Governments face an impossible choice: reward Israel diplomatically while their publics view Israel's actions most harshly.
On May 25, 2026, President Trump publicly urged six Muslim nations to join the Abraham Accords as part of a broader Iran nuclear framework, only to be met with Pakistan's swift refusal and a wall of silence from the rest. The moment revealed something older than any single administration's ambition: that diplomatic architecture built on deliberate omissions eventually encounters the weight of what it left out. The Gaza war has transformed public sentiment across the Arab world, and no amount of top-down pressure from Washington can dissolve the gap between what governments are asked to sign and what their populations are willing to accept.
- Trump's call to Saudi Arabia, Qatar, Pakistan, Turkey, Egypt, and Jordan to join the Abraham Accords landed like a demand rather than an invitation — and Pakistan rejected it within hours.
- The original 2020 accords never resolved the Palestinian question, and that structural omission, once dormant, has been torn open by a Gaza war that has killed tens of thousands and inflamed Arab public opinion.
- Saudi Arabia — the diplomatic prize that would reshape the entire regional order — has held firm: no normalization without a credible commitment to Palestinian statehood, a condition Israel has not offered and Gaza makes politically impossible to ignore.
- Trump's gambit rests on linking Arab-Israeli normalization to an Iran nuclear deal, a logic with internal coherence but little traction in a region where the theory and the reality have a troubled history.
- Without a Gaza ceasefire or a credible Palestinian pathway, these governments face an impossible choice: accept diplomatic rewards from Washington while their publics watch Palestinian casualties mount.
On May 25, 2026, President Trump made a sweeping public call for six Muslim nations — Saudi Arabia, Qatar, Pakistan, Turkey, Egypt, and Jordan — to join the Abraham Accords as part of a deal tied to Iran nuclear negotiations. Pakistan declined within hours. The others said nothing. The moment crystallized a deeper question: had the accords, once celebrated as the most consequential Middle East breakthrough in decades, reached the limits of what they could deliver?
The original 2020 agreements between Israel and the UAE, Bahrain, Morocco, and Sudan had shattered a long-standing taboo. Trade between the UAE and Israel surged past three billion dollars. Direct flights launched. Intelligence cooperation deepened. For the governments involved, the accords worked — they formalized strategic alignment between states that shared a common concern about Iran. But they were built on a deliberate omission: Palestinian statehood was never addressed, no settlement expansion was halted, no meaningful concessions were extracted from Israel. Palestinian leadership called it betrayal. That flaw lay dormant until October 2023, when the Gaza war broke it open.
Since then, tens of thousands of Palestinians have been killed, and public opinion across the Arab world has hardened sharply against normalization. The UAE and Bahrain held their positions but publicly criticized Israeli operations — a sign that the diplomatic architecture was straining against its own populations' fury. Saudi Arabia, always the crown jewel of any expanded vision, has remained consistent: it will not normalize without a credible, binding commitment to Palestinian statehood. Even Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman, who has consolidated power to a remarkable degree, cannot absorb the domestic political cost of recognizing Israel while Gaza operations continue.
Pakistan's rejection underlined the limits of top-down pressure. Islamabad has long declined to recognize Israel, and doing so now — while Palestinian casualties dominate global headlines and Pakistani public sentiment runs deep — would carry severe domestic risk. Officials made clear the two issues could not be linked. That was not merely a refusal of the specific ask; it was a rejection of the entire diplomatic logic being deployed.
Trump's gambit has a certain coherence: if Iran constrains its nuclear program and Arab states normalize with Israel, a new regional order emerges that marginalizes Iranian influence. In theory, it would be transformative. But the accords were designed for government-to-government normalization between strategically aligned states — not for mass expansion under political pressure, not for countries with deep popular opposition, and not for linkage to a separate nuclear negotiation. The path forward runs directly through Gaza. A ceasefire or credible political process would shift the calculus for several of these governments. Without one, the demand for normalization places them in an impossible position — asked to reward Israel diplomatically at the precise moment their publics view its actions most harshly. If an Iran nuclear framework does emerge, the expansion push will be tested again. The question then will not be whether Washington calls, but whether any of these governments have the domestic space to answer yes.
On May 25, 2026, President Donald Trump made a public call that exposed the fragile limits of diplomatic pressure in the Middle East. He asked six Muslim nations—Saudi Arabia, Qatar, Pakistan, Turkey, Egypt, and Jordan—to join the Abraham Accords as part of a sweeping deal tied to Iran nuclear negotiations. Pakistan said no within hours. The rest offered silence. It was a moment that crystallized a larger question: had the Abraham Accords, once hailed as the most consequential Middle East breakthrough since 1979, become a tool that could no longer deliver what its architects promised?
The original accords, signed in September 2020, had seemed almost impossible. The United Arab Emirates and Bahrain agreed to normalize relations with Israel in a sunlit White House ceremony, cameras rolling, flags flying. Morocco and Sudan followed. For decades, Arab governments had treated recognition of Israel as a third rail—something you simply did not do while the Palestinian question remained unresolved. The accords shattered that taboo. Between 2020 and 2021, the diplomatic architecture of the region shifted in ways that would have seemed unthinkable a decade earlier.
The results were real, at least in economic terms. Trade between the UAE and Israel surged from near zero to over three billion dollars within two years. Airlines launched direct flights. Israeli tourists walked through Dubai's malls. Tech partnerships deepened. Intelligence sharing and quiet military cooperation became routine. For the governments involved and the businesses that benefited, the accords worked. They created functioning bilateral relationships between states that shared a common concern about Iran and had strategic reasons to align.
But the accords were built on a deliberate omission. They never addressed Palestinian statehood. They offered no roadmap to Palestinian rights, no halt to Israeli settlement expansion, no formal commitment from Israel to change course on the occupation. Palestinian leadership called them a betrayal—normalization that rewarded Israel diplomatically without extracting meaningful concessions. This structural flaw remained dormant as long as the region stayed relatively quiet. Then Gaza changed everything.
When Israeli forces began their military campaign in October 2023, public opinion across the Arab world turned sharply against normalization. The UAE and Bahrain did not withdraw from the accords, but they publicly criticized Israeli military operations. The architecture held, but only because the governments involved had insulated their diplomacy from their own populations' fury. That insulation has limits. Tens of thousands of Palestinians have been killed in Gaza. The wound is still open. The Arab street views normalization as abandonment.
Saudi Arabia was always the crown jewel of any expanded vision. The kingdom controls the two holiest sites in Islam. Its recognition of Israel would carry symbolic and geopolitical weight that no other Arab state could match. It would effectively reorder the Middle East's diplomatic architecture and marginalize Iran, which has built much of its regional influence around positioning itself as the defender of Palestinian resistance. But Riyadh has been consistent: it will not normalize without a credible, binding commitment to Palestinian statehood. Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman has consolidated power to a remarkable degree, but even he cannot openly recognize Israel while Israeli forces are conducting large-scale military operations in Gaza. The domestic political math does not work. Trump demanding it happen does not change the math.
Pakistan's swift rejection underlined the limits of what top-down pressure can achieve. Islamabad has long declined to recognize Israel, and doing so now—while Gaza dominates global headlines and Pakistani public opinion is deeply sympathetic to Palestinians—would carry significant domestic political risk for any government. A Pakistani source familiar with the matter said directly that the two issues were not interlinked and could not be made so. That was not just a rejection of the specific ask; it was a rejection of the entire diplomatic logic Trump was deploying.
The question now is whether Trump is trading one fantasy for another. The logic of linking an Iran nuclear deal to Abraham Accords expansion has a certain internal coherence. If Iran agrees to constrain its nuclear program, Trump can present the deal as a historic realignment—not just arms control, but a new Middle East order in which Arab states and Israel stand together against Iranian influence. In theory, it would be transformative. The problem is that theory and Middle Eastern reality have a troubled relationship. Iran has not agreed to anything yet. The nations Trump is calling on have not consented. Gaza is still burning. And the Abraham Accords, as an instrument, were designed for government-to-government normalization between states with strategic alignment but lacking formal ties. They were not designed for mass expansion under political pressure, or for countries with deep popular opposition to Israel, or for linkage to an entirely separate nuclear negotiation. Success now depends entirely on what happens in Gaza. Any significant reduction in the scale of Israeli military operations—or, more dramatically, a ceasefire and credible political process—would change the political calculus for several of these governments. Saudi Arabia in particular has indicated that a pathway to Palestinian statehood, even an imperfect one, could open the door to deeper engagement. Without that pathway, the demand for normalization puts governments in an impossible position: they would be rewarding Israel diplomatically at precisely the moment their publics view Israel's actions most harshly. The Iran negotiations are ongoing. If a nuclear framework does emerge, the Abraham Accords expansion push will likely be tested again. At that point, the question will not be whether governments receive the call from Washington, but whether they have the domestic political space to say yes. Right now, most of them do not.
Citações Notáveis
Trump is trying to sell an Iran deal as an Abraham Accords sequel: good for Israel, good for the region, tough enough for Washington. But he is trading one fantasy for another.— Ali Vaez, Iran Project Director, International Crisis Group
The two issues were not interlinked and cannot be made so.— Pakistani source familiar with the matter, on linking Abraham Accords to Iran nuclear deal
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Why did Trump think he could expand the accords now, when Gaza is still burning?
Because he's linking it to something bigger—an Iran nuclear deal. If he can present both as part of the same historic realignment, the logic becomes: contain Iran, stabilize the region, reward Israel for cooperation. It's elegant on paper.
But Pakistan said no immediately. Doesn't that tell you something?
It tells you that domestic politics matter more than Washington's pressure. Pakistan can't recognize Israel while its own public is watching Palestinians die. The political cost is too high. And if that's true for Pakistan, it's true for most of the others.
So the original accords actually worked?
For trade and business, absolutely. UAE-Israel trade hit three billion dollars. Airlines, tourism, tech partnerships—all real. But the accords never touched the Palestinian question. They deliberately avoided it. That was fine when Gaza wasn't in the headlines. Now it's the only thing in the headlines.
What would change the calculation?
A ceasefire. A credible pathway to Palestinian statehood. Something that lets these governments tell their own people they didn't just abandon the Palestinians for a handshake with Israel. Without that, you're asking governments to reward Israel at the exact moment their publics are most angry at Israel.
Is Saudi Arabia really the key?
It's the only one that matters. If Saudi Arabia normalizes, the entire region's architecture shifts. But the Crown Prince won't do it without a Palestinian pathway. He's consolidated power, but he can't openly recognize Israel while Gaza operations are ongoing. The domestic political space simply doesn't exist.
So what happens next?
It depends on Gaza. If there's a ceasefire and real political movement on Palestinian statehood, the phones might ring differently. If not, Trump's expansion push stays where it is now—with silence and rejection.