For over a decade, the U.S. Mideast policy has been trapped in a vicious cycle. Every administration that enters the White House declares, in one way or another, that the region is no longer a priority, and that the future lies in Asia and the Indo-Pacific—the arena of great-power competition with China, as well as the technological revolution, supply chains, AI and semiconductor manufacturing.
Yet no sooner does a new crisis erupt—tensions in the Gulf, war in Gaza or a confrontation with Iran and its allies—than Washington finds itself drawn back to the region, deploying troops, aircraft carriers and diplomats. This encapsulates the dilemma of American power in the 21st century: while the Middle East may no longer be the most critical region for the U.S., it remains highly capable of draining its resources.
The issue is not a lack of clear objectives. On the contrary, Washington understands its goals well: to scale back its military presence, end the era of protracted wars and redirect more resources toward great-power competition in Asia.
Yet time and again, it discovers that the political will to leave is one thing, while the actual capacity to do so is quite another. Whenever energy markets are shaken, whenever Israel faces a major threat, or navigation through the Strait of Hormuz or the Red Sea is disrupted, theories of withdrawal collapse in the face of imperatives of power, and the Middle East turns from a strategic priority into a strategic quagmire. Washington stands to gain little by remaining there, and stands to lose a great deal should it leave.
The Paradoxical Nature of U.S. Power
This paradox stems from the very nature of American power, not merely that of the Middle East. U.S. foreign policy is not shaped solely by traditional national security considerations; it is also influenced by complex domestic dynamics involving economic interests, Congress, elections, lobbying groups, major corporations, the military establishment, international alliances and ideological and religious currents. Consequently, withdrawing from the Middle East would not be a simple military decision for the Pentagon to execute, but a highly complex political, economic and strategic process.
Herein lies the dilemma: While the U.S. could withdraw its troops, it cannot simply withdraw its interests. It can close a military base, but it cannot insulate itself from the impact of energy markets, abandon the security of maritime corridors, ignore Israel’s situation, leave intertwined U.S. and Gulf investments to their fate, or accept the expansion of its rivals into a region that links Asia, Europe and Africa. Thus, it faces a predicament: how to maintain its influence and reduce the cost of its presence without exiting the region entirely.
The heavy strategic burden posed by Israel is a key factor anchoring the U.S. in the Middle East. Their relationship transcended the bounds of a traditional alliance decades ago, becoming an integral part of the U.S. political and security architecture in the region—even if this is being closely re-examined in light of today’s conflicts.
The scale of Washington’s military commitment underscores the depth of this relationship. Under the current 2019-2028 U.S.-Israeli Memorandum of Understanding, Washington provides $3.3 billion annually in military financing and $500 million for missile defense—totaling $38 billion over the decade, aiming to secure Israel’s regional military superiority. Yet their ties extend beyond security and aid, being deeply rooted in U.S. domestic politics through pro-Israel lobby groups, political funding networks, Congress and broad segments of the conservative Evangelical base. Consequently, any U.S. attempt to reorder its priorities in the Middle East immediately collides with domestic political calculations.
Washington has sought to shift its attention and resources toward China and Asia, yet with every major regional crisis, its commitments to Israel compel it to reinvest politically, militarily and diplomatically in the Middle East. This renders the notion of a complete pivot away from the Middle East more of an election slogan than a viable strategy. While a U.S. administration might declare that the Middle East is no longer a priority, it cannot in practice treat the region as peripheral in its strategic calculations.
Then comes another equally important factor: the military-industrial complex. In his 1961 farewell address, President Dwight Eisenhower warned of that complex’s growing influence within American institutions. Since then, the relationship between foreign policy and the defense industry has become increasingly entangled. The U.S. manages a vast global network of arms sales and security cooperation, as key instruments of its foreign policy. The Middle East constitutes a major part of this network through military sales, training, and defense cooperation with regional allies and partners.
The figures reveal the extent of this interconnectedness. Data from the U.S. Defense Security Cooperation Agency shows that Gulf and Arab nations—such as Saudi Arabia, Qatar, the UAE, Kuwait, Egypt and Jordan—have in recent years accounted for a major portion of U.S. foreign military sales, including fighter jets, air defense systems, munitions, technical support, training and maintenance. State Department reports show that commercial defense export licenses continue to be issued in high volumes.
Thus, the Middle East is not merely a security theater for the U.S. It also represents a vast defense market and a long-standing network of interests. It is well known that arms deals do not conclude with the delivery of an aircraft or missile system to the end client. Rather, this marks the beginning of decades of training, maintenance, replacement of spare parts, modernization and operational support. Consequently, such security ties evolve into a structure that is difficult to dismantle, even when political priorities shift.
It’s Not Just About Oil
It would be simplistic to summarize U.S. interests in the Middle East—particularly the Gulf—under the simple headings of oil and arms. The relationship moved beyond the “energy-for-security” model years ago, evolving into a complex web of mutual interests also spanning investment, technology, AI, infrastructure and financial markets. The burgeoning assets of Gulf sovereign wealth funds and their expanding presence in international markets have made the Gulf states active players in the global capital system and increasingly vital partners for major U.S. corporations.
This highlights another central paradox in U.S. strategy toward the region: Washington seeks to reduce the costs of its security and military commitments in the Middle East, even as its economic, technological and investment interests there continue to expand. The more these interests have deepened, the more important regional stability became to Washington—not merely for safeguarding oil flows or maritime corridors, but for protecting the movement of capital, supply chains, cross-border investments and emerging technological partnerships. Consequently, Gulf security has evolved from a strictly military issue into a prerequisite for sustaining a vast and expanding network of economic and strategic interests.
While Washington’s motivations for remaining in the region remain compelling, the costs of doing so are also starkly apparent. U.S. wars in Iraq and Afghanistan have left a heavy political, financial and military legacy, dampening the American public’s appetite for protracted conflicts and nation-building endeavors. Simultaneously, Washington has come to view technology, AI and economic and industrial resilience as central pillars of its own national security.
The Middle East has come to hold a geopolitical veto over U.S. strategy. It may no longer yield the gains it did in the 20th century, yet it has the power to prevent the U.S. from fully focusing on the challenges of the 21st. This marks a fundamental shift: Washington originally arrived in the Middle East seeking to control its trajectory; today, it returns out of fear of the consequences of abandoning it.
An Enduring Dilemma
Washington’s quandary may appear to hinge on Iran, Israel, oil, or China alone. Yet in reality, it faces a broader challenge: that of evolving from a power accustomed to hegemony to one that manages balances of power without appearing to be in retreat. The U.S. is attempting to scale back its commitments despite maintaining a vast global network of interests, particularly in the Middle East. It wants its allies to shoulder a greater share of security burdens without fully leaving its strategic umbrella.
Simultaneously, the U.S. is seeking to pivot its strategic weight toward China. Yet it cannot afford to leave the Middle East exposed to its international rivals. It wishes to move away from protracted wars without relinquishing its capacity to intervene during crises that threaten its vital interests.
Consequently, Washington can neither fully abandon the region nor afford to dominate it as in the past. Herein lies the starkest conclusion of all: America can neither remain in the Middle East under the old formula, nor simply leave as it pleases. Caught between Washington’s inability to maintain its hegemony and its fear of withdrawal, the Middle East is transforming from a source of American power into a perpetual test of the limits of that power.
