Three different regions at once — the Middle East, East Asia and southern Africa — are viewing the United States at the start of 2026 through the lens of their own anxieties and interests. Saudi media are dominated by the topic of American policy in the Middle East and its connection to regional stability and war with Iran. In Japan, the US is seen primarily as a source of both geoeconomic and military‑political risks and guarantees: from the renegotiation of the USMCA to the unpredictability of the next administration in Washington. In South Africa, Washington has become the object of a sharp dispute over sovereignty and “neocolonialism” because of a program to admit white South Africans as refugees and the US decision to exclude the country from the G20 summit in Miami. At first glance these are unrelated storylines, but in all three cases the same motifs recur: doubt about the durability of American leadership, irritation with Washington’s unilateral moves and, at the same time, an unwillingness to fully abandon it.
The first major node of debate is the new US–Iran confrontation and attempts to de‑escalate it. Saudi publications respond closely and emotionally to every Washington step in this direction, because this is not an abstract “great power politics” question but a direct threat to the region. The newspaper Al‑Riyadh welcomed the ceasefire agreement announced by Donald Trump between the US and Iran and emphasized that Riyadh hopes it will become “an opportunity for comprehensive and sustainable de‑escalation that will strengthen the region’s security” and stop “any aggressions and policies affecting the sovereignty and stability of the region’s countries” in a recent editorial note. The author is clearly referring not only to Iranian power projection but also to US inconsistency itself, which alternately increases pressure and seeks détente, leaving allies in a state of strategic uncertainty. (alriyadh.com)
In the same vein develops the line about “Saudi Arabia as a force of stability,” which also appears in earlier Al‑Riyadh texts. There it is stressed that Washington itself acknowledges the kingdom as a “force of stability in the region,” and the US–Saudi strategic partnership is declared the key instrument to contain “extremes and terrorism led by Iran.” Thus, in the Saudi view the US is simultaneously a source of risks and a necessary partner: American decisions can blow up the balance, but only America, cooperating with Riyadh, can maintain that balance. (spa.gov.sa)
An interesting layer of the Saudi‑Arab discussion is connected to the personality of Donald Trump and his style. Egyptian commentator Sherif Amer on MBC lays out the fact that Trump, as in 2017, again chose Riyadh as his first major foreign stop, breaking the tradition of making Europe and meetings with NATO the first destination. He explains this not only by economic and political interests, but as a demonstration that “the Middle East, not Europe, is now the stage on which Trump wants to show his new course” and where the US is trying to build a “new Middle East through the peoples of the region themselves.” In this narrative America becomes more of a director than a guarantor: it assigns roles but does not offer a clear script, and this, according to many Middle Eastern analysts, is the main source of concern. (newsroom.info)
The second major storyline — geoeconomics and military‑political alliances — features a distinctly Japanese voice. Here the US is perceived not through Middle East wars but through tariff policy, economic security and possible adjustments to alliance commitments. In a recent KPMG Japan review on “economic security and geopolitical risks in 2026” it is explicitly stated that as US elections approach, Washington is increasingly concentrating on “its own national interests” and considers the Indo‑Pacific region, including Japan, as “the main economic and geopolitical battleground.” From this follows business concerns: a revision of the USMCA is expected in 2026, and Japanese companies fear a new American administration will use trade agreements as leverage, including against allies. (kpmg.com)
At the same time, Japanese research centers and universities discuss a more fundamental question: how reliable is the US–Japan alliance itself in an era of presidential unpredictability. At a security symposium at Takushoku University devoted to “the next US administration and the future of the US‑Japan alliance,” experts spoke less about specific tariffs and more about how the “psychology of the alliance” changes when a leader who openly criticizes US military commitments and demands more contribution from allies occupies the White House. One speaker, Professor Sato, drew the audience’s attention to the factor of “personal compatibility” between the future US president and the Japanese prime minister, effectively acknowledging that strategic guarantees increasingly depend on the character and style of the particular American leader. (takushoku-u.ac.jp)
More radical thoughts are beginning to appear in columns by Japanese political scientists. International relations scholar Hideo Shinoda, in his analytical newsletter, ponders whether Japan could in the future rely on a sort of “Japan‑Europe alliance” as an alternative to excessive dependence on the US. The prompt for these reflections is precisely the American line on Ukraine and Russia: part of Japan’s expert community is noticeably irritated that Washington, especially under Trump, tends to press behind the scenes for peace talks rather than unconditionally supporting continuation of the war until Kyiv’s victory. For some Japanese authors this signals that “betting only on America” regarding European and East Asian security might be a mistake, and preparations are needed for a world with a more dispersed center of power. (shinodahideaki.theletter.jp)
The third powerful block of debates unfolds in South Africa and is linked to two high‑profile Washington actions: launching a special program to admit white South Africans as refugees, known as Mission South Africa, and the US decision not to invite South Africa to the G20 summit in Miami in 2026. Formally the program is framed as humanitarian: the majority of the 4,499 people admitted to the US under this line from October 2025 to March 2026 are white South Africans of Afrikaner origin who claim systematic discrimination and violence related to land reform. Inside South Africa this has sparked a large debate. For conservative and right‑wing Afrikaner circles the American initiative confirms their long‑standing complaints about threats to their communities and is a “long‑awaited recognition” by the Western world. For the ruling elite and leftist movements it looks like an attempt by Washington to “map South Africa along racial lines” and delegitimize post‑apartheid land redistribution policy. (en.wikipedia.org)
The US decision to exclude South Africa from the invited list for the G20 summit, motivated by “treatment of Afrikaners” and the dispute over the transfer of South African chairmanship, only amplified these sentiments. South African editorials speak almost in unison: Washington is, in effect, punishing the country not for human rights violations in general, but for a conflict concerning a specific group historically associated with the ruling elite of the apartheid era. In one typical comment this action is described as a “neocolonial managerial gesture,” whereby the US renders a moral verdict on an entire post‑apartheid transformation policy without taking into account its own history of racial conflict and the colonial backdrop of the situation. For part of the local public this strengthens the desire to distance itself from Washington and rely on BRICS formats and the “Global South” as a counterweight. (en.wikipedia.org)
Interestingly, the African conversation about the US is not limited to South Africa. A series of English‑language African commentaries, against the background of a sharp reduction in American aid to the continent, emphasizes that the drop in aid from more than $12 billion in the last year of the Biden administration to roughly $7.9 billion under Trump did not lead to the “apocalypse” some expected, but instead pushed states toward deeper internal mobilization and regional integration. African authors note: the “sharp reduction in support” painfully affected sectors like healthcare and aid for victims of violence, but at the same time accelerated the launch of the African Continental Free Trade Area and the abandonment of illusions that “donors will solve Africa’s problems.” Against this backdrop America appears more as a tough coach than a benefactor: by pushing away, it forces the continent to learn to swim on its own. (apnews.com)
If one compares these three regional optics, several crosscutting motifs emerge that are not obvious when reading only American media. First, unpredictability of the US dominates almost everywhere today. In Saudi Arabia this manifests as anxiety: can Washington at any moment change its line on Iran and leave the region to face the consequences alone. In Japan it is the fear that another revision of trade rules and alliance commitments will be dictated by domestic political logic in Washington rather than coordinated with partners. In South Africa it is the feeling that tomorrow the issue of “human rights” might be used against any policy that does not fit the American political discourse.
Second, in all three cases a motif of “forced dependence” appears. Riyadh criticizes or at least warily assesses many US steps but simultaneously stresses the indispensability of the US‑Saudi partnership for regional stability and the fight against ISIS and Iranian influence. Tokyo increasingly contemplates alternatives and “parallel pillars” such as Europe, but the same KPMG analysis underscores that the US views the Indo‑Pacific as the main front — meaning that without American guarantees Japan risks being alone before China. South Africa, despite outrage over Mission South Africa and the G20 snub, does not sever ties with Washington: too much is tied to investment, trade and access to financial markets.
Third, there is a shared fatigue with American moral leadership. Saudi and other Arab authors increasingly question Washington’s right to speak for the “international community” when its own actions in the region are contradictory. Japanese analysts are irritated that the American discourse of “democracy versus authoritarianism” is combined with a very pragmatic attitude toward allies: if it is electorally advantageous to pressure Japan with tariffs, it will be done regardless of shared values. South African commentators see American guardianship over the “rights of particular minorities” as a way to sidestep discussion of structural inequality and historical legacy, and therefore are more likely to call for a “multipolar ethics” where different regions themselves formulate the balance between justice and sovereignty.
Finally, each region offers its own prescription for dealing with this new America. In the Middle East pragmatism dominates: work with whoever is in the White House now, squeeze the maximum out of bilateral partnership and simultaneously build additional ties — from China to regional alliances. In East Asia interest grows in “insuring” against American unpredictability through internal strengthening of defense capabilities and development of horizontal ties with Europe and neighbors. In South Africa, and more broadly across the continent, the call grows louder not to mourn the reduction of American aid but to use it as an opportunity to build a less dependent economy and diplomatic line.
From Washington’s perspective, these voices may seem little more than background noise to America’s domestic battles. But it is in these Saudi, Japanese and South African columns and debates that the real content of the “world’s attitude toward the US” is being formed — not in polls about the popularity of the American flag, but in the cold calculations, anxieties and hopes of countries that must live with the consequences of American decisions.
