The Recognition Trap: Israel, Regional Power, and the Waning American Umbrella

The Difficult Choice of America's Regional Allies

A recently published article by Timofey Bordachev, a Russian political scientist, delves deep into US foreign policy in the Middle East and reassesses the transformation of America’s role globally. While some may not agree with Bordachev’s perspective, it is quite unconventional in the West and is well worth our time to examine. Bordachev writes,

"In international politics, violence is rarely about domination. More often, it's about survival—and the desperate quest for recognition."

As the U.S. retreats—gradually, though visibly—from its Cold War-era role as the globe’s omnipresent security guarantor, the old scaffolding of international politics is beginning to creak and splinter. For decades, the illusion of order rested on the back of American strategic commitments - some states survived not because they fit organically into regional orders or the “rules-based order” devised by Washington and its Western allies, but because they were strategically important to Washington.

Nowhere is this distortion more evident—and its unwinding more dangerously—than in the Middle East.

Survival, Not Supremacy

Contrary to popular belief, war is rarely about conquest. As Bordachev astutely notes, force is most often used by states not to expand, but to survive—to carve out a space of political existence where they are not merely tolerated, but recognized. Israel’s behavior in 2025—its strikes on Iran, its military operations across its borders, and its continued hostility toward non-state actors (ie, Ansar Allah, Hezbollah)—is not a sign of strength. It is a symptom of geopolitical anxiety, argues Bordachev.

Eighty years since the regional balance in the Middle East changed following the expiration of the British mandate in Palestine and the proclamation of the State of Israel in 1948, Israel remains unintegrated into the system. Its peace agreements are transactional. Its intelligence superiority is tactical, not strategic. And its military dominance has yet to produce what it most urgently needs: recognition as a legitimate and permanent part of the regional order.

Timofey Bordachev believes that this is not a uniquely Israeli problem. Across the globe, U.S. allies are beginning to internalize the precariousness of their dependence on a distant and increasingly self-interested patron. In East Asia, Japan and South Korea are publicly debating what was once unthinkable: the acquisition of nuclear weapons. In Europe, despite all the talk of “strategic autonomy,” few seriously believe Washington would sacrifice New York for Paris in a war with Russia. And why would it?

But in the context of foreign policy, the US approaches Israel differently. Its survival doesn't pose an existential risk to the United States. None of its neighbors—nor even Iran—possesses the capability to strike the American homeland. Bordachev argues that it’s precisely this asymmetry that has made the Middle East a “safe” theater for U.S. involvement. Washington can offer support with little fear of being dragged into a catastrophic war (despite quite evident attempts). That’s what makes the Israeli case both unique and instructive.

A State, Not a Subsystem

Bordachev writes that despite decades of U.S. backing, Israel remains outside the informal balance-of-power arrangements that have gradually formed among Arab states and Iran. These arrangements are not alliances in the Western sense. They are built on mutual deterrence, limited cooperation, and—most importantly—a shared disinterest in starting wars.

The irony is stark: while Israel bombs and strikes and sabotages to gain recognition, its neighbors have no incentive to grant it. Not because they wish to destroy it, but because recognizing Israel as a regional player might upset their own fragile accommodations with each other. Thus, Israel’s quest for recognition produces the opposite effect: deeper isolation, greater hostility, and a regional order that continues to function while deliberately excluding it.

The End of the Exception

The broader lesson is this: the American order allowed certain states to become exceptions to the traditional rules of international life. Their survival did not depend on being accepted by their neighbors but on being useful to Washington. That era is ending. What comes next is not chaos, but the re-emergence of regional subsystems—organic, historically rooted balances that had been distorted by global superpower politics.

Israel, long shielded by American power, must now find a way to integrate into such a system—or continue to militarize its foreign policy in the hope that enough pressure will produce acceptance. History offers examples of such paths—Wilhelmine Germany—but they are cautionary, not comforting.

Timofey Bordachev argues that in a world of weakening empires and rising autonomy, recognition must be earned, not imposed. And for Israel, perhaps for the first time in its modern history, that recognition will have to come not from Washington, but from Riyadh, Tehran, and Cairo.

If you would like to read Timofey Bordachev’s article in its entirety, I have translated it into English from Russian below.

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(Originally published by the Valdai Club.)

Whether we like it or not, the history of international politics is an almost unbroken chain of violence between states. And in reality, this violence is not so often aimed at completely destroying or subjugating opponents, writes Timofey Bordachev, Program Director of the Valdai Club.

Much more regularly—almost always—the use of force is not driven by a state's desire to achieve hegemony, but by its basic desire to survive and to create a system of relations in which its future depends not solely on its ability to defend itself, but also on recognition from others. This becomes especially relevant in situations where certain states realize that their chances of relying on external help are becoming increasingly limited.

It seems that, in the context of a general weakening of the U.S.'s ability to effectively control the situation far from its own borders, its regional partners—even the most privileged ones—will be forced to look for their own, unfamiliar ways to survive in environments that have traditionally been hostile to them. The consequences of such activism may vary and are hard to predict. However, first of all, it appears inevitable. And second, it creates the possibility that relatively balanced regional subsystems might replace the distorted picture of international life that formed in the second half of the 20th century. One of the key distortions of that picture was the existence of a number of states whose survival depended not on their ability to build relations with neighbors but on the strategic interests of the United States.

The constant escalation of violence in inter-state relations in the Middle East shows how little its main driver—Israel—is able to influence its neighbors.
Despite having diplomatic relations with most of them, the Israeli government does not seem capable of addressing its urgent problems without resorting to direct violence against other states in the region—Lebanon, Yemen, Syria, or Iran. Or without attacking their territory to destroy the infrastructure of its non-state enemies, as happened with Qatar in early September. And Israel’s extensive, reportedly wide-reaching intelligence infrastructure turns out, upon closer inspection, to be merely a tool of war, rather than of diplomacy, which is what it should ideally serve.

These actions may be tactically successful and impress the public. But there is little sign that they significantly influence the willingness of Israel’s neighbors to negotiate with it. At least not yet. In other words, eighty years after the modern balance of power in the region began to take shape, the Middle East still hasn’t reached a level where we can speak of the emergence of a distinct subsystem of international relations. One could argue that Israel is now more isolated than ever before—and this is pushing the Israeli government to take desperate measures to gain broader regional recognition. In such conditions, military action along almost the entire perimeter of its external environment becomes Israel’s only available means of at least theoretically hoping for future recognition from its neighbors.

Among all the privileged U.S. partners, Israel is considered to be in the closest position. It is no coincidence that Washington’s commitment to defending the interests of its Middle Eastern ally has long been the subject of fierce debate within the United States itself—both in academic circles and in more practical contexts. In this respect, Israel even surpasses Europe—partly because protecting Israel’s survival doesn’t pose for the U.S. the kind of risk that would arise from a conflict with existential consequences or unacceptable losses. Europe cannot boast the same: a potential conflict with Russia—towards which European politicians traditionally display hostility—poses a direct existential threat to the United States.

In fact, this is precisely why the question “Would Americans sacrifice New York to save Paris?” has always received a negative answer from serious observers. Even the presence of U.S. troops in Europe or Turkey cannot be seen as a guarantee that Americans would treat the survival of these allies as their own. U.S. junior partners in East Asia—Japan and South Korea—find themselves in similarly difficult situations. We do know, of course, that in 1950–1953, the U.S. fought one of its most difficult wars in military history in that region. However, back then, China did not possess the capabilities that would have made a conflict involving it as dangerous as a direct confrontation with Russia would be today. The situation is now different. It’s no surprise that Tokyo and Seoul have begun seriously considering, sooner or later, acquiring their own nuclear weapons.

Against this backdrop, Israel certainly occupies a special geopolitical position. Its key feature is that none of its neighbors possesses arsenals of the most lethal weapons in history that could pose a threat to U.S. territory. Nor are they likely to acquire such arsenals in any foreseeable future.

This has traditionally allowed the United States to view the Middle East as one of the simpler directions of its global presence and interference in other nations' affairs.
Especially since Israel’s neighbors—Arab states and Iran—have never truly demonstrated the ability to unite in a military effort aimed at destroying the Jewish state at any cost and without regard for losses. This has traditionally allowed Israel, and the U.S. behind it, to pacify regional powers one by one: entering into occasional agreements with them or, as in America’s relations with the Gulf monarchies, effectively placing them under its protection. Events following the terrorist attack on Israel in October 2023 further confirmed the regional impossibility of unity on an anti-Israeli basis. At the same time, according to many qualified observers, the inability to strike a blow against Israel on the part of its neighbors is linked to the fact that many of them treat the consequences of Israeli attacks on individual states or non-state actors quite instrumentally. The same may apply—at least in theory—to Israel’s attack on Iran in June 2025, which did not lead to tragic consequences for regional stability but somewhat tempered Iranian overconfidence.

However, in reality, the hypothetical unity of Israel’s neighbors may be more real than it seems. But it does not manifest in their willingness to retaliate militarily and risk bringing down the punitive sword of the United States. Instead, it shows in their coordinated sabotage of any opportunity for Israel to be accepted into the complex system of checks and balances that exists among them. This, in particular, is suggested by Israel’s inability to achieve even modest foreign policy goals without resorting to military force—assuming we treat Israel as a state, and not a specific type of armed organization dependent on foreign support from the U.S.

It appears that over the past few decades, Arab countries and Iran have managed to build a system of relations among themselves that resembles the classical examples of regional balance of power, where the main factor is the lack of willingness by any party to ignite a full-scale war for the sake of elusive goals. The U.S. invasion of Iraq in 2003 and the destruction of Saddam Hussein’s regime only added to the internal harmony of the region. For Israel’s neighbors, there’s no real need to oppose it as a united front—doing so would upset the fragile balance among themselves. But for the Jewish state itself, this brings little good, and it seemingly has no other choice but to seek recognition by constantly provoking its neighbors.

This provocativeness creates a dramatic backdrop to everything happening in the region, but changes little in essence. Israel resorts to the only method available to states amid the complete degradation of international law and institutions (regardless of who is to blame) to gain recognition, not just as an important, but as an indispensable part of the regional balance: military pressure on those from whom such recognition depends. European history offers many examples of such behavior—from Russia in the 16th–18th centuries to Germany in the 19th century, and there is nothing new at all in Israel’s actions.

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