By early September 2026, the United States had simultaneously become the main source of hope, anxiety, and strategic dependence for Saudi Arabia, Israel, and Russia. Local discussions are no longer focused simply on “American influence,” but on a far more troubling question: can the administration in Washington bring to completion the wars, negotiations, and promises that it itself sets in motion? The most widely discussed issues have been the American confrontation with Iran and the security of shipping through the Strait of Hormuz, the US attempt to shape Gaza’s postwar order, and the renewed—though extremely vague—diplomacy between Moscow, Washington, and Kyiv.
In Saudi and, more broadly, Arab expert circles, America is viewed primarily through the prism of the war with Iran. The main dispute is not over US military power as such, but over the political price of using it. An article by the Al Jazeera Centre for Studies describes American strikes as actions capable of temporarily destroying missiles, bases, or air-defense elements, but not of creating a stable order in the Persian Gulf. This is a crucial local qualification: for Riyadh, security is not a spectacular operation, but predictable shipping, the protection of energy infrastructure, and the absence of missile strikes against neighboring states.
The American policy toward the Strait of Hormuz was discussed with particular concern. Arab analysts noted that Washington initially linked protection of the maritime route to the idea of a 20 percent levy on passing cargoes, then quickly abandoned it in favor of investment and trade agreements with Gulf states. In the local interpretation, this looks less like a carefully designed architecture of collective security than an expression of America’s transactional approach: the protection of an ally is increasingly presented as a service with a political or economic bill attached. A study by the Middle East Council on Global Affairs puts the conclusion more bluntly: the war demonstrated the vulnerability of the Gulf Cooperation Council states’ civilian infrastructure and the limited reliability of the American “umbrella.”
Yet in Saudi Arabia this does not translate into calls to break the alliance with the United States. On the contrary, the local logic is that there is no alternative to American technology, intelligence capabilities, and military presence, but dependence on them must be hedged through regional air defense, independent diplomatic channels, and economic maneuvering. Saudi reactions to America are therefore ambivalent: Washington remains an indispensable partner, but is no longer considered a partner to whom the management of risks can be handed over unconditionally.
In Israel, the same American style produces a different emotion—not fear of being left without protection, but fear of losing freedom of action. Israeli commentators increasingly speak of Washington not as an ally helping to wage a war, but as a power defining its boundaries. Military analyst Michael Milshtein wrote in a column for Ynet that the public dispute over turning Israel into an American “client state” overlooks a historical fact: the United States has stopped Israel before, but its current involvement is different in depth—Washington is claiming not merely the right to issue instructions, but a presence in the very mechanism for controlling Gaza and enforcing a ceasefire.
This also explains Israeli skepticism toward high-profile American statements about agreements. In an article published on September 4, “Agreements Without Backing”, commentator Doron Hader suggests that the arrangements concerning Gaza, Iran, and Lebanon should be called what they are in practice: not peace deals, but ceasefires. This semantic correction matters. The Israeli debate does not deny the usefulness of American pressure on Iran or mediation in Gaza; it questions whether the White House has managed to turn a series of pauses into a stable order. In the same publication, expert Eldad Shavit makes the criticism of President Trump even more directly: he understands how to pressure Tehran, but does not explain what the political end state of that pressure should be.
The paradox is that some Israeli writers simultaneously demand greater US involvement and fear it. An August review of the situation in Gaza describes the American project for Gaza’s future almost ironically—as a dream of a “green Gaza”—while Israel is forced to balance between Trump’s demands and its own right-wing electorate. The Saudi perspective is sharply different here: for Riyadh, an American postwar arrangement for Gaza makes sense only as part of a regional formula that includes a Palestinian political horizon and conditions for normalization. For Israel’s right-wing camp, such a formula looks above all like a restriction on sovereignty and military initiative.
Russia’s reaction to the United States in recent days has been less emotional, but even more instrumental. Moscow is not concerned with whether America will return to dialogue on Ukraine, but with whether it will bring to the negotiations not a media gesture, but acceptable terms. On August 28, Kremlin spokesman Dmitry Peskov said that the negotiating process was “on pause” and that there were no new ideas, stressing that Ukraine knew Russia’s demands, Kommersant reported. Deputy Foreign Minister Sergei Ryabkov, meanwhile, confirmed Moscow’s readiness to discuss American initiatives, but only if its “fundamental positions” were taken into account, according to his comment.
From this Russian perspective, the United States is still essential as the only power capable of exerting real influence on Kyiv and its European allies, but there is no confidence in its consistency. Fyodor Lukyanov, editor-in-chief of the journal Russia in Global Affairs, commenting on possible undisclosed contacts, said that given the situation at the front, this was “not the moment for negotiations”; his words were quoted by Kommersant. This reflects a widespread view in Russia: diplomacy with Washington is possible, but Washington itself is too preoccupied with Iran, the Middle East, and domestic political disputes to guarantee the implementation of even its own proposals.
This is where the three very different countries converge. Saudi Arabia sees America as a military guarantor that can create a threat and then offer protection from it. Israel sees it as the only ally whose support is simultaneously becoming a constraint. Russia sees it as an indispensable negotiator whose signals must be tested not through statements, but through concrete concessions and enforcement mechanisms. American power has not disappeared—quite the opposite: it is precisely that power that makes the United States a central participant in all these crises. But local reactions point to a deeper change: Washington is no longer viewed as the architect of final solutions. It is seen as a force without which nothing begins, but which has yet to prove that it can reliably finish what it starts.
