The second presidential term of Donald Trump has rewritten the grammar of American diplomacy in the Middle East. No longer centered on Tel Aviv or the classical dichotomies between democracy and Islamism, U.S. foreign policy now orbits around Riyadh and the Gulf monarchies, which have become the new gravitational poles. The most theatrical manifestation of this realignment? The photo that shook the Levant: Syrian President Ahmed al-Sharaa—once a jihadist commander, now installed after Assad—in the Rose Garden beside Trump.

A New, consolidated Regional order

Since May, Trump’s hyperactive diplomatic campaign has accelerated on multiple fronts. The most striking fact: the 12-day war between Iran and Israel has revealed new strategic red lines. Containing Tehran, even at the cost of disrupting old alliances, is now the priority.

In this context, the White House meeting with Sharaa represents an unprecedented turning point. Ahmad al-Sharaa enters the Oval Office today as no Syrian leader ever has. Not only is he the first head of state from Damascus to cross the White House threshold, but his presence marks the end of an era: that of decades of isolation and conflict that had relegated Syria to the margins of the international order.

Less than a year after the fall of Bashar al-Assad, the former leader of the Islamist movement Hayat Tahrir al-Sham—and earlier a commander of al-Qaeda—arrives in Washington as a political partner of the United States, symbol of a geopolitical conversion reshaping regional balances. The path that brought him here is paradoxical and strategically revolutionary: the movement supporting him has dismantled the last vestiges of Assad’s regime and, with them, the influence of Russia and Iran.

Following an initial meeting in Riyadh, Trump began a gradual removal of U.S. sanctions in place since 1979, signaling the end of Syria’s economic isolation. At the same time, the UN Security Council adopted a resolution easing certain personal sanctions on members of Syria’s new leadership.

Behind the scenes, the American administration is working to seal a quiet pact: Israel halts air raids in exchange for a blockade on military supplies to Hezbollah. Also on the table: reopening reconstruction channels and establishing a U.S. base near Damascus to monitor compliance and coordinate humanitarian operations.

The Trump-Sharaa summit agenda is centered on defense and security. Syria will sign formal accession to the international anti-ISIS coalition, allowing for a gradual U.S. military drawdown. But challenges remain: rebuilding a state army from the rubble of jihadist militias, and managing the integration of the Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF), which are demanding autonomy guarantees.

The broader ambition is to include Syria in the Abraham Accords, paving the way for normalization with Israel. In exchange, Damascus is not demanding recognition of the Palestinian cause but is instead reviving the issue of the Golan Heights: a novel negotiating angle that opens space compared to Assad-era rigidity.

President Trump aims to bind the new Syria to a pragmatic alliance system. According to U.S. sources, the American military outpost will also serve as a strategic lever to promote a “cold peace” between Damascus and Tel Aviv.

This “Syrian pivot” is crystallized by the decision—confirmed by diplomatic sources—to build a permanent U.S. base near the capital, intended to host logistics, intelligence, and civil protection units. This is not just military deterrence: it is a semantic outpost, a symbolic garrison of the new alliance. Its function is twofold: monitoring the agreement with Israel on halting arms flows to Hezbollah and serving as a coordination hub for humanitarian efforts and multilateral reconstruction plans, with participation from UN agencies and Gulf capitals. An unequivocal signal: post-Assad Syria can become a pillar of the new regional order, if it accepts the rules of the Western game.

Russia and Iran at the corner

On a systemic level, Syria’s recognition as a legitimate actor fits into a U.S. strategy to marginalize Russian and Iranian spheres of influence. With Moscow gradually retreating from the Syrian theater, forced to concentrate resources elsewhere, and Iran’s soft power eroding among Levantine Sunnis, Washington seeks to fill the vacuum through a model of conditional stabilization.

Turkey is also part of this model, offered co-participation in reconstruction projects provided the Kurdish issue does not obstruct the integration of SDF forces into Syria’s new framework. Ankara, though skeptical, must choose between the opportunity to contain Kurdish autonomy through multilateral channels and the risk of diplomatic isolation. The compromise hinges on this: between the constraints of geopolitics and the expectations of regional influence.

Israel and the Symbolic Disalignment

Despite Trump’s traditionally pro-Israel rhetoric, Tel Aviv has been visibly sidelined in the new regional arrangements. Its margins of autonomy have been steadily narrowed — every move now requires a pass through the White House first, as evidenced by the Pentagon’s irritation (more than Washington’s) over the raid in Qatar. A clear signal: Israel is no longer the undisputed centerpiece of U.S. diplomacy in the region.

The rapprochement with Riyadh remains a goal, but Saudi Arabia is demanding clear conditions: a de-escalation in Gaza and a more presentable Israeli leadership. The figure of Benjamin Netanyahu, now politically weakened and delegitimized, complicates the normalization process.

Direct talks between the United States and Hamas regarding hostage releases, and a separate agreement with Houthi rebels (which excluded security guarantees for Israeli vessels), are further signs of this diplomatic marginalization.

The Gaza dossier is the most sensitive. Washington has proposed a negotiated exit for a narrow group of Hamas militants, disarmed and under international supervision. The aim: to avoid a final massacre and convert the ceasefire into a sustainable security architecture. For Israel, the risk is both political and symbolic: allowing the exit of those responsible for the October 7, 2023 attacks could be seen as capitulation.

Yet this is not a disguised amnesty. The American initiative has been designed as a “conditioned corridor,” multilaterally controlled, to enable the monitored withdrawal of a limited number of Hamas militants — a few hundred, according to intelligence sources — disarmed and vetted. In exchange, a joint monitoring framework would be established. The concept draws from pastpeace processes and hinges on the logic of “verified demobilization”: a fragile but necessary compromise meant to prevent Hamas from claiming the narrative of martyrdom.

The idea — discussed confidentially between Washington, Doha, and Cairo — reflects an effort to construct ceasefire frameworks capable of leading to post-war governance structures, backed by Arab political capital and Western operational guarantees.

Biden administration is betting on a de-escalation effect. If the plan succeeds, it would strengthen the perception of the White House as the only superpower capable of mediating with all sides. However, domestic debate in the U.S. remains intense: Congress is split over the legitimacy granted to Syria’s new leadership and the viability of peace imposed from above.

In parallel, Kazakhstan has formally signed onto the Abraham Accords. While the country has recognized Israel since 1992, this formal act holds symbolic and geopolitical weight. It links Israel to Central Asia, embeds Tel Aviv in a strategic energy and water network, and sends a clear message: normalization with the Jewish State remains possible—even after Gaza.

The Kazakh signature is more than symbolic. Though it had maintained a low profile on Middle Eastern affairs, Kazakhstan’s official entry into the Abraham Accords—during a summit of Central Asian leaders in Washington—anchors the region to the Israeli-American geopolitical map, expanding the reach of economic diplomacy. Energy, hydrogen, water, and food security are now the new strategic assets in play.

The symbolic integration between Tel Aviv and Astana also serves as a projection of U.S. diplomacy toward the “pragmatic Muslim belt”, counterbalancing Russia, China, and Iran in the Eurasian corridors. It demonstrates that the “Abrahamic Peace” is no longer just an Arab construct but a flexible geopolitical paradigm.

In Washington, this strategy is framed as a “sum of incremental gains”: humanitarian corridors, partial sanctions relief, and symbolic gestures designed to generate incremental stability. It only works, however, if everyone concedes something: Israel must make tactical compromises; Syria must abandon cumbersome patrons like Putin and Khamenei; and Muslim partners must overcome their taboos about normalization.

The risks? Both domestic and international. The U.S. Congress is divided, and the idea of welcoming a former jihadist to the Oval Office remains hard to digest. Ankara is wary of the Kurdish file being sidelined. And among the Israeli public, fear grows that compromise could betray the victims of terror.

Yet in such a fluid context, the only actor still capable of setting the agenda is the White House. Through pragmatism, boldness, and a narrative that — despite appearances — aims to transform an ideological Middle East into an engineered one, Washington asserts its relevance.

Khamenei rejects USA stage

In this shifting scenario, Iran stands out as the absolute exception. Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei’s words are unequivocal: “Trump wants to use force for peace — he lied. They used power for the massacres in Gaza and to support their allies wherever they could.” This is not merely a condemnation of American actions, but a deeper rejection — a refusal of the entire symbolic and strategic framework of Trumpian diplomacy.

Tehran rejects the language of reintegration. Unlike the Gulf monarchies or Syria’s new leadership, which seek visibility, legitimacy, and access to global networks, Iran thrives on its otherness. Its strategy is rooted in the permanent embrace of the role of antagonist, not in conversion to an international order dominated by the United States. To take part in the American diplomatic staging would be to surrender the core of its revolutionary narrative.

Trump, with his conception of foreign policy as high-intensity theater, attempted to draw Iran into a renewed version of the JCPOA — the long-stalled nuclear deal. But despite attempts through backchannels, unofficial bilateral offers, and Saudi mediation, Tehran refused even to acknowledge the framework of negotiation. It is no longer about haggling over terms; it is about rejecting the very premise of dialogue.

A further strategic element reinforces this stance: Iran sees the current American architecture in the Middle East — including post-Assad Syria, a strengthened alliance with Gulf monarchies, and the marginalization of Israel — as specifically designed to isolate and contain it. It is not perceived as a diplomatic offer, but rather as a hostile maneuver wrapped in diplomacy.

Iran’s response is thus twofold: on one side, it strengthens its axis with Hezbollah, Iraqi Shiite militias, and Yemen’s Houthis; on the other, it invests in symbolic resistance. In this sense, Iran rejects Trump’s theatrical framework because it knows it cannot control the direction. Unlike other regional actors who accept even a subordinate role just to remain inside the geopolitical frame, Tehran prefers to stay off-screen, projecting power through attrition, proxies, and asymmetry.

For the Trump administration, this represents a structural limitation of its performative vision: where there is no audience, the show cannot go on. But for Iran, remaining behind the curtain is itself an act of power, a reaffirmation of ideological and strategic autonomy.

Ultimately, as long as Washington continues to offer solutions packaged as “grand events,” Iran will respond with absence. And that absence, while it may deepen isolation on one hand, may also harden the climate of permanent tension.

Conclusion: The Limits — and Leverage — of Performative Realignment

Donald Trump’s second term has relaunched American centrality in the Greater Middle East. Not through military doctrines or institutional frameworks, but with a language entirely his own: a performative diplomacy, built on spectacular gestures, symbolically charged encounters, and alliances reconstructed to fit his personal narrative. It is a diplomacy of a producer more than of a classic strategist. Trump does not merely move pieces on the board — he creates them. Sharaa, the new Syrian president and former jihadist, became a credible interlocutor because he entered Trump’s narrative. Syria, once a rogue state, was recast as a potential partner because it served the spectacle of change.

But the Middle East is not just a stage. It is trauma, memory, and hardened power structures that resist geopolitical editing. Trump can choose the lighting, the camera angles, the narrative tempo. He cannot write the ending alone. Iran has shown this by rejecting not just the proposals, but the entire language of American diplomacy. Israel, suspended between the instinct to settle scores and the need to re-enter the emerging order, remains ambivalent. The U.S. Congress and European partners highlight structural risks, questioning the durability of optics-based policy.

Yet, in this controversial, theatrical effort lies a deeper strategic truth: the United States remains the only actor capable of setting rhythm, sequence, and architecture in the Middle East. China stays on the sidelines, Russia is weakened, and Europe confused. Amid the chaos of regional actors, only Washington offers a framework — partial, questionable, but real — through which issues are processed. America’s strength, for all its egocentric distortions, lies precisely in this: forcing others to react to its narrative.

The Trumpian Middle East is not yet a new order. It is a transition, fraught with contradictions. But today, more than ever, the region moves — and it moves in response to the United States. If Trump succeeds in transforming performance into structure, and symbols into durable levers, his project may find a trajectory. Otherwise, it will remain an unfinished script.