Legacy for legacy: why Saudi Arabia is seeking a US treaty

Vision 2030 is more than a series of economic mega projects; it is a comprehensive transformation process that demands a stable and predictable security environment for decades to come. Such stability cannot be built on an 'honourable pact' that changes every four or eight years and is vulnerable to the whims of any given president.

The 'alarm bell' was first rung in September 2019, when precise attacks targeted the vital oil facilities at Abqaiq and Khurais. This was not just any attack; it was a 'Pearl Harbour moment' for the global energy sector. The US response under the Trump administration was hesitant, limited, and disproportionate, given the scale of the assault. This tepid response served as definitive proof that the implicit 'security umbrella' was no longer guaranteed and was subject to internal political calculations.

Today, Riyadh is no longer searching for an ally. It is looking for a reliable partner. On the energy front, the US no longer depends on Gulf oil (thanks to the shale revolution), and the global energy transition is reducing oil's strategic value as a long-term pressure tool. On the security front, the 2019 attacks proved that an American security umbrella is no longer a given.

The paradox here is that Trump's 'America First' doctrine, characterised by its public scepticism towards alliances such as NATO, is precisely what is driving Saudi Arabia to demand a binding, institutional treaty. Riyadh has used Trump's own logic against him: if everything is a deal, then these are the terms for our deal. For these reasons, the crown prince's visit is an attempt to institutionalise the alliance, moving it from a vague White House promise to a clear congressional guarantee.

A big ask

The Trump administration recognises that Riyadh holds the keys to the grand prize sought by the president for his foreign policy legacy: establishing formal diplomatic relations between Saudi Arabia, the leader of the Islamic world, and Israel. Trump views this as the real 'deal of the century'—one he can close with his preferred business logic: pressure, benefits, and a quick victory.

This logic, however, collides with the fact that what Riyadh is demanding in return is not benefits but guarantees. Riyadh wants a binding defence pact—a much bigger ask than AI technology, a peaceful nuclear programme, or even F-35s, although those are important.

This captures the crux of the dilemma. Trump's 'deal' is an executive promise. It could include upgrading security cooperation, facilitating advanced arms sales, and providing intelligence support. But all of this remains within his prerogative and is, by nature, temporary. On the other hand, the 'treaty' that Saudi Arabia seeks is akin to NATO or the pacts with Japan and South Korea, which requires the approval of two-thirds of the US Senate (67 votes). Such a treaty transforms Saudi security from an American 'interest' into a legal and permanent American 'commitment' that no future president can easily walk away from.

Simply put, Riyadh refuses to trade a 'permanent legacy' (a fundamental shift in the regional structure) for a 'temporary promise' from a president who himself faces the volatility of domestic politics. The Saudi logic is clear: if you want a historic, institutional step from us, you must provide a comparable historic, institutional guarantee.

The 67-vote dilemma

With this demand, the crown prince cleverly moves the negotiations from the Oval Office, where Trump excels, to the Senate floor, where the real bottleneck lies. The true test for completing this historic trade-off is not Trump; it is Congress.

Trump—the anti-institutional president who built his career taking on the so-called deep state—now finds himself forced to play by the rules of the very institution he scorns, trying to rally it to provide the guarantee Riyadh demands as the price for the 'win' he wants.

He will need to secure at least 67 votes to achieve this. And while he might be able to convince traditional (institutionalist) Republicans to endorse a treaty, the isolationist or Trumpian wing of the GOP—the likes of Senator Rand Paul—won't be so easily swayed.

But still, the greater challenge lies with the Democrats. The progressive wing (led by Bernie Sanders and others) will be a hard no. They oppose any security alliances with Riyadh in principle. Therefore, Trump must win over centrist Democrats. But this group faces deep reservations and is under immense political and media pressure due to the myriad thorny issues that have caused widespread division in Washington in recent years. The political price they would demand to ignore their base and vote with their nemesis (Trump) will be exceptionally high.

A Palestinian state

How, then, can Trump secure this rare and nearly impossible majority? The answer lies in a file that has remained a constant in Saudi policy for decades: supporting a Palestinian state. Let me explain.

For Trump to secure those 67 votes, he will inevitably need votes from the Democratic centre. These Democrats, facing pressure from their base, will not grant votes for a historic defence treaty of this magnitude without genuine and irreversible progress concerning Palestine. In this vein, Palestine becomes not just a Saudi condition to assuage Arab and Islamic public opinion, but the very key and the political cover that Trump needs to unlock the Senate.

The Saudi position here is not a tactical negotiating stance; it is a profound understanding of the mechanics of Washington's institutions. It merges the historic Saudi principle (based on the Arab Peace Initiative) with cold political realism. In short, Riyadh is telling Trump: if you want your institution (Congress) to approve this treaty, you must give that institution (specifically, its Democrats) what it needs to justify its vote: the establishment of a Palestinian state. It is the minimum for them even to begin the discussion.

What next?

Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman's visit to Washington is a moment of truth. His aim isn't to test Trump's 'desire', but to test the 'capacity' of Washington's institutions as a system—one rooted in the democratic values described by Alexis de Tocqueville in the 19th century. He categorically refuses to trade a permanent legacy for a temporary promise. The implications of this visit will be profound, regardless of the immediate outcome.

After 18 November, I envision three possible scenarios. The first is that the meeting will be declared "a success" and grand announcements of investments, civil nuclear cooperation, and defence agreements (not the binding treaty) will be announced. But the core file will remain stalled in long-term technical and legal negotiations. In short, it will be a tactical success with the hope that a more comprehensive resolution will follow.

The second scenario is real success. This scenario is not measured by the immediate signing of the treaty, which everyone knows is procedurally impossible. Instead, it is measured by Saudi Arabia securing a formal commitment from the White House and bipartisan congressional leadership to begin the legislative process of negotiating the treaty. This 'announcement of process' is, in itself, a massive institutional victory, as it binds the institution and officially moves the ball to Congress's court. 

The third possible scenario is institutional failure. If Washington is unable or unwilling to provide a permanent guarantee, it will be a declaration to Riyadh that the US is no longer a reliable ally. As such, the relationship will require serious review. Although such a scenario will not derail Vision 2030, it will dramatically accelerate the pace of strategic diversification, which is an inevitable response to the volatility of a Western ally.

Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman is in Washington to propose a clear trade: legacy for legacy, and institution for institution. The result, whatever it may be, will not alter Saudi Arabia's path; it will only determine who will be deemed a reliable partner on that path.