At the end of May 2026, the United States again found itself at the center of global news feeds — not so much as an unquestioned leader as a source of uncertainty. The American‑Iranian war, the blockade and the possible reopening of the Strait of Hormuz, debates about the reliability of American security guarantees, the reduction of military presence in Europe and tense discussions about the Japan‑U.S. alliance — all of this has woven into a single picture. In Saudi Arabia, Germany and Japan they watch Washington with anxious attention: in some cases hoping for a rapid de‑escalation, in others preparing for a world in which the U.S. can no longer be relied upon as before.
The central theme linking the three countries has been the U.S. and Israel’s war against Iran and the question of unblocking the Strait of Hormuz. It is around Hormuz that a major story has emerged about what American security means today — and what it is actually worth. According to Arab and Western sources, on February 28, 2026 the U.S. and Israel launched large‑scale strikes against Iran, accompanied by an effective naval blockade, which led to a sharp rise in oil prices and pushed energy issues to the top of the agenda in all three countries, from Riyadh to Tokyo. This was reported, among others, by the independent Japanese outlet Voice for Peace in its May issue, which detailed the start of the campaign and its connection to the collapse of the New START arms control treaty, and by specialist international media such as Asia Times, analyzing the blockade’s impact on the Gulf economies and the global oil market. In Saudi Arabia, Germany and Japan the Hormuz issue has become a litmus test: how much do the U.S. still control the situation and how beneficial is it for allies to follow Washington into risky moves.
In Saudi Arabia Hormuz is perceived not as a distant geopolitical subplot but as an almost domestic crisis. Saudi commentators in Arabic and English‑language outlets recalled that Riyadh, according to several media reports, in early May refused U.S. use of Prince Sultan base and Saudi airspace for the so‑called “Project Freedom” operation to secure navigation in Hormuz. This was reported — citing sources in the U.S. administration — by outlets including bne IntelliNews and American liberal media, emphasizing the unprecedented fact that the kingdom effectively blocked a key U.S. military initiative and forced the White House to wind down the operation in less than two days. As one Saudi analyst noted in a column for Asia Times, describing a shift in perception of the U.S. in the Persian Gulf, “the mirage of guaranteed American security in the Gulf is evaporating before our eyes” — capital elites are increasingly skeptical of the automatic arrival of “Uncle Sam” to the rescue and are beginning to build their own security supports, from regional coalitions to economic diversification.
At the same time Riyadh’s official rhetoric remains cautiously diplomatic. Saudi Foreign Minister Prince Faisal bin Farhan, in a recent statement on platform X quoted by the Saudi Gazette, welcomed Washington’s latest steps toward a diplomatic settlement, stressing that the kingdom “greatly values” efforts to find a political solution that would restore security and freedom of navigation in the Strait of Hormuz to their prewar state. In the Arabic version of that message, broadcast by regional television channels, the emphasis is on the fact that “Saudi Arabia supports any settlement that respects the sovereignty of regional states and clearly limits the duration of foreign forces’ presence.” In this double‑toned language the main point is audible: Riyadh still sees the U.S. as an indispensable partner, but no longer regards American military presence as an unconditional good.
Among Saudi commentators several columns in Arabic outlets Al‑Jazeera and Asharq al‑Awsat in recent weeks drew parallels between the current war and the period before 2003, when Washington promised a “quick and surgical” operation in Iraq. One Al‑Jazeera author, writing about Donald Trump’s statement on withdrawing troops immediately after Hormuz was opened and the “resolution of the nuclear dossier,” recalled that such promises often turned into years of military presence and instability. Yet a new note sounded immediately: Arab countries have now shown they can constrain U.S. freedom of action by closing bases and air corridors, something that did not happen twenty years ago. Hence the main motive of the Middle Eastern reaction: a reassessment of asymmetric relations in which Washington is no longer the sole initiator but must reckon with the positions of regional players.
Germany views this crisis through the lens of two nervous questions: its own security amid a U.S. war with Iran and the possible U.S. pullback from NATO. The German press has long been accustomed to Donald Trump’s blunt statements that allies “use American protection” and “underpay” for defense, but the current war and the associated rise in fuel prices have sharpened these debates. In April and May, major outlets from Berliner Zeitung to Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung published pieces discussing the “NATO without the U.S.” scenario. In a Berliner Zeitung article titled “Nato ohne die USA? Europa muss plötzlich allein denken” the author notes that the idea of an alliance without America has ceased to be an intellectual taboo and is being discussed in European foreign ministries as a “real option.” The journalist quotes an official from one of the EU defense ministries: “Sometimes one Trump post on X or Truth Social is enough to send offices in Europe into a panic” — and adds that this is abnormal for an alliance claiming strategic autonomy.
The announcement by U.S. Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth of the withdrawal of five thousand servicemembers from Germany — reported by both German and English‑language sources — became a symbol of this new nervousness. The conservative paper Welt, in a piece on the partial troop withdrawal, quotes a CDU representative who says: “This is a significant signal that cannot be ignored — it calls into question the reliability of American guarantees in the long term.” A left‑wing representative, by contrast, called the announcement “many words and little substance,” pointing out that troops are being withdrawn gradually and that this may be more of a political gesture in response to Berlin’s criticism of the war with Iran than a real transformation of military architecture. But both right and left agree on one point: Germany can no longer assume that the U.S. will remain the “anchor” of European security forever.
Against this backdrop the domestic debate about a new American strategy, described in German media as “a direct challenge to Europe,” has intensified. Several pieces cite leaks and statements from Washington indicating that the White House openly aims to change the political balance in the EU by encouraging the rise of right‑wing and Euroskeptic forces. In a popular German news subreddit, discussing a report that the U.S. “criticizes Europe and announces interference,” one user quotes German Foreign Minister Johann Wadephul (CDU), who said that “Germany does not need external advice on freedom of speech and the organization of our free societies.” This is a rather rare hardness toward Washington for Berlin, and commentators pick it up: if five or six years ago such a statement would have caused a scandal, now it is treated as a normal defense of sovereignty.
Japan watches American moves in the Middle East through a different but no less worrying prism — energy security and the constraints of its own defense policy. One of the most detailed Japanese analytical pieces in recent months is an article on FPトレンディ titled “日米首脳会談で与野党の評価が割れた理由——ホルムズ海峡と日本のエネルギー安全保障” (Why evaluations of the Takaiti‑Trump summit in Tokyo split the ruling and opposition parties — the Strait of Hormuz and Japan’s energy security), in which the author explains why assessments of the March summit divided the ruling and opposition parties. The key point is Japan’s dependence on oil from Gulf countries and thus on stability in the Strait of Hormuz. The author stresses that the blockade of Hormuz and strikes on Iranian oil infrastructure have jeopardized Japanese supplies, and Japan’s Constitution, with its restrictions on the use of force abroad, does not allow Tokyo to play an active military role in securing sea lanes.
In this context the alliance with the U.S. is seen simultaneously as vital and as a source of risk. In a report by the Japanese NGO Peace Depot’s Voice for Peace, devoted to the expiration of New START and the growing nuclear threat, it is stated bluntly: “On February 28, 2026 the U.S. and Israel began a large‑scale attack on Iran. Japan found itself in a position where its energy security depends on a war it cannot control or stop.” This idea also appears in more mainstream media. Several major Japanese newspapers in April and May ran editorials sharply criticizing Donald Trump’s attempts to publicly interfere in Japan’s domestic politics — from supporting specific candidates in lower house elections to pressing on defense budget issues. One such editorial, discussed in the Japanese Reddit segment as “社説: トランプ氏の干渉は不適切だ” (Editorial: Mr. Trump’s interference is inappropriate), relies on international studies of great‑power interference in elections and reminds readers that “the principle of non‑intervention in internal affairs cannot be selective, even when it concerns allies.”
A similar, though characteristically restrained Japanese, tone is heard in the expert community. In the annual report of the Japan Institute of International Affairs published at the end of March, the authors note that in the medium term (5–10 years) Japan’s security could “deteriorate qualitatively” as a result of a combination of Chinese pressure, North Korea’s missile‑nuclear program and an “unstable, conflictual American foreign policy that drags Tokyo into regional crises for which Japanese society is psychologically unprepared.” At the same time, the report admits that without reliance on the American nuclear umbrella Japan would be “alone against” three nuclear powers in the region. The domestic political dispute revolves around how to reconcile preserving the alliance with building an autonomous “deterrent capability” — from expanding missile potential to investing in missile defense.
If these three perspectives — Saudi, German and Japanese — are combined, several major themes emerge.
The first is disappointment with the “default” security guarantee. For Riyadh this is expressed in the conclusion that the U.S. can no longer be the sole guarantor of Gulf security, and that horizontal ties must be built, including with China and regional powers. For Berlin it is the painful but increasingly voiced thought that Europe must “learn to think in security terms without the American umbrella,” as the Berliner Zeitung author puts it. For Tokyo it is an attempt to reduce the risk that the sea lanes vital to the country are controlled by a war whose decisions are made in Washington and Tel Aviv.
The second is the rise of emancipatory rhetoric toward the U.S., but without a desire to sever ties. Saudi refusal to provide a base for the Hormuz operation was not accompanied by anti‑Israeli or anti‑American hysteria; on the contrary, the foreign minister emphasized the “high appreciation” of Trump’s diplomatic efforts to end the war and open the strait. Germany, while criticizing American strategy and declaring it does “not need external advice” on questions of democracy, is simultaneously increasing defense spending and stressing the importance of the transatlantic link. Japan, publishing editorials on the inadmissibility of Trump’s interference in elections and analyzing the risks of an American war with Iran for its energy supplies, nevertheless continues to build defense policy around the U.S. alliance. This is not classic anti‑Americanism but a push for more equal relations.
The third is a reassessment of economic interdependence. In Saudi Arabia and other Gulf states the war in Hormuz demonstrated how painful it is for their economies to be tied to oil exports through a single “narrow choke point.” In an Asia Times piece on the “fading mirage of guaranteed U.S. security in the Gulf,” the author notes that this vulnerability is precisely what is driving Gulf states to diversify relations — from energy deals with China to investments in alternative supply routes. Germany is experiencing rising fuel prices and economic shocks, even bankruptcies of American carriers like Spirit Airlines, and sees here an example of how a Middle Eastern war, through oil prices, hits global transport and logistics chains. Japan, as an even larger importer of energy carriers, is discussing acceleration of the transition to renewables and LNG, but recognizes that in the foreseeable future it cannot entirely move away from Gulf oil.
Finally, the fourth theme is the erosion of the U.S.’s moral authority. German, Japanese and, to some extent, Saudi texts increasingly raise the theme of double standards: Washington claims the role of defender of international law, yet initiates military campaigns that are questionable under the UN Charter, such as against Venezuela or the current war with Iran. German commentators point out that even major American newspapers in editorials call these operations “legally dubious and strategically problematic,” and Japanese peace NGOs note that the lapse of the last major strategic arms control treaty coincided with the start of a new war, “symbolically demonstrating a shift from the logic of collective security to the logic of forceful diktat.” In Saudi Arabia this is expressed more softly, but the fact that the kingdom was able to effectively stop an American operation by refusing base access is viewed by many as “fatigue” with the role of a silent client.
Yet in all three countries there remains a sober recognition: despite irritation and criticism, there is no replacement for the United States as the leading military and technological power — at least for now. Hence the paradox of the current moment: the more unpredictable and conflictual American policy becomes, the more Saudi Arabia, Germany and Japan seek ways both to distance themselves and to reinforce the alliance. Riyadh is building a relationship with Washington based on “selective cooperation,” restraining overly risky initiatives while supporting American diplomatic moves that open the way to peace in Hormuz. Berlin, while criticizing Trump and preparing for a “NATO‑minus‑U.S.” scenario, still tries to “tie” America to Europe through new cooperation formats and defense projects. Tokyo, toughening its rhetoric against interference in its elections, simultaneously works closely with the U.S. to modernize the alliance amid growing Chinese power.
This is the new international conversation about America that has been little translated into English: not about being “for” or “against” the U.S., but about how to live in a world where Washington remains a center of power but has ceased to be a predictable and “by default benevolent” leader. For Saudi Arabia, Germany and Japan the answer is currently being formulated in different political and cultural codes, but the essence everywhere is the same: the era of unilateral dependence on the U.S. is ending; an era of complex, sometimes contradictory, but more equal relations is beginning.
