It is easy to forget that before the massacre of October 7, the Middle East appeared to be on the verge of a historic transformation.
Israel and Saudi Arabia were edging closer to a normalisation agreement that would almost certainly have drawn several other Arab and Muslim states into a new regional framework.
The Abraham Accords had already shattered decades of diplomatic orthodoxy. The assumption in many Western capitals was that the old formula of "Palestine first" had been replaced by a new reality based on mutual interests: security, economics, technology and a shared fear of Iran.
Hamas understood exactly what was at stake. Senior Hamas officials subsequently acknowledged that preventing Saudi-Israeli normalisation was among the motivations behind the attack.
If Riyadh joined the Abraham Accords, the strategic architecture of the Middle East would be fundamentally altered. The Arab-Israeli conflict that had dominated the region since 1948 would increasingly become a marginal issue, overtaken by a new alignment between pragmatic Sunni states and Israel.
The Palestinian cause, while still emotionally resonant, would no longer hold an effective veto over regional diplomacy.
October 7 was intended to stop that future from arriving.
In the immediate aftermath of the massacre and Israel's war against Hamas, Saudi Arabia and other Arab states publicly stepped back. Once again, they linked normalisation to substantial, and in some cases "irreversible", Israeli steps towards Palestinian statehood.
Yet this represented less a change of strategic interests than a response to political reality.
Arab leaders have long viewed Iran, extremist Islamism and domestic instability as more pressing threats than Israel. Nevertheless, public opinion matters.
Arab populations consume a steady diet of anti-Israel coverage from regional media outlets, social media influencers and state-sponsored narratives. Leaders who had quietly pursued closer ties with Jerusalem suddenly found themselves needing to demonstrate distance from the Jewish state.
Privately, however, the calculations remained remarkably consistent.
For years, Saudi Arabia's assessment of the Iranian threat often appeared even more hawkish than Israel's. Riyadh had experienced Iranian aggression directly through attacks by Tehran's proxies and, most dramatically, through strikes on its critical energy infrastructure. The Kingdom understood that Iran's ambitions extended well beyond Israel.
That shared threat perception survived October 7.
Indeed, many Gulf states quietly supported the objectives behind the military campaigns against Iran in 2025. Operation Rising Lion was viewed by many in the region as an opportunity to significantly weaken the Islamic Republic's military capabilities and perhaps even alter the balance of power permanently.
However, wars are judged not only by battlefield achievements but by perceptions of victory.
After this year’s joint US-Israel 40-day operation, when it became clear that the Iranian regime had survived, that its leadership remained intact, and that Washington was seeking an accommodation rather than pursuing regime collapse, Gulf calculations shifted.
The same states that had privately hoped for a decisive blow against Tehran increasingly advocated restraint and de-escalation.
This reflects an enduring principle of Middle Eastern politics: the concept of the "strong horse".
The phrase entered strategic vocabulary through observations that Arab societies have historically aligned themselves with actors perceived to be ascendant, and history offers examples. Arab leaders sided with the Ottomans until imperial decline became obvious, with the Nazis in the Second World War until they started losing, and then moved support to the Allies. During the Cold War, regional powers adjusted their allegiances between the United States and the Soviet Union according to shifting perceptions of strength and reliability.
Whether entirely fair or not, perceptions matter.
Before October 7, many Sunni states increasingly saw Israel, backed by the United States, as the strong horse: militarily capable, technologically advanced and willing to confront Iran. The Abraham Accords were not merely peace agreements, they were the foundations of a new regional bloc built around confidence in American leadership and Israeli power.
Today, those perceptions are less certain.
The emerging understanding between Washington and Tehran is interpreted by many across the Gulf as evidence that the Islamic Republic has weathered the storm. Iran has survived years of sanctions, proxy conflicts and direct confrontation.
In parts of the Arab world, survival itself is framed as victory.
That does not mean Arab leaders trust Tehran, far from it. Nor does it mean they have abandoned their relationships with Israel.
It means they are hedging.
Donald Trump appeared to recognise the opportunity that still existed. In late May, he revealed that during discussions with the leaders of Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates, Qatar, Pakistan, Turkey, Egypt, Jordan and Bahrain, he had argued that these countries should simultaneously join the Abraham Accords.
It was an ambitious vision.
The fact that the proposal disappeared almost immediately from public discussion was revealing. None of the participants appeared prepared to embrace such a dramatic step while regional uncertainty persisted.
The result is not the death of normalisation but its return to an older model.
Israel may increasingly find itself occupying a familiar position: the mistress of the region.
Indispensable yet discreet.
Security cooperation, intelligence sharing and technological partnerships with Sunni states are likely to continue behind closed doors. Shared concerns about Iran have not vanished, nor have mutual defence, security and economic interests.
Nevertheless, public embraces, state visits and celebratory declarations may prove far rarer than many anticipated in the optimistic days before October 7.
The Abraham Accords changed the Middle East because they demonstrated that peace with Israel was possible without waiting for the resolution of every grievance.
That lesson remains as valuable as it is true.
However, history rarely moves in straight lines. The strategic logic underpinning Arab-Israeli cooperation endures, even if politics currently prevents its full expression.
For now, the Middle East has entered another period of ambiguity. The moderate bloc envisioned by Israeli and Gulf strategists has not collapsed. It has simply gone underground.
The question is whether future events will once again convince the region that openly betting on Israel is a winning proposition.
Until then, the accords that promised a new Middle East may remain less a public alliance than secret understandings conducted in the shadows, as it was for many decades previously.
Ashley Perry is a former senior Israeli government adviser who has worked with eight cabinet ministers, was a former advisor to the Negev Forum, and has been involved in Israeli politics and every election campaign for the past two decades.
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