Silent Gulf Rivalry: From Politics to Ports and Markets

• It is difficult to understand the recent escalation in Yemen—or to make sense of its sudden intensity in both rhetoric and action—as an isolated event or as a temporary deviation in the Saudi–Emirati partnership. What unfolded, from strikes aimed at disrupting suspected weapons supply routes toward al-Mukalla to the more explicit Emirati push in support of the Southern Transitional Council’s influence in Hadramawt and al-Mahra, is better understood as another episode in a long, carefully managed trajectory of divergence.

• The differences between Riyadh and Abu Dhabi in Yemen are neither new nor concealed. What is new is their partial shift, at this particular moment, from quiet containment to more visible signaling. This does not indicate the collapse of the partnership, but rather reflects a changing regional environment in which earlier mechanisms of managing competition have become insufficient on their own. Yemen, in this sense, functions less as a central battlefield than as a pressure arena—one in which tensions are displaced, absorbed, and recalibrated because allowing them to surface within the Gulf itself would carry far higher systemic costs.

Focusing exclusively on Yemen, however, risks missing the broader transformation underway. What is changing in the Gulf today is not merely the configuration of alliances, but the very definition of interests—most notably economic interests—as an integral component of security rather than a domain subordinate to it.

Until recently, Gulf economies were largely treated as outcomes of political stability. Today, the equation has reversed. Stability itself is increasingly measured by the resilience of economic systems: their ability to attract investment, maintain logistical centrality, and protect each state’s position within an intensely competitive regional and global network. It is at this level that the deeper divergence between Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates becomes visible—not as open confrontation, but as a difference in what each believes must be secured first.

Saudi Arabia, given its size, geography, and political and religious weight, views the economy as the backbone of a long-term national and regional leadership project. Economic stability, in this framework, cannot be detached from state stability, nor separated from managing the surrounding regional environment, preventing major collapses, and containing prolonged disorder. Markets, from Riyadh’s perspective, require a relatively stable political neighborhood, even if such stability is gradual, negotiated, and constrained by complex legitimacy considerations.

The Emirati perspective is markedly different. The economy is treated not merely as a beneficiary of stability, but as a system in its own right—networked, transnational, and acutely sensitive to disruption. Ports, aviation hubs, logistics corridors, supply chains, and regional headquarters of multinational corporations are not technical details; they are core security assets. Any disturbance in these networks immediately affects international standing and economic credibility. Stability, here, is functional rather than territorial, and efficiency often takes precedence over the consolidation of centralized state authority.

This divergence in economic threat perception explains many policy differences that are often misread as purely political or tactical. In Yemen, Saudi Arabia sees the principal economic danger in the emergence of chronic instability along its southern flank—one that threatens borders, invites Iranian penetration, and undermines the image of a state capable of securing its strategic depth. The Emirati focus, by contrast, gravitates toward Yemen’s coastline, ports, and the Bab al-Mandab strait as nodes within global trade routes, where ensuring maritime security and operational continuity may outweigh the imperative of restoring a unified central state.

A similar logic is evident in Sudan. For Saudi Arabia, Sudan represents strategic depth for Red Sea security and an arena where prolonged collapse would impose unacceptable political and economic costs. Stability there is a prerequisite for broader regional projects and long-term economic planning. The Emirati approach, however, places greater emphasis on direct economic influence, investment networks, and relationships with local actors capable of safeguarding interests on the ground, even in the absence of a consolidated state. The competition, in this sense, is not over Sudan per se, but over models of managing economic risk in fragile environments.

Even in the context of Gaza and Israel, the economic dimension cannot be disentangled from political positioning. The UAE approached normalization as part of a broader economic-strategic realignment—one designed to reduce the long-term costs of chronic conflict, open access to technology and investment, and anchor its role within Western-centered economic and security networks. Saudi Arabia, more constrained by questions of religious legitimacy and symbolic leadership, has proceeded with greater caution, aware that major economic decisions cannot be detached from public opinion or from its role in the Arab and Islamic worlds.

The divergence becomes particularly pronounced in approaches toward Iran. Saudi Arabia views economic security as inseparable from a credible deterrence framework, fearing that any major regional escalation would directly jeopardize its flagship development projects and internal stability. The Emirati approach has been more pragmatic and compartmentalized, seeking to reduce the costs of confrontation by keeping economic channels open and separating commercial engagement from political rivalry, on the assumption that uninterrupted trade itself constitutes a vital security interest.

From the perspective of Regional Security Complex Theory, this does not signal an impending economic war within the Gulf. Rather, it points to a new phase of managed rivalry, in which the center of gravity has shifted from hard politics to political economy. The contest is no longer primarily about rhetorical leadership, but about economic centrality—about who defines stability as the stability of states, who defines it as the stability of markets, and who can reconcile the two.

The danger of this phase lies not in the likelihood of armed conflict, but in the nature of economic competition itself. Economic rivalry is quiet, cumulative, and rarely announced. It unfolds through investment decisions, port expansions, aviation routes, corporate relocations, and logistical re-mapping. It does not require escalation statements, yet it steadily reshapes power balances beneath the surface.

Still, this rivalry remains bounded by a rational ceiling. Saudi Arabia understands that undermining the Gulf’s shared economic foundations would weaken its own leadership ambitions. The UAE recognizes that systemic instability would erode the trust on which its economic model depends. What emerges, therefore, is a form of mutual economic deterrence—not driven by fear of war, but by fear of losing position.

If the Gulf continues to be viewed solely through the lens of political alliances, its trajectory will appear contradictory and unpredictable. Viewed through the lens of economic security, however, a more coherent pattern emerges. The region is not entering a phase of fragmentation, nor one of consolidation, but a prolonged transition in which the rules of competition are being slowly rewritten.

The most likely trajectory is neither rupture nor reconciliation, but the continuation of managed rivalry with an increasing shift toward economic and logistical arenas. Yemen, Sudan, and Gaza will remain pressure points—arenas for signaling and recalibration rather than decisive resolution.

What makes the coming phase particularly sensitive is that economic competition, unlike military confrontation, is harder to contain. Its effects are incremental, its mistakes long-term, and its consequences often visible only after strategic positions have already shifted. For now, the economy functions as a stabilizing force; mishandled, it could just as easily become a source of structural tension.

In this sense, the Gulf is not approaching the end of an old order, nor the emergence of a fully formed new one. It is entering a gray zone—defined by cautious ambition, calibrated risk, and a quiet struggle over economic centrality. A phase that appears calm on the surface, yet carries within it the decisions that will shape the Gulf’s political and strategic landscape for the decade ahead.