For some, however, the surface-level activity represented a deeper, contrary operation. That is, even with those heavy arrivals, the deployment was, in fact, a tactical deception. This was less a preparation for a longer war and more of a frantic American effort to sustain a position in a country that had effectively revoked the invitation. A desperate attempt to secure the logistics necessary for a quiet extraction.

To understand, however, whether the U.S. is truly preparing for a wider war or a safe, successful exit, one must first look at the foundational structure of the Saudi state and the collapse of an ancient contract between the King and his people.

For nearly a century, the Saudi Kingdom was anchored on a sacred 1932 Covenant, which tied the House of Saud, the tribes, and the religious establishment into a single, cohesive power structure. It was a pact of mutual reliance where the King provided protection and respect for the desert’s traditions, and in return, the tribes and the clergy, the stewards of the nation’s soul and land, provided the mandate to rule. That balance of power, however, was shattered when the American-led war on Iran triggered a rapid, asymmetric Iranian response.

​By successfully striking the American bases and subsequently closing the Strait of Hormuz, the Iranians exposed the Kingdom’s fatal flaw: Crown Prince Mohammad Bin Salman (MBS) could no longer guarantee the two pillars, economic stability and military security, that had defined the covenant for almost a century. Thereby, rendering the pact between the King and his people obsolete.

With the covenant dead, the two primary tenants of the nation, the tribes and the clergy, responded by reclaiming their authority. In the case of the tribes, MBS’s authority began to be rejected throughout the kingdom. In the North, for example, the Shammar and the Howeitat tribes exerted their power by physically halting all commercial movements between Saudi Arabia and its neighbors, Jordan and Iraq, while in the West, the Harb tribe made a similar stance.

For the tribes, however, the logistical chokehold was not merely directed towards MBS but also against his American backers. By severing the land routes and preventing the flow of all goods through their territory, the tribes stripped away the American military protection, which left them even more vulnerable to Iranian attacks.

For the first time, the U.S. found itself in an expensive and precarious “air bridge” situation where everything from food and water to artillery components had to be flown in because the tribes no longer provided the permission needed to operate via the land.

The tribal leverage extended immediately to the national grid, turning water and electricity into explicit political instruments. In the West, the Harb tribe exerted its influence over desalination plants and power output centers near Jeddah. By throttling the output, they ensured that the city suffered from intermittent water access and constant rolling blackouts that the government could no longer control. In the center, near Riyadh, local tribal coalitions exerted similar pressure, throttling the power stations that fed the capital’s core infrastructure.

For the United States, this internal conflict between MBS and the tribes created an immediate and unsustainable crisis. As was the case with the logistic blockade, the problem did not end merely at the tribal door. It extended to America’s ability to sustain its war.

That is, the United States may have had its own internal generators and secondary water reserves, but it remained fundamentally tethered to the national supply chain. A supply chain that, if disrupted during military operations, could result in massive human and military losses.

Today, the U.S. finds itself in a situation where it is totally dependent on a land whose tribes control the very energy, water, and infrastructure it requires to endure a war against Iran. This logistical deficit, compounded by the strategic reality of depleted missile stockpiles, is an absolute fact that cannot be overcome. When the math of supply chains and interceptor inventories no longer supports a prolonged conflict, the arrival of heavy equipment ceases to be the precursor for a wider war. Instead, it becomes a necessary cover for a controlled retreat.

In other words, the equipment, the fuel, the water, and the defensive batteries may not be intended to expand the battlefield. Rather, it may well be the logistical cushion required to manage a safe withdrawal from a site that has already become a siege site.

Nonetheless, this does not indicate that a wider war will not occur. The conflict between Iran and Israel, for example, has not been resolved and will not likely be until a clear victor emerges.

However, the conflict involving the U.S. in Saudi Arabia is fundamentally different. While Washington may look to pivot its strike capabilities to more secure footholds like Kuwait or the UAE, the specific position in Saudi Arabia has become logistically untenable.

Despite Washington’s posture and influx of heavy armaments, the fact remains that the Kingdom is no longer a viable base of operations. Thus, whether Washington chooses to wither on the vine or execute a full, quiet withdrawal, the strategic reality remains the same: the United States has lost its ability to project power from within the Kingdom.

The United Arab Emirates was founded in 1971 on a silent, merchant-prince agreement: a partnership of equals between seven states that provided a framework for regional and domestic stability.

For nearly a quarter of a century, the seven states worked cohesively to create a modern and stable financial and political system that would be the bedrock of the modern-day UAE.

But it would not be till the mid-1990s that the foundation truly began to bear fruit. Fueled by massive influx of foreign investments, particularly from Iran, the UAE, Dubai began to emerge as a “Switzerland of the Desert.” A financial and political sanctuary where capital could sit in safety and neutrality and discretion were the primary currencies.

But today, after decades of stability and trust, that foundation is in tatters. The UAE of 2026 is no longer a partnership of seven sovereign states; rather, it has become a centralized security state, managed as a private domain of a single family.

​The transition to this new system, however, did not begin with a missile, but with a ledger. The release of the Epstein files earlier this year provided the pretext for Abu Dhabi’s Mohamed bin Zayed (MBZ) needed to execute a decapitation of Dubai’s historical autonomy. By leveraging the names in those documents to sideline the established merchant elites, most notably figures like Sultan Ahmed bin Sulayem, MBZ was able to successfully frame a hostile takeover as a “moral cleanup” and a return to traditional values.

In the vacuum that followed, MBZ purged the old guard and placed the country’s highest echelons of economic and security power under the direct control of his son, Sheikh Khaled bin Mohamed.

​To ensure no challenges could be made to his authority, MBZ purposely dismantled the other Emirates’ economic independence by using a foreign conflict into a domestic hammer. Within a span of two months, using the war with Iran as an excuse, MBZ moved to freeze an estimated $530 billion in Iranian-linked private assets, the very capital that was used to help to build the modern Dubai dream.

The act by MBZ was a deliberate “liquidity heart attack” that severed the economic umbilical cord of Dubai; the very connection that had allowed the city to thrive independently of Abu Dhabi since the mid-90s.

Simultaneously, the government began the mass deportation of over 15,000 Pakistani Shiite workers, many of whom held residencies for decades. By revoking Golden Visas and seizing bank accounts based on sect and nationality, MBZ signaled that property rights were now a temporary privilege subject to the whims of a new family “dynasty.”

​With the domestic front silenced, MBZ moved to cement a pack with the West to secure his family’s future. By openly siding with the Israel and the U.S. against Iran, including allowing an attack on Iranian port of Bandar Abbas to originate from the UAE territory, MBZ signaled to the world that not only the old social contract between Abu Dhabi and the other six states was over but just as importantly, UAE had moved from a neutral sanctuary to a frontline Western security outpost.

MBZ’s illusion of a secure fortress, however, was recently shattered by Tehran’s inevitable and quick response. By successfully striking the UAE’s Borouge petrochemical facility and the Fujairah oil terminals, Tehran proved to MBZ that the high-tech shield was no guarantee of business continuity. More critically, by implementing a “Transit Permit” blockade in the Strait of Hormuz, Tehran essentially turned the UAE’s economic lifelines into an Iranian-controlled checkpoint.

​For the other six states, the Iranian retaliation transformed a sense of dread into an existential fear. They watched decades of trust and neutrality, the very things that made them global hubs, being slaughtered for a military vision they never authorized.

​The dread finally forced the other states to break their long-standing deference by sending a memo to MBZ which warned about the hollowing of their local economies for a war that serves no interest but Israel’s.

​For the rulers of UAE and the world as a whole, the nation they once knew, and the Dubai they celebrated, is now little more than a historical artifact. From shutting down of the unsupervised party scene to the end of the “Switzerland of the Desert,” the federation is now entering an era of deep restriction and uncertainty.

Its future is no longer a mirage of endless prosperity and peace; it is now a chaotic and uncertain landscape where neutrality has been traded for a frontline war.

For UAE, the question remains: will it be able to navigate these treacherous and uncertain times, or will it be swallowed by the desert sand? Only time will tell.

If the military failure in this conflict was technical and the political one was moral, the economic fallout the world is witnessing today represents the success of a deliberate strategy of entrapment. As I have argued in the past, Iran’s objective has never been about a simple conventional victory. Instead, the core tenet of their strategy was to leverage the structural vulnerability of the American economy, specifically the $39 trillion debt, to Iran’s benefit.

By trapping the United States in a vicious cycle where it had to borrow more money simply to remain in the region, Tehran ensured the U.S would find itself in a position where it had to leave to survive economically or remain and go bankrupt.

The immediate evidence of this trap is apparent in the daily cost of the war, which significantly exceeds the official government narrative. While the administration cited the cost as $25 billion for the first 60 days in the recently held hearing in Washington, this was a widely underestimated figure.

The replacement of high-tech infrastructures alone, such as $700 million AWACS aircraft, MC-130 transport planes, and multi-billion-dollar THAAD batteries, makes the price tag of the war significantly higher. Furthermore, because Washington could not accept a loss of military capability, it was forced to re-purchase the military assets at any price. This demand and mindset, in turn, pushed Washington into an Iranian circular trap, where it was forced to borrow and spend more and more simply to replace what was lost.

For the United States, however, the military spending is only part of the trap set by Iran. The other is the destabilization of the Strait of Hormuz, the primary artery for the world’s global energy supply. By controlling the flow of 20% of global oil and 25% of LNG, Iran has been able to successfully tie the crisis in the Persian Gulf to the American household spending.

Nowhere is that strategy bearing fruit more than at the gas pumps. Following the May 4, 2026, Iranian strike on the UAE’s energy sector, the national gas average spiked to $4.45 per gallon, with a trajectory toward $5.00 now near certainty in most states.

For the United States, the increase in gas prices has, in turn, led to erosion of American purchasing power. As reported recently by the Bureau of Labor Statistics (BLS), the Consumer Price Index (CPI) had reached 3.3% in March 2026, proving that the American public is losing its fight against inflation.

​For the U.S., this was the moment the economic trap set by Iran showed its success. It was the culmination of a war of attrition designed to force Washington into its final, desperate maneuver: borrowing more money to sustain a war it can no longer afford or perhaps even win.

Data from the Congressional Budget Office (CBO) validated this grim reality. For the first time in history, the cost of simply servicing the interest on the national debt has surpassed the entire national defense budget. In other words, Washington is borrowing money to pay interest on money it already spent, all while trying to fund a war that is cannibalizing its own economy.

Ironically, while Washington remains paralyzed by this cycle, Iran has been able to economically survive, partially because of 46 years of Western economic siege. This endurance is built on a diversified structural base that can function regardless of international sanctions or even the fall of the Riyal.

By diversifying into a non-oil sector which, according to the IMF’s World Economic Outlook 2026, makes up more than 60% of Iran’s GDP when measured by Purchasing Power Parity (PPP), Iran built the capacity to absorb the very energy and inflation shocks that have paralyzed the American consumer.

​This resilience was further strengthened in April 2026, when Pakistan formally issued the “Transit of Goods through Territory of Pakistan Order.” By opening six land transit corridors, Islamabad integrated Pakistani ports like Karachi and Gwadar directly to the Iranian border at Gabd and Taftan, effectively neutralizing the American naval blockade.

So, as the United States exhausts its remaining capital to maintain a fleet in a contested sea it can no longer control, Iran and its neighbors used geography to build a trade system that’s functioning entirely outside of American power.

​​For the United States, this shift and the war, as a whole, go beyond a challenge to its hegemonic influence. It is a final reminder that Washington has already lost this war: militarily to the war of attrition, politically through the loss of morality, and economically, through its own insolvency.

The math does not lie: the age of American hegemony in the Middle East has ended, but not just because of its military or political image, but because the superpower simply can no longer afford to pay.

​

If the military dismantling of the “Spiderweb” was a technical failure for the United States, then the loss of its political hegemony in the region has been a terminal catastrophe. This is not a temporary setback for the U.S.; it is a total liquidation of power driven by a three-pronged collapse across the regional and domestic landscape: the loss of the Arab heartland, the failed strategy towards Iran, and a systematic breakdown of trust within U.S. borders.

For the United States, the loss of the Arab heartland was not a mere military event but a profound political one. It was the result of a foundation hollowed out by a deep-seated hypocrisy rooted in a colonial mindset, which prioritized hegemonic ambition over genuine stability. A mindset that openly advocated a dual system where there would be one law for Western Eurocentric nations and another for everyone else.

Whether through the intervention in Libya, the invasion of Iraq, or various political coups, it became undeniable that Washington’s interests had more to do with maintaining its hegemonic ambitions than the promotion of true democracy. This perception of a double standard eventually eroded the very foundation of the American presence in the Middle East.

For the Arab population in the Middle East, however, American ambitions were never a self-sustaining force. They were only possible with the help of their own leadership. It was this symbiotic relationship that allowed Washington to maintain its massive military footprint in the region while its local partners provided the veneer of regional stability required to sustain that power.

This arrangement was historically held together by a foundational covenant between leaders and the various tribes that make up the heart of these nations.

For more than a millennium, this social contract provided military security and economic stability from the leader in return for obedience: a pact that allowed the leadership to rule so long as the internal guarantee was honored.

However, the American attack on Iran terminated that relationship. From the closing of the Strait of Hormuz to the destruction of tens of billions of dollars of military equipment, it became clear that the leadership had failed as a guarantor of the covenant. In that failure, the military and economic protection that underpinned total obedience evaporated, rendering the contract void, and with it, the very foundation that allowed the American presence to remain on the land.

It was the breakdown of this contract that became the catalyst for the crisis unfolding throughout the Middle East today. The tribes, no longer bound by a covenant, reclaimed their role as the sovereign arbiters of the land. By implementing physical measures across geography, including the closing of vital transit routes, severing supply lines, and controlling the flow of information, the tribes have made the U.S. presence expensive and impossible.

​Tribal confederations such as the Bani Sakher in Jordan and the Shammar in Saudi Arabia, for example, have effectively turned the American military presence into a series of isolated desert pockets with no reliable ground supply lines.

For the U.S., the inability of the regional leaders to confront their own tribes means the security that once guaranteed the American presence in the region is gone, and with it, its hegemonic influence.

Ultimately, America’s loss of political hegemonic influence across the Arab heartland led to Washington’s second failure: its Iran policy.

For the United States, particularly the Trump administration, the ultimate objective has always been a total regime change by any measure necessary, and the direct military attack was seen as a primary vehicle to achieve that objective. However, the attack reached the exact opposite of what Washington had intended.

By conducting a campaign of assassinations, including the killing of Iran’s Supreme Leader, Khameini, and brutal strikes on civil infrastructures, such as schools and hospitals, the U.S. lost the very populace needed to possibly support its policies. Furthermore, by killing the civilians and purposely destroying cultural and religious centers, the U.S. inadvertently verified the state’s claims on America’s true objectives: the Syrianization and disintegration of the nation for the sake of Israel.

This fear, along with a rapid and massive Iranian military response, gave the state, especially the military, and particularly the IRGC, the mandate needed to maintain its power at any cost. Thus, instead of a triggering collapse, the pressure unified the populace behind the leadership, particularly the military, as the sole guarantor of national survival.

Thanks to the American attack, Iran has emerged as the undisputed military leader of the region.

​America’s loss of political hegemony, however, is sustained by a final failure at home. Fueled by decades of military interventions and deception, from WikiLeaks to the Epstein Files to politically influenced reporting, the American public appears to have undergone a complete separation from the state.

Largely viewing the current conflict not as a defense of national security, but rather as “Iraq 2.0,” the American public has refused to provide the political support needed to continue this operation. For the United States, particularly the Trump administration, the lack of public support makes surviving, let alone winning the war, virtually impossible. As history has shown, notably in Vietnam, without domestic support, there can never be a victory outside the home.

​​Today, the United States does not exercise the political hegemony of the past. Its narratives are no longer believed, and its moral authority no longer respected. Humanity is witnessing the physical end of the American century in the Middle East. The conversation has changed, and with it, the world.

This is Part 2 of the series. Stay tuned for part 3, where we examine the economic shift and the definite rise of the Asiatic global order.

The United States is currently navigating its most profound military challenge since the end of the Second World War. It is witnessing the collapse of influence from the sands of Saudi Arabia to the waters of the Persian Gulf.

As I warned several months ago, the United States was sleepwalking into a disastrous and unwinnable war. Today, driven by the inescapable math of attrition, those warnings have now become a reality: the dismantling of American military influence. But this is not merely a failure of Washington’s policy; it is a strategic collapse that is unraveling the stability of the Gulf monarchies and Jordan.

​​To understand the sheer scale of this failure, one must first study the cornerstone of American regional power: the “spiderweb.” This integrated grid of interconnected bases and sensors was designed to function as a mutual defense network by providing a seamless, real-time umbrella of shared early warnings and missile defense.

However, this forced interdependence created the opportunity for the Iranians to destroy the entire network by targeting its most vulnerable links and thus rendering the entire system ineffective. This vulnerability was felt across the entire region, and Kuwait was no exception.

In Kuwait, the Ali Al Salem Air Base, the primary logistical heartbeat for the northern hub, became virtually non-functional after the destruction of its satellite communication terminals. This loss of connectivity triggered a chain of chaos that led directly to a catastrophic friendly fire incident that destroyed three F-15E Strike Eagles and an MQ-9 Reaper on the ground.

​This strategic blackout also reached the very core of the regional command at Al Udeid in Qatar, where the destruction of a $1.1 billion early warning system effectively blinded the trackers required for long-range threats.

However, nowhere was this systematic failure more potent than perhaps in Bahrain, Saudi Arabia, and Jordan: the bedrock of American presence. Once representative of the stability of the old order, these three became evidence of America’s terminal decline.

Following the massive air strikes of February 28, Bahrain, the historic heartbeat of America’s naval coordination, became one of the most visible signs of Iran’s decapitation strategy. The facility lost more than half a dozen critical command buildings and its primary SATCOM terminals, effectively forcing the 5^th Fleet to withdraw. Not since the 1942 abandonment of Cavite in the Philippines has a sovereign American naval home been so thoroughly uprooted.

The Iranian missile response continued to American bases in Saudi Arabia, where their attrition strategy turned a multi-billion-dollar installation into a high-tech graveyard. At Prince Sultan Air Base, for example, $20,000 drones bypassed ‘superior’ American grids to destroy five K-135 Stratotankers and a $300 million E-3 Sentry AWACS. Beyond the tarmac, the strikes also reached into the kingdom’s economic heart, the oil fields, which proved to many that the American presence was more of a liability than a deterrent.

​But as the logistics failure in the Saudi desert took hold, the collapse in Jordan proved that even the elite hardware cannot survive when the geography itself becomes a landlocked trap. The destruction of the $300 million THAAD radar in Muwaffaq Salti Airbase effectively ended American air superiority in the Levant, which in turn led to the destruction of three F-15E Strike Eagles, an MQ-9 Reaper, and two MC-130J Hercules aircraft on the ground.

​​​​​While the air was lost to high-tech attrition, the crisis was compounded by a total logistic paralysis on land. Beyond the blinded radars and destroyed squadrons, the geography had become a land trap by tribal forces. In Jordan and Saudi Arabia, tribal confederations like the Bani Sakher and Shammar effectively landlocked the U.S. military by preventing the transit of goods and equipment, turning the once-dominant bases into isolated desert pockets where every single resource became a high-maintenance liability.

​​The air and land paralysis extended to the water, where the U.S. Navy finds itself in a state of termination. Despite committing a massive carrier fleet to the region, the United States has lost control of the primary artery of world trade. The naval presence that once guaranteed free passage has been reduced largely to a defensive posture, unable to project power beyond the range of its own shields.

Consequently, while Washington attempts a blockade of Iranian ports, for example, the IRGC has counteracted by allowing a selective group to pass through the Strait of Hormuz, after receiving its $2 million “transit fee.”

Also, despite the White House’s claim of “obliterating” the Iranian navy and sinking more than 40 ships, the Iranian navy and its underwater missile system continue to present a massive challenge. Aside from the sinking of an Iranian underwater submarine thousands of miles away in the Indian Ocean, the Iranian navy maintains the same level of influence, if not more.

​This operational strength is sustained by a sophisticated subsurface arsenal, including Alghadir midge submarines designed to ghost through shallow waters and deploy advanced naval mines undetected. These, combined with Hoot supercavitating torpedoes and underwater-launch missiles, have created a strike zone that traditional anti-missile grids simply cannot close.

Furthermore, the U.S. Navy is physically running out of interceptors, including the Standard Missile (SM-3 and SM-6) interceptor, to defend itself. Therefore, despite the bravado coming from the White House, including the public order for the Navy to “shoot and kill” any Iranian vessel suspected of minelaying, any attempt to escalate the situation would leave the carriers highly vulnerable.

The erosion of American dominance across the air, land, and sea has moved beyond the battlefield, triggering a political wildfire that is burning out of control. Stripped of its regional proxies and facing worldwide condemnation, Washington now stands in a strategic vacuum and is left with very few friends to anchor its falling influence.

This article is part 1 of a three-part series titled “The Fall of American Power in the Middle East.” In the upcoming Part 2, I will examine the inevitable results for this region and the collapse of America’s hegemonic status and its global standing.

The stability of Saudi Arabia has always been anchored by a sacred covenant between the House of Saud and its people. It was a pact of mutual reliance where, as in ancient times, the King provided protection and respect for the desert’s traditions, and in return, the tribes and the clergy, the pillars of the nation’s soul and land, provided the mandate to rule. This balance of power allowed the House of Saud to reign undisputedly for almost a century.

​But that foundational pact was shattered with the arrival of the American-led war on Iran, where, under the leadership of Mohammed bin Salman (MBS), the promise of protection, the very essence of the covenant, proved to be nothing more than an expensive illusion.

As a response to the assassination of their leader, Khamenei, and the targeted bombings of Iranian institutions, Tehran launched a massive retaliation that took the Saudi leadership and its allies, including the United States, entirely by surprise.

The severity was particularly evident on the American bases where the Iranians executed a surgical decapitation of the Kingdom’s technical shield. These attacks were not a mere military response; rather, a methodical destruction of the very infrastructure MBS had used to maintain his domestic authority. From the loss of the AWACS to bombings of the refineries and the shooting down of advanced fighter jets, Iran made it clear to the Saudis that the era of Western-guaranteed air superiority was over, and with it, MBS’s assurance of safety and security.

MBS’s military failure, however, inadvertently triggered an economic collapse. By effectively closing the Persian Gulf and the Strait of Hormuz, the Iranians not only choked global markets but also paralyzed the Kingdom’s primary revenue streams. With oil revenue drying up and Saudi skies no longer safe, it became clear that the economic and military promise MBS had offered in exchange for absolute loyalty had vanished. With that promise dead, the two primary tenants of the nation, the tribes and the clergy, responded by reclaiming their authority.

In the case of the tribes, MBS’s authority began to be rejected across the Kingdom. In the North and Central regions, the tribes of Shammar and Anizzah enacted a physical veto by closing the borders to Jordan and Iraq. In the South, tribal elders reached independent “non-aggression” understandings with the Houthis to avoid being used as a buffer. Regardless of the region, the tribes indicated that Riyadh no longer had the “permission” to govern, leading to a loss of tribal support and a resulting in military suspension.

This state of suspension is defined by a unique makeup of the Kingdom’s three pillars: the Saudi Arabian National Guard (SANG), the Regular Army, and the Royal Guard. While these three entities have always operated as separate forces, the tribal veto has turned them into a pincer that now physically traps the Crown Prince.

​The paralysis began with the Saudi Arabian National Guard (SANG), the 125,000-man “tribal army” that has historically served as the internal anchor of the House of Saud. Because SANG is recruited directly from the tribes whose elders have now blocked the roads, their loyalty is to their kin first and the Palace second. Thus, when the tribes declared their veto, the National Guard simply “sat down,” refusing to move against the families and borders they were sworn to protect. By doing so, SANG effectively stripped MBS of his domestic control and handed the “permission” to govern the country back to the tribes.

​Shadowing this stand-down is the Regular Army, a professional force of approximately 150,000 active soldiers stationed in military cities from Tabuk to Abha. In Saudi Arabia, while the SANG provides the tribal permission, the Army provides the professional muscle, and today, that muscle has also frozen.

Their hesitation is rooted in a deep-seated loyalty to the lineage of the “Sacred Anchor,” Prince Ahmed, and specifically his son, Prince Nayef bin Ahmed. As a former Colonel and head of Land Forces Intelligence, Prince Nayef remains the “Soldier’s Prince.” His strong ties within the “officer class” have created a silent barrier of resistance, causing the Regular Army to remain inactive. They are waiting for a signal from the Nayef-loyalist commanders, who believe that only this branch can restore the military’s honor.

​This pincer movement between the tribal refusal and military hesitation has left the Crown Prince with only the Royal Guard, an elite circle of roughly 25,000 loyalists dedicated solely to Palace security. But without the support of the SANG to hold the streets or the Regular Army to guard the resources, the Royal Guard has largely become an isolated island patrolling empty palace hallways in Jeddah.

The tribal and military isolation is no longer just physical; it has become ecclesiastical. In the delicate alchemy of the Saudi state, the ultimate signal of a broken covenant is found not in a street protest, but in the silence of the pulpits.

While the high-definition broadcasts from the great mosque in the holy cities maintain a rigid, state-mandated tether to protocol for the cameras, a different reality is unfolding in the shadows. Reports from the interior suggest that in the medium and small mosques, imams have begun a silent strike by omitting the traditional prayers for the leadership. In the grammar of the Peninsula, this silence is the declaration that the “soil” has officially disconnected from the throne.

​The era of MBS has reached its definitive conclusion. While the Palace walls are thick, and the Royal Guard remains at their posts, he is now an isolated figure, severed from the tribes that hold the roads, the army that guards the resources, and the clergy that provided his mandate. For the House of Saud, the future seems uncertain. What is certain, however, is that no Saudi leader can construct a 21^st-century Western technical nation while simultaneously challenging the very same ancient religious and cultural covenants that granted the right to rule. It is a lesson that will not be forgotten, regardless of the leadership in charge.

A month ago, I wrote an article titled “The Hollow Crown,” warning about the crisis taking over Jordan. I cautioned then that the system, which had ensured the Hashemite monarchy for decades, the sacred contract between the Palace and the tribes, was in danger of collapsing.

​That collapse was made official today when the unified tribal councils delivered a formal letter to King Abdullah. Backed by the four major tribal powers of the nation, the Bani Hassan, Bani Sakher, Howeitat, and Bani Ahmad, the letter stated that the King’s mandate had expired and demanded that he step aside for his half-brother, Prince Hamzah.

​For the tribal council, the decision to install a new King and alter a system that has defined Jordan for more than a decade wasn’t just about Prince Hamza’s physical resemblance to his father or his understanding of the tribal structure. Nor was it about King Abdullah’s “globalized” family lifestyle. Rather, it was about the King’s decision to walk away from his people, his land, and the social contract that tied the two together.

For the tribes, the monarchy was built on a simple yet direct transaction: the tribes provided absolute loyalty while the King provided security and respected the sanctity of the land. However, when the Palace began to prioritize foreign military interests over the safety of the people and the land by allowing American military bases in Jordan, that arrangement was shattered.

This betrayal left the king in a powerless position because in Jordan, the entity that provides the state’s security, the military, is made up of the same tribes that are now questioning the King. To understand why this has become so fatal to the Palace, one must look at how the nation’s armed forces are actually structured.

In Jordan, the military power is effectively split into two distinctive worlds. One is the Special Royal Guard, an elite force of 25,000 traditionally drawn from non-Arab minorities like the Circassians to ensure loyalty to the throne. The other is the Jordan Arab Army, the regular force of 115,000 soldiers who are the sons of the very tribes demanding the King’s removal.

​Therefore, when the tribal councils demand a King’s exit, they are not making a political declaration. They are also sending military ones by giving their sons, nephews, and brothers a stand-down order. These tribal soldiers will not ignore their bloodline and tribal leaders for a King who broke the social contract.

​For the King, on the other hand, these calls would mean the end of his reign, and that appears to be exactly what is happening to King Abdullah. The King finds himself not only largely isolated, but his Royal Guards outnumbered four to one.

This is most visible at the home of Prince Hamza in Dabouq, where the men standing watch outside are no longer Palace guards, but unified guards from the Bani Sakher and the Bani Ahmad. By surrounding the son of Queen Noor and delivering this ultimatum to the King, these tribes have shown that the “Son of Hussein” is now under the protection of the soil.

They have isolated the Palace and proved that no foreign policy can save a leadership that has been rejected by its own people. The shift I warned about a month ago is here. The system as we know it has collapsed, and with it, the Western-led policies that have defined this nation for decades.

The world breathed a collective sigh of relief on April 7, 2026, when an announcement of a 10-point peace plan and a two-week ceasefire in Islamabad was made between Iran and the United States. From the political capitals of the West to the Economic markets of the East, the international community applauded the agreement.

But while the peace plan and ceasefire won widespread support, they also signaled a profound shift in the world’s political system.

For years, I have written about the construction of the TIIM alliance, Turkey, Iran, Indonesia, and Malaysia, as the strategic vision for a new era. On April 7^th, that vision took its first breath of reality. By stepping forward as the indispensable mediator between the Iranians and the Americans, Pakistan provided the sovereign groundwork for the PIC Framework (Pakistan, Iran, and China) to take its seat at the head of the global table. A measure that, by its very existence, closes the door on the Western-dictated peace​ era while opening one for the Asiatic-led order.

This moment is historic not because of the specific terms of the plan, but because of where the table was set and who sat at the table. For the last fifty years, any major regional settlement was brokered in Washington, Geneva, or Riyadh. Today, that monopoly is over. The fact that the United States and Iran are sitting down in Islamabad, an Islamic, Asiatic capital, signals that the traditional Arab centers of power have lost their seat as the primary intermediaries.

​The “Arab Center,” which for a century acted as the bridge for Western hegemony, has now been entirely bypassed. By moving these negotiations to Pakistan, the world has acknowledged that the monopoly held by Riyadh, Amman, and Washington is no longer viable.

Today, the world is witnessing a shift not seen since the 8^th-century Abbasid Revolution, when the center of gravity moved from the Arab-centric Mediterranean and into the Persian-influenced heartland of the East. As then, the authority has once again returned to Asiatic actors on Asiatic soil.

This transition was made inevitable by the reality that Arab leadership no longer exercised true power over its own landscape. By prioritizing foreign security agendas over the needs of their own societies, the leadership created a fatal rift between the state and the two pillars, the tribal networks and the clergy, that had always protected and sustained them. As such, they lost the legitimacy and status needed to maintain their power. From the River Jordan to the Gulf, the local foundations that once ensured the stability of “individual houses” abandoned their support and left these monarchies exposed and isolated.

Nowhere is this more evident than in the precarious standing of the Saudi Crown Prince, Mohammad Bin Salman. Despite global headlines, his seat has become extremely fragile because the very tribes who historically anchored the Saudi throne have turned against him and his so-called Westernized vision.

The effect of this internal collapse, however, went beyond the stability of various monarchies. It shook the very foundation on which the U.S. had relied for its security for more than half a century. Without the cooperation of the tribes and the local clergy, the U.S. military lost the very land it needed to maintain its operation.

For Iran and its allies, however, this moment did not occur because of chance, but rather out of calculated patience. That is, while the West, particularly the U.S., exhausted itself trying to maintain a crumbling system and order, Tehran and its allies spent years winning over the people on the ground and building an alternative to Western arrangements. Their efforts and the patience paid off when the PIC framework anchored the ceasefire with the U.S. on April 7^th, 2026.

For the world, in particular the Islamic, the rise of the PIC framework has proven that the East is now the broker of its own geography. By turning ancient cultures into a “human radar,” the Asiatic Order has transformed the strategic map, rendering the old corridors of Western diplomacy obsolete.

It is this new geographic reality that is drawing the U.S. to the negotiating table in Islamabad. Washington is moving towards these talks not out of a sudden willingness to agree, but because the Asiatic interior has now become the only ground where regional peace can be secured.

​As a result, even if the current 10-point plan proves fragile or if political shifts in Washington or Jerusalem threaten the agreement, the fact remains that the era of Arab-mediated Western influence has reached its end. Tradition has proven it cannot be eliminated, and those who answer to the desert are now defining the world.

Today, the world is witnessing the definitive return of the Abbasid-Iranian hour. This is the official arrival of the sovereign landscape where the East defines its own future and protects its own traditions. Thus, as negotiations begin tomorrow, or perhaps never, the shift I predicted years ago is no longer a theory; it is a historical fact. The vision defined by TIIM has arrived through the PIC framework in Pakistan.

The center has moved, the old guard has been bypassed, and the heart of the Islamic world is no longer Arab; it is Asiatic.

​To understand why and how this situation arose, it is essential to examine the cultural and religious framework that has shaped Arab society. For centuries, the stability of a monarchy relied on a specific covenant between the king and the two pillars that defined an Arab society: the tribes and the clergy. In exchange for providing military protection, economic prosperity, and sociopolitical stability, the two offered the king their loyalty and the religious endorsement necessary for his rule.

Today, both the tribes and the clergy feel the crown has broken this ancient Covenant. By prioritizing foreign agendas over the protection of their own lands, the monarchs have effectively renounced their traditional mandate. This, in turn, has led to a remarkable political shift where the tribes, once the state’s protectorates, have now become the “eyes and ears” of Iran.

​In Jordan, for example, the bedrock Bani Hassan and Howeitat tribes, the traditional backbone of the Hashemite military, have moved beyond rhetoric into a total physical blockade. They have effectively landlocked the country by cutting off the northern and southern borders so that nothing is going in and nothing is coming out.

More critically, they are now serving as the “eyes and ears” of Iran, providing the real-time human intelligence (HUMINT) that allows precision strikes to hit Western radar sites with devastating accuracy. By providing these coordinates, the tribes have signaled that they no longer view King Abdullah as a legitimate protector. They demand a restoration of tribal sovereignty either through Prince Hamza, the king’s half-brother, or Prince Hassan, the King’s uncle and former long-time heir, and a return to a traditional government that answers to the desert rather than Washington.

A similar collapse is occurring in Saudi Arabia. As the royal palace prioritizes a failing Western “Iron Umbrella,” the tribes have withdrawn their support. Led by the Howeitat, a coalition of tribes stretching from the northern borders to the center of the country has moved beyond local grievances to effectively cut off the land bridge to Jordan. This unified front has paralyzed the region’s logistics, ensuring that no strategic assets or supplies can move across the desert.

More importantly, they are now serving as the ‘eyes and ears’ of Iran. They have provided the coordinates necessary for the destruction of high-value assets, including the E-3 Sentry AWACS and KC-135 tanker fleets in the Eastern province. They are not doing this, however, because they are pro-Iran, but because they recognize that a new Asiatic order is inevitable and the Western-backed House of Saud can no longer fulfill the Covenant.

In Bahrain, the situation is even more volatile due to its demographic makeup. Made up of 70% Shiites that are being ruled by a 30% Sunni crown, the local population has become the “eyes and ears” on the ground. They provide constant surveillance and, in most instances, encircle the bases, effectively turning the base into a fishbowl.

​In the case of the second pillar, the clergy, the leadership faces similar abandonment. The clerics, particularly in Saudi Arabia and Jordan, have concluded that a ruler who cannot provide military sovereignty has no claim to the title “Protector of the Faith.”

The “Friday of Silence” on April 3, 2026, in Saudi Arabia was the definitive theological no-confidence vote. Across the region, imams pointedly omitted the rulers’ names from Friday prayers. When the Royal Guard moved to arrest these clerics, they only confirmed the belief that the Palace is now an occupying force. For the tribes and the clerics, if the King cannot keep the “rain” of conflict out of the mosques, he has lost his mandate.

​This internal collapse has had a devastating impact on the U.S. strategy and its ability to continue the war. By blocking the roads and the borders, becoming the eyes and the ears of Iran, and not allowing the National Armies to fire on their own kin, the tribes and the clergy have made it clear that the U.S. demands to operate within their territory is no longer accepted or allowed.

​For the U.S., this means that it cannot sustain a war of attrition when its primary proxies have lost their internal foundations. By losing the tribes and the clerics, the U.S. has seen its logistics landlocked, its supply lines severed, and its multi-billion-dollar military, including the destruction of 50% of its THAAD systems in the region, succumb to Iranian attacks.

​​​Today, what the world is witnessing is the fall of the modern American Arab world. In many ways, this transition mirrors the 8^th-century Abbasid dynasty, which ended the corrupt monopoly of the Umayyad dynasty and shifted the center of gravity from the Arab to the Iranian.

For the trinity, Bahrain, Saudi Arabia, and Jordan, all is lost. They find themselves in an unwinnable situation where they must choose between a U.S. leadership that has desecrated their faith or be swept away by a population that has already abandoned them.

The Covenant is broken, and the Abbasid-Iranian hour has returned.

But in reality, it’s much more than that: the Iranians have been preparing for this war for decades. They knew their weaknesses as well as ours.

It would appear that we did not see ours. While we spent billions on stealth technology to hide from machines, Tehran spent years winning over the tribes that owned the roads.

They relied on ancient laws, cultures, and traditions to fortify their power, while we relied on technology and unpopular Arab leaders.

This war will decide who was right.

Beyond the high-tech sensors and the silent palaces, there is a human wall of tribal elders and mothers who have simply decided the cost of the war is too high.

The three leaders haven’t just lost the battlefield; they have lost the heart of the people who actually guard the land.

For nearly a century, the House of Saud was anchored by an unshakable handshake. A sacred covenant where the monarchy provided security and wealth in exchange for the loyalty of the tribes and the clergy. A “desert democracy” rooted in mutual respect, ensuring that every major move had the quiet consent of those who held the land.

​However, under Mohammed bin Salman (MBS), this ancient balance has been replaced with a cold, hierarchical command. The accessible governance of the past, where any man could bring his grievances directly to the leadership, has been replaced by a technocratic, rigid Western-style system. In this new order, the ordinary man at the bottom appears to be no longer respected or acknowledged.

​This systematic isolation from the tribes, however, has reached a boiling point. The failure of MBS to protect the home soil from Iranian missiles and its economic impact on the daily tribal life have raised fundamental questions about MBS’s legitimacy and the necessity of the American presence in the country.

The situation has intensified further as the Saudi nation feels a shifting tone coming from Washington. When President Trump recently claimed that the Crown Prince was “kissing his a**” to secure deals, it sent a shockwave throughout the kingdom and wounded the national pride of tribes who value honor above all else.

This anger has reinforced and confirmed the unprecedented Tribal Veto, as the tribes have now united to compel MBS to alter his American policies, demonstrating that their geographic control is a power he can no longer ignore.

As this new rigid system collides with ancient traditions, the two structural pillars that once stabilized the throne, tribal allegiance and theological legitimacy, have begun to buckle under pressure.

In the case of tribal allegiance, the tribes have taken unprecedented steps to prevent MBS from continuing his policies. In the Central and North of Saudi Arabia, the tribal response to this neglect has been swift and costly: they have physically closed the borders and severed essential supply lines.

To open up these vital borders, MBS would normally rely on the Saudi Arabian National Guard, a military force recruited directly from tribes to serve as the “Protectorate of the Throne.” However, because these soldiers are the sons and brothers of the very men blocking the road, the National Guard has reached a point of massive mutiny. They have refused to move against their own kin, leaving the Crown Prince powerless to enforce his will through traditional military means.

To counter the National Guard, the leadership has deployed the Al-Saif- al-Ajrab: the elite Blackened Sword Guard. This 5,000-man praetorian unit acts as MBS’s primary enforcer. However, this has created a dangerous situation where the Black Sword Guard is in direct standoff with the 125,00 National Guard members who hold the geography of the kingdom. Furthermore, by solely relying on the Guards, the Crown Prince has effectively declared war on the very institution designed to protect the throne.

​The second pillar, the religious establishment, has also weakened MBS by stripping away his shield. The Council of Seven, representing the Kingdom’s highest clerical authority, has issued a formal letter of Incapacity, declaring the leadership’s current path a violation of the sacred trust. By allowing secular entertainment to reach the shadow of the Holy Cities, MBS has gone against traditions that have defined the society for thousands of years. In turn, the clergy has signaled a “Silent Mosque,” effectively declaring that he has forfeited his right to rule.

​In the face of this chaos, many are looking toward the “old system” represented by figures like Mohammed bin Nayef (MBN). Known for his deep ties to the tribes and his steady hand in security, MBN represents a return to the consensus-based rule that once kept the Kingdom stable. For MBS, however, the return to MBN signifies the end of his future kingship and perhaps, even his life.

​This internal collapse creates a catastrophic crisis for American strategy. Washington remains tethered to a leader who has lost his territory at a time when a regional “Tribal Veto”

is spreading. In Jordan, the crisis has become a physical barrier; the tribes, whose kinship ties and bloodlines run deep into the Saudi heartland, have begun shutting down the borders in a show of solidarity. In Bahrain, a 70% popular uprising fueled by anti-Americanism threatens another key domino.

​This brings up a critical question for the United States: is it ready for this shift? Currently, Washington appears to have no policy for a “post-MBS” world, nor even for the fallout of a “Post-Abdullah” or “Post-Bahrain” landscape. Is the U.S. willing and able to work with the MBN staff and the traditionalists who still hold the ground? As the arteries of war are severed by angry tribes and silent mosques, American policy must decide if it is ready for the restoration of the old guard or if it will remain trapped in a palace that no longer controls the kingdom.

​

For decades, the vast interior of the Arabian Peninsula was held together by a silent, invisible contract. It was a deal written in tea and tribal tradition and managed by men who understood that in the Middle East, the straightest line between two points is a handshake. This ancient code of the desert formed a foundational “contract” between the House of Saud and the tribal sheikhs, where a leader’s word was the only insurance policy that mattered.

But as of March 2026, that contract has been shredded. The Crown Prince reportedly prepares to cross the ultimate red line: a direct military strike against Iran. However, the United States finds itself in a strategic trap, backing an escalatory prince while having already lost the “safe passage” needed to run the region.

For over fifty years, Washington operated on the assumption that Saudi Arabia was a reliable, open corridor for military logistics. Today, however, that corridor is nothing more than a series of disconnected islands that’s threatening the very system of American power.

The American strategy was largely built on three pillars of distribution, and all three are crumbling. The Persian Gulf is effectively closed by naval mines; the Red Sea is a gauntlet of Houthi attacks; and the much-praised “Land Bridge” through Jordan has become a gilded cage.

It is the collapse of this “Land Bridge,” intended as the fail-safe for the Pentagon and the defense of Israel, that now threatens the American military strategy. Reduced to a mere trickle by the very people who live along its path, the corridor has become a weapon by the very people needed to win the war.

The Jordanian tribes, specifically the Bani Sakher and Bani Hassan, have applied a collective Tribal Veto to the transit. They refuse to be the transporter for a war that has brought Iranian missiles into their own airspace, effectively stranding American goods before they even reach the Saudi border.

This massive defiance has left King Abdullah II in an untenable situation. While the King honors his agreement with Washington, he must do so by going against the very tribes that allow him to be King. Caught between a U.S. military that needs a corridor and a tribal population that refuses to be the carrier belt for a war they never authorized, the Jordanian monarchy is reaching a breaking point.

The crisis flows directly across the border, proving that the tribal veto is a contiguous force that ignores modern cartography. Mohammad Bin Salman, MBS, the Saudi Crown Prince, is now facing the same wall of resistance that haunts King Abdullah.

Just as the Jordanian monarchy struggles to move past its angry clans, MBS finds that his own “modern and Western” decrees carry no weight in the desert heartland. The kinship networks of the Northern tribes, the Howeitat and the Shammar, in particular, view the centralized authorities both in Amman and Riyadh with equal suspicion.

Walking the streets of Tabuk in the North or Buraidah in Central Najd today reveals a kingdom divided. The Crown Prince can no longer trust the tribal rank-and-file of the Saudi Arabian National Guard (SANG), who are currently in a state of passive mutiny and refuse to police their own people. As a result, he has deployed his Royal Guard, his personal and well-compensated elite forces, into the heart of the desert.

​To the tribes, however, these men are not protectors; they are occupiers. These are “city soldiers,” high-paid praetorians from Riyadh who do not know the desert tracks or share the local kinship. By sending his personal shield to occupy the North and the Central region, MBS has effectively declared that his own heartland is unsafe and chaotic.

Yet even within these “city soldiers,” cracks are appearing. A silent disobedience is growing within the Royal Guards as they realize they are outnumbered in a hostile landscape. They are weighing their loyalty to the Prince’s paycheck against the terrifying reality of a blood feud. They know if they spill the blood of a tribe’s man to open up a path for American convoys, the desert will not allow them to return home.

​​The friction, however, is no longer a localized northern problem. It is a systemic rejection of MBS’s centralized authority across the “four corners” of the Kingdom. In the Southwest, the tribes of Asir, Jizan, and Najran have reportedly sought their own local security arrangements with the Houthis to avoid being used as a buffer.

It is the same in the Eastern province, where the Shiite minority and local tribes have signaled that their traditional protection of the Aramco infrastructure and U.S. fuel lines is ending. They are refusing to act as a human shield for a direct offensive against Iran, a nation with which they share deep cultural and religious ties.

Meanwhile, in the North and Central heartlands, the tribes known as the “Gate Keepers” have stopped maintaining the roads or providing the essential covers needed to transit safely through the desert. On the Western coast, the tribes of Hejaz have withdrawn their cooperation from naval logistics in ports like Yanbu. Together, these groups have created a Kingdom that is officially intact but strategically hollowed out.

Across all four corners, the message from the tribal elders is identical and clear: a return to the Mohammad bin Nayef, MBN, style of governance. They are rejecting the centralized, “city soldiers’ occupation in favor of traditional consensus-based leadership that defined the previous era. To the tribes, the protection offered by MBS is nothing but a mirage. If the Crown Prince cannot protect the oil fields or the palace from Iranian strikes, he cannot be expected to provide security for his offenses.

This systematic collapse has created an immediate threat to U.S. personnel at joint bases such as Prince Sultan (PSAB). For decades, these installations relied on a “Deep-Layered” security model where high-tech American power and local tribal intelligence operated as a single, interlocked machine. The U.S. looked at the skies for missiles while the tribes looked at the dunes for saboteurs.

That system is no longer in play, as local tribes no longer provide the human intelligence and early warnings that once anchored the U.S. and the House of Saud. As a result, the United States finds itself under a siege where its local protection relies on highly-paid soldiers who have no eyes in the desert and whose loyalty is as eternal as the next highest bidder.

In many ways, the current situation was predictable because the U.S. fundamentally misunderstood the land and the culture itself. Viewing the Peninsula as nothing more than GPS coordinates and logistical hubs that were run by a “Western” mindset ally, Washington forgot two important rules when it comes to the Arab world: first, ancient laws cannot simply be erased by royal decree; and second, no cultural or political shift would ever be accepted if it violets traditions that has defined the Arab system for thousands of years.

Today, the U.S. backs a partner who is attempting to fight a high-tech war across the Persian Gulf while being seen as an occupier in his own backyard. For the U.S., as it runs out of interceptors and tribes turn their backs, it would behoove it to remember that the desert has a long memory. “Occupiers” could never survive in this blood-soaked, hot region where even greater empires have been swallowed up by the desert sands.