Voices from the Arab press: Trump and Musk’s ugly breakup

Russia has finally put forth what it sees as a compelling response to one of the most damning criticisms it has faced in recent months: that it enabled the success of a historic attack on its airbases, which resulted in the destruction of several of its most critical aircraft, including those configured for nuclear missions.

Ukraine, for its part, has acknowledged responsibility for the strike, claiming it deployed domestically developed drones. Critics have focused on Russia’s vulnerability – specifically, its decision to position these valuable assets in open view, making them easy to track not only by military-grade satellites but also by civilian aircraft – or even rudimentary observation tools like balloons or blimps equipped with cameras.

Russia’s defense, as articulated by Western analysts, is that this exposure was not a security lapse but a deliberate move in accordance with longstanding arms control agreements signed with the US – namely SALT and START. These treaties mandate that both nations keep certain aircraft, particularly those outfitted for strategic nuclear operations, visible and accessible for mutual surveillance, ostensibly to foster transparency and reduce the risk of miscalculation.

The logic is that both parties maintain the right and obligation to observe one another’s compliance, cultivating a fragile but necessary atmosphere of trust between the world’s two dominant nuclear powers. It follows, then, that the US is likewise obligated to expose its own comparable aircraft to similar observation.

The spirit and letter of these agreements are clear: the data gathered through this transparency is not to be weaponized – neither by the signatories against each other, nor via support to third parties for military gain. Any such breach would violate not just the terms of the agreements but their entire underlying philosophy of deterrence and mutual restraint.

The type of intelligence required for Ukraine to have successfully executed this strike, including the precise coordinates of Russia’s nuclear-capable aircraft and the configuration of its airfields, is widely considered to be beyond Ukraine’s native capabilities. Some of the targeted airbases are located more than 4,000 kilometers from the Ukrainian border, deep within Russian territory.

Moreover, Ukraine would not possess detailed knowledge of Russia’s ground-based aircraft alignment systems – sophisticated infrastructure that would be essential for programming drones to hit such specific targets. This strongly suggests the presence of external intelligence support.

Still, this dimension of external facilitation does not absolve Russia of its own strategic missteps. The Kremlin failed to account for the possibility that its adversaries – either state actors or proxies – might disregard the unwritten rules that underpin strategic arms control. In this case, it did not anticipate that transparency could be turned into tactical vulnerability.

The relationship, fraught from the start, was expected to unravel quickly, but few anticipated the dramatic and acrimonious collapse that followed, culminating in Musk accusing Trump of being involved in the infamous Jeffrey Epstein scandal and calling for his removal from office. Trump, long known for firing staff unceremoniously and labeling former aides “suckers,” found himself unable to dismiss the world’s richest man in the same fashion.

Musk is not just another subordinate: he played a critical role in Trump’s reelection campaign. As a result, the president attempted to sever ties in a more restrained and symbolic way. In a muted Oval Office ceremony, witnessed by a small group of reporters, he presented Musk with a ceremonial golden key to mark the end of his tenure.

Musk, appearing unsettled, offered a parting statement expressing continued friendship and support for Trump – who, despite the underlying tension, tried to maintain composure and diffuse the animosity. But within days, Musk launched a ferocious and unhinged attack, disavowing his earlier comments and making it clear they were made under duress or in a moment of disingenuous diplomacy.

Musk’s temperament – impulsive, emotional, and volatile – has always made him difficult to manage. This instability was a key factor in the rupture with Trump, turning what might have been a strategic distancing into a very public and ugly breakup.

TRUMP SEEKS to challenge institutional power and dismantle the so-called deep state from within, operating through political channels and still adhering, to some extent, to the structure of government. Musk, by contrast, exists entirely outside those structures, rejecting traditional oversight and operating with impunity, whether in business or in his vision for governance.

Despite Trump’s insurgent politics, he remains bound by the framework of the presidency; Musk, who has never held public office, seeks to reshape government in the same chaotic, unregulated way he reshapes his companies.

A major point of conflict emerged around the Efficiency and Governmental Responsibility Commission, informally known as DOGE [the Department of Government Efficiency], where Musk’s authoritarian management style and aggressive push for layoffs caused internal strife. Though initially backed by Trump, the fallout from Musk’s actions, marked by disorganization and public backlash, tarnished the president’s image and failed to deliver meaningful cost savings. It was a mismanaged initiative, chaotic from its inception.

Deeper still is the philosophical rift between the two men. After Trump’s election victory, Musk responded with euphoric pronouncements, proclaiming the win a triumph for humanity and a boon to civilization. His worldview is utopian, even messianic, while Trump’s is steeped in transactional realism: “America First,” domestic economics, tariffs, and populist appeals. Where Musk sees grand historical inflection points, Trump is more focused on campaign jabs and grievances against [his predecessor Joe] Biden.

Regardless of the outcome of the ongoing negotiations surrounding Gaza and the Russia-Ukraine conflict, there are growing indications that the US administration lacks a coherent or effective strategy. Its approach remains rooted in traditional diplomacy – process-heavy, institution-bound, and slow – rather than one grounded in realistic deal-making and a pragmatic cost-benefit analysis.

Instead, the administration has become mired in tactical details surrounding Gaza and Ukraine, further complicating any path toward resolution or de-escalation, particularly as these conflicts remain entangled in broader regional and geopolitical contexts. As confrontations intensify and parties increasingly act unilaterally – Israel in Gaza, Russia in Ukraine – the cycle of violence only deepens, and the US has yet to demonstrate an ability to untangle or defuse the core tensions.

The administration has thus far failed to articulate, much less impose, a workable framework for resolution, underscoring its lack of a comprehensive and durable strategy. The reliance on vague diplomatic contacts and indefinite negotiations has done little to alter the trajectory of either conflict. While some have speculated that President Trump might personally intervene to break the impasse, this seems increasingly unlikely.

Any such move would raise critical questions about the broader role of the US in global security arrangements: Would it contribute troops as part of a multinational force to implement its vision for Gaza? Would it assume responsibility for post-conflict security in Ukraine? How would any of this be feasible, especially in light of potential European or NATO involvement, whether officially sanctioned or otherwise?

These questions point to deeper uncertainties about the US’s strategic posture and global commitments – uncertainties that run counter to Trump’s stated desire to disengage and end foreign entanglements. His vision for ending conflicts, while rhetorically ambitious, often veers into the abstract, detached from the complex realities of a world in transition toward multipolarity – a shift that is already reshaping global power dynamics and could profoundly influence American policy now and in the years ahead.

AS THE administration grapples with these tectonic shifts, it remains adrift, caught between President Trump’s own impulses and the entrenched frameworks of legacy diplomacy. Ironically, Trump now finds himself retreating to the very modes of negotiation and policy-making he once promised to dismantle, constrained by the scale and stakes of international crises.

His transactional instincts – while effective in a business context – do not translate into sustainable policy when the future of nations and the lives of millions are on the line. This disconnect has been evident in his comments about Gaza – remarks about purchasing territory, controlling borders, and managing crossings – comments that betray not only a shallow understanding of international law and historical context but also a fundamental misreading of what viable diplomacy requires.

The administration’s inability to dictate outcomes – whether in Gaza, with Iran, or in the tense back-and-forth over Ukraine – underscores a broader shortfall in vision and capacity. Negotiations surrounding a potential Ukraine truce have reached a delicate and pivotal moment, but the US seems ill-equipped to lead or even facilitate a breakthrough.

What has emerged instead is a pattern of reactive, hastily conceived policies shaped by President Trump’s personal worldview – one that often underestimates the structural complexity of global conflicts, particularly in Gaza and Ukraine. If the administration hopes to play a constructive role, it must reassess its approach and adopt a strategy grounded in realism, patience, and understanding of both regional and global stakes.

Effective diplomacy will require the US to disassemble the conflicts layer by layer, recognizing that any resolution will demand compromise, tough decisions, and a commitment to long-term engagement. Should the Trump administration continue to rely on current negotiation mechanisms, it risks undermining the very coherence and viability of any future settlement.

Israel is now locked in its ugliest political battles – not with traditional adversaries, but with countries and voices that, until recently, were allies, supporters, and defenders of its war in Gaza, even backing its continuation. Today, many of these allies have deemed the war to have reached an “unacceptable” limit.

In truth, that threshold was crossed long ago. The first truce in November 2023 should have marked the end of the war, after Israel exacted its retribution for the Al-Aqsa Flood attack in the form of massive destruction and a devastating human toll.

At the latest, many analysts contend, the war should have ended a year ago – specifically when US President Trump announced an initiative he claimed Israel had proposed (which the Security Council subsequently approved), but which was instead used as a pretext to continue military operations.

Israel systematically undermined every deal proposed, primarily by rejecting any calls to end the war, a stance it still refuses to abandon. Tensions between Israel and European nations have escalated sharply, fueled by growing global outrage over a war that has violated moral, legal, and political norms, playing out live and unfiltered to the world, teetering on the edge of what many now openly call “genocide.”

The term is no longer avoided, except by world governments. Hundreds of British intellectuals and artists have urged the prime minister to impose sanctions on Israel, ending their letter with the declaration: “We are witnesses to the crimes of genocide, and we refuse to acknowledge them with our silence.”

The German chancellor, while refraining from overt criticism, communicated with Israel to end the starvation siege of Gaza and later admitted, “I no longer understand what Israel wants.” His words reflected a deeper realization that the once “absolute support” from Western nations has become a liability, exploited and manipulated.

One activist noted that for nearly 20 months, protests and statements called for ceasefires and for sparing civilians, but Israel’s relentless prosecution of the war, marked by starvation tactics, blockades, and the killing of children, now leaves no option but “sanctions that begin with halting military aid.” Yet even this appeal may be too late.

Israel appears to believe it is nearing the final stage of its campaign and remains committed to achieving its objectives. Its political rhetoric has grown as ruthless as its military operations, willing to go to any length. Its soldiers have been recast as executioners rather than combatants, and Gaza has become an open terrain for unrestrained killing.

Israel’s refusal to allow an Arab ministerial delegation – led by the Saudi foreign minister – to visit Ramallah underscores the shift: Diplomacy has been all but abandoned in favor of entrenching occupation, expanding control of the West Bank, and overseeing a campaign of destruction in Gaza.

Israel framed the Arab delegation’s visit to the Palestinian Authority as a “provocation” and a “challenge,” but its rejection of the visit revealed a hardline posture that may have even startled its staunchest ally, the US.

The past week dispelled any lingering illusion that President Trump might pressure Israel or that he had grown “fatigued” with Prime Minister Netanyahu. In reality, his administration continued to mediate under this alignment.

US ENVOY Steve Witkoff presented a draft ceasefire agreement to Hamas, which they accepted. Israel rejected it, requested revisions, and then swiftly accepted the altered version, leading Hamas to back out.

The first draft included a phased truce and “negotiations to end the war,” backed by guarantees from the US, Egypt, and Qatar. The revised draft stripped away those guarantees, introduced ambiguity around troop withdrawal, and enabled indefinite negotiations, effectively ensuring failure.

Netanyahu once again managed to sabotage any potential ceasefire or prisoner exchange, clinging to a war increasingly rejected even by Israel’s Western allies (except the US). The continuation of daily killings and starvation has brought the campaign to the edge of genocide as defined by the UN and international law.

From the outset, the truce talks were flawed. Mediators could not overcome the foundational impasse. Even after US pragmatism enabled indirect contacts with Hamas, a shared American-Israeli insistence on the ultimate goal – Hamas’s eradication – doomed negotiations.

Hamas, for its part, understood that its elimination was not solely an Israeli objective, but an international one. Still, it sought terms that would recognize its status, even as a “de facto authority” in Gaza. It rejected any proposals that excluded a permanent ceasefire, refused to discuss exile for its leadership or surrender of weapons, and ultimately lost the leverage its remaining hostages once provided.

At the same time, it has been unable to thwart Israel’s strategic aim of depopulating Gaza, whether through expanded military occupation or starvation policies, deliberately excluding the UN from aid distribution to force displace