The term “Abraham Accords” sounds more significant than the actual documents. Scripture, history, and a certain theatrical weight that the text itself, which is brief, technical, and nearly dry, falls short of. However, it was difficult to ignore the fact that something truly out of the ordinary was taking place during the September 2020 signing ceremony on the White House’s South Lawn, where ministers from Bahrain, the United Arab Emirates, and Israel shook hands in front of cameras while flags stood erect in the late summer breeze. Israel was being openly recognized by Arab nations. Not a coded language. Back-channel deniability is absent.
The Abraham Accords are essentially a series of bilateral agreements that normalized diplomatic relations between Israel and a number of Arab and Muslim-majority nations, beginning with Bahrain and the United Arab Emirates and progressing to Sudan, Morocco, and, more recently, Kazakhstan. The agreements, which were mediated by the US under Donald Trump, allowed for the opening of embassies, direct flights, tourism, defense cooperation, and a host of other trade agreements that had been quietly evolving for years. The name itself was chosen to allude to the three monotheistic religions’ common Abrahamic origins; it was a clever piece of branding.
The ceremony is not as important as the backstory. Throughout the 2010s, Israel and Sunni Arab states had been getting closer, primarily due to their shared concern over Iran. The intelligence services were already conversing. Officials were gathering in silence. In 2018, Israel’s national anthem was playing in a Gulf state for the first time, Netanyahu was in Oman, and an Israeli minister was seated in the stands at a judo competition in Abu Dhabi. This relationship was not created by the Accords. They made it apparent.
Looking back, it seems like the timing was both strategic and political. A victory in foreign policy was necessary for the Trump administration. The UAE desired a more straightforward route to cutting-edge American weapons as well as a halt to Israeli plans to annex the West Bank. Morocco desired that the United States acknowledge its sovereignty over Western Sahara. Sudan desired access to international funding and removal from the list of sponsors of terrorism. Everybody received something. In all honesty, the answer to the question of whether the Palestinians received anything is largely negative.
Many people in the Arab world are still troubled by that absence. Normalization with Israel in exchange for a functional Palestinian state was outlined in the 2002 Arab Peace Initiative. That reasoning was reversed by the Accords. They left the rest for later, normalizing first. The governments exchanged handshakes. Most people didn’t agree, especially on the streets between Casablanca and Manama. One of the most overlooked aspects of this entire narrative is the discrepancy between official policy and public opinion.
The agreements have resulted in significant economic and diplomatic activity, including defense procurement, energy talks, tourism flows, and tech investments. It is not insignificant. However, it’s also important to acknowledge that the larger goals, such as bringing in Saudi Arabia, putting an end to the wider regional cold war, and even bringing in Syria and Lebanon, which the second Trump administration reportedly started investigating in mid-2025, are still unfulfilled, and the Gaza conflict has made a number of those discussions far more difficult than the 2020 optics suggested.
After five years, what do the Abraham Accords really mean? Yes, a diplomatic breakthrough. Certainly a rearranging of regional alignments. However, it also serves as a reminder that peace based on common enemies often seems more resilient in press releases than it actually is.
