At the end of February 2026, the United States once again found itself at the center of a global debate beyond the West. Joint US and Israeli strikes on Iran on February 28, Tehran’s subsequent closure of the Strait of Hormuz, and Washington’s retaliatory campaign turned a regional escalation into a global test of confidence in American leadership. In Brazil, Saudi Arabia and South Africa these events are not seen as distant headlines about a “Middle Eastern crisis”: they are discussed through the lens of oil, sovereignty, US past wars, and these countries’ own ambitions.
In Brazil the new war has prompted both analysis of the global security architecture and discussion of how the US treats democracy at home and its partners in the hemisphere. In Saudi Arabia the US is spoken of simultaneously as an indispensable military umbrella and as an actor that, by increasing pressure on Iran, is effectively reshaping the energy market and affecting the kingdom’s revenues. In South Africa, where the debate is quieter and often confined to international pages, the events are viewed through the traditional anti-war Global South perspective: another “war of choice” by Washington and its allies, and another blow to international law.
The main focus of discussions has not been the abstract “America,” but a specific bundle: the US–Israel war with Iran, the campaign in the Strait of Hormuz, and Washington’s broader strategy regarding oil and global maritime communications. In Brazil this is compounded by the new “Shield of the Americas” initiative and the creation of a US special envoy post for that line, as well as the memory of the 2025 diplomatic scandal when US sanctions and visa measures against Brazilian figures were seen as interference in the country’s internal affairs. (pt.wikipedia.org)
Against this backdrop a number of common themes emerge in the three countries: the US as both military guarantor and source of instability; anxiety mixed with pragmatic calculation about oil and sea lanes; criticism of Washington’s double standards on international law and democracy; and, finally, a desire to use American actions in pursuit of their own regional strategies.
The sharpest issue has been the war with Iran. Brazilian analysts note that in late January the US carried out the largest buildup of military presence in the Middle East since 2003, long before the first strike on Iran, which is perceived as preparation for a preselected escalation. In one dossier from Brazil’s “US Observatory” it is emphasized that the American concentration of forces — from carrier strike groups and missile defense to logistics in Qatar, Bahrain and Saudi Arabia — became the “structural backdrop” of the war, not a reaction to a single incident. (pt.wikipedia.org) The authors link this to a longer trend: the Trump administration’s desire to make pressure on Iran a cornerstone of its foreign policy.
The tone of the Brazilian discussion is noticeably critical. Analytical pieces on the “War with Iran in 2026” compare the US and Israeli decision to strike Iranian territory to the 2003 invasion of Iraq and call it a “war of choice,” risky for the entire global energy market. (pt.wikipedia.org) On Brazilian left platforms the analogy is sharpened: Washington is again pushing the logic of a preventive war rather than defense, and again expecting allies to “fall into line” — this time under the new “Shield of the Americas” initiative, which has attracted many comments in Brazil. The creation of a US Special Envoy for the “Shield of the Americas” in early March 2026 is seen as an attempt to institutionalize Washington’s role in securing the hemisphere — including sea routes and critical infrastructure — against the backdrop of global war and risks to oil supplies. (pt.wikipedia.org)
Brazilian commentators draw a direct parallel with the 2025 crisis, when unilateral US actions against Brazilian officials and programs — from visa sanctions to use of the “Magnitsky Act” — were perceived as interference in internal affairs. Articles recall that Washington then combined rhetoric about “protecting democracy” with concrete economic and political levers against Brazil, not only against traditional adversaries. This gives the current discussion of the “Shield of the Americas” a double meaning: some experts view it as protection from external threats, others as an instrument for disciplining South American partners under the pretext of security. (pt.wikipedia.org)
The Saudi discussion of the US and the war with Iran is much more existential: the war is unfolding literally “over the kingdom’s head” and that of its neighbors. Saudi press in recent weeks has been full of pieces on the closure of the Strait of Hormuz, burned tankers, the suspension of insurance coverage for routes through the combat zone, and a sharp rise in risk premiums. Business outlets examine in detail how US and Israeli strikes, and then Iran’s response, led to an effective blockade of part of shipping and raids on energy infrastructure in the region. (aajeg.com)
At the level of official and expert circles the tone toward the US is ambivalent. On one hand, American strikes are described as “necessary to ensure the security of Gulf allies,” and it is emphasized that without US power the deterrence of Iran and the reopening of Hormuz would be impossible. This is written, for example, in regional analyses describing a “joint Saudi‑Turkish vision” and ties with Washington: the US is still seen as the main provider of guarantees for trade and energy flows, despite Riyadh’s desire to diversify partners. (asamcenter.com)
On the other hand, public debate, including on Saudi forums, reveals distrust of US motives. Commentators openly say that “the US does not start wars without knowing the outcome in advance,” and suspect that a protracted crisis around Hormuz benefits Washington by redistributing shares in the oil market and weakening extraction competitors. One popular post argues that by complicating exports through Hormuz, the US simultaneously opens space to expand its own deliveries and strengthens its negotiating position on sanctions against third countries. (reddit.com) In another discussion a user writes bluntly that the “first beneficiary” of the current crisis is America, recalling how sanctions against Venezuela were recently eased for its oil — and now, given the Hormuz threat, that decision looks retrospectively like deliberate preparation for the present moment. (reddit.com)
Attempts by the Trump administration to deflect responsibility for particular tragic episodes of the war provoke special irritation. A clip from a press conference went viral on a Saudi forum in which a journalist asks Trump about a Tomahawk missile that hit a school early in the war. The president replies that “many countries possess such missiles” and that “an investigation is underway.” Users immediately note that only a few US allies have Tomahawks in their inventories, and among the parties to the war only the United States does. One commenter sarcastically notes that by Trump’s logic “maybe it was the Japanese who shelled the girls’ school, let’s wait for the investigation.” The irony masks deep doubt about the US willingness to admit its mistakes and uphold the same standards it demands of others. (reddit.com)
On this background criticism of US double standards on human rights and international law is growing in Brazil as well. In a recent issue of an analytical series from a Brazilian US research center, the authors examine “democratic representation” within the United States itself: the Electoral College, distortions in the Senate, the role of money in politics. They note that a state with such serious internal disproportions continues to demand strict standards of “democratic quality” from partners and to use sanctions against elites of other countries. In the context of the war with Iran this is presented as an example of Washington acting simultaneously as judge and participant in the conflict — both in the normative arena and on the field of force. (opeu.org.br)
The energy dimension of US policy is the one aspect on which all three countries agree about its importance, though they differ in assessments. For Saudi Arabia the issue is direct: the war around Hormuz hits traditional export routes, but at the same time pushes the kingdom to activate alternative infrastructure. Saudi discussions recall the strategic decision of the early 1980s — the construction of the East‑West pipeline (Petroline) from eastern fields to the Red Sea — and present it as a foresighted move that today allows re‑routing flows around Hormuz. Commenters write that if the strait remains blocked, the kingdom’s revenues could even grow by roughly 50% if it can leverage the infrastructure and price conditions. This, however, is presented not as a joyful scenario but as an example of how the kingdom’s “long strategy” helps it weather shocks imposed by a US‑driven conflict. (reddit.com)
The Brazilian perspective is different: the country sees itself as a distant but price‑and‑import‑dependent observer. In Brazilian business pages Hormuz appears not only as a point of risk but as an example of how dangerous “militarized US control over communications” can be when a war in one region hits inflation and exchange rates in South America. Analysts recall that Brazil’s economy has already experienced waves of price shocks caused by decisions made in Washington and the Middle East without regard for the interests of the Global South. Against this background the idea of the “Shield of the Americas” is often criticized in Brazilian commentary: instead of a real joint energy strategy that includes Latin America, the US offers a military “umbrella” architecture in which priority remains with its own supply lines and investor security, not protection against price shocks for Brazil or Argentina. (pt.wikipedia.org)
The South African perspective is more detached but no less principled. In South Africa’s international pages the US campaign in Hormuz and strikes on Iranian sites are described with an emphasis on precedent: striking a country that has not officially attacked US territory in the name of protecting “freedom of navigation,” while the strikes themselves cause escalation, strait closures and heightened risks for shipping. South African columnists recall Iraq and Libya: there too it was said that “surgical operations for stability” would follow, but they ended in long‑term instability and erosion of international law. From Pretoria’s standpoint the current war undermines what little trust remains that the US acts within shared rules rather than making them up as it goes.
In that debate, memory of South Africa’s own experience of sanctions, apartheid and the struggle for recognition of the majority’s rights plays an important role. Against that background Washington’s rhetoric about human rights and democracy sounds in South Africa not only as a declaration but as an object of critical analysis: why do some violations of international law prompt immediate strikes and campaigns, while others — for example, those involving US allies — are treated with soft phrasing and behind‑the‑scenes diplomacy?
New statements by Trump about the role of other states in securing sea lanes also draw particular interest in Global South countries. His call for “countries that receive oil through Hormuz to look after its protection themselves” is interpreted ambiguously. In Saudi Arabia and the Middle East it looks like a signal: Washington is tired of being the “policeman” of the strait and wants greater involvement by others — while not relinquishing control over escalation. In Brazilian columns it is compared to long‑standing US pressure on NATO allies in Europe: Washington asks for more contribution from partners while remaining the chief strategist of the conflict. For South African authors such calls appear as an invitation to militarize regional policy in US interests: Global South countries are nudged to participate in securing regimes that benefit Washington, under threat of economic losses. (aljoumhouria.com)
Against this background differences in how each society sees its own maneuver become especially noticeable. Saudi Arabia, judging by internal discussions, perceives itself as a major player that must minimize destruction and make the most of wartime opportunities: from rerouting export flows to strengthening its status as an indispensable supplier for West and East alike. The US remains the key military partner, but assessments increasingly include the sentiment: “It benefits America, but we are not obliged to pay the full cost of its strategy.”
Brazil, by contrast, seeks to distance itself from direct involvement. The 2025 crisis, when Washington used sanctions and visa levers against Brazilian judges and politicians, reinforced among the elite the sense that too close a tie to the US endangers sovereignty. In commentary on the war with Iran and the “Shield of the Americas,” Brazilian commentators increasingly repeat the idea that the country must preserve maneuverability within BRICS, develop ties with China and Europe, and not let hemisphere security become a project determined solely in Washington. (pt.wikipedia.org)
South Africa, finally, continues the Global South’s critical tradition: its experts warn that normalizing preventive wars and unilateral US military campaigns undermines the universality of international law, on which South Africa itself relies in its claims against rich countries on trade, climate and inequality. For Pretoria and its intellectuals watching the US war with Iran means seeing rules the Global South needs to protect its interests being eroded by a superpower’s actions.
It is precisely in this gap between declarations and practice, between military power and political trust, that attitudes toward the US are being formed today in Brazil, Saudi Arabia and South Africa. They still acknowledge that many crises cannot be resolved without American power, and that the US remains a critical node in the global economy and security. But they are increasingly unwilling to believe that Washington uses that power for shared rules rather than for its own tactical gains. The war with Iran, the campaign in Hormuz, and new projects like the “Shield of the Americas” only deepen this skepticism — and push Global South countries to seek ways to protect their interests in a world where the United States remains a center of power, but ever less often a center of trust.
