Arab states are in a bind. King Abdullah of Jordan squirmed in the Oval Office last week, as the press asked him and Donald Trump about the latter’s Gaza plan. He is in a tight spot, wanting to keep Trump onside while at the same time not agreeing to the ethnic cleansing of Gaza. Immediately after, anonymous Egyptian “security sources” – not parties prone to leaking without strategic direction from President Abdel Fatah al-Sisi – said that Sisi would not accept an invitation to visit Washington as long as the Gaza displacement plan was on the agenda. Now, this was probably more for the Egyptian public’s consumption than for Trump’s benefit – Egypt is in no position to make an enemy of the new administration – but it nonetheless shows how hard it is for Trump to secure the acquiescence of even the US’s closest allies.
Saudi Arabia also postponed a visit to the US once Trump announced his intentions for Gaza. And in a remarkable change of tune, Saudi, which before 7 October 2023 was en route to normalisation with Israel and is not usually a country to make heated statements, lost its patience. When Benjamin Netanyahu quipped that maybe it would like to take Palestinians from Gaza (“they have a lot of territory”, he said), Saudi state media unleashed a storm of invective against him. When Trump announced his plan, Saudi Arabian authorities immediately put out a statement rejecting it. So keen was the government to signal that rejection that it released the statement at 4am local time.
Leaders are scrambling to calibrate their responses at an emergency summit on Thursday hastily convened in Saudi Arabia. But they will struggle to do so without landing themselves in hot water with Trump, members of the Arab public or global opinion on the illegality of the plan. “The current approach is going to be difficult,” the United Arab Emirates (UAE) ambassador to the US said when asked if his government could find “common ground” with Trump on Gaza. He might have got away with that. But perhaps feeling that it was a little too strong, he went on to say that “we are all in the solution-seeking business” and he doesn’t really “see an alternative to what’s being proposed”. The clip immediately started doing the rounds on social media as evidence of the UAE’s endorsement of ethnic cleansing. There is clearly no consensus on Trump’s Gaza approach, or even how to respond to it, between countries that make up a political bloc but have divergent interests.
Time is running out. On Sunday, Marco Rubio kicked off a trip to Israel and the Middle East. Conversations that some have been avoiding on Trump’s home turf will have to happen there. A need to come up with a common line and strategy on behalf of Arab countries is now pressing. The task is to thread a needle: flattery of Trump and rejection of his Gaza plan are irreconcilable, and each time even a single head of state engages with Trump or is asked about Gaza, there is the risk of a comment that inflames feelings or infuriates the US emperor. The Arab summit seems a very long way away when every day brings another Trump gambit or threats to the end of the ceasefire in Gaza.
The scramble is part of a bigger problem. Arab states are unable to settle on a position on Palestine. Before 7 October, normalisation agreements with Israel had been secured by some Arab nations and were under way with others, with Palestinian statehood a nominally plausible prospect subject to technical questions, even though in reality everyone knew it was more remote than ever. The war killed that plausibility, and Trump buried it.
With the stakes so raised, it is impossible for Arab nations to engage with Israel and the US on Gaza and Palestine one way or the other without undoing something big. The political landscape is finely balanced. Egypt and Jordan are the most important parties when it comes to any displacement of Palestinians from Gaza due to their proximity, and would be most affected by any resettlement campaign. They are also big US foreign assistance recipients with weak economies and governments with shaky mandates. These payments and military aid are in part remuneration for these states being “stabilising” parties in the region, serving as buffers between Israel, Iran, Hamas and all proxies, absorbing refugees and facilitating the movement of US military assets through the region. Losing US aid weakens not only their economies, but also their militaries, security agencies and ability to maintain the patronages and oppressions needed to stabilise politics.
But there are other calculations. Agreeing to a plan that involves the expulsion of Palestinians in essence turns all receiving and facilitating countries into parties to what will simply be a wider, differently configured Israel-Palestine conflict. Instead of the removal of Palestinians from Gaza being an end to something, it would be the beginning of something else, with the horror of mass displacement on top. It is unfathomable not only in cruelty and criminality, but also in terms of practicality: already, 35% of Jordan’s population are refugees. Also – and Trump can be forgiven for not getting his head around this, considering how invisible they are – people live in these countries, millions of them. They might not have a say in how their politics is run, but they have an opinion. That opinion has historically been managed but by no means erased. It’s not a safe bet to assume that the mass removal of Palestinians won’t set off something explosive, either in terms of popular discord, or its exploitation by competing political or even extremist players.
In short, Arab governments are being forced to confront and settle a question that goes to the very soul of the contemporary region – what does Arab identity even mean any more? Is it just a group of countries that speak the same language and share borders, but with regimes and elites that have become too enmeshed with the west to be viable on their own terms? Or is there still some residual sense of agency in those regimes, some echo of political integrity and duty towards other Arabs?
Beyond the existential, though, here is what Arab leaders should learn from Trump giving them orders about their territories and people: the price of their US-stabilised status quo is now so high that it makes less and less sense on a practical basis. To submit to Trump would be to accept full vassal status and summon new domestic challenges, and all for an unreliable benefactor. To defy him would entail a full-blown reconfiguration of politics in the region that might seem too colossal to contemplate. Arab political elites find themselves in this mortifying position because of their historic feebleness on Palestine: it is a concentrated expression of their own weakness, capture and shortsighted self-interest. The future of Gaza is no longer an issue that can be finessed while saving face indefinitely. Trump’s plan is a gateway to the final erosion of the integrity and sovereignty of the wider Middle East.
Nesrine Malik is a Guardian columnist
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