Riyadh has long understood that Washington won’t protect it. The Iran War has only confirmed the wisdom of its hedging strategy.

The 2026 war between the United States, Israel, and Iran left Saudi Arabia in an exposed position—exactly the kind of vulnerability its foreign policy had spent years preparing for. Iranian missiles and drones struck Saudi energy installations and the US embassy in Riyadh. Riyadh expelled Iran’s military attaché and described the threat as existential. And yet the kingdom declined to officially enter the war (though it did launch covert strikes on Iran in retaliation), refused to allow the US campaign to be conducted from its territory, and maintained direct channels to Tehran throughout the fighting.

When the April ceasefire took effect, Saudi officials were among the first in the region to re-engage with their Iranian counterparts. The contradiction is instructive. Saudi Arabia’s response to the most serious attack on its territory in decades was to accelerate a strategy it had been quietly developing for years, one organized around managed relationships with multiple external powers and the steady expansion of its own military capacity. The signal this sends to Washington deserves more attention than it has received. Saudi Arabia has concluded that the United States will not protect it in a serious crisis, and it has been acting on that conclusion for some time.

The origins of this assessment predate the Iran War. The 2019 drone and missile strikes on the Abqaiq oil-processing facility, which cut Saudi oil output dramatically and were attributed to Iran, drew only a limited American response. That restraint persuaded Riyadh that the implicit bargain at the heart of the relationship, American protection in exchange for Saudi cooperation on oil supply and regional policy, was no longer operative in practice. The 2023 restoration of Saudi-Iranian diplomatic relations, brokered by China rather than the United States, followed directly from that judgment.

The Biden administration’s later redeployment of Patriot air-defense batteries from the kingdom to East Asia reinforced the impression of a shift in American priorities. The 2026 war confirmed it. Gulf states were struck despite their efforts to stay out of the conflict.

On the other hand, Saudi Arabia has not abandoned the relationship with the United States. In late 2025, Riyadh secured a substantial American arms package, a major non-NATO ally designation, and a bilateral strategic defense agreement. But these arrangements reflect the limits of what Washington has been prepared to offer as much as what the kingdom has been able to obtain.

The major non-NATO ally designation carries military and economic privileges but no binding security guarantee. The strategic defense agreement is an executive understanding, not a ratified treaty commitment. A genuine mutual-defense treaty has still been out of reach, tied in part to normalization with Israel and made politically untenable by the war in Gaza. In the absence of a binding guarantee, Riyadh has concluded that it cannot afford to depend on any single external patron, and the rest of its foreign policy reflects that calculation.

The relationship with China makes the pattern concrete. Saudi Arabia acquired Chinese DF-3 ballistic missiles in the 1980s and DF-21 missiles in 2007. In 2021, American intelligence agencies assessed that the kingdom had begun producing solid-fuel ballistic missiles domestically with Chinese aid at a facility near Ad-Dawadmi, though neither government has confirmed this.

China has described its relationship with the kingdom as a “comprehensive strategic partnership” since 2016 and has transferred missiles, drones, and air-defense systems that Washington has declined to provide, citing concerns about regional proliferation and the capacity of ballistic missiles to deliver nuclear warheads. China has not offered to defend Saudi Arabia. Its contribution is to Saudi self-defense capacity, not to an external security guarantee. Riyadh accepts this arrangement on precisely those terms and values it because the United States has declined to fill the gap.

The direction of Saudi policy becomes clearest when set alongside the South Korean model. Over several decades, South Korea responded to doubts about American extended deterrence by building a domestic missile capability, pursuing enrichment and reprocessing rights, and keeping the technical capacity to produce nuclear weapons on relatively short notice, all while staying formally within the American alliance. The combination worked because the alliance gave Seoul a reason to stop short of actual production. Saudi Arabia appears to be following a comparable path without the comparable guarantee. It has invested in a domestic missile industry.

The civil nuclear cooperation agreement concluded with the United States in late 2025, under which American firms were designated as preferred partners, is widely understood to bear on the longer-term question of fissile-material production. Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman has said that Saudi Arabia would seek nuclear weapons if Iran acquired them. This is not a peripheral concern. Saudi Arabia’s pursuit of nuclear latency outside a credible alliance framework is a qualitatively different proposition from South Korea’s.

Iran maintained a latent nuclear capability for years as leverage; that capability did not deter attack and may have contributed to it. Israel has proven a willingness to act preemptively, and the lesson of the 2026 war has not been lost on anyone in the region.

The 2025 mutual defense agreement with Pakistan provides an additional layer of deterrence as Saudi Arabia’s own options develop. The war, however, illustrated the agreement’s limits plainly. Pakistan shares a long border with Iran and has a compelling interest in avoiding direct confrontation with its neighbor. During the conflict, it acted as a mediator rather than a combatant. The agreement’s deterrent value rests on Pakistan’s nuclear status and the deliberate ambiguity of its commitments, not on any realistic expectation of Pakistani military action on Saudi Arabia’s behalf. The pact is one more hedge. It is not a substitute for the American guarantee that the kingdom has so far been unable to obtain.

Among the Gulf states, the war briefly produced solidarity. At the Gulf Cooperation Council summit in Jeddah in late April, members issued a collective defense statement and rejected Iranian claims over theStrait of Hormuz. But the unity faded quickly. The United Arab Emirates, which was hit harder than the other Gulf states, has favored confronting Iran and aligning more closely with the United States and Israel. Saudi Arabia, backed by Kuwait, Qatar, and Oman, has instead favored accommodation and managed engagement. These differences reflect a broader competition for regional leadership and economic influence.

On the same day of the Jeddah summit, the UAE announced it would leave OPEC effective May 1, ending nearly six decades of membership and turning a long-running dispute over production quotas into open competition for market share. Saudi Arabia is better positioned than its smaller neighbors to absorb these pressures. Unlike Qatar and the UAE, whose citizen populations are small and concentrated along the coast, the kingdom has greater territorial depth and a larger national manpower base. The Gulf’s city-state economies can field sophisticated militaries, but they cannot sustain a prolonged contest with a major regional power as Saudi Arabia can.

Taken together, these relationships point in the same direction. Saudi Arabia is sustaining its ties with the United States while hedging against their limits. Riyadh is pursuing a measured accommodation with Iran while quietly strengthening its deterrence. It is also treating its defense ties with China and pact with Pakistan as complements to a strategy of self-reliance. That approach is understandable given the options available to the kingdom. But its risks are significant and insufficiently appreciated in Washington.

By refusing to offer Riyadh a binding security commitment, restricting ballistic missile sales, and tying normalization to an Israeli peace process made politically unworkable by the Gaza war, the Trump administration has helped create the very environment it now finds troubling. Saudi Arabia is moving toward nuclear latency not despite US policy, but in part because of it. If Washington wants a different result, it will need to give the kingdom a credible reason to choose one.

About the Author: Amir Handjani

Amir Handjani is a member of the board of the Quincy Institute. He is also a partner at Karv Global, a strategic communications firm. With a career spanning law and business, he advises global corporations, governments, and organizations on regulatory challenges, reputation management, and strategic decision-making in an evolving global landscape. Prior to joining the Quincy board, he was a non-resident fellow at the Quincy Institute and a Truman national security fellow. His expertise in US foreign policy, economic sanctions, and diplomatic engagement has been featured in Reuters, Bloomberg, Foreign Affairs, Foreign Policy, and CNBC.

The post The Iran War and Saudi Arabia’s Strategy of Self-Reliance appeared first on The National Interest.

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