Once lauded for confronting Iran, Benjamin Netanyahu now faces doubt in Arab capitals as the Palestinian question returns to center stage. Not long ago, he was treated across the region as Israel’s central address. For rulers in Riyadh, Abu Dhabi, and Cairo, Netanyahu was the indispensable partner who could open doors in Washington and stand firm against Iran. Today, those same leaders increasingly see him as a burden.
Netanyahu’s rehabilitation in Arab eyes began after Egypt’s 2013 coup. Abdel Fattah al-Sisi’s regime—bankrolled by Saudi Arabia and the UAE—shared with Israel a hostility toward the Muslim Brotherhood and a determination to crush ISIS militants in Sinai. Egyptian, Gulf, and Israeli officials quietly coordinated, lobbying Washington to bless Sisi’s takeover as a guarantor of stability rather than a democratic setback.
The 2015 Iran nuclear deal accelerated this alignment. Netanyahu’s speech to Congress, critical of the deal and delivered in defiance of President Obama, stunned Arab audiences. For Riyadh and Abu Dhabi, the deal was not just flawed policy, it was an existential threat. Netanyahu’s dispatch of Mossad agents to extract Iranian nuclear files from Tehran, further impressed rulers who valued power and resolve.
The 2018 murder of Saudi journalist Jamal Khashoggi in Istanbul provided another turning point. Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan orchestrated a steady drip of leaks to humiliate Saudi Crown Prince Muhammad bin Salman, leaving Riyadh isolated. Netanyahu emerged as a kindred political survivor, a leader who had endured diplomatic cold shoulders and turned pressure into leverage.
During the first Trump administration, Netanyahu’s standing in the Gulf was at its peak. His direct line to Jared Kushner gave Arab rulers a prized back channel to Washington, and the Abraham Accords crowned this era. Netanyahu promoted them as “peace for peace” — normalization without concessions to the Palestinians — and Gulf leaders accepted (though the Emiratis conditioned normalization on no annexation of the West Bank, at least for five years).
The 2020 US presidential election, however, broke the axis that had elevated Netanyahu’s regional standing. His proximity to the White House started to fade.
His ouster in 2021 by the Bennett–Lapid coalition accelerated the shift. Arab capitals could engage Israel without going through Netanyahu. Lapid’s op-ed with Emirati Foreign Minister Abdullah bin Zayed symbolized this new businesslike approach. Gulf diplomats also gained routine access to Israel’s political and security establishment in both Tel Aviv and Jerusalem, and they observed that Israel’s institutions outlasted any single leader.
When Netanyahu returned to office in late 2022, his coalition included ultranationalist figures who horrified Israel’s Arab partners. Then came October 7, 2023. Hamas’s massacre and the devastating Gaza war that followed transformed the regional equation. Public anger over Gaza froze normalization. Instead of a bridge, Netanyahu became an obstacle, embarrassing partners who now complain privately to Washington that he no longer delivers strategic value.
Still, Arab leaders could not ignore that the war also altered the regional landscape in ways that served their interests. Under Netanyahu’s leadership, Israel dealt heavy blows to Iranian proxies. Hamas and Hizbullah both suffered major setbacks. In Gaza, Hamas’s grip began to erode, creating space for more moderate Arab states such as the UAE, Saudi Arabia, and Egypt to envision a future role in the Strip. In Lebanon, Hizbullah’s containment opened a parallel path for Arab diplomatic and economic influence at Iran’s expense. These outcomes aligned with Gulf priorities, and Arab officials acknowledged the tactical advantages.
But even those gains have been overtaken by a broader political reality. Across the Arab world, the Palestinian issue has returned to the center of public consciousness. For Arab leaders, especially in Riyadh, this shift has reshaped the cost–benefit analysis of normalization. The Saudis now view any potential agreement with Israel as a chance to extract a historic, high-value concession — one that would elevate their regional leadership and address the Palestinian issue in a way that distinguishes them from previous accords. The goal is no longer just a deal — it is legacy. Like Sadat in the 1970s, they want something big, symbolic, and enduring. In that environment, Netanyahu — tied to an extremist coalition and politically toxic over Gaza — is seen as misaligned with the direction they want to go.
For years, Arab leaders appreciated Netanyahu’s strategic instincts, his durability, and his ability to get results. But the region has changed. Today, many in the Arab world are uncertain whether Netanyahu can still play a constructive role in shaping what comes next. He remains in office, but the aura has faded. Arab leaders may respect some of the outcomes achieved on his watch, especially efforts to counter Iran and its proxies, but they no longer view him as the irreplaceable partner. Israel’s strength, they believe, doesn’t depend on him. Whether he adapts to the new regional reality, or becomes further isolated from it, remains to be seen.
