Caught between the gravitational pull of American alliance and the fury of Iranian missiles, Jordan endures a war it never chose as its own soil absorbs the consequences of larger powers in collision. The desert kingdom's dependence on over a billion and a half dollars in annual US aid binds it to a relationship it cannot dissolve, even as Iranian strikes on American bases within its borders have killed soldiers and stoked deep public resentment. King Abdullah walks a path that history has long demanded of small nations wedged between empires — loyalty performed under duress, sovereignty quiet
Jordan's precarious balancing act as Iran-US-Israel conflict intensifies regional tensions
Jordan is not a party to this war, and its people should not bear its consequences
Why can't Jordan simply ask the Americans to leave?
Because Jordan's government receives more than a billion and a half dollars a year from the US, and their military and intelligence agencies are woven together with American ones. Walking away would mean finding that money elsewhere—and there's no one else offering it on those terms.
But the public clearly wants them gone. Doesn't that matter?
It matters enormously, and it's creating real pressure. But the king has to balance what his people want against what keeps the country solvent. It's a choice between two kinds of instability.
What about the Iranian attacks? Aren't those making things worse?
Absolutely. The Iranians are targeting American bases on Jordanian soil, which means Jordanians are dying in a war they didn't start and don't support. That's pouring fuel on anti-American sentiment that was already there from Gaza and Palestine.
Is there any way out of this?
Not easily. The king could try to negotiate a smaller American presence, or push for guarantees that Jordan won't be dragged further into the conflict. But every option involves disappointing someone—either Washington or his own people.
What happens if the US wants to station more troops there?
That could break the fragile balance. You'd likely see larger protests, more boycotts, possibly real instability. The open letter demanding withdrawal was already a rare public rebuke. More American soldiers would be seen as doubling down on a policy most Jordanians reject.
El Pulso
- Iranian missiles and drones have struck Jordanian territory repeatedly, killing three American soldiers in a single July attack on Muwaffaq Salti Air Base — making Jordan a battlefield in a war its government never declared.
- With 4,000 US troops stationed across the kingdom and over $1.5 billion in annual American aid keeping the budget alive, Jordan cannot simply ask Washington to leave, no matter how loud its citizens demand it.
- Public fury has taken shape in boycotts of American brands and an open letter signed by hundreds calling for the withdrawal of all foreign forces — a petition the government-controlled press largely buried.
- Former politician Hamadah Faranah captures the impossible mood: most Jordanians oppose the conflict, yet blame Iran as much as America for dragging their country into a fire not of their making.
- With tourism revenues gutted, a majority-Palestinian population watching Gaza burn, and potential US pressure to expand its military footprint, the domestic crisis King Abdullah has contained may soon become uncontainable.
Caught between the gravitational pull of American alliance and the fury of Iranian missiles, Jordan endures a war it never chose as its own soil absorbs the consequences of larger powers in collision. The desert kingdom's dependence on over a billion and a half dollars in annual US aid binds it to a relationship it cannot dissolve, even as Iranian strikes on American bases within its borders have killed soldiers and stoked deep public resentment. King Abdullah walks a path that history has long demanded of small nations wedged between empires — loyalty performed under duress, sovereignty quietly eroded. The question now is not whether Jordan can maintain its balance, but how long that balance can hold before the weight of its people's grief tips the scales.
Six months into a war ignited by American and Israeli strikes on Iran, Jordan finds itself a reluctant stage for someone else's confrontation. Iranian missiles and drones have struck repeatedly on Jordanian soil, drawn by the presence of roughly 4,000 American military personnel. In July, one barrage on Muwaffaq Salti Air Base near Azraq killed three American soldiers and damaged a THAAD anti-missile battery — a stark reminder that neutrality offers no protection when great powers collide on your territory.
The kingdom's bind is structural. More than $1.5 billion in annual US aid keeps Jordan's budget functioning, and its military and intelligence institutions are deeply interwoven with American counterparts. King Abdullah has long favored Washington, and the ruling family shows no inclination to sever those ties. Yet the war has amplified long-standing resentment among ordinary Jordanians. Former politician Hamadah Faranah told the ABC that while most Jordanians opposed the conflict, many were equally frustrated with Iran for strikes he saw as reckless violations of Arab sovereignty.
Elliott Abrams of the Council on Foreign Relations observed that Jordan's situation differs sharply from wealthy Gulf states like Qatar, which can afford to host American forces on their own terms. Jordan needs the money to survive — a dependency that strips the king of options his citizens wish he had.
Public anger has found its outlets. Boycotts of American brands have created space for Jordanian alternatives, and hundreds signed an open letter demanding the withdrawal of all foreign forces, arguing that the American military presence serves no Jordanian interest. "Jordan is not a party to this war, and its people should not bear its consequences," the letter declared. The Jordanian press gave it little coverage, constrained by strict government limits on expression.
Faranah, who did not sign the letter, acknowledged it reflected genuine feeling while insisting the Jordanian-American relationship remained fundamentally intact — capable of weathering rows without rupture. But the cumulative toll is real: tourism revenues have collapsed, the economy is strained, and more than half the population is ethnically Palestinian, carrying the weight of Gaza alongside everything else. The true test may arrive if Washington moves to expand its military presence in Jordan — a step that could transform contained frustration into open crisis.
Six months into a war that began with American and Israeli strikes on Iran, Jordan finds itself trapped between powers it cannot escape. The desert kingdom sits wedged between its ally Israel and its adversary Iran, a geography that has made it a target despite its reluctance to be a combatant. Iranian missiles and drones have rained down repeatedly on Jordanian soil, drawn there by the presence of roughly 4,000 American military personnel stationed across the country. In July alone, one attack on the Muwaffaq Salti Air Base near Azraq killed three American soldiers. The base, located about 100 kilometers east of Amman, hosts US Air Force planes and air defense systems, including at least one THAAD anti-missile battery that sustained damage in the barrage.
The attacks have exposed a tension that has simmered in Jordan for years but now threatens to boil over. The kingdom depends on more than $1.5 billion in annual American aid to keep its budget afloat, and its military and intelligence services are deeply intertwined with their American counterparts. King Abdullah has historically favored closer ties with Washington, and the ruling family shows no sign of breaking that relationship. Yet the war has given voice to long-standing resentment. Hamadah Faranah, a former Jordanian politician and commentator, told the ABC that while the majority of Jordanians opposed the conflict, they were equally frustrated with Iran for what he saw as reckless strikes that violated Arab sovereignty. "Iran should have given priority to strike and stop the American naval fleets," he said, suggesting that Tehran's response had been excessive and poorly calibrated.
The situation has forced King Abdullah into an impossible position. Elliott Abrams, a senior fellow at the Council on Foreign Relations and former special representative for Iran at the State Department, observed that the monarch is acutely aware of the tensions pulling at his kingdom. The royal family cannot afford to abandon the United States—the financial and military dependence runs too deep, and the connections between Jordanian and American institutions are too extensive to sever. Yet allowing American bases to remain on Jordanian territory makes the country a proxy battleground in a conflict its citizens never chose to join. Abrams noted that Jordan's situation differs markedly from wealthy Gulf states like Qatar, which can afford to host American forces because they have the resources to build and maintain expensive facilities. Jordan, by contrast, needs the American money to survive.
Public anger has found expression in ways both visible and muted. Boycotts of American brands—Coca-Cola, McDonald's, Starbucks—have succeeded in creating space for Jordanian alternatives like Matrix Cola, Junior's burger chain, and Marouf Coffee. More significantly, hundreds of people signed an open letter last month demanding the withdrawal of all foreign forces from Jordan. The signatories argued that the American military presence exposed the country to security, political, and economic risks while serving no Jordanian interest. They called for the government to withdraw its security and military agreement with the United States. "Jordan is not a party to this war, and its people should not bear its consequences," the letter stated, a plea that resonated with opposition politicians and ordinary citizens alike. The Jordanian press gave the petition little coverage, constrained as it is by strict government policies on freedom of expression.
Faranah, who did not sign the letter himself, acknowledged that it captured the feelings of many Jordanians. He also noted that despite the friction between Amman and Washington, the relationship remained fundamentally sound. He had traveled to the United States with King Abdullah and witnessed firsthand the strength of those ties. "Yes, there are Jordanian-American rows, not just disagreements, but at the same time these rows don't cause a rift," he said. The kingdom, he suggested, could maintain its alliance with the United States while still charting its own course on matters like Palestine and broader Arab concerns. Yet the calculus is shifting. The 2025 war, the ongoing conflict in Gaza, and now the 2026 confrontation with Iran have battered Jordan's tourism industry, a critical source of revenue. More than half the population is ethnically Palestinian, including Queen Rania herself, born in Kuwait to Palestinian parents from the West Bank. The cumulative weight of these conflicts has worn on the country's economy and morale. The real test ahead may come if the United States seeks to expand its military footprint in Jordan—a move that could ignite the very domestic crisis the king has so far managed to contain.
Citas Notables
Iran should have given priority to strike and stop the American naval fleets in the Arabian Gulf, in the Arabian Sea, in the Indian Ocean, and strike the Israeli colonial state.— Hamadah Faranah, former Jordanian politician and commentator
The relationship is too tight, at least now, to break—and I think the King is just going to have to keep on trying to make it work.— Elliott Abrams, Council on Foreign Relations