In his first term, Donald Trump shepherded four Arab states into the Abraham Accords. These deals saw these states recognize Israel and establish relations with it. Trump’s accords took their name from Abraham, a patriarch shared by Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. Joe Biden then spent four years working to bring Saudi Arabia into the fold. His efforts failed. As Trump returns to the White House, he would be wise to seek more Abraham Accords members. Saudi Arabia should be the first target. However, Trump would be wise to make his own Abraham Accords agreements the model rather than go on with Biden’s vision for a Saudi deal, which would have given too much for too little.

Trump’s Abraham Accords succeeded for America because we played midwife, not master. We are both sides’ most powerful security partner. They both trust us. We provided the venue and, at times, cajoled the participants. In a few cases, we did small, cheap favors, such as recognizing Morocco’s claim over Western Sahara. But the heart of the deal was the parties and their yearning for a partnership with each other. Biden’s proposed deal is nothing like this. It centers on America doing big, risky favors, like agreeing to go to war for the Saudis if necessary. The heart of the deal would be Riyadh winning a deeper bond with Washington, not Jerusalem. 

Biden’s attempted deal thus calls to mind not Abraham but Abraham’s grandson Esau. Esau is a disreputable figure in both Jewish and Christian traditions. This springs from Esau’s choice to sell his birthright to his younger brother Jacob for a bowl of lentil stew. Esau’s accord with Jacob traded something enduring and priceless—the birthright—for a temporary means of living. This shows Esau as foolish at best. Both the Christian writer of the New Testament’s Epistle to the Hebrews and many Jewish commentators read it as evidence of a deeper moral rot. Esau was hungry, but the stew wasn’t worth the birthright. He shouldn’t have made the deal.

Esau may not have inherited his birthright, but Biden inherited his Middle East dealmaking from Esau. Biden’s Saudi deal framework (let’s call it “the Esau Accords”) gives the Saudis too much in return for too little. The Esau Accords have been the subject of many rumors and contradictory reports. But the basic outline is clear enough. Saudi Arabia would recognize Israel. Saudi Arabia would set bounds on its dealings with U.S. rivals, especially China. In return, the United States would give Saudi Arabia a defense treaty and a nuclear enrichment program. 

The Saudi concessions are valuable. I have argued for nearly a decade that the United States would be wise to encourage the formation of an Israeli-Gulf Arab bloc to counterbalance Iran. The recent conquest of Syria by a Turkey-friendly group reminds us that there are at least three axes in the region, and the Israeli-Gulf bloc would be the most aligned with American interests. That bloc already partially exists as an overt relationship with the Abraham Accords states and a covert relationship with the Saudis. The United States would be buying a significant change but not a total Saudi realignment. However, open relations, with commerce, tourism, and travel to go with them, would build resilience into the partnership. With China as our main strategic challenge, we want to facilitate the partnership and then let the Israelis and Saudis do the heavy lifting. Conversely, the more the partnership depends on direct American presence, support, and mediation, the less value it provides to us.

Yet the U.S. concessions are entering birthright territory. Either major concession would be too much on its own. Saudi officials have said more than once that they will acquire nuclear weapons if Iran does. Giving them a nuclear enrichment program would put them closer to that goal, especially if the enrichment facility operates on an industrial scale. Riyadh says it seeks to “monetize all minerals,” including uranium, and that this includes a desire to export it in regular and enriched forms. But as with Iran, there is little economic reason for Saudi Arabia to build a domestic enrichment program. This raises questions over why the Kingdom would seek it so eagerly.

Indeed, Saudi Arabia’s Emirati neighbors have agreed to forgo enrichment entirely despite facing the same strategic environment. There may be clever diplomatic arrangements that could satisfy U.S. interests without Saudi Arabia formally agreeing never to enrich. But if Riyadh wants a fight, Washington has plenty of leverage. For example, much of the Saudi military would break down without access to U.S. parts and contractors. If Riyadh thinks a nuclear weapons program would add to its security, it must subtract its American-supplied forces from the equation. There is thus no need for America to give the Saudis uranium enrichment.

The Esau Accords’ proposed U.S.-Saudi defense treaty is worse. Saudi Arabia and the United States already have far-reaching defense cooperation. The Esau framework goes further still. Various models have been floated in the press, but they fall into two broad categories: a war guarantee and a commitment to consult. Both deserve close examination.

A war guarantee—that is, a defense agreement in which the United States agrees to go to war if Saudi Arabia is attacked, to treat an attack on Saudi Arabia as an attack on America, as in NATO’s Article 5—would be a bad idea. The United States already has the option to go to war for Saudi Arabia, and we’ve sent warning signals to Saudi enemies since the Kennedy administration. There are many possible Saudi wars in which America would have little stake—for example, the Saudi struggle for Yemen. In such cases, a U.S. commitment is undesirable; we should not fight wars in which we have little interest. America would have some stake in wars that involve Saudi oil infrastructure. Yet even these would depend on the details. Even serious attacks might not demand American action—they didn’t in 2019. We are thus better served by the present arrangement: ambiguous threats to those that threaten Saudi oil, with any further U.S. involvement decided ad hoc.

A commitment to consult with one another if Saudi Arabia is attacked seems like a much looser arrangement—an echo of NATO’s Article 4, which has been invoked every few years this millennium without becoming a gateway to war. In theory, this is a hollow commitment: a promise to talk. In practice, we shouldn’t be so sure. Consultation creates expectations. Suppose a neighbor invades Saudi Arabia. The Saudis invoke the agreement. They tell U.S. officials about the invasion. The Americans say, “Wow, that’s terrible, sorry to hear that.” Then, they leave. How is that arrangement different from something the Saudis could have with any country? Why not an Article 4-style deal with Belize or Botswana? That points us to the reality—the consultation framework would be interpreted as a formalization and elevation of the U.S. commitment to Saudi Arabia. 

Like Esau, we have a character defect that shapes our approach to deals. Washington has an unhealthy culture around international commitments. For example, we have come to see alliances as ends when they are a means. U.S. national-security documents have long spoken of the purpose of our defense policy being the protection of both the United States and its allies—not the protection of the United States, sometimes by means of protecting allies. The Biden era took the ends/means confusion to new extremes, speaking of NATO as “sacred.”

Washington is also anxious that allies are not confident enough in our commitment to them, prompting U.S. force deployments, recommitments, aid initiatives, changes to our own force composition, and more. These endless reassurance efforts shift defense burdens off our allies and onto us, sometimes putting our forces at greater risk. 

All this makes Washington hesitant to speak or even think of limits on its commitments. Thus, many see NATO’s Article 5 as an automatic commitment to war—a misinterpretation of both the plain text of the treaty and the understanding of those who ratified it. Many would likely see Article 5 as a direct authorization for the president to wage war in the event of an attack on NATO—again, a misreading of the treaty. Thus,​​ many use the term “ally” to describe any country that has a generally positive relationship with us. For example, former Representative Adam Schiff used the term to describe Ukraine while calling for Donald Trump’s impeachment in 2019. Allies are, in fact, countries with whom we have hard defense commitments, not just any country with whom we’d like to have a beer.

Thus, even a loose defense treaty with Saudi Arabia might not stay loose. All this means that the Esau Accords would make America the primary actor in the Israeli-Gulf Arab bloc rather than a mere facilitator. That would undermine U.S. efforts to focus on Asia and ourselves. 

Biden’s framework is a recipe for more U.S. entanglement in the Middle East. It would yield a steadily deepening commitment and a Saudi nuclear weapons pathway in return for Saudi Arabia doing openly what it now does secretly. Trump shouldn’t follow in Biden and Esau’s footsteps. He should revive his Abraham Accords model. Offer a fair deal centered on what Saudi Arabia and Israel can do for each other, not on what America can do for them. If Riyadh insists on a defense agreement or nuclear enrichment, Trump should be wiser than Esau. It’s better to say thanks, but no thanks—I’ll skip the stew.

John Allen Gay is executive director of the John Quincy Adams Society.

Image: Noam Galai / Shutterstock.com.