The Biden administration is engaged in an all-out public push for Saudi-Israeli normalization. But not all is as it seems, and as matters stand, it is sure to work out poorly for everyone involved.
As a candidate, President Joe Biden openly disparaged Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman for his involvement in the assassination of Jamal Khashoggi. For the first year of his presidency, Biden refused to engage with Saudi Arabia and sought to resurrect the Obama administration’s Iran nuclear deal, which threatens to shift the regional balance of power away from the Saudis.
But then Russia, the world’s third-largest oil producer, invaded Ukraine. At that moment, it would have made the most sense to put aside grudges and idealism and work with the Saudis to increase oil production, to keep prices down and deprive Russia of at least some revenue. After all, bin Salman had previously fought an oil price war against Russia in 2020, and his kingdom has no special love for the Kremlin.
Guided by sensible statecraft, the Biden administration could have courted Saudi cooperation from March 2022 onwards, revitalizing the American partnership with a vital petroleum exporter just as global energy markets were most threatened.
Instead, Biden dithered. When he went to Saudi Arabia, supposedly on a charm offensive aimed at bin Salman, the only concession he offered was a fist-bump.
By summer’s end, Saudi Arabia was signaling that it actually intended to cut oil production. The Biden administration’s response was twofold — silence on tangible concessions to the Saudis, and a maximum pressure campaign not against Iran, but against Israel, to force its exceptionally weak government to accept Hezbollah (and by extension Iranian) control of vital gas deposits in the Levantine Basin last fall.
In that context, bin Salman had few reasonable choices. If the U.S. could push Israel’s government to take steps clearly in Iran’s interest, what could Saudi Arabia, now a “pariah” and a noxious petrostate, hope to get from Washington?
He thus began his flirtation with China, resulting in March 2023 in a Chinese-brokered normalization of Saudi-Iranian relations that is not so much a detente as a deferral. The Iranian nuclear program has accelerated: nuclear weaponization is probable. If Iran trusts its modeling and does not test, it could have a small nuclear arsenal within months.
On its face, the U.S. is pursuing a normalization agreement between Israel and Saudi Arabia that would provide the Saudis with a civilian nuclear energy program, implying a NATO-style security guarantee, a U.S. force presence in-country and provision of advanced Western military technology. Israel, meanwhile, would be expected to increase its flexibility on the Palestinian question.
It sounds appealing: a Middle Eastern security system that can contain Iran, lock out China and Russia, and preserve America’s regional interests. Released from the task of Middle Eastern management, America could finally turn to Asia, secure in the knowledge that an Arab-Israeli entente could preserve its interests in its absence.
But beneath the surface, the situation is quite different. The Biden administration has reportedly been considering a crude, face-saving understanding with Tehran, that it will not openly declare that it possesses a nuclear arsenal, even if it obtains one. In return, the U.S. will relax its sanctions on Iranian oil.
Last week, the Biden administration effectively paid Iran $6 billion to release five hostages, a thinly veiled attempt at compensatory persuasion. Bribing Tehran to keep mum after weaponization will not guarantee the peace, but it will prevent Iran from making a mockery of American indecision.
The above-outlined Israel-Saudi deal fits into this strategy. Its flaw, however, is that it merely defers the issue of Iranian aggression. Washington might well be able to pivot to Asia at long last, but only because Israel and Saudi Arabia would be so constrained as to make a balance of forces against Iran impossible.
Israel would become exceptionally vulnerable under such a deal, as bin Salman’s kingdom would turn inward. The Saudis are not sufficiently hawkish, anti-Iranian, or willing to exert themselves internationally at financial cost. The high-tech transition that bin Salman envisions for his country involves not an increase but a reduction in military activity abroad and avoidance of regional and Eurasian rivalries.
So yes, Saudi Arabia might agree to deny China military access to its territory, or even to unwind its deal with Chinese telecommunications giant (and intelligence vehicle) Huawei. But there is only a limited chance that the Saudis will engage in a grand geopolitical balancing act with Iran.
More likely, Saudi Arabia will retreat within itself. Bin Salman will take full advantage of an American security guarantee, and Israel will be stuck with an empty pseudo-ally that is all too happy to avoid confrontation.
Alliance management is an unending task, requiring all parties to have a consistent self-image. Saudi Arabia lacks that, making it an unfit balancing partner. Washington has a self-image, but one that is dominated by clichés about rebalancing and dubious uses of historical analogy.
A new Middle East may be possible, but this is not the way. Sober considerations of the national interest, not quick fixes, must guide American and Israeli policy. The best choice, for Israel and for the U.S., is to wait until Saudi Arabia possesses a coherent identity and then see if it can be incorporated into an entente.
Seth Cropsey is the founder and president of Yorktown Institute. He served as a naval officer and as deputy Undersecretary of the Navy and is the author of Mayday and Seablindness.