In a world where the meaning of alliances shifts daily, where an enemy can quickly become a potential partner, and a longtime ally can lose privileges at the first sign of disagreement, Donald Trump's political philosophy stands out. It's a doctrine that disregards traditional constants: he despises prolonged wars and thrives on quick deals—even with former adversaries. From Gaza to Sanaa, Tehran to Moscow, and Tel Aviv to Kyiv, Trump decided that nothing lasts but interests. For him, the Middle East is no longer a battlefield for wars, but fertile ground for transactional diplomacy.
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A closer look into Trump’s thinking reveals he is uninterested in abstract notions like "just wars" or defending a distant ally. He is not burdened by a heavy diplomatic legacy. His approach is simple: who pays more, and who offers America a better deal?
That’s why he didn’t hesitate to send his envoys to knock on the doors of Washington’s historic adversaries—from Hamas to the Houthis, from Iran’s clerics to Russia’s generals. In Gaza, the headline was "truce for hostages." In Yemen, there was an under-the-table deal with the Houthis—even though the U.S. had designated them as a terrorist group. Even American citizen Aidan Alexander, held by Hamas, became a bargaining chip in a complex deal that Israeli Prime Minister Netanyahu ultimately rejected, fearing it would force Tel Aviv into future concessions.
Trump alone believed that every party in the Middle East has a price, and every crisis can be shelved temporarily. He understood that wars in that region never truly end, and decisive victories are an illusion. So he replaced the logic of “total victory” with “temporary deals.” This approach evolved into explicit U.S. policy, especially with the escalation of the Russia-Ukraine war, as Washington realized it couldn’t manage a war in Eastern Europe while leaving the Middle East in flames.
Trump’s transactional strategy, viewed by his critics as reckless and compromising, is seen by his supporters as a post-hegemonic realism. In this context, rigid ideological doctrines lose their value, and wars that can’t be won lose their justification. Trump’s deals in the Middle East were not just settlements, but a restructuring of American influence—based on “taming, not destroying.” Yesterday’s foe is now at the table; yesterday’s ally gets a warning, while Washington times its crisis management to its own advantage.
What’s controversial, though, is that this strategy—despite all the criticism—might be the most aligned with today’s shifting regional realities. Gulf states are reconciling with Iran despite rivalry; Turkey is forming flexible alliances; and Israel is fighting temporary battles with no decisive objectives. Syria remains an open-ended conflict. Amid this complexity, it was smart of Washington to play the game of “containment, not escalation,” while keeping hold of the strings.
As for the war in Ukraine, this approach has become a necessity. The conflict hasn’t only disrupted Washington’s European calculus—it has also reordered its priorities. Alliances now cost more, and enmities mean less. It's more pragmatic to negotiate with a foe who may offer concessions than to bleed resources in a war with no foreseeable end.
In the end, Trump’s deals—whether in Gaza, Sanaa, or around hostage files—were not acts of surrender. They were temporary mandates that created calm fronts when America needed to focus on what it deemed its primary war. These policies may not please traditional institutions in Washington or long-standing allies used to unconditional benefits, but they might just be the most suitable formula for the post-unipolar world. The new Middle East is not a place for full-scale wars; it is a field of temporary deals, where adversaries get conditional chances, allies get warned, and America gains moments of stability when it needs them most.
This is Trump’s strategy.
