Netanyahu Unyielding: Israel Warns U.S. Pause on Arms Risks ‘Standing Alone’

Paul Riverbank, 1/31/2026U.S.-Israel alliance faces shifting aid, new military partnerships, and rising regional diplomatic tensions.

The 2026 National Defense Strategy, just out, doesn’t mince words. It frames Israel as a nation that’s proved capable of defending itself with what Pentagon brass call “critical but limited support” from their American friends. Quoting the document, it’s “an opportunity now to further empower [Israel] to defend itself and promote our shared interests, building on President Trump’s historic efforts to secure peace in the Middle East.” These words aren’t simply for diplomatic theatre. As talks begin about the shape of the next decade’s military aid package, both governments are thinking aloud about what it means to be a strategic partner in an age of uncertainty.

Currently, the aid arrangement—set in writing in a 2016 Memorandum of Understanding—sends $3.3 billion to Israel annually for military assistance, plus $500 million earmarked for missile defense. It’s a significant chunk of change, fueling longstanding debate in Washington: at what point does this support morph from shared interest to burdensome obligation? Some lawmakers and policy analysts now urge cutting direct aid, hinting that it would force Israel to stand more on its own and possibly grant the U.S. greater leverage.

But a stroll through think tank row reveals a surprising consensus—at least on the basics. Jonathan Ruhe, who heads foreign policy analysis at the Jewish Institute for National Security of America, points out that much of this money never leaves American soil. “U.S. defense assistance to Israel in the MOU is spent in dollars here in America to support our industry,” he explained in a recent interview. It’s not just about cash, either. There’s talk that the next big agreement will hinge on a more equal partnership: joint research on new weapons, co-produced defense systems, a greater hand in sharing intelligence. “A new MOU would also likely be broader and include things that are more 50-50 partnership,” Ruhe said, “like joint research and development, co-production, intelligence sharing and things like that.”

If you visit any U.S. defense factory in the Midwest, you’ll see the effects firsthand: Israeli orders keep assembly lines running, with ripple effects across local economies. Avner Golov, vice president at the Israeli think tank Mind Israel, summarized Israel’s perspective more bluntly. “Israel is in the fight. We are protecting ourselves by ourselves. We just need the tools to do that.” In his view, the arrangement bolsters not just Israel’s security, but American standing worldwide, and gives a tangible boost to U.S. manufacturing.

But tension hasn’t evaporated. In May 2024, the Biden White House pressed “pause” on a shipment of large bombs destined for Israeli airfields—a rare, public display of U.S.-Israeli disagreement. Prime Minister Netanyahu bristled, issuing a familiar if somber warning: if left alone, Israel would fight alone. The episode left diplomats on both sides scrambling for reassurance and highlighted how Israel’s urgent readiness can clash with Washington’s mounting concerns.

Privately, some Israeli strategists admit they’re eyeing independence from Washington, or at least a lessening of day-to-day reliance. The reason isn’t complicated: supply hiccups and political wrangling on Capitol Hill make for jittery defense planning. “The war of the last two years showed that Israel can’t afford to be as dependent on the U.S. or continue to maintain the same defense partnership that it has,” Ruhe noted. There’s vulnerability, not just to weapon delays but to shifts in U.S. political winds.

Even so, the logic of the old model is hard to shake. As Ruhe observes, getting Congress to sign off on funding embedded in a formal agreement—like the current MOU—is far easier than negotiating yearly aid battles. And for some Israelis, that predictability is almost as valuable as the hardware itself.

Golov, looking further ahead, wants to recast the alliance as a “21st-century strategic merger.” He’s fond of pointing out, with a wry smile, that Israel is “the only partner that delivers a 400% return on investment without asking for a single American soldier.” What he wants, he told me, isn’t a reduction in dependency but an increase in Israel’s contribution to America’s own ambitious goals. But even he acknowledges the importance of steady aid during this transition. “We need a final ten-year ‘bridge’ with the current security aid MOU,” Golov suggested. “A sudden cut would be a dangerous signal of American retreat to our enemies and may hinder IDF preparedness.”

While all this churns beneath the surface, Saudi Arabia is quietly working its own diplomatic channels. Meeting European officials recently in Dublin, Saudi diplomats stressed that real peace in Gaza will require dialogue and a renewed push for a two-state solution. Dr. Manal Radwan, a respected Saudi UN delegate, put it bluntly: “the current phase requires intensified diplomatic efforts, dialogue, and coordinated action to keep the peace process aligned with its core goal of ending the conflict and achieving lasting peace.” The U.S., she added, still has the “pivotal role” if there’s any hope of a sustainable solution.

Oddly, some U.S. media have painted Riyadh as drifting away, largely because it hasn't snapped up a peace deal with Israel or consistently echoed the UAE’s policies on Yemen and other hot spots. Ali Shihabi, a well-placed Saudi analyst, recently countered this in a pointed essay. The rift with the UAE and differences with Israel, he argues, boil down to approaches on fragile states—not dissatisfaction with the U.S. itself. His main point: where the Emiratis sometimes push for quick, visible victories, the Saudis focus on political stability and keeping frontiers intact—a long game aimed at preventing total collapse in places like Yemen or Libya.

“Failed states become breeding grounds for terrorism, crime, and endless conflict,” Shihabi wrote. For Riyadh, working with established governments, however imperfect, is better than the chaos of perpetual transition.

Despite occasional headlines warning of a “split,” Saudi officials insist their partnership with Washington is strong as ever. Their rhetoric has, if anything, grown sharper in advocating a “just and lasting peace” for the Palestinians—an independent state being the endgame—while ensuring overall regional stability.

So, where does this leave Washington? American policymakers find themselves walking a narrow ridge, balancing the old alliances—Israel’s security deal, the Saudi partnership—with ambitions for a new kind of peace across the Middle East. Congress debates, think tanks draft fresh strategies, and leaders in Jerusalem and Riyadh eye each other warily, all amid a region where old grievances simmer and new alignments are quietly underway.

Politics here rarely affords the comfort of final answers. What’s clear is that the nature of American alliances is shifting, not shrinking—and that in this unpredictable landscape, every move still sends ripples from Capitol Hill to dusty border crossings in the Middle East.

In Washington, the arrival of Israeli officials this week didn’t exactly surprise anyone; talk of military ties with the U.S. has become almost routine, yet the stakes feel different now. There’s a fresh Pentagon strategy document circulating, one that paints Israel as more than an ordinary ally: a “model,” if you believe the new defense playbook. The timing is deliberate, and the subtext runs deep—how future support will be shaped, and whether both sides will settle into a new kind of partnership.The 2026 National Defense Strategy, just out, doesn’t mince words. It frames Israel as a nation that’s proved capable of defending itself with what Pentagon brass call “critical but limited support” from their American friends. Quoting the document, it’s “an opportunity now to further empower [Israel] to defend itself and promote our shared interests, building on President Trump’s historic efforts to secure peace in the Middle East.” These words aren’t simply for diplomatic theatre. As talks begin about the shape of the next decade’s military aid package, both governments are thinking aloud about what it means to be a strategic partner in an age of uncertainty.Currently, the aid arrangement—set in writing in a 2016 Memorandum of Understanding—sends $3.3 billion to Israel annually for military assistance, plus $500 million earmarked for missile defense. It’s a significant chunk of change, fueling longstanding debate in Washington: at what point does this support morph from shared interest to burdensome obligation? Some lawmakers and policy analysts now urge cutting direct aid, hinting that it would force Israel to stand more on its own and possibly grant the U.S. greater leverage.But a stroll through think tank row reveals a surprising consensus—at least on the basics. Jonathan Ruhe, who heads foreign policy analysis at the Jewish Institute for National Security of America, points out that much of this money never leaves American soil. “U.S. defense assistance to Israel in the MOU is spent in dollars here in America to support our industry,” he explained in a recent interview. It’s not just about cash, either. There’s talk that the next big agreement will hinge on a more equal partnership: joint research on new weapons, co-produced defense systems, a greater hand in sharing intelligence. “A new MOU would also likely be broader and include things that are more 50-50 partnership,” Ruhe said, “like joint research and development, co-production, intelligence sharing and things like that.”If you visit any U.S. defense factory in the Midwest, you’ll see the effects firsthand: Israeli orders keep assembly lines running, with ripple effects across local economies. Avner Golov, vice president at the Israeli think tank Mind Israel, summarized Israel’s perspective more bluntly. “Israel is in the fight. We are protecting ourselves by ourselves. We just need the tools to do that.” In his view, the arrangement bolsters not just Israel’s security, but American standing worldwide, and gives a tangible boost to U.S. manufacturing.But tension hasn’t evaporated. In May 2024, the Biden White House pressed “pause” on a shipment of large bombs destined for Israeli airfields—a rare, public display of U.S.-Israeli disagreement. Prime Minister Netanyahu bristled, issuing a familiar if somber warning: if left alone, Israel would fight alone. The episode left diplomats on both sides scrambling for reassurance and highlighted how Israel’s urgent readiness can clash with Washington’s mounting concerns.Privately, some Israeli strategists admit they’re eyeing independence from Washington, or at least a lessening of day-to-day reliance. The reason isn’t complicated: supply hiccups and political wrangling on Capitol Hill make for jittery defense planning. “The war of the last two years showed that Israel can’t afford to be as dependent on the U.S. or continue to maintain the same defense partnership that it has,” Ruhe noted. There’s vulnerability, not just to weapon delays but to shifts in U.S. political winds.Even so, the logic of the old model is hard to shake. As Ruhe observes, getting Congress to sign off on funding embedded in a formal agreement—like the current MOU—is far easier than negotiating yearly aid battles. And for some Israelis, that predictability is almost as valuable as the hardware itself.Golov, looking further ahead, wants to recast the alliance as a “21st-century strategic merger.” He’s fond of pointing out, with a wry smile, that Israel is “the only partner that delivers a 400% return on investment without asking for a single American soldier.” What he wants, he told me, isn’t a reduction in dependency but an increase in Israel’s contribution to America’s own ambitious goals. But even he acknowledges the importance of steady aid during this transition. “We need a final ten-year ‘bridge’ with the current security aid MOU,” Golov suggested. “A sudden cut would be a dangerous signal of American retreat to our enemies and may hinder IDF preparedness.”While all this churns beneath the surface, Saudi Arabia is quietly working its own diplomatic channels. Meeting European officials recently in Dublin, Saudi diplomats stressed that real peace in Gaza will require dialogue and a renewed push for a two-state solution. Dr. Manal Radwan, a respected Saudi UN delegate, put it bluntly: “the current phase requires intensified diplomatic efforts, dialogue, and coordinated action to keep the peace process aligned with its core goal of ending the conflict and achieving lasting peace.” The U.S., she added, still has the “pivotal role” if there’s any hope of a sustainable solution.Oddly, some U.S. media have painted Riyadh as drifting away, largely because it hasn't snapped up a peace deal with Israel or consistently echoed the UAE’s policies on Yemen and other hot spots. Ali Shihabi, a well-placed Saudi analyst, recently countered this in a pointed essay. The rift with the UAE and differences with Israel, he argues, boil down to approaches on fragile states—not dissatisfaction with the U.S. itself. His main point: where the Emiratis sometimes push for quick, visible victories, the Saudis focus on political stability and keeping frontiers intact—a long game aimed at preventing total collapse in places like Yemen or Libya.“Failed states become breeding grounds for terrorism, crime, and endless conflict,” Shihabi wrote. For Riyadh, working with established governments, however imperfect, is better than the chaos of perpetual transition.Despite occasional headlines warning of a “split,” Saudi officials insist their partnership with Washington is strong as ever. Their rhetoric has, if anything, grown sharper in advocating a “just and lasting peace” for the Palestinians—an independent state being the endgame—while ensuring overall regional stability.So, where does this leave Washington? American policymakers find themselves walking a narrow ridge, balancing the old alliances—Israel’s security deal, the Saudi partnership—with ambitions for a new kind of peace across the Middle East. Congress debates, think tanks draft fresh strategies, and leaders in Jerusalem and Riyadh eye each other warily, all amid a region where old grievances simmer and new alignments are quietly underway.Politics here rarely affords the comfort of final answers. What’s clear is that the nature of American alliances is shifting, not shrinking—and that in this unpredictable landscape, every move still sends ripples from Capitol Hill to dusty border crossings in the Middle East.