By Mukhtar Imam
There is a story that haunts modern Middle Eastern politics: a region that once bent the world economy with a collective tightening of oil taps now appears to watch, impotent, as violence unfolds on its most sacred soil. The question is uncomfortable but unavoidable — with cumulative wealth, strategic geography, and dozens of foreign military outposts under their watch, why do Arab and Muslim leaders so rarely convert influence into decisive leverage? And when they do use pressure, why is it so limited, so tentative, so quickly dissipated?
To ask this is not merely to moralize. It is to diagnose a political failure with practical consequences. The 1973 oil embargo — the canonical example of energy as leverage — changed the rules of geopolitics. When Arab OAPEC members cut exports and coordinated pricing in response to U.S. support for Israel during the Yom Kippur War, oil prices quadrupled and sent shockwaves through industrial economies. That episode demonstrated that energy-exporting states could inflict real, rapid costs on great powers and reshape diplomatic bargaining. The memory of that event should be a recurring reference point as Arab capitals consider strategic options today in the face of continued Israeli collective aggression and transgression.
So: what changed?
First, the world has changed. The global energy landscape today is far more fragmented. The economies of oil importers are more diversified, global markets contain alternate sources and strategic reserves, and market mechanisms — futures markets, hedging, diversified supply chains — blunt the immediate shock once possible in 1973. The political cohesion that briefly bound oil-exporting states in the 1970s is harder to replicate now. That does not mean leverage is gone — only that it looks different, and must be wielded differently.
Second, the tools of power have proliferated — and they are not all under Arab control. The United States maintains a deep military footprint across the region, from full bases to rotational deployments and access sites. That presence is both a shield and a constraint: it protects Gulf interests from some external threats, but it also ties those states into security relationships that complicate independent strategic moves. As of recent assessments, U.S. Central Command’s area of operations includes a number of persistent bases and sites, with thousands of active-duty personnel stationed across the region at any time. That reality makes any blunt confrontation with Washington politically and militarily costly to contemplate.
Third, the nature of patronage and dependency is asymmetrical. Many Arab governments depend on Western markets, investment, security guarantees, and military hardware; in turn, Western governments use that dependency to shape policy choices. And while Arab rulers possess considerable financial resources, these are often invested in private portfolios, foreign assets, and domestic stability mechanisms — not necessarily in coordinated geopolitical instruments.
Which brings us to the heart of the op-ed: leverage is not just possession; it is political will and collective strategy. The United States gifts, finances, and co-develops defensive systems with Israel — from long-term military aid packages to missile-defense cooperation. Over decades the U.S.-Israel security relationship has grown dense, culminating in multibillion-dollar packages for missile defense and wartime procurement. These transfers are a material expression of influence: they cement alliances and raise the cost of opposition. If Arab states are significant benefactors to the United States in political, economic, and security terms, why not press for parity in—or at least rebalancing of—strategic benefits?
Consider, for example, the rhetorical—and provocative—proposal the region hears: if you gift a $400 million plane to someone, and the recipient uses that instrument for ostentation or policy alignment that harms third parties, shouldn’t you ask for something commensurate in return? If the U.S. will support Israeli air defenses and replenishment of Iron Dome interceptors, why can’t Arab benefactors insist on comparable tangible transfers of defensive capability — not as reward for ostentation, but as insurance for regional stability? The idea may sound transactional, even crude. But geopolitics is often transactional; in practice, asking for material parity (say, advanced air-defense systems, joint production, or technology transfers) is a more concrete lever than speeches at summits.
That said, the specific systems matter less than the principle. The THAAD anti-missile system, the U.S.-backed terminal high-altitude air defense, and Israel’s developing laser-based Iron Beam (and more conventional interceptors like Iron Dome and David’s Sling) are examples of modern air and missile defense architecture. The U.S. has prioritized missile-defense partnerships with Israel for years — including multibillion-dollar funding lines for cooperative programs — precisely because such systems create hard, operational advantages. If Arab states want deterrence parity, they must pursue either parallel partnerships, joint procurement, or indigenous development, and they must bargain for technology transfer and production rights — not just check-book diplomacy.
But here lies the rub: many Arab states already have significant defense relationships with the United States and NATO partners—access to logistics, basing rights, port facilities, and intimate intelligence ties. Those relationships generate political capital. Yet that capital is rarely cashed in for collective regional aims. Why? Partly because domestic vulnerabilities — fears of regime insecurity, internal protests, succession politics — make leaders cautious about moves that might trigger economic retaliation or political isolation. Partly because regional interests are not uniform: Gulf monarchies, Levantine states, and North African republics often have divergent threat perceptions and external alignments. Effective leverage would require not only will but synchronized regional strategy — a hard ask.
The 1973 embargo worked because it was coordinated, targeted, and credible. It imposed immediate economic pain on targeted governments and altered decision-making. But it also had costs for the participating Arab states themselves: economic dislocation, diplomatic blowback, and, in some views, a political failure in terms of achieving all of its stated objectives. History offers the ambivalent lesson: leverage can work, but it is costly and requires political cohesion and sacrifice. So how sterner should warnings get? Rhetorical escalations and moral condemnations have their place; they signal public displeasure and keep domestic constituencies informed. But warnings must be backed by credible, calibrated action. The most effective warning is one that is believable because it is affordable and painful to the target.
For Arab states today that might mean:
Coordinated economic posture — not a crude, region-wide embargo, but targeted and timed measures: suspension of certain commercial contracts, coordinated delays in investment flows, or strategic use of sovereign-wealth-capital allocations. The 1973 model is out of date, but financial toolkits have become far more sophisticated. A coordinated financial posture can be surgical and economically painful without plunging the region into self-harm.
Security realignments — insist on parity in defense cooperation. If a benefactor insists on gifting military assets to a recipient that uses them in ways that provoke regional instability, the benefactor’s partners should have the political standing to ask for proportional security guarantees or transfers. Arab states should use basing agreements, overflight rights, and access arrangements as negotiation levers, pressing for technology transfer, co-production, and training packages that strengthen regional autonomy.
Collective diplomatic initiatives — revive a coherent Arab multilateralism that can coordinate sanctions, recognition policies, and diplomatic isolation in ways that are credible. Fragmentation undermines leverage; unity amplifies it.
Soft-power and legal measures — litigation around arms transfers, selective suspension of cultural and academic cooperation, and the use of international fora to press for investigations and conditionality can be effective reputational levers.
All of these require two things Arab leaderships often lack in unison: unity of purpose and the political tolerance for short-term costs. And therein lies the politics. Leaders who fear domestic instability or whose treasuries depend on uninterrupted capital flows will favor the status quo. Yet the alternative — perpetual impotence in the face of mass suffering — corrodes legitimacy and strategic credibility. Let us also be blunt about moral arithmetic. The charge that states with religious and cultural ties to Palestine have been morally muted is not new. But moral outrage without policy teeth is hollow. If the sanctity of human life in Gaza, say, motivates Arab capitals, then policy must match rhetoric. Practical measures — from conditional recognition or trade to the pursuit of defensive parity and coordinated economic pressure — are the concrete expressions of solidarity that go beyond hashtags.
Finally, it is worth remembering that leverage is not a blunt instrument reserved for the state alone. Diaspora communities, civil society networks, and economic actors can and do create pressure points that influence foreign policy. Mobilizing these forces responsibly can enhance state-level leverage without requiring rulers to put all their chips on the table. The 1973 oil shock proved a point: well-used leverage can reshape geopolitics. The lesson for today is not to yearn for a replay of that moment, but to recalibrate strategy to contemporary realities. Diversified economies, globalized markets, and layered security relationships mean leverage must be smarter, collective, and willing to accept short-term pain for long-term gains.
Arab and Muslim leaders possess resources — financial, geographic, and political — and they sit, often uncomfortably, at the crossroads of global power. If they are to reclaim influence, they must stop mistaking patronage for partnership and speeches for strategy. Leverage is not a moral virtue to parade; it is a tool to be built, sharpened, and, when necessary, used.
History will judge governments not just by what they say in summit halls, but by what they are willing to risk for the principles they claim to defend. If the region’s rulers want a future where their words carry weight, they will have to act in ways that make those words credible — even costly. The alternative is to continue watching power be exercised around them while they keep the keys to instruments that could, if united, alter the course of events. The question is simple: do they want to be lenders of petrodollars, or makers of policy? The difference determines whether leverage remains a museum piece from 1973 — or a living tool of statecraft in 2025.
*Mukhtar Imam is a Professor of International Relations and a Directing Staff at the National Institute for Security Studies, Abuja.
Mukhtarimam01@gmail.com
