On November 21, 2025, Washington, D.C. was awash in pageantry as Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman arrived at the White House for what would become the most extravagant welcome of President Donald Trump’s second term. Uniformed men on horseback paraded across the South Lawn, flags fluttered, and fighter jets soared overhead in a dramatic flypast. Inside the Oval Office, Trump greeted the prince with open admiration, repeatedly declaring it an honor to host his “royal friend,” as reported by The Guardian. The spectacle was more than just diplomatic theater—it signaled a profound shift in U.S. foreign policy, one that prioritized transactional relationships with autocratic leaders, even as questions of human rights and international law loomed large.
Amid the celebrations, President Trump announced a new defense agreement: for the first time ever, the United States would sell its cutting-edge F-35 stealth fighter jets to Saudi Arabia. The kingdom had requested to purchase 48 of these jets, a move that would make it only the second country in the Middle East—after Israel—to receive America’s most advanced combat aircraft. Until now, such sales had been restricted to close U.S. allies, mainly European NATO members and Israel, to preserve Israel’s “qualitative edge” in the region. Trump’s declaration that both Saudi Arabia and Israel “should get top of the line” military hardware, as The Guardian noted, marked a dramatic departure from longstanding U.S.-Israeli policy and rattled observers in both countries.
The announcement triggered immediate outcry from human rights groups and international law experts. Human Rights Watch and Amnesty International, among others, renewed calls for a ban on arms sales to Saudi Arabia, citing the kingdom’s well-documented human rights abuses and its ongoing war in Yemen. The 2018 murder and dismemberment of Washington Post journalist Jamal Khashoggi at the Saudi consulate in Istanbul cast a long shadow over the proceedings. U.S. intelligence agencies had assessed that Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman approved the operation, yet Trump publicly contradicted these findings, insisting the prince “knew nothing” about the killing and dismissing Khashoggi as “extremely controversial.” This stance, reported by The Guardian and ABC, underscored the administration’s willingness to sideline human rights concerns in favor of strategic and economic interests.
The F-35 sale also cast a spotlight on America’s global defense partnerships—especially Australia’s role. As a core partner in the F-35 program, over 70 Australian companies contribute parts to the jets’ international supply chain. This arrangement has drawn scrutiny since the outbreak of the Israel-Hamas war in Gaza in 2023, and now, with F-35s destined for Saudi Arabia, the legal and ethical implications for Australia have come under renewed examination. According to ABC, the United Nations Arms Trade Treaty obliges signatories like Australia to regulate the export of parts and components if there is knowledge they could be used in genocide, crimes against humanity, or war crimes. International law experts such as Professor Donald Rothwell of the Australian National University have argued that “the Arms Trade Treaty not only includes a fully assembled weapon, but it also extends to parts and components.”
Australia’s government has maintained that it only supplies “non-lethal” parts and that the global F-35 supply chain is centrally managed by Lockheed Martin and the U.S. government. Nevertheless, civil society groups in Australia, including Quakers Australia, Human Rights Watch, and the Medical Association for Prevention of War, have called for greater transparency and a review of the country’s military export controls. “Any bomb dropped by these planes can only do so because the Australian government has written a blank cheque to Lockheed Martin, selling them Australian-made parts with no human rights restrictions or monitoring,” said Duncan Frewin of Quakers Australia, as reported by ABC. The Australian Defence Department and Foreign Minister Penny Wong have so far referred inquiries to prior Senate testimony, emphasizing the U.S.-led nature of the supply chain.
Meanwhile, the handling of U.S.-Saudi relations has drawn new scrutiny in Congress. On November 21, 2025, Congressman Eugene Vindman publicly demanded the release of the transcript of a phone call between President Trump and Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman that took place shortly after Khashoggi’s murder. Vindman, a former National Security Council official who reviewed the call, described it as “deeply troubling” and revealed that it was stored on a specially compartmentalized system reserved for highly classified intelligence. He argued on Meet the Press NOW and via social media that the call’s content “relates directly to the assassination of journalist Jamal Khashoggi” and that its secrecy raised questions about “possible abuses of power and foreign policy implications,” as reported by IBTimes.
Vindman’s demand for transparency echoed the controversy surrounding Trump’s 2019 call with Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky, which led to his first impeachment. He asserted that the Saudi call, if made public, could “exceed even the gravity” of the Ukraine call due to its potential implications for U.S. foreign policy and human rights. “I’m not calling for retaliation. I’m calling for the facts,” Vindman stated, emphasizing that accountability and public trust were at stake. As of November 22, 2025, there is no public record that the U.S. government has released the full transcript of the Trump-Saudi call, and Vindman continues to press for congressional or executive action to declassify the document.
The broader context of the F-35 sale and the Trump administration’s approach to Saudi Arabia reflects a complex realignment in U.S. Middle East policy. Alongside the fighter jet deal, the administration announced it would lift the ban on selling advanced AI chips to Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates—a move designed to bolster Riyadh’s ambitions of becoming a global tech hub. Gregory Gause, a scholar at the Middle East Institute, likened this U.S.-Saudi partnership in the AI economy to the corporate-led development of Saudi oilfields in the 1930s, suggesting it could “guarantee an American commitment to Saudi security” more effectively than any written pact, as noted by The Guardian.
Other recent U.S. actions have further unsettled traditional allies and signaled a recalibration of priorities. A U.S.-drafted United Nations Security Council resolution included language about a possible pathway to an independent Palestine, despite Israeli objections. Trump also lifted some sanctions on Syria and visited several Gulf states while skipping Israel, moves that have been interpreted as a drift away from the high-water mark of U.S.-Israeli relations. Nevertheless, analysts caution against seeing these changes as a fundamental reset. “If you just strip away some of the particular stupidity of the Biden administration and add the familial self-interest of the Trump administration, and throw into the mix reactions to events and some of the excesses of Israeli overreach, I don’t think we’re seeing a fundamental reset,” argued Daniel Levy, president of the U.S./Middle East Project, in The Guardian.
For all the spectacle and shifting alliances, the core issues remain unresolved. The sale of F-35s to Saudi Arabia, the secrecy surrounding presidential communications, and the ongoing debates over arms exports and human rights have left lawmakers, activists, and the public grappling with the implications of America’s evolving role in the Middle East. As the dust settles on the South Lawn, the decisions made in Washington will reverberate far beyond the White House gates, shaping the region’s future for years to come.
In this new era of diplomacy, where spectacle and secrecy often collide, the world is left to ponder the true cost—and consequences—of American partnership.
