The restoration of American influence in the Middle East, a new architecture of a “Trump‑style peace,” and Washington’s attempt to become again an indispensable mediator in conflicts from Gaza to Ukraine — all of this is shaping how the world talks about the United States today. In Saudi Arabia, Germany and Turkey the discussion is less about the mere fact of America’s return to major diplomatic play and more about the price of that return, the mechanism of its implementation and the consequences for their own interests. A running theme is the figure of Donald Trump and his team: attitudes toward the US effectively merge with attitudes toward a specific, highly personalized US foreign policy.
One of the central storylines resonating across several countries is the US’s new Middle East strategy and the peace plan for Gaza. Arab media view this line through a lens of suspicion: any “peacebuilding” under an American umbrella risks cementing a status quo favorable to Israel and permanently freezing the Palestinian issue. Russian outlet RBC, relaying the sentiments of Arab diplomats about the American idea of a “New Gaza” — a reconstruction zone on territory controlled by Israel — cites an unnamed representative of one Arab country: “It would look catastrophic. It would look as if we are building for Israel, not for the Palestinians”; according to him, no Arab state is ready to invest money in such a format. RBC, quoting the Financial Times, notes that the fear in the region is that this amounts to a long‑term partition of Palestinian territory into a “safe” zone under Israeli control and a zone where Hamas and the majority of the population remain — and that the US, by its reconstruction plan and the architecture of a “Council of Peace” in Gaza, effectively legitimizes that split. That is why Saudi Arabia, the UAE and Qatar, the paper reports, are extremely cautious and tie the funding promised by Trump for Gaza to political conditions — from full disarmament of Hamas to guarantees from Israel — as well as to their own budgetary constraints amid falling oil revenues. In this debate the US position is seen as both necessary and deeply suspicious: without American pressure the peace plan won’t work, but it is precisely Washington, in the view of many Arab analysts, that seeks to turn postwar Gaza into a demilitarized buffer in Israel’s interests.
Germany, viewing the same American activism, focuses primarily on the question of US reliability and predictability as guarantor of future peace regimes. At a government press conference on January 7 a Berlin spokesman, answering a journalist’s question, did not publicly undermine trust in Washington but had to strike a balance: the journalist directly questioned the “price” of American promises, recalling Trump’s idea to ban Russia and China from resource extraction in Greenland and other sharp statements; the spokesman acknowledged that without “strong” US guarantees the pressure necessary to implement the political process is unimaginable, and stressed that it was Washington’s willingness to deploy a “cascade of political, military and economic measures” that brought negotiations to the current stage. At the same time he had to explain why the US did not sign the “coalition of the willing” document, although it had in effect “accompanied the process” and was “symbolically present” at the Paris meeting where guarantees were discussed. A familiar European narrative comes through in the German view: Washington, on the one hand, remains indispensable as a military and political center of gravity; on the other hand — it increasingly fails to correspond to the classic image of a multilateral, treaty‑accompanying leader and prefers the role of an external architect who does not sign the format but sets the framework of its content.
The Turkish discussion about the US today particularly reveals the economic underpinning of American policy in the Middle East. In a column by economic commentator Bekir Tamer Gökalp in the Turkish newspaper Dünya under the headline “What Does America Want to Do in the Middle East? Economic Reality Behind the Politics,” the author shows how the region is seen through price screens rather than geopolitical maps: swings in oil prices, rising freight and insurance costs, worsening inflation expectations and deferred hopes of rate cuts. Gökalp emphasizes that the US no longer depends on Middle Eastern oil as it once did, but the region has not become less strategic for that reason: Washington, in his view, is trying not so much to “control resources” as to shield the global economic order from shocks, managing risks across the strategic corridor from the Suez Canal to the Persian Gulf. For Turkey, whose economy is sensitive to energy prices and maritime logistics, this logic is especially important: any American action — from sanctions to military maneuvers — is assessed in terms of its impact on Turkish inflation, the lira and Turkey’s ability to pursue an independent regional policy. At the same time the Turkish analyst, unlike many Arab commentators, somewhat demystifies the US: its actions, he argues, are less ideologically and militarily motivated than commonly believed and more aimed at stabilizing global demand and financing conditions, albeit with an obvious priority for its own interests.
Another major theme shared by Saudi Arabia, Germany and Turkey is the US attempt to become the main moderator of a postwar security architecture in Europe and around Ukraine, using Saudi Arabia as the venue. Russian outlet RBC gives detailed coverage of the upcoming March 11 talks in Jeddah between US and Ukrainian delegations, where the US is expected to confirm willingness for a ceasefire, and Kyiv, according to the paper, proposes a “partial ceasefire” — a cessation of fire in the air and at sea. For the first time after the public spat between Trump and Zelensky in the Oval Office, the Saudi venue becomes the place where Washington and Kyiv try to synchronize positions; the paper notes that the US has paused shipments of arms and intelligence to Ukraine, and doubts about the fate of deals over Ukrainian resources underline how dependent Kyiv is on the current American administration. That the talks are held in Jeddah is especially significant for Saudi audiences: the kingdom presents itself as a new nodal mediator where both sides of the conflict, including the US, are willing to speak under the “umbrella” of Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman. Russian and Middle Eastern commentators see in this both a rise in Saudi Arabia’s weight and an indication of a new US style — shifting key negotiations to friendly but non‑Western capitals where Washington can operate more freely than, say, in Brussels.
In the German and broader European discussion Ukraine and Russia are also present, but the emphases differ: for Berlin it is important that the US not make behind‑the‑scenes deals without regard for European interests. At the aforementioned press conference the government spokesman stressed that it is precisely American willingness to “guarantee” and participate in a peace mission that makes the process possible, while at the same time blurring the usual logic of multilateral agreements in which the US is an equal signatory. The unsigned but “supported” agreement backed by Washington — the “coalition of the willing” — is a convenient pretext for doubts about the durability of American commitments among some German commentators, although Berlin does not officially articulate this. From the perspective of the German elite, the US remains a necessary military and political anchor, but the historical experience of Trump‑1 and the current personalization of decisions around the president force them to discuss diversifying guarantees, with the EU and NATO trying to strengthen their roles as formal bearers of obligations while the US acts as the de facto guarantor under its own brand.
Against this background Saudi Arabia is building a more pragmatic, sometimes transactional, line toward the US. It is characteristic that discussion of the American role in the region among Saudi audiences is closely entwined with the domestic Vision 2030 agenda and major projects tied to the kingdom’s image for Western investors. Thus the decision for WWE to hold Royal Rumble 2026 in Riyadh is interpreted not only as part of sporting “soft power” but also as an element of a long‑term decade‑long contract supporting a modernization strategy in which the US supplies content, symbols and spectacles while Saudi Arabia provides the venue and investment. At the same time the Financial Times writes about a large‑scale revision of the Neom megaproject: according to the paper, Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman, after years of delays and cost overruns, agreed to a significant “downsizing” of plans, including for the flagship linear city The Line, and to reorient parts of the project toward data centers and infrastructure for AI development. Against this backdrop American technological and financial partners, including major IT companies and funds, are seen in Saudi Arabia both as sources of know‑how and as instruments of pressure: Washington, local and regional commentators stress, can not only provide access to technologies but also block it, and the scale of Vision 2030’s ambitions makes the kingdom vulnerable to potential American sanctions or regulatory decisions.
The German view of these same economic aspects of relations with the US is far more institutionalized: Berlin openly acknowledges that Washington’s proposals on sanctions, export controls and energy policy force Germany to balance dependence on American security with the desire to preserve autonomy in economic ties. In the discussion around the future EU–Mercosur agreement, mentioned at the same government press conference, the shadow of American trade policy is palpable: fears that abrupt unilateral actions by the White House — from Trump’s threatened “penalty tariffs” on France over its stance on his “Council of Peace” to potential tariffs on European goods — could undermine the economic foundation of the transatlantic partnership are regularly voiced in German business and analytical circles. Thus the question of “American reliability” is not only about Ukraine or the Middle East but also about the future of the entire export model of the German economy.
A special place in the current discussion of the US is occupied by Donald Trump’s initiative to create a “Council of Peace” or “Friedensrat,” which the German newspaper Die Welt covers in detail. In this construct the American president himself would head an informal global body that countries could join by paying a billion dollars for a perpetual membership or a smaller sum for a three‑year participation. Some countries, from Egypt to Argentina and a number of Arab states, have publicly welcomed the invitation; others, including France, Norway and Sweden, refuse, and Germany, Die Welt emphasizes, is “so far cautious” and is studying the consequences. For Berlin and much of the European elite the problem is not only the price of entry but the principle: a global peace institution built on a subscription, essentially pay‑to‑play model under the personal leadership of the US president is seen as undermining the very logic of multilateralism. In the Arab world, where some states have already declared readiness to participate, the reaction is more pragmatic: if this format can secure access to American influence and resources, the question of price and procedural anomalies recedes. Against this background France’s refusal and Trump’s threat to retaliate with tariffs on French goods create a troubling precedent for Germany and the rest of Europe — the American president openly uses trade instruments to punish allies for disagreeing with his “world architecture.” Turkish commentators see in this story further confirmation that Washington, in the Trump era, builds foreign policy as a web of deals in which moral and institutional frameworks are secondary to personal and financial arrangements.
The Turkish perspective lends the US discussion a more cynical and at the same time pragmatic tone. Unlike many European debates that note a “crisis of liberal leadership” in America, Turkish analysts more often talk about how to use American fears, economic interests and domestic political cycles to advance their regional ambitions — from Syria to the Eastern Mediterranean. In the aforementioned column in Dünya the risk for Ankara is seen not only in potential sanctions or dollar fluctuations but also in the fact that an excessive US presence as a “global firefighter” in the region devalues the role of middle powers, to which Turkey clearly aspires. Therefore for a Turkish audience the question is not whether the US is “good or bad” but how to minimize its ability to set the rules of the game without entering into direct conflict and without losing access to Western markets and technologies.
On the Middle East track, especially in Saudi Arabia, attitudes toward the US are now determined by a dual logic: on the one hand, Washington remains a key security guarantor — from the Iranian factor to sea lines of communication in the Red Sea; on the other hand the kingdom is increasingly building independent coalitions and projects that do not imply automatic subordination to the American agenda. The growing rivalry between Saudi Arabia and the UAE over Yemen, analyzed in detail by the Washington Post, shows how much the regional scene has changed: Saudi Arabia, relying on Yemen’s legitimate government, opposes UAE‑backed southern separatists, while at the same time building ties with Egypt and Somalia and limiting the use of its airspace for flights related to UAE operations. The US figures in this dispute more as external context — their past experience in Yemen, their role in securing Red Sea shipping, their current reluctance to intervene in a conflict between two key allies. For Saudi commentators this is an additional argument that Washington can no longer and does not want to “hold an umbrella” over all regional conflicts; for Turkey it confirms that the balance of power in the Gulf and the Red Sea is increasingly determined by local coalition configurations rather than formal American guarantees.
Bringing together the reactions of the three countries, several key themes emerge where views of the US coincide and diverge. First, there is everywhere an awareness of Washington’s indispensability: neither in the Middle East, nor in Europe, nor in the Black Sea region can a new security configuration be built without American involvement, even if it takes unusual, personalized forms. Second, skepticism about the durability and predictability of American commitments is growing in all three capitals: in Berlin — through the prism of unsigned agreements and threats of trade wars; in Riyadh — through experiences with Gaza, Ukraine and megaprojects dependent on Western investment; in Ankara — through the volatility of American moves in Syria and around sanction policy. Third, there is a noticeable shift in perspective everywhere: the US is increasingly perceived not as the abstract “leader of the democratic West” but as a large, concrete center of power with whom deals are made, bargains struck, competition engaged in and occasional resistance mounted.
Finally, the main thing that unites these three different debates is the understanding that a “post‑American” world has not arrived, as many predicted in the mid‑2010s, but a world “after unconditional US leadership” has. Saudi Arabia, Germany and Turkey are each finding ways to deal with Washington in this reality: some through cautious institutional distancing, some through pragmatic participation in new formats like the “Council of Peace,” and some through economic adaptation to turbulence caused by American decisions. And behind debates about individual plans — from the “New Gaza” to peace missions and trade agreements — stands the same question: what will the world look like in which the US remains very powerful but is no longer able — and not inclined — to be for everyone the sole and final authority.
