If you’re looking for sentimentality or symbolic gestures, you won’t find them in Donald Trump’s second-term foreign policy—especially not in the Middle East. What you will find is a transactional recalibration rooted in one question: What do we get out of this?
It’s a question Washington hasn’t asked nearly enough. For decades, America has signed blank checks to foreign allies, policed distant borders, and absorbed trade imbalances that weaken its own economy. Trump’s approach isn’t based on ideology—it’s based on leverage, cost-benefit analysis, and putting American interests first.
Israel remains a key strategic ally, but under Trump’s second term, it’s being treated as an ally—not an untouchable sacred cow. Despite the U.S. sending nearly $4 billion in annual military aid under a 10-year agreement, Israel reportedly asked Trump for tariff exemptions and additional economic concessions.
Trump’s response was blunt: “You’re already getting billions. The U.S. is paying nothing more.” That wasn’t anti-Israel—it was pro-American taxpayer. It was the application of the same logic used in renegotiating NATO contributions, NAFTA, and the U.S.-China trade imbalance: no more paying twice.
Adding fuel to the fire, Trump’s trust in Israeli leadership was further strained by revelations that former National Security Advisor Mike Waltz had engaged in unauthorized communications with Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu. According to reports, Waltz was in backchannel talks with Israeli officials about possible military action against Iran—without the president’s approval. These conversations directly contradicted Trump’s stated aim of avoiding new Middle East wars and instead seeking economic stability and leverage-based diplomacy.
When the news broke, Trump immediately fired Waltz, seeing it as not just insubordination, but a deliberate attempt to sabotage his foreign policy. The fallout deepened the rift between Trump and Netanyahu, reinforcing Trump’s belief that even close allies must be handled with discipline, not deference.
Perhaps the most perplexing chapter of Trump’s Middle East playbook is Gaza. On one hand, he has declared that he wants Palestinians to be free. On the other, his proposal to “take over” Gaza and transform it into a Middle East Riviera—potentially involving forced relocation—has drawn fierce criticism for being both vague and volatile.
The complexity deepens when you factor in that a significant number of Muslim Americans supported Trump in 2024, largely in protest of the Biden administration’s handling of the war in Gaza. Many believed Trump would de-escalate the conflict and stand up to Netanyahu. Now, those same voters are watching with confusion as Trump’s unorthodox style leaves more questions than answers.
He says he wants peace. He says he wants Palestinians to be free. But what does freedom mean under a U.S.-imposed redevelopment plan that may displace millions? So far, he hasn’t said clearly. And that lack of clarity is leaving Muslim Americans—who made a calculated bet on Trump as a disruptor—uncertain about what they actually voted for.
Still, Trump is doing what most politicians won’t: forcing a conversation on results rather than ritual. Whether his Gaza plan is naive or visionary, it reflects a shift away from symbolic diplomacy and toward blunt economic engineering—whether the region is ready or not.
While Israel is asking for more, Saudi Arabia is offering more—in the form of a $1 trillion investment package in defense, infrastructure, and AI. Trump is pursuing nuclear cooperation with the Kingdom without making it contingent on recognizing Israel, breaking from previous U.S. policy.
Why? Because Trump sees direct, measurable benefit. He’s not interested in preserving outdated diplomatic rituals when new alliances serve American jobs, manufacturing, and geopolitical strength better.
Trump’s new push for a nuclear deal with Iran also reflects transactional realism. Unlike previous administrations, he’s not betting on goodwill. He’s demanding a complete dismantling of uranium enrichment in exchange for economic relief. That’s not diplomacy through optimism—it’s negotiation through pressure.
And unlike the Obama-era deal, Trump’s approach refuses to sideline Israel’s security concerns—but also refuses to let them dictate U.S. leverage at the bargaining table.
Donald Trump isn’t playing checkers in the Middle East. He’s playing chess—and he’s refusing to make moves just because they “look good” or preserve status quo relationships.
He’s telling allies, including Israel: If you’re already getting billions in military aid, don’t expect tariff breaks too. If you want American support, show us the economic return. If you want to avoid war, end it before January.
Critics will call it cold or transactional. But in a world of rising debt, broken alliances, and endless conflict, what America needs is exactly this kind of realism. The logic is simple: If the outcome doesn’t serve the American people, it’s not worth the cost.
