In the grand, often-recalcitrant theater of Middle East diplomacy, the Abraham Accords of 2020 landed like a paradigm-shifting third act. Brokered under the bright lights of a White House lawn, the normalization agreements between Israel and the United Arab Emirates, followed by Bahrain, Sudan, and Morocco, were hailed not merely as treaties but as the dawn of a “New Middle East.” The architecture seemed revolutionary. Unlike the cold, transactional peace agreements Israel forged with Egypt (1979) and Jordan (1994)—treaties between former belligerents built on land-for-peace and maintained by security elites—these were presented as a “warm peace,” a voluntary union of societies built on shared interests in technology, trade, and a common wariness of Tehran.

Yet, years on from that sun-drenched ceremony, the foundation of this new architecture is being tested by the region's unforgiving political geology. The central question, sharpened by subsequent regional tremors, persists and deepens: Are the Abraham Accords a durable model for sustainable, expanding peace, or are they a temporary geostrategic alliance built on the region’s shifting sands, destined to be undermined by the very conflict they sought to bypass? The answer is not binary. The Accords represent a profound and likely irreversible shift in Arab-Israeli relations, but their character is that of a strategic pact, not a comprehensive peace. Their sustainability hinges on an evolution that, thus far, remains elusive, tethered as they are to the transient interests of specific regimes and the unresolved specter of the Palestinian question.

A marriage of convenience and vision

To dismiss the Accords as purely ephemeral would be a misreading of the tectonic shifts that made them possible. For academics and policy analysts, the agreements are a masterclass in modern realpolitik, a convergence of top-down statecraft and bottom-up economic aspiration. The text of the "Abraham Accords Declaration" itself is revealing; it speaks of a “commitment to advancing a culture of peace” but is firmly rooted in the pragmatism of “investment, tourism, direct flights, security, telecommunications, [and] technology.”

This was not a sudden epiphany but the culmination of years of discreet security and intelligence cooperation. For the UAE and Bahrain, the primary driver was geostrategic. The perceived retreat of the United States from its role as regional security guarantor, coupled with the palpable threat of an expansionist Iran, created a strategic vacuum. Israel, with its formidable military and intelligence apparatus, emerged as the most logical and capable regional partner. From a geopolitical perspective, this represents a classic case of rising powers hedging their bets, recalibrating alliances in a multipolar world where a primary superpower’s influence, while still significant, is no longer seen as absolute. The calculus was clear: the existential threat from Iran outweighed the historical, and increasingly abstract, commitment to the Palestinian cause.

For Israel, the Accords were the triumphant validation of a long-held strategic doctrine championed by Benjamin Netanyahu: the "outside-in" approach. This theory posited that peace could be achieved by forging alliances with powerful Arab states first, thereby isolating the Palestinian leadership and forcing them to accept a settlement on Israeli terms. It was a direct repudiation of the Arab Peace Initiative of 2002, which offered normalization only after the establishment of a Palestinian state. The Accords flipped the script, offering the fruits of peace—economic integration and security collaboration—as the prerequisite for a new regional order, with the Palestinian issue demoted to a secondary clause.

The unsettled question: a peace built on an omission

Herein lies the central vulnerability of the Accords as a long-term model for conflict resolution. In its deliberate and strategic circumvention of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, the agreement treats the issue not as the core of the region’s instability, but as a tiresome variable that can be solved for later. This is where the comparison with prior frameworks becomes stark. The Camp David and Wadi Araba treaties, however chilly they became, were fundamentally conflict-resolution mechanisms. They addressed direct territorial disputes and ended decades of war.

The Abraham Accords, by contrast, are conflict-avoidance mechanisms. They normalized relations between nations that were never at war. This distinction is not academic; it is structural. By failing to offer a political horizon for the Palestinians, the Accords risk entrenching the very dynamics that fuel instability. From a critical perspective, this isn't peace but a managed quietude—an alliance of the powerful that further disenfranchises the powerless. The "peace" is enjoyed in the business lounges of Dubai and the tech incubators of Tel Aviv, while the reality of occupation and conflict persists and festers in Jenin and Hebron. This structural omission makes the signatory states, particularly the Gulf monarchies, vulnerable to shifts in public opinion. While their populations may be quiescent under autocratic rule, the resonance of the Palestinian cause as a matter of Arab and Muslim identity has not vanished. Regional escalations, as seen in subsequent rounds of violence in Gaza and the West Bank, place immense pressure on these governments, forcing them into a delicate balancing act of condemning their new partner, Israel, while trying to preserve the strategic and economic benefits of the relationship. A peace that requires one side to constantly look over its shoulder at popular sentiment is, by definition, not yet sustainable.

The American role: catalyst and complication

No analysis is complete without examining the role of the United States. The Accords were an unambiguous triumph of transactional diplomacy, a signature achievement of the Trump administration. Using American leverage—from the sale of F-35 fighter jets to the UAE to recognizing Moroccan sovereignty over Western Sahara—Washington acted as the indispensable catalyst. This raises a critical question for policymakers: Is the model replicable, or was it a product of a unique moment and a unique presidential style?

The Biden administration, while embracing the Accords, has subtly shifted the emphasis, seeking to leverage them to revive moribund Israeli-Palestinian negotiations. The ambition to expand the circle of peace to include Saudi Arabia is the ultimate test of this model. An Israeli-Saudi normalization would be a geopolitical earthquake, effectively ending the Arab-Israeli conflict as we have known it. However, Riyadh has consistently signaled—far more forcefully than the initial Accords signatories—that any such deal is contingent on tangible, "irrevocable" steps toward a Palestinian state. This demand returns the conflict to the center of the equation, challenging the core "outside-in" premise of the original Accords. It suggests that the price of the ultimate prize is addressing the very issue the Accords were designed to bypass.

Conclusion: a new baseline, not a final blueprint

The Abraham Accords are not a mirage. They have reconfigured the Middle East's strategic map, creating new axes of power and possibility. The economic and security partnerships are real and growing, establishing a new baseline for what is possible in Arab-Israeli relations. The taboo has been broken.

However, to call them a model for sustainable peace is a premature and dangerously optimistic verdict. They are a model for a geostrategic alliance of the like-minded, driven by shared anxieties and aspirations. This is significant, but it is not the same as resolving the region's foundational conflict.

Like a brilliant architect designing a skyscraper on a known fault line, the builders of the Accords created something remarkable that ignores the ground beneath it. The long-term effects of this omission are not yet known. The structure may hold, buttressed by the steel of shared security interests and the gold of mutual prosperity. But sustainable peace requires a deeper foundation. It requires justice, equity, and a political horizon for all peoples of the region. Until the framework of the Accords can be expanded to meaningfully incorporate the Palestinians, they will remain a remarkable, perhaps even revolutionary, alliance—but a temporary one, forever vulnerable to the tremors of an unresolved conflict. The architecture is in place, but the ground remains unsettled.