In Israel, it is common to speak of the “Sunni-Arab camp” as if it were a coherent, coordinated bloc with shared interests, including vis-à-vis Iran and Israel. However, the regional reality of recent years—and even more so of recent months—fundamentally dismantles this myth. The expanding conflict between Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates is the most prominent example. The two countries, perceived by many as the backbone of that “camp,” are currently engaged in confrontations in Yemen, Sudan, and perhaps soon in Somaliland—an area that Israel hastened to recognize.
A similar dynamic is evident in the Gulf states’ calls on the United States to refrain from striking Iran. Their position reflects not alignment with Tehran but deep strategic anxiety. The Gulf monarchies fear both Iranian retaliation—given the vulnerability of their critical infrastructure—and the destabilizing consequences of regime collapse in Iran. They are wary of a powerful, revolutionary Iran, but equally of a fragmented one. As a result, they have chosen to preserve and deepen the détente process with Tehran, which in previous rounds of Israel-Iran confrontation helped keep them out of the line of fire.
What is often interpreted in Jerusalem as partnership—particularly among Gulf states—reveals itself in practice as intense competition for influence and status. This is most visible in the ambitions of Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman, who seeks to restore what he views as Saudi Arabia’s “natural” leadership role in the Arab world and position himself not merely as a Gulf leader but as a pan-Arab one. Qatar further complicates any camp-based logic. It maintains close ties with Turkey, commonly labeled in Israel as part of the “Muslim Brotherhood camp,” while simultaneously improving relations with Egypt and Saudi Arabia. By deliberately moving between axes, Doha hedges risks and maximizes maneuverability. It is not an outlier—it is a symptom.
Even the notion of a cohesive “Muslim Brotherhood camp” is eroding. In recent years, relations between Turkey and Saudi Arabia—long portrayed in Israeli discourse as ideological rivals—have significantly improved. Ankara and Riyadh are advancing economic and security cooperation, and according to reports, are central to a new trans-regional framework that includes Pakistan. These developments further blur the ideological lines on which Israel’s regional categorizations often rely.
Israel’s tendency to divide the Middle East into ideological camps reflects a desire for an organizing narrative more than an accurate reading of regional dynamics. States in the region act pragmatically, often inconsistently, and according to shifting interests rather than fixed loyalties. The rivalry between Riyadh and Abu Dhabi is not a temporary anomaly but a structural feature of a regional order characterized by fluid alignments and competitive cooperation. Saudi Arabia, for example, views both Iran and Israel as potential sources of regional instability and therefore pursues distinct strategies to manage each.
Persisting in the belief in a unified “Sunni-Arab camp” is not only analytically flawed—it is potentially dangerous. It risks misreading the strategic environment, fostering unrealistic expectations, and encouraging diplomatic moves that fail to account for the region’s fragmentation and competing interests. It also obscures opportunities that emerge precisely from this fluidity. The Middle East does not operate through rigid camps, but through competition, hedging, and the constant exploitation of opportunity. Israeli analysis—and policy—must adjust accordingly.
In Israel, it is common to speak of the “Sunni-Arab camp” as if it were a coherent, coordinated bloc with shared interests, including vis-à-vis Iran and Israel. However, the regional reality of recent years—and even more so of recent months—fundamentally dismantles this myth. The expanding conflict between Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates is the most prominent example. The two countries, perceived by many as the backbone of that “camp,” are currently engaged in confrontations in Yemen, Sudan, and perhaps soon in Somaliland—an area that Israel hastened to recognize.
A similar dynamic is evident in the Gulf states’ calls on the United States to refrain from striking Iran. Their position reflects not alignment with Tehran but deep strategic anxiety. The Gulf monarchies fear both Iranian retaliation—given the vulnerability of their critical infrastructure—and the destabilizing consequences of regime collapse in Iran. They are wary of a powerful, revolutionary Iran, but equally of a fragmented one. As a result, they have chosen to preserve and deepen the détente process with Tehran, which in previous rounds of Israel-Iran confrontation helped keep them out of the line of fire.
What is often interpreted in Jerusalem as partnership—particularly among Gulf states—reveals itself in practice as intense competition for influence and status. This is most visible in the ambitions of Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman, who seeks to restore what he views as Saudi Arabia’s “natural” leadership role in the Arab world and position himself not merely as a Gulf leader but as a pan-Arab one. Qatar further complicates any camp-based logic. It maintains close ties with Turkey, commonly labeled in Israel as part of the “Muslim Brotherhood camp,” while simultaneously improving relations with Egypt and Saudi Arabia. By deliberately moving between axes, Doha hedges risks and maximizes maneuverability. It is not an outlier—it is a symptom.
Even the notion of a cohesive “Muslim Brotherhood camp” is eroding. In recent years, relations between Turkey and Saudi Arabia—long portrayed in Israeli discourse as ideological rivals—have significantly improved. Ankara and Riyadh are advancing economic and security cooperation, and according to reports, are central to a new trans-regional framework that includes Pakistan. These developments further blur the ideological lines on which Israel’s regional categorizations often rely.
Israel’s tendency to divide the Middle East into ideological camps reflects a desire for an organizing narrative more than an accurate reading of regional dynamics. States in the region act pragmatically, often inconsistently, and according to shifting interests rather than fixed loyalties. The rivalry between Riyadh and Abu Dhabi is not a temporary anomaly but a structural feature of a regional order characterized by fluid alignments and competitive cooperation. Saudi Arabia, for example, views both Iran and Israel as potential sources of regional instability and therefore pursues distinct strategies to manage each.
Persisting in the belief in a unified “Sunni-Arab camp” is not only analytically flawed—it is potentially dangerous. It risks misreading the strategic environment, fostering unrealistic expectations, and encouraging diplomatic moves that fail to account for the region’s fragmentation and competing interests. It also obscures opportunities that emerge precisely from this fluidity. The Middle East does not operate through rigid camps, but through competition, hedging, and the constant exploitation of opportunity. Israeli analysis—and policy—must adjust accordingly.