False Assurance: The Price the Gulf Paid and the Lessons Learned

On the morning of February 28, 2026, when “Operation Epic Fury” began, a strange sense of optimism prevailed in the Gulf capitals. Confidence in the security architecture built with billions of dollars paid to the United States was absolute. Al Udeid Air Base was in Qatar, the Fifth Fleet was in Bahrain, and Camp Arifjan was in Kuwait. Patriot missiles had been deployed, and weapons worth billions of dollars had been purchased. The United States was there, and everything was in order. However, the collapse that followed was neither sudden nor unforeseeable. There was a problem far deeper than an intelligence failure. The Gulf security architecture assumed deterrence as an automatic outcome. Yet deterrence is possible not only through military presence, but through a credible resolve regarding under what conditions and to what extent that presence would be used. This resolve was never articulated in a clear and binding manner.

Within hours, this confidence was shattered. Iran struck every country hosting U.S. bases. The number of missiles, drones, and rockets launched by Iran toward the Gulf and Israel approached 7,000, with 83 percent of them targeting Gulf countries. The Strait of Hormuz was closed, daily transit dropped from 135 ships to 10, oil prices rose to $110 per barrel, and 70 percent of the region’s food imports were disrupted. Nevertheless, it is clear that the true scale of the situation is far greater than the numbers suggest. So, in the face of this situation, is the first thing to do to present oneself as a victim? No. The Gulf countries are not merely victims of this war; whether consciously or not, they are also architects of the process.

Security Sold, Not a Commitment

What is said about the Gulf security architecture mostly obscures the truth. The truth is this: The United States has been selling security to the region for decades, not making a security commitment. Though the difference may seem small, it is decisive. The party that sells security also defines its boundaries.The party making a commitment, however, must be held accountable for it. The Gulf believed it was receiving the latter, even though it was dealing with the former. The party purchasing security does not have full authority over the scope and conditions of its use. The final decision on its use often depends on the political will of the security provider. The buyer cannot fully determine when, where, or for whose benefit it will be used. Therefore, attributing the blame solely to Washington obscures this reality. Unless this form of relationship is questioned, the same dependency model is reproduced after every crisis.

Saudi Arabia is the United States’ largest Foreign Military Sales (FMS) customer. Qatar ranks second. The UAE holds the title of “Major Defense Partner,” a designation it shares only with India. Saudi Arabia, Qatar, Kuwait, and Bahrain hold “Major Non-NATO Ally” status. On paper, these statuses appear nearly perfect. In practice, however, they amount to little more than faster access to advanced U.S. weapons. The technical dimension of this architecture is also often misunderstood. Patriot and similar air defense systems can demonstrate high effectiveness against a limited number of ballistic missile threats. However, in intense attack scenarios involving the simultaneous use of hundreds of missiles and unmanned aerial vehicles, the effectiveness of these systems drops rapidly. In other words, the systems purchased provide not “full protection” but “partial mitigation.” That is, even if the systems function, they are not sufficient.

The Gulf countries overlooked this distinction at the strategic level. Moreover, this is a cost trap. Spending millions of dollars on Patriot missiles to shoot down a drone costing a few thousand dollars makes defense economically unsustainable. An even more critical reality is that the U.S. military presence does not merely produce deterrence, but also produces targets. From Iran’s perspective, countries hosting U.S. bases are not neutral actors, but forward outposts of the war. Rather than increasing their security, this situation has turned the Gulf countries into the primary direct targets of the conflict.

No official and ratified defense agreement similar to NATO’s Article 5—namely, “an attack on you is considered an attack on us”—has ever been signed between the United States and Saudi Arabia. The fact that Trump signed an executive order in September 2025 stating, “We consider an armed attack on Qatar a threat to U.S. security,” while Saudi Arabia had to settle for a Strategic Defense Agreement without receiving even that level of assurance, clearly reveals the nature of the bargain. An executive order is neither a NATO commitment nor a treaty ratified by Congress. Trump could revoke it tomorrow. Indeed, the same Trump had said, “We were shocked.” So, did the Gulf countries not know this? They did. And yet, they chose to build and maintain this architecture.

Why Did the Gulf Security Architecture Collapse?

Why did this architecture collapse so quickly in its first major test? The answer lies not in the inadequacy of the weapons, but in the fact that the architecture itself was built on a contradictory premise. The U.S. presence produces targets as much as it generates deterrence. From Iran’s perspective, Qatar and Bahrain, which host the Al Udeid base, were not neutral states but forward outposts of the war. The Patriot systems, meanwhile, did not provide the comprehensive protection advertised, but rather served to partially mitigate the impact of a potential attack. In heavy attack scenarios—that is, the simultaneous use of hundreds of missiles and drones—the effectiveness of these systems drops rapidly. It is not possible to claim that the Gulf countries were unaware of this. However, it is clear that this reality was not reflected in their strategic calculations.

The U.S. presence in the region is not an absolute guarantee of defense, but a military posture based on interests. Washington will not take unlimited risks in a regional war unless its own territory is directly threatened. This reality has been obscured by the rhetoric of “partnership” on paper, yet it has never disappeared. Rather than integrating their security within a collective structure, the Gulf countries chose to establish separate systems dependent on the United States. Since a common early warning, air defense, and command-and-control network was not established, each country was forced to respond to attacks on its own. We must be honest here. The Gulf monarchies did not build this security arrangement as passive actors, but through conscious choices. Qatar spent $1.8 billion on Al Udeid Air Base. Saudi Arabia has funneled hundreds of billions of dollars into U.S. weapons systems over decades. Bahrain effectively ceded a portion of its sovereignty to host the Fifth Fleet. The U.S. presence functioned as a deterrent shield against forces that could threaten regime security from within and without.

 

When Iraq invaded Kuwait in 1990, it was the U.S.-led coalition that liberated the country. This reality has always remained in the background. However, the same countries never asked—or chose not to ask—what deterrence was against and to what extent it applied. Wasn’t the U.S. silence in response to the Houthis’ 2019 drone attack on Saudi Aramco’s Abqaiq facilities a warning sign? In the September 2025 Doha attack, in which Israel targeted Hamas leaders, the U.S. had not even provided its ally with sufficient prior warning. One from Iran, the other from Israel—both pointed to the same reality. That is, this architecture had been established not to protect the Gulf, but to serve the interests of others. The limits of the deterrence produced by a Washington that said, “We were surprised,” had long since become visible. Gulf capitals saw these signs, yet did not reflect them in their policy choices.

This choice makes it difficult to define them solely as victims and instead makes them actors with a stake in the process. Moreover, a victim-centered foreign policy weakens the reflex to hold others accountable. An architecture that cannot be held accountable cannot renew itself. The arsenal has grown. However, a doctrine capable of using this arsenal independently and in an integrated manner has not developed. Security was imported, but the threat remained local and persistent.

A Realistic Question: What About an Alternative?

Before moving on to the alternative, one issue must be addressed. Because a valid objection may arise. Would the situation be even worse without a U.S. presence? It likely would be. However, this does not mean that the current model is successful. What needs to be debated is not the U.S. presence itself, but how it has been misinterpreted and turned into overconfidence. Of course, the following question must also be asked: What will replace the U.S. security architecture?

China has increased its economic weight in the region in recent years. It brokered the Iran–Saudi rapprochement in 2023. However, China has neither an actual nor a stated security commitment to the Gulf. Russia, on the other hand, as demonstrated by the Syrian experience, is skilled not in stabilization but in producing controlled chaos. The defense pact signed with Pakistan opens up a new perspective. However, considering that Pakistan is grappling with its own security issues along the Afghan border and that the Taliban is signaling solidarity with Iran, what this pact will mean remains open to debate.

The idea of a NATO-like structure within the Gulf Cooperation Council is ambitious, but remains an uncertain project. The defense systems of Gulf countries are integrated not with one another, but largely with U.S. infrastructure. Overcoming this dependency requires a far more comprehensive transformation than simply acquiring new weapons systems. The current architecture has become dysfunctional. Yet there is no alternative to replace it. This contradiction reveals the true depth of the crisis.

What Should the Gulf Do?

The architecture has collapsed, and the alternative is not ready. However, this is no excuse for inaction. The correct approach is to learn from the past and clarify where to go from here.

The first step is to abandon the fragmented structure and establish an integrated air defense and early warning network. This is not a technical issue, but a decision requiring the building of political trust that has been postponed for a decade. Throughout the war, the Gulf countries responded to attacks largely on their own. Had there been a common command and control network, both casualties would have been reduced and negotiating power would have increased.

The second step is to recognize that defense capacity cannot be built solely through systems, but through doctrine and human resources as well. Therefore, joint training, war games, and a unified command culture must be developed. Otherwise, technical integration will not be sustainable in the long term.The Gulf must do this.

The third step is to renegotiate the relationship with the United States. Demanding a “dual-key” mechanism for operations conducted from their own territory is both a legal and strategic necessity. If Qatar, which invested $1.8 billion in Al Udeid, does not demand a say in when and how that base is used, this is not sovereignty but surrender. As long as the Gulf’s relationship with the United States remains within the customer-supplier framework, every war will once again prove that purchasing security does not produce deterrence.

The fourth step is to establish a direct balancing policy with Iran. For a decade, Gulf capitals believed it was possible to play both Washington and Tehran. This war has shown that this strategy is an illusion. Lasting security cannot rely solely on weapons; without a regional arrangement for managing tensions, the cycle will not be broken.

The fifth and perhaps most concrete step is economic resilience. The closure of Hormuz exposed the Gulf’s vulnerability to a single chokepoint. Expanding bypass pipelines, strengthening logistics infrastructure in the Red Sea and the Arabian Sea, and reducing dependence on oil revenues are no longer choices but necessities.

The reality is this: In this war, the Gulf countries were attacked by an external power. However, the resulting situation was, to a large extent, the price of the security model they had embraced for decades. They leased their bases, acquired their weapons, and preserved their status, but they did not develop a common defense doctrine, test the limits of deterrence, or question under what conditions Washington would enter a war. The Houthi drone and missile attack on Abqaiq in 2019 and the Doha attack of September 9, 2025, in which Israel targeted Hamas leaders, were warning signs that the security architecture had been fundamentally misdesigned. One from Iran, the other from Israel—both revealed the same truth. Namely, in practice, this architecture served a function that prioritized the interests of others more than the protection of the Gulf.

The Gulf monarchies can no longer postpone the question before them. The fundamental question is this: Will they continue to purchase security like a commodity, or will they transform into an actor that produces it themselves? Choosing the latter requires developing doctrine, taking risks, and being willing to negotiate with Washington on equal footing. Choosing the former means accepting the bill for the next war in advance.