At the end of March 2026, discussions about the United States in France, South Korea and Saudi Arabia almost inevitably boil down to three interconnected narratives. First, the US‑Israeli war against Iran that began on February 28 and its consequences for the Middle East and the global economy. Second, the broader question of how Washington’s role in the security architecture is changing – from the Persian Gulf to the Korean Peninsula and the Indo‑Pacific. Third, the “economic projection of US power” – tariffs, sanctions and attempts to both pressure China and keep allies in its orbit. Each of the three societies we examine sees something different in these processes: the French press debates the risks of nuclear escalation and Europe’s autonomy, South Korean analysts view Iran through the prism of US–China rivalry, and Saudi and regional Arab commentators try to understand whether their region has become the costly testing ground of a Washington strategy.
The central axis of all these discussions is the US and Israeli war on Iran. Arab and Middle Eastern media, including Arabic‑language outlets, emphasize that unlike previous “proxy wars,” the current conflict, since February 28, 2026, has taken on the characteristics of a direct regional war. As the Moroccan outlet Assahifa writes in its analysis, the strike on Iranian territory was an attempt “to move a prolonged confrontation to a new level,” where the issue is no longer only the nuclear program but a “reformatting of the entire Middle Eastern balance of power” and preventing the emergence of a regional power capable of acting outside the Western sphere of influence. The author writes plainly: the formal justification is to neutralize a missile‑nuclear threat, but the strategic horizon is the “reconfiguration” of the region and the prevention of independent geopolitics by Tehran, which over two decades has built a network of influence from Iraq to Lebanon and Yemen, posing a “structural challenge” to the postwar order. It is in this much broader context that the role of the United States as the leading military force in the conflict is considered.
The Saudi and wider Gulf perspective is paradoxical: the GCC states largely depend on American military protection, yet they have become one of the main targets of Iran’s retaliatory strikes. UN Human Rights Council reports and regional Arab media extensively quote Gulf representatives who note that, by estimates, over 80% of Iranian missile strikes hit Arab states rather than Israel—an outcome perceived in Riyadh and Amman as a perverse signal: by allying with the US and holding the status of “major non‑NATO allies,” these countries are paying directly with attacks on their territory and civilian infrastructure. Saudi Ambassador to the UN in Geneva Abdulmohsin bin Hethaila, in a speech at an emergency Human Rights Council session, emphasizes that Iran’s missile strikes are a “blatant violation of sovereignty” and create a “direct threat to international peace and security,” but at regional discussions a quieter question increasingly arises: by launching a large‑scale operation against Iran, didn’t Washington make the Gulf states a target of a much larger game without effectively strengthening their missile defense shield?
In Saudi Arabia’s analytical columns and business press, the purely pragmatic side of the war—oil and trade—is also discussed. Financial sites in the region note that oil prices first spiked after Iran closed the Strait of Hormuz, through which about a quarter of global supplies pass, and then corrected amid rumors of a 15‑point peace plan that the US allegedly sent to Tehran. As the portal Boursa.info points out, reports that Washington had submitted a comprehensive ceasefire proposal to Iran allowed oil prices to recover part of the losses caused by market panic. In another piece on the T Matrix resource, analyst Haysam al‑Jundi writes that gold is reaching new highs because investors doubt the sincerity and feasibility of the American plan: as long as Iran continues night missile‑drone attacks on Gulf states and Israel, markets price in a “premium for distrust of US peacemaking initiatives.” Saudi columnists in outlets like Oman’s Al‑Ruya go further, asking: “Is Trump’s plan a peace initiative or a war manoeuvre?” They note that the US president’s conditions—particularly a strict ultimatum to reopen the Strait of Hormuz coupled with threats to strike Iran’s energy infrastructure—lead Tehran to suspect Washington of preparing, “under the guise of negotiations,” the ground for a yet more destructive strike, while regional markets view a ceasefire as a temporary respite for pressure to be re‑engineered.
The French debate about the same war is markedly different in tone. Paris is not a direct missile target, but it is engaged simultaneously as a NATO member, participant in the coalition ensuring freedom of navigation, and as a nuclear power with its own vision of European strategic autonomy. Already in February–early March, French analytical circles shifted attention to two themes: how US participation in the strike on Iran changes the risks of escalation to nuclear or cyber warfare, and whether Europe can build its own “nuclear umbrella” without fully relying on the United States. In this context President Emmanuel Macron’s March 2 speech at the submarine missile base in Île‑Long received wide discussion; he spoke about the evolution of French deterrence and, essentially, offered that Europeans consider the French arsenal as part of collective defense. Commentators in specialized nuclear‑deterrence bulletins noted that the new US‑Iran confrontation only reinforced Macron’s thesis: if the US can at any time drag NATO into a large‑scale Middle Eastern conflict, the EU must have its “own voice” on the use of force and de‑escalation. In a strategic studies bulletin on nuclear deterrence, French experts emphasize that Washington and Seoul recently “seriously strengthened” coordination on nuclear planning for the Korean Peninsula, showing that the US is ready to flexibly adapt deterrence architecture for allies, but in Europe there is no clear institutional scheme for such interaction. Hence the calls for a “European pillar” within the transatlantic alliance.
At the same time, France, as host of the recent meeting of G7 foreign ministers in Vaux‑de‑Cernay near Paris, positions itself as a platform for aligning US, European and Japanese positions on Iran and other hotspots. Official foreign ministry communiqués stress the need for a “free and open Indo‑Pacific region based on the rule of law,” alongside discussions on Iran and the Middle East. In the French press this is read as an attempt to link two strands of US policy—the Middle Eastern and the Indo‑Pacific—into a single framework of “protecting the international order,” but many commentators note that behind this broad formula lies Europe’s growing dependence on Washington’s strategic decisions: from sanctions to military operations. The paradox is that Paris simultaneously supports a hard line against Iran’s nuclear program and criticizes the excessive use of US force, which automatically drags European forces into conflicts from the Strait of Hormuz to the Levant.
The South Korean view of the US‑Iran war is less emotional but much more “geo‑economic.” Major Seoul business and political outlets describe military actions in the Persian Gulf primarily as a new wave of “global turbulence” layered on existing US trade wars with China, hitting export‑oriented economies. In Korean analytical pieces the war with Iran is often placed in the same context as Donald Trump’s threats to Beijing of “colossal tariffs” and his subsequent attempts to soften rhetoric and present his moves as “help for China” rather than harm. The Arabic service of Euronews, whose materials are widely quoted in Asian reviews, emphasizes that Trump’s previous tariff measures—a 10% baseline import tax plus higher rates for countries with large surpluses—already hurt countries like South Korea, whose indexes fell on tariff‑war news. Korean columnists say that in a new Trump term the risk of repeating that scenario combines with an even more explosive foreign policy: war with Iran, tariff threats to China, and harsh pressure on technology and supply chains.
On a Korean global‑economy portal, an author writes bluntly: “For Korean companies tied to both the American and Chinese markets, the combination of a US war with Iran, sanctions on China and possible new tariffs is not abstract geopolitics but a survival issue.” He cites electronics, autos and chemicals as sectors accelerating production diversification to Vietnam, India and Mexico to “spread the risks created by American trade and sanctions policy.” In the same vein South Korean experts see the US line on freedom of navigation: the closure of the Strait of Hormuz and Iranian threats to block the Bab‑el‑Mandeb, the route to the Suez Canal, are viewed in Seoul primarily as a supply‑shock factor for energy importers, including Korea. On the one hand, the US acts as guarantor of sea‑lane security; on the other, some Korean analysts believe US actions provoked a scenario in which one of the key energy routes fell under threat.
Against this backdrop, the US–China confrontation becomes especially acute in South Korean discussions. Articles from Euronews Arabic service on the escalation of trade conflicts—from a 10% general tariff to threats of 100% duties on Chinese goods and talk of a “financial attack” on Beijing—are actively cited in Asian reviews because they underscore that demand for South Korean goods suffers when Washington and Beijing exchange blows. Korean authors add local memory: how the deployment of the US THAAD missile defense in 2017 provoked informal Chinese sanctions on Korean business. Now, as the US exerts heavy pressure on Beijing in semiconductors and advanced technologies, Seoul faces a choice of how to fit into the American “friendshoring” strategy without becoming the next target of China’s retaliation.
French and Saudi discourses on US–China frictions are also visible, though less dominant than discussions about the Iran war. French economic reviews from past years, still cited in light of a new wave of tariff threats, warned that a “tariff spiral” driven by Washington pushes the EU to position itself between two giants at the risk of recession. For Saudi Arabia, the Chinese aspect of American policy manifests mainly through the “battle for rare earths” and technology. A study by the Arab Centre for Political Studies, on Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman’s Washington visit, noted that the US and Saudi Arabia signed a framework agreement on cooperation in rare earth metals, allowing Washington to diversify sources outside China. Saudi analysts see this as a move toward a “great‑power competition era deal”: the US strengthens strategic partnership with Riyadh not only as the Gulf’s security linchpin but also as a supplier of critical raw materials, and in return expects closer political alignment along Iran–China–Russia lines.
Another important layer of US perception in Saudi Arabia and the Arab region is human‑rights criticism. Human Rights Watch, in a piece on the conflict in Iran and the Middle East, stresses that “since the start of the US‑Israeli offensive against Iran on February 28, 2026, all parties to the conflict bear responsibility for serious violations of the laws of war, including possible war crimes.” The organization cites, in particular, a post by Donald Trump threatening to “destroy various power plants, starting with the largest,” if Iran did not reopen the Strait of Hormuz within 48 hours. For Saudi and broader Arab audiences, such statements are further evidence that Washington is willing to consider regionally critical infrastructure as a lever of pressure, even if that entails risks of humanitarian catastrophe. Saudi officials attempt to keep the focus on condemning Iranian strikes on civilian targets within the Kingdom, but independent columns and social media increasingly carry the theme of a “double danger”: on one hand Iran, on the other hand an American “maximum pressure” strategy that does not always account for the vulnerability of Arab societies.
In France, where the human‑rights agenda is traditionally strong, NGO reports on the US‑Israeli campaign against Iran are received ambivalently. On the one hand, the political mainstream supports a hard line on Iran’s nuclear program, and President Macron, like his predecessors, stresses the importance of “preventing a nuclear breakout by Tehran.” On the other, French human‑rights organizations and center‑left media actively cite HRW’s assessments of possible war crimes by all parties, including the US and Israel, arguing that “rhetoric and actions ignore the laws of war.” Political talk shows and left‑leaning columns draw a parallel with the 2003 Iraq war: critics claim the US again relies on a unilateral interpretation of international law while European allies are left to “clean up diplomatic and humanitarian consequences.”
The South Korean perspective on laws and rights of war is somewhat more pragmatic. In Seoul they closely read reports of destroyed Iranian infrastructure and casualty counts presented by Iran at the same UN Human Rights Council sessions where Saudi representatives speak, but the main question for the Korean public is not legal but strategic: does US willingness to conduct a high‑intensity war with Iran mean it would respond just as decisively in the event of a major crisis on the Korean Peninsula or around Taiwan? Korean international‑relations journals stress that Washington demonstrates capacity for massive use of precision weapons and dominance in air and sea—according to estimates published, among others, in an Arab analytical article, the US managed to destroy up to 92% of Iran’s major naval vessels and more than 90% of their drone‑missile potential. For Korean hawks this is “proof that the American deterrent umbrella is real”; for more cautious analysts it is a worrying sign that in a crisis on the Peninsula the US might prefer a large‑scale military solution whose consequences neighboring countries would have to deal with.
Across all three countries another common theme emerges: fatigue with the unpredictability of American foreign policy. In France this is expressed in growing debates about European “strategic autonomy” and the need for tools independent of US domestic political cycles and Donald Trump’s personalist style. In South Korea it surfaces in debates over whether to strengthen its own nuclear potential or at least secure from the US a formalized mechanism of joint nuclear planning, modelled on NATO, to reduce the risk that war‑and‑peace decisions are made in Washington without adequate regard for Korean interests. In Saudi Arabia the debate centers on “multi‑vector” scenarios in which Washington remains a key security partner, but space for deals with China and Russia in oil, technology and arms gradually expands, allowing Riyadh to raise the price of its cooperation with the US.
And yet, despite mounting irritation, neither France, nor South Korea, nor Saudi Arabia has so far formed a clear demand to break with or radically distance itself from the United States. Rather, it is a gradual reassessment: Washington is still seen as an indispensable military and economic center of power, but no longer as the unconditional architect of the international order. French experts call for a “partnership of adults” in which Europe can argue with the US over Iran and China without breaking the alliance. South Korean analysts seek arrangements that prevent a security alliance with the US from becoming an economic trap in relations with China. Saudi commentators, finally, ask how to turn the painful experience of recent weeks—missile strikes on Gulf cities, oil price shocks, the threat of closed sea lanes—into leverage for a deal with Washington that is more favorable to the Kingdom.
In any case, today’s debates in Paris, Seoul and Riyadh teach a common lesson: the more the United States uses power—military, economic, technological—the more its allies and partners consider not only the benefits but the cost of that power. And the more actively Washington tries to retain the role of “architect of order,” initiating wars, sanctions and tariff wars, the louder the question grows across the world: are we willing to keep paying for this order if the price is now expressed not only in dollars but in missiles falling on our cities?
