great and millennia of resistance. No invader has ever erased Persia.

  When decapitation strikes failed, Washington was surprised. Instead of weakening, Iran gained a powerful burst of energy. A civilization under existential threat does not send armies into hopeless battles. It strikes the global economy’s jugular: the Hormuz Strait.

  The Strait That Broke the War

  Iran had warned for years it could close the strait. The US and Israel bombed nuclear facilities while leaving this obvious lever unaddressed. Within days, Iran imposed de facto control. Oil prices spiked. Suddenly, Trump’s overriding concern—November’s midterm elections—became Iran’s primary bargaining chip. Iran is not waiting for a military knockout. It is waiting for an electoral clock.

  The Unraveling Alliance

  The US and Israel are no longer in unison. Trump, facing domestic pressure, desperately wants an off-ramp before November. Israel insists on finishing the job but cannot. This war is fundamentally between Iran and Israel. The US was dragged in by undue Israeli influence and, Washington embraced the Venezuela fallacy. You cannot decapitate a civilization. You can only bleed against it.

  Businessmen Negotiators

  The final insult: Trump appointed businessmen Jared Kushner and Steve Witkoff as negotiators. Their expertise is real estate, not Persian history or Shiite theology. They expected to out-haggle Iran. Instead, Iran holds the upper hand—because when a civilization feels existentially threatened, it does not negotiate from weakness. It waits. It plays the long game.

  As one seasoned observer put it: “Any other country would have surrendered from day one. Iranians didn’t surrender. In fact, they retaliated very strongly.” That is not bravado. That is three thousand years of muscle memory.

  Conclusion: The Cost of Forgetting History, Felt Even Here

  The US and Israel launched this war believing Iran would fold like a house of cards. Instead, Iran closed the Hormuz Strait, kept its economy afloat, and forced Washington to beg for a way out. The magnitude is undeniable: a civilization was underestimated, and the global order is paying the price.

  But this price is not paid only in Washington or Tel Aviv. Even here in Fiji—thousands of miles from the Persian Gulf—we are already feeling the direct effects, and we will continue to feel them long after the fighting ends. The closure of the Hormuz Strait has sent energy costs soaring. Imported goods, from food to fuel to manufactured basics, have become dramatically more expensive. Inflation presses down on every Fijian household. Our small island economy, already vulnerable to global shocks, has no shield against a war we did not choose and cannot influence.

  This should be a wake-up call. The era of stable fossil energy flowing through chokepoints controlled by distant powers is over—at least for now. It is time for Fiji to look seriously at alternative energy sources, as China has shown. Beijing understood years ago that strategic vulnerability follows the oil tanker. Today, China leads the world in renewable energy—not out of environmental idealism, but out of hard-nosed strategic, visionary calculation. Fiji can learn from that. What we lack is the political will to accelerate the transition.

  The Iran war has reminded every nation without its own oil fields of a simple truth: when great powers clash over civilization and empire, small countries get crushed by the wake. The only defense is resilience. And for Fiji, resilience means less reliance on fossil fuel. The Americans and Israelis miscalculated Persia. Let us not miscalculate our own future. The war will end. The lesson should not.

  2026.05.24

• The Student and the Master: Asymmetric Negotiation in the Iran Playbook

  There is a quiet irony unfolding in the back channels of West Asian diplomacy. As the Trump administration attempts to reassert maximum pressure on Iran, a different dynamic has taken root. It is becoming increasingly clear that the Iranians understand Donald Trump far more deeply than he, or his hand-picked emissaries, understand them. With the likes of son-in-law Jared Kushner and billionaire friend Steve Witkoff serving as his primary interlocutors, the Islamic Republic has found itself across the table from diplomatic Lilliputians. And for seasoned State Department veterans watching from the sidelines, the spectacle is one part amusement, two parts quiet horror.

  But the miscalculation runs deeper than personnel. America’s attempts to outsource pressure have backfired in ways that only further reveal Tehran’s strategic patience. First, Washington tried using Oman as a negotiating proxy—a quiet, trusted intermediary long accustomed to shuttling between the Islamic Republic and the West. Omani mediators, discreet and effective, had managed to build enough trust to keep channels open. Then came February 28. In the midst of active Omani-mediated discussions, the United States launched an attack without any prior consultation with Muscat. The Omanis were not merely blindsided; they were insultingly barbecued. A proxy’s only currency is credibility, and Washington spent it carelessly. That channel is now dead, another casualty of transactional impulsiveness.

  The Americans then turned to Pakistan. The logic is understandable on paper: Pakistan has its own complex relationship with Iran, shares a border, and possesses the one thing that commands respect in the region—an Islamic nuclear arsenal. But Pakistan is no compliant proxy. Islamabad dances to no American tune, least of all when it involves mediating with a neighbor that also happens to be a Shia-majority state facing Sunni-majority Pakistan’s strategic calculations. The Pakistanis are nuclear-armed, proudly independent, and deeply skeptical of being used as Washington’s errand boy—a skepticism forged since the USSR waged war in Afghanistan. More importantly, Pakistan understands what Iran already knows: in the current administration, there is an audience of one.

  That audience is POTUS. Not Senator Lindsey Graham, whose boorish, hawkish chants echo into an empty chamber. Not Kushner or Witkoff, whose real estate playbooks have no chapter on nuclear thresholds. Not J.D. Vance or Marco Rubio, however loudly they posture in press interviews. When Pakistan’s interlocutors sit down—whether with Iranians or with American intermediaries—they know that the only number worth dialing is POTUS’s. Every other voice in Washington is background noise. That knowledge alone, fundamentally warps negotiations: it means Pakistan will act not as a faithful agent but as a free agent, advancing its own interests, withholding its cooperation when it sees fit, and never forgetting that it holds nuclear cards of its own.

  The contrast with Iran is stark. Iran’s negotiators do not need to guess who is in charge; they have internalized that POTUS prizes deals over doctrine, loyalty over expertise, and spectacle over substance. They watched Oman get burned and learned the lesson: American intermediaries are expendable. They now see Pakistan entering the fray not as an honest broker but as another variable to be managed. And they understand that whether the messenger is Muscat, Islamabad, or Witkoff himself, the real conversation is not about enrichment thresholds or sanctions relief. It is about whether Trump can be made to believe he is winning.

  This is the heart of the asymmetry. The Iranians have spent decades learning to read American domestic politics, presidential psychology, and the gap between threat and action. Trump’s envoys, by contrast, are still learning that a handshake in West Asia, does not survive a tweet from Mar-a-Lago. The State Department career corps watches with a mixture of amusement and disdain: amusement at the spectacle of real estate developers and compliant proxies being cycled through like failed properties, disdain because the stakes are a nuclear programme, not a condominium.

  In the end, Iran knows how to deal with POTUS because they have made him the centre of gravity. He has not returned the favor. Until Washington understands that no proxy—whether a low-key Oman or a prickly nuclear-armed Pakistan—can substitute for disciplined, professional diplomacy, the pattern will repeat. Oman learned this the hard way on February 28. Pakistan, ever the survivor, will likely do the same. And the Iranians will continue to watch, wait, and quietly advance, knowing that the audience of one is the easiest stage to manipulate. After all, they have the time while the administration has the watch. And it is ticking towards the US midterm elections.

  2026.05.17

• The Fog of War and the Vacuum of Aims: Two Months of Confusion in the Gulf

  What began on February 28th as a thunderclap of coordinated American-Israeli strikes against Iran, has now dragged into a third month of bloodshed, reprisals, and regional chaos. Yet, more than two months later, a durable peace is nowhere on the horizon—and perhaps the most frightening reason is that Washington still cannot articulate why it is fighting.

  Back on that February night, the United States and Israel launched their war without informing their Western allies, let alone the Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) states, who sit just across the water and have taken the full brunt of the war up close—from missile debris to disrupted shipping lanes to the economic strangulation of the Hormuz Strait. Now, 66 days into a conflict with no endgame, the prevailing whisper in Washington is that the Gulf should be grateful.

  Grateful for what? For being blindsided? For being turned into a frontline buffer zone?

  This is not strategy. It is arrogance wrapped in amateur hour—and the passage of time has only laid bare the rot underneath.

  Two months in, the most dangerous weapon in this war is not an Iranian drone or an Israeli bunker buster. It is the profound, paralyzing confusion over America’s ultimate aim. Is this a war to dismantle Iran’s nuclear program? A campaign to cripple the IRGC? A perpetual open-ended commitment to defend Israel, leaving America’s oldest Arab allies to absorb the shrapnel? Or—as daily headlines of stalled back-channel talks suggest—is it merely a tantrum masquerading as policy?

  The Gulf states have spent nine weeks asking a question that the White House cannot answer: What does victory look like? Without a coherent objective, this is not leadership; it is a bar fight where the instigator cannot remember why he threw the first punch. And when the brawl grinds on for two months with no exit strategy, the instigator’s confusion becomes indistinguishable from sheer incompetence.

  That incompetence now hides in plain sight at the highest levels of the administration. The Secretary of State, who is also the National Security Advisor, has effectively abdicated diplomacy to two real estate developers. Let that sink in: the world’s sole superpower has handed the intricate, bloody, and delicate file of containing Iran to men whose career highlights involve steel, glass, and closing deals.

  Diplomacy for a durable peace is not a real estate transaction. It does not reward impatience. It requires the gravitas to sit in a room for months, to achieve a tenuous ceasefire. And the wisdom to know that after two months of war without peace, the real estate approach has failed. The developers lack the patience for deterrence and the nuance for escalation management. They see “deals” where there are only dilemmas. And now, with the war grinding into its third month and no cease-fire in sight, their handiwork has produced the worst of all worlds: a conflict with no purpose, no timeline, and no off-ramp.

  The result is a policy of maximum pressure with minimum thought, leaving the UAE’s ports, Saudi Arabia’s oil fields, and Bahrain’s coastline as perpetual collateral damage in a war whose purpose shifts by the hour—or, increasingly, seems to have no purpose at all.

  The greatest casualty of this administration’s incompetence is trust. By sidelining the Gulf on February 28th, and by offering no coherent vision in the two months since, Washington has proved that its Arab partners are not allies. They are insurance policies—to be billed after the accident, but never consulted before it.

  For the GCC, the lesson is brutal. They have taken the full brunt of a war launched by others. They have endured two months of economic turbulence, missile warnings, and diplomatic whiplash. And in return, they are lectured about gratitude.

  If this is the new American way after 66 days of aimless conflict, the Gulf will not rush to spend its treasure defending a superpower that cannot explain why it is fighting—or, more damningly, whether it even remembers. The fog of war is one thing. A vacuum of aims is quite another. And that vacuum, far more than any Iranian missile, is the real threat to a durable peace.

  2026.05.12

• When Good Relations Are Worse Than Bad: The Trump–Netanyahu Trap

  There’s a dark joke quietly circulating among geo political observers: with two men like Donald Trump and Benjamin Netanyahu, you can’t decide whether good relations or bad relations are more dangerous. After reading Julian Borger’s masterful pice of the Iran war fiasco (https://www.theguardian.com/world/2026/may/09/tensions-emerge-bejamin-netanyahu-donald-trump-alliance), I have reached an uneasy conclusion. Good relations are worse. Bad relations are just the hangover.

  Let me explain why.

  Borger’s piece is a devastating portrait of what happens when two transactional strongmen—both masters of populist grift, both allergic to institutional constraint—bind their fates together. For decades, Netanyahu played a long game: coax, flatter, and manipulate successive US presidents into attacking Iran. Trump, a man who views every relationship as a zero-sum extraction, was the perfect mark. Their “good relations” produced the worst foreign policy disaster since the Iraq War: a 37-day air campaign that failed to collapse the Iranian regime, closed the Strait of Hormuz, triggered a global energy crisis, and left America looking like a paper tiger.

  The tragedy is that neither man will admit defeat. Instead, they’re now trapped in an oscillating nightmare—sometimes coordinating almost daily, sometimes publicly rebuking each other, but never truly disentangled. And that oscillation, I’d argue, is the real poison.

  The case for “good relations” being worse

  Consider what their alignment enabled. Netanyahu fed Trump the fantasy that Iran was “an overripe fruit ready to drop.” He dangled Venezuela’s lightning regime change as proof that war could be “painless, effortless, beautiful.” Trump; already contemptuous of his own intelligence community, bit hard. The result was not just a failed war, but a strategic defeat that will outlast both men’s political careers. Iran now controls the Strait of Hormuz. China and Russia are strengthened. America’s allies are hedging desperately.

  Good relations between a con-man and a grifter don’t cancel each other out—they amplify the worst impulses of both. Netanyahu got his war; Trump got to feel like a strongman. The rest of us got $150-a-barrel oil and a crumbling global order.

  But bad relations aren’t a solution

  When Trump finally realised he’d been sold a lemon, he froze Israel out of ceasefire talks, publicly scolded Netanyahu (“PROHIBITED” in all-caps on social media), and forced a truce that leaves Iranian power intact. On the surface, that seems better. It stopped the bombing.

  Yet Borger’s reporting reveals the flaw. Netanyahu knows Trump’s attention span is measured in weeks, not years. He knows that ceasefire or no, he can “mow the grass” later—resume strikes on Iranian proxies or nuclear sites once the president is distracted by China or the election. Bad relations just drive the coordination underground. The mutual dependence remains. The strategic failure is now baked in.

  What we’re witnessing is not a clean break. It’s a toxic codependency. One day Trump praises “full coordination.” The next he bans Israel from striking Lebanon. Neither posture is coherent. Neither restores deterrence or trust.

  The real lesson: oscillation is the enemy

  Stable good relations build disastrous wars. Stable bad relations at least produce predictable distance—allies adjust, adversaries calibrate. But the Trump–Netanyahu relationship offers neither. It lurches from embrace to estrangement and back, leaving US allies in the Gulf, European partners, and even the Israeli security establishment unsure whether Washington is leading, following, or fleeing.

  That uncertainty is more corrosive than any single defeat. It tells the world that American power now depends on the mood swings of two aging populists who have, in Borger’s memorable phrase, “screwed each other pretty badly.”

  So here is my answer to the question. Good relations are worse because they start catastrophic wars. Bad relations are merely the aftermath. But the truly dangerous state is the one we occupy now: neither together nor apart, just conjoined in failure, unable to admit it, and all too capable of lurching into another disaster when one of them needs a distraction.

  The only way out is to stop treating this as a personality problem. It’s a structural one. The United States cannot afford to build its Middle East policy on the back of a prime minister who manipulates US politics for personal survival, nor on a president who mistakes grift for strategy. Until that changes, it doesn’t matter whether Trump and Netanyahu are smiling or snarling at each other. The rest of us will pay the price either way.

  2026.05.11