‘They called us’: Has Trump abandoned Bab al-Mandeb to the Houthis?

Journalist, commentator and member of the Saudi Association for Political Science.

On September 12, 2026, United States President Donald Trump stood in Dublin alongside Irish Prime Minister Micheal Martin and said in a cool tone that the Houthis “called us, and they don’t want to fight us”, adding that the group was “allowing ships to pass” and that the situation would “work out very well”.

His remarks came just as Houthi forces had completed their takeover of the coastal town of Dhubab and Perim (Mayyun) Island, which divides the Bab al-Mandeb strait into two shipping channels, after seizing the strategic port of Mocha. This gave them a direct presence at the entrance to one of the world’s most important waterways.

Trump was speaking against the backdrop of a Houthi announcement that they would blockade Saudi oil supplies to Asia and Saudi commercial shipping, signalling the collapse of the traditional “security-for-oil” formula.

What is happening at Bab al-Mandeb is not an isolated event, but the latest in a long series of US retreats from security commitments that for decades underpinned the “security-for-oil” relationship between Washington and the Gulf states.

This is not a passing political position, but a profound shift in the regional security landscape: the United States is choosing not to intervene militarily against an armed group designated as terrorist that controls one of the world’s most important straits and whose actions go beyond the logic of conventional deterrence.

In Dublin, Trump said the Houthis had contacted the US administration seeking to avoid confrontation with Washington. He said they were “allowing most ships to pass” and that the problem was limited to “one country”, which he did not name – an apparent reference to Saudi Arabia – promising to “take care of fixing that”.

He also said the United States had “tight control” over the Strait of Hormuz and that about 25 ships were passing through it each day on average, despite maritime sources denying this.

On the ground, Trump’s remarks suggested that the Houthis remain wary of US military force and American deterrence, which has already put considerable pressure on their regional backer, Iran. They were therefore prepared to bargain, just as they accepted US conditions in 2025.

At the same time, Trump’s directives – as relayed by US military and civilian officials – revealed a clear hierarchy of priorities: Iran as the principal threat, securing the Strait of Hormuz as the vital artery for oil and gas flows, and avoiding another military front in Yemen.

This reflects a narrow strategic logic. From Washington’s perspective, Bab al-Mandeb is less vital to American oil interests than to flows towards China and other Asian markets that compete with the US economy. And because Trump believes the Houthis “are not targeting American ships”, direct intervention would, in his view, place an unjustified additional burden on US forces already exhausted by the Iranian front.

Trump’s position also cannot be separated from domestic politics. The US-Iran war has eroded his political support after he promised to keep the United States out of Middle Eastern wars.

According to The Los Angeles Times, Trump told Fox News that he “might not do it because of the elections”, referring to avoiding further military escalation before the congressional elections. Opening a new front in Yemen could further complicate matters for Republicans in closely contested House and Senate races.

Meanwhile, Saudi circles denied an Axios report claiming that Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman had called Trump twice on the eve of the Houthi takeover of the coast on September 10, urging him to strike the Houthis, and that Trump had refused.

The sources pointed to Axios’s own July 29 report on Saudi Defence Minister Prince Khalid bin Salman’s visit to Washington, which said he had told the US vice president that the kingdom could manage the confrontation with the Houthis itself and did not need US military intervention. They regarded the two accounts as contradictions in the reporting of Axios’s Barak Ravid.

Observers in Riyadh see the restrained US position as part of a broader policy: the administration currently has no intention of taking direct military action against the Houthis. At the same time, Admiral Brad Cooper, commander of US Central Command, travelled to Riyadh for urgent coordination talks with Prince Mohammed, indicating that Washington is seeking to “intensify its support” for Saudi Arabia while avoiding direct military involvement – a formula well understood in Riyadh.

Trump sought to reassure Saudi concerns by describing the crown prince as a “good friend” and promising that “everything will work out very well”. But he offered no specific military commitment, and the White House announced no explicit guarantees to protect Saudi energy infrastructure or maritime routes.

This reluctance also follows a series of US decisions that have demonstrated a growing retreat from its security commitments in the Gulf. During his first term, Trump did not respond to the 2019 Aramco attack, for which the Houthis claimed responsibility but which was believed to have originated from Iraqi factions to the north. The attack temporarily knocked out half of Saudi oil supplies.

In February 2026, the United States joined Israel in attacking Iran without consulting its Gulf allies and has since faced growing difficulties defending them against Iranian attacks. US forces are now heavily preoccupied around the Strait of Hormuz, limiting their ability to respond to another front in Yemen.

Paradoxically, Washington, now bogged down in Hormuz, appears to need Saudi help in containing Iranian disruption at Bab al-Mandeb, rather than the other way round.

Since the war began on February 28, Riyadh has resisted all US pressure to become involved in a confrontation with Iran for two reasons. First, it believes such pressure carries an implicit aim of portraying the Saudi front as part of the Israeli front. Second, it was not consulted over the launch of the war and is not prepared to be worn down in a conflict serving Israeli objectives.

Since the 1970s, the US-Gulf relationship has rested on a clear but implicit bargain: the United States provides a security umbrella protecting the Gulf states and energy routes, while the Gulf states ensure a steady flow of oil to the global economy at reasonable prices.

This was more than a bilateral understanding between Riyadh and Washington. Gulf security meant oil security, and oil security meant the security of the Western economy, making the bargain a pillar of the international energy system for decades.

Today, there are mounting signs that this formula is beginning to collapse.

First, strategic abandonment: Trump’s refusal to defend Bab al-Mandeb, and his response to the Houthis’ request that the US stay out of the conflict in return for allowing American ships to pass – effectively a political deal – marks a watershed. For the first time, the United States is clearly hesitating to defend energy security and a pivotal ally against a direct threat to global energy infrastructure. This is not temporary hesitation, but a redefinition of the US commitment.

Second, the redirection of priorities: Washington’s focus on the Strait of Hormuz and avoidance of a front in Yemen point to a new approach: not a comprehensive security umbrella, but selective protection of direct US interests. Hormuz matters because it carries Gulf oil to markets on which the US economy depends, while Bab al-Mandeb – from Trump’s perspective – primarily serves exports to China and Asia, interests Washington does not consider worth further military investment.

Third, military exhaustion: the US military is exhausted by the war with Iran and its stocks of advanced interceptor missiles have been depleted. This is structural rather than temporary, reflecting a growing inability to manage multiple fronts.

Fourth, domestic politics: the erosion of Trump’s political support because of the Iran war makes further military expansion politically costly. What was once a guarantee of Gulf security – US power – has become hostage to domestic electoral calculations.

Does this mean the end of the “security-for-oil” formula? Not necessarily. But it does point to a fundamental shift from a bilateral US-Gulf arrangement to a more complex, multilateral one.

The US umbrella has not disappeared, but it has contracted. The United States still maintains forces in the region and remains focused on the Strait of Hormuz, but its commitment is no longer comprehensive or unconditional.

For years, Riyadh has been pursuing alternatives through strategic hedging. Its announcement of a 14-state multinational defensive maritime alliance – including Turkiye, Pakistan, Egypt, Sudan and Djibouti – is an attempt to fill the US security vacuum, while US or European naval forces are also deployed around the strait as part of similar Western coalitions.

Saudi Arabia is also strengthening its air and missile defences, developing its naval capabilities and deepening defence ties with countries including Turkiye and Pakistan. These efforts have included the “Strategic Mutual Defence Alliance” with Pakistan and the Mecca alliance with Turkiye and Pakistan in August 2026.

What we are witnessing is not the end of the US umbrella, but its shift from a “comprehensive guarantee” to “conditional and limited support”, forcing Gulf states to rethink their collective security.

Saudi Arabia now faces one of its most serious security challenges: the Houthis control Bab al-Mandeb, are choking Saudi trade and have already launched drone and missile attacks towards Saudi territory.

Saudi oil exports to Asia fell from around 3.4 million barrels a day in June to just 128,000 in August, before partially recovering to 700,000 this month. Oil prices have meanwhile exceeded $107 a barrel, while the price of a gallon of petrol in the United States has risen by 35 percent.

The real danger is the simultaneous disruption of two maritime chokepoints: Hormuz, through which about 20 percent of global oil and gas supplies pass, is almost closed because of the US-Iran war, while Bab al-Mandeb, which accounts for 10-12 percent of global oil, is under Houthi control. Closing both could block about a quarter of global supplies.

Even without complete closure, the continuing threat creates a permanent “risk premium” on prices, according to economic analysts. Although Saudi Arabia benefits in the short term from higher prices, it is strategically harmed by instability because Vision 2030 depends on foreign investment, tourism and stability, not temporary wartime oil revenues.

Riyadh has long played a leading role in stabilising oil markets, frequently using its position as a swing producer to limit volatility. But amid the indifference of industrialised countries to supply security and the threats facing energy sources and routes, Saudi Arabia cannot put aside the dangers to its own security, sovereignty and people for countries that disregard the geopolitics of energy.

For this reason, Saudi Arabia has previously declared that it “will not bear responsibility for any disruptions or shortages in global oil supplies” resulting from Houthi attacks on its oil facilities.

This is more than a warning. It redefines the implicit social contract with its allies: Saudi Arabia is no longer prepared to act as guarantor of last resort for global energy security without something in return.

Its message is that the international community – particularly the major industrialised countries that benefit from oil flows – must share responsibility for protecting maritime routes, rather than leaving Riyadh to bear the cost alone.

The Saudi Ministry of Defence reinforced this approach in its statement on the proposed maritime alliance, stressing that “the security of international maritime routes is a collective responsibility that requires effective and sustainable international partnership”.

This is more than a diplomatic appeal. It amounts to a reformulation of the regional security contract: Saudi Arabia is not asking industrialised countries to defend Saudi interests, but to help protect their own interest in the continued flow of oil on which their economies depend.

In July 2026, Saudi Arabia announced a “Multinational Defensive Maritime Alliance” of 14 founding states: Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, Bahrain, Qatar, Pakistan, Turkiye, Egypt, Jordan, Yemen, Bangladesh, Nigeria, Sudan, Djibouti and Somalia.

At least 43 countries and organisations attended the founding meeting in Riyadh. The alliance may mark an important turning point, reflecting an implicit Saudi acknowledgement that the US umbrella is no longer sufficient and that Riyadh must build its own security capabilities with regional allies.

Trump’s statements downplaying the Houthi takeover of Bab al-Mandeb and his refusal to intervene reflect not only a political decision, but a structural weakness in US deterrence.

The United States is unable to manage multiple fronts. Its concentration around the Strait of Hormuz limits its ability to respond in Yemen; fighting has depleted stocks of advanced interceptor missiles; and the unpopularity of the war and approaching congressional elections constrain its freedom of action.

From the perspective of countries in the region, the US military presence in the Gulf is no longer an unconditional security guarantee. The question of whether allies could be abandoned again is pushing decision-makers from Riyadh to Abu Dhabi, Kuwait and Doha to diversify their security and defence partnerships.

That means deeper defence ties with Turkiye and Pakistan, stronger air and missile defences and naval capabilities, maintaining open channels and seeking risk-reducing understandings with regional powers including Iran, and multinational maritime alliances to protect navigation.

But these alternatives have limits. Can any regional alliance fully compensate for the absence of a major power such as the United States when confronting threats on the scale of Iran and its proxies? US intelligence, logistical and interception capabilities have no regional equivalent, leaving a security gap that cannot quickly be filled.

What we are witnessing is not merely a passing security crisis, but the emergence of a new regional order marked by the decline of unilateral US dominance. The United States is no longer the sole security power in the Gulf, as Saudi Arabia, Egypt, Turkiye and Iran gain weight and Gulf states diversify their partnerships and seek more collective regional security arrangements.

Trump’s response to the Houthi takeover of Bab al-Mandeb is therefore not simply a political position, but a sign of a tectonic shift in the regional security order. The “security-for-oil” formula that governed US-Gulf relations for decades has not formally ended, but it no longer provides the guarantees on which it was built. The US security umbrella remains, but it has become selective, conditional and subject to domestic US calculations unrelated to the interests of the Gulf states.

Saudi Arabia, caught between the hammer of the Houthis at Bab al-Mandeb and the anvil of Iran at the Strait of Hormuz, is pursuing a different approach: insisting that protection of maritime routes become a “collective responsibility” and that it should no longer bear alone the cost of protecting the interests of industrialised countries dependent on its oil.

This position – backed by the announcement of a multinational maritime alliance – marks the beginning of a redefinition of the regional security contract, although significant questions remain over whether ambition can be translated into capability.

Oil prices above $107 a barrel may be only an early sign of what lies ahead. If US exposure continues and regional understandings guaranteeing freedom of navigation remain out of reach, the world could face an energy crisis comparable to those of the 1970s, but without a US security umbrella ready to contain it.

Bab al-Mandeb is therefore more than a maritime strait. It reflects the end of one era and the beginning of another, in which Gulf security is no longer an American gift but a collective responsibility still searching for new arrangements.

Saudi Arabia, meanwhile, appears to favour a combination of deterrence and avoiding all-out war. Rather than sliding into open-ended attrition, it seeks to support national allies on the ground, enable the Yemeni state to restore its sovereignty, contain the logic of the militia and build a national doctrine that limits external penetration.

Yemen’s stability is no longer a purely Yemeni matter, but a first line of defence for the Red Sea and Bab al-Mandeb and for the cohesion of the Arab sphere, with Riyadh and Cairo remaining central pillars in confronting projects of disintegration and fragmentation.

Within this emerging order, the Saudi-Egyptian partnership is becoming a cornerstone of regional security. Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman’s expected visit to Cairo and summit with President Abdel Fattah el-Sisi give practical expression to the principle of “collective responsibility”.

Riyadh and Cairo recognise that the security of the Red Sea and Bab al-Mandeb is not a local matter: it is vital to the Suez Canal and Egyptian economy, and forms strategic and security depth for Saudi Arabia.

By coordinating diplomatic and military action, supporting the full liberation of Yemen and containing the reach of the militias, the two countries are helping shape an autonomous regional security order intended to fill the vacuums left by retreating international powers, protect international navigation and confront shared threats from a position of parity and capacity.

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial stance.