When Do Mediators Say “No”? The Case of American Resistance to Mediating the Gulf Diplomatic Crisis

A growing body of literature explores the reasons third parties offer mediation assistance to disputants seeking to end conflicts peacefully (Crocker, Hampson, and Aall 2003; Greig 2005; Greig and Regan 2008; Crescenzi et al. 2011; Hellman 2012; Mitchell 2014; Melin and Olander 2019). Such analyses are essential to understanding when, how, and why third parties initiate peacemaking efforts. However, less attention has been given to situations where third parties refuse to engage despite having adequate resources and skills to do so. Resistance to mediation has been studied mainly from the demand side, examining why some conflicts resist third‐party peacemaking initiatives, and primarily linking the answers/insights to the intractable nature of the conflict (Walter 2003; Crocker, Hampson, and Aall 2004, 2005; Mitchell 2014). What is largely neglected is a nuanced reflection on the reasons that third parties resist extending offers to mediate or refuse requests for such assistance.

Mediation is a third‐party diplomatic intervention that enables conflicting parties to resolve disputes when they are unable or unwilling to do so on their own. Conducted on an ad hoc and voluntary basis, the mediation process results in legally nonbinding outcomes, which are particularly attractive in an international system dominated by the desire of parties to protect, maintain, and promote the autonomy of their decision‐making (Bercovitch 1992, 2009). Successful mediation often is tied to the leverage and abilities of the mediator (Svensson 2007; Beardsley 2013; Reid 2017), the motivation of the disputing parties (Richmond 1998; Melin and Svensson 2009; Beardsley 2011), and the ripeness of the conflict for mediation (Regan and Stam 2000; Greig 2001; Zartman 2001; Clayton and Gleditsch 2014; Ruhe 2015).

Mediators bring a range of characteristics and resources—both tangible and intangible—to the management of a given conflict. Some resources are used to persuade disputants that a mediated outcome is more desirable than pursuing a unilateral solution through confrontational strategies. As no mediation occurs in a vacuum, mediators also bring to a dispute a range of preferences for handling the specific conflict. These preferences, or biases, are shaped by existing relations with one or more of the parties, interpretations of the issues at hand, and strategic interests that motivate mediators to get involved in the first place (Zartman and Touval 2007; Favretto 2009; Beber 2012; Svensson 2014).

Mediation is neither aimless nor randomly conducted, but a result of a strategic calculus that mediators make about the outcomes they help shape and the benefits they may reap (Mitchell and Thyne 2011). As Touval and Zartman have noted, “[M]ediators are no less motivated by self‐interest than by humanitarian impulses … [T]he mediator is a player in the plot of relations surrounding a conflict, and has some interest in the outcome (else it would not mediate)” (Touval and Zartman 1985: 8). In other words, mediation can be understood as a useful foreign policy tool that permits mediators to achieve some of their strategic interests without raising significant international opposition (Touval 2003; Kamrava 2011, 2013; Akpinar 2015).

This article first explores the literature examining why mediators offer their assistance to parties in conflict. Working against the backdrop of current scholarship in the materialist/realist tradition that expounds the reasons when, why, and how mediation is initiated, this article offers a novel conceptual framework for those dynamics that cause third parties' reluctance to mediate. The topic of the reluctant mediator is critical, as it provides key insights into the underlying conflict dynamics that cause third parties to say “no” to serving as mediators even when they would be expected to say “yes.” This article argues that regardless of other predictive factors, third parties are reluctant to mediate conflicts where there are high levels of power symmetry and strong structural linkages between the third party and the conflicting parties, and where the third party has extensive strategic interests in the conflict‐affected area. To illustrate this claim empirically, the authors conducted an in‐depth case study of the 2017 Qatar diplomatic crisis and explored the reasons behind the U.S. reluctance to mediate the conflict.

Noting the potential costs to a third‐party mediator, Greig and Regan have argued that “[t]hose offering to mediate must have sufficient interest in the warring state or the region to be willing to incur those costs, even if successful outcomes are elusive” (2008: 762). In exploring a broad range of interests that may motivate mediators to step in and manage a given conflict, Greig and Regan emphasized existing trade relations between mediators and one or more conflicting parties, formal pacts of alliance between mediators and conflicting parties, and historical linkages between them. They found that when there is a defense pact between a third party and a conflicting party, the likelihood that an ally will offer mediation assistance is more than three times greater, while historical linkages between a third party and one or more belligerents increase the prospects of a third party offering to mediate by more than ten times (Greig and Regan 2008). Regan and Aydin also have noted that trade ties between belligerents and third parties seem to increase the likelihood of external conflict management activities (Regan and Aydin 2006). Yet, as Böhmelt has pointed out, the more that belligerents strengthen their trade ties with outside actors, the more alternatives they have to substitute trade markets, which in turn decreases the chance of mediation by the third party (Böhmelt 2010). This is consistent with Grieg and Regan's finding that “the more reliant a third party is upon a country at civil war for its trade, the less likely it is to offer mediation” (Greig and Regan 2008: 773).

These findings are supported further by a growing body of literature focusing on third parties' strategic and normative motives for offering mediation. These motives include a desire to restrain, suspend, and/or reverse harmful spillover dynamics from a deteriorating situation (Mitchell 1988; Beardsley 2011). Similarly, mediation may be initiated by actors interested in developing, maintaining, and/or scaling up a zone of influence that incorporates the area in conflict (Zartman and Touval 2007; Sisk 2009). Mediators may also offer their assistance to preserve and/or propagate a particular norm that may be contested in an escalating conflict (Anderson 2010; Hellmüller, Federer, and Pring 2017; Palmiano Federer 2019). Ultimately, mediators may initiate the peacemaking process in order to improve and/or strengthen their relative international image and standing (Melin 2013; Zartman 2013).

In line with these findings, Melin has furthered the argument using expected utility logic, claiming that the “third‐party's efforts are the result of policymakers' utility of obtaining a settlement, the expected costs of involvement, and the probability that their efforts will be successful” (Melin 2011: 711). Moreover, her study found that ties between a mediator and one side in the dispute increase the chances of mediation onset, compared to situations where mediators have close ties with both or neither side (Melin 2011). Evidently, bias represents a useful predictor of the initiation of mediation activities. Linking bias with regime type, Chen found that “mediation is more likely to be initiated if the potential mediator has a closer political relationship with the stronger or the more authoritarian party and that this effect is conditional on the levels of bias” (Chen 2019: 162). Therefore, a useful way to understand the likelihood of mediation onset based on biases that mediators have toward one of the disputing parties is to correlate this bias with existing power asymmetries in a given conflict. Additionally, mediation is more likely to occur when interested mediators have the necessary capabilities to conduct such efforts (Melin 2013). Capabilities are most frequently associated with credibility, reputation, and a willingness to apply the necessary leverage in the form of carrots and sticks throughout the mediation process (Kydd 2003; Maoz and Terris 2006; Svensson 2008; Beardsley 2013; Gent 2019).

Increased interstate cooperation and ties (between conflicting parties and a potential intervenor) have broad practical implications and provide the necessary motivation for a potential mediator to incur the costs of undertaking the role of conflict management. The utility of becoming involved is a function of how tightly conflicting parties and the potential mediator are bound to common interests. Alliances and especially defense agreements are particularly indicative of strong bilateral relations and shared preferences. Greig and Regan have argued that since security and defense alliances are based on shared assessments of regional or neighboring threats, “an internal conflict that threatens an alliance member also threatens the security of its alliance partner” (Greig and Regan 2008: 763). Such a threat can be a strong motivator for a third party to extend an offer to mediate in order to strengthen regional security and its strategic interests (Melin 2014; Corbetta and Melin 2018).

Another factor that Greig and Regan used to assess a potential mediator's willingness to initiate a peacemaking process relates to historical linkages. These historical linkages can be in the form of a former colonial relationship or ties to an international organization, but also encompass a “broad continuum of shared norms, cultural affinities, and perceived enemies” (Greig and Diehl 2008: 763). This historical linkage creates trust, commitment, and a sense of connection among the conflicting parties and the potential mediator, as they have similar values on certain topics (parties may not agree on all aspects, but common threats/enemies can create a strong historical bond).

While the above framework highlights circumstances when a third party is likely to offer to mediate, it fails to address instances when a third party is reluctant despite meeting all the above‐mentioned criteria. Given that the decision to mediate is deeply embedded in a complex set of foreign policy preferences, any offer to initiate mediation is directly linked to a cost/benefit assessment from a political and strategic perspective. As mediators are expected to manage the most difficult cases, they may face an overall expectation to ripen a given conflict and make it more amenable for resolution (Zartman 2015; Vuković 2019). The process of ripening is complicated further by the existing (and potentially changing) power asymmetries between the conflicting parties, which in turn require the employment of tailor‐made incentives to make the parties perceive the ongoing conflict as unbearable and a negotiated resolution as an attractive solution that fulfills their strategic interests.

Successful conflict resolution relies on the timing of mediation and the willingness of actors to view the resolution of the dispute as a better option than ongoing conflict or unilateral strategies. Alternatively, conflicting parties may use mediation for devious reasons—as a stalling tactic, a smokescreen for regrouping and rearming, or a convenient bluff that can bring them international support and legitimacy for their apparent willingness to start talks (Richmond 1998). Similarly, third parties also may have devious reasons for initiating mediation if the expected benefits of a continued conflict outweigh the utility of driving the parties toward a compromise solution (Rezaeedaryakenari and Thies 2018).

When both parties are stuck in a conflict that is unbearable and seemingly impossible to win, there is a mutually hurting stalemate or MHS (Zartman 2001). The quality of an MHS is contingent on its mutuality, which implies that all parties have to develop such a perception. If one or more parties continue viewing their ongoing conflict as bearable and self‐serving, the conflict will continue (Zartman 2019). In such a way, an MHS represents a push factor that drives the parties out of the conflict.

If the decision is to change strategy, it is a result of the increasing pain associated with maintaining the current status of the conflict. Yet increasing pain does not automatically lead parties to explore alternative paths to achieving their fundamental interests. Pain can be rationalized and even justified. Decisionmakers tend to refrain from questioning previous moves, as this may undercut their credibility and reputation as staunch defenders of their cause. Over time, recovering previous investments becomes a primary goal, rather than achieving the original aims (Mitchell 2005). Parties may start believing that the best way to recover earlier investments is by committing even more resources (Zartman and Faure 2005). As such, increasing pain is not assessed against immediate returns, but against prospective and aspirational gains.

Sometimes disputants are stuck in a futile and protracted dynamic of conflict intensification; this is called entrapment (Brockner and Rubin 1985; Mitchell 1991). In order to escape entrapment, “parties need to become ‘resource salvagers’ rather than ‘reward seekers’ and become involved in a process of disengagement and de‐commitment, saving the most they can, as rapidly as they can, from a clearly failed policy which offers little hope of achieving the original benefits for which it was originally launched” (Mitchell 1995b: 43). Accordingly, a ripe moment may occur once the parties enter “goal relinquishment,” in which resources are exhausted and parties seek a way out of the conflict. More specifically, sunk costs are no longer considered necessary sacrifices that will generate desired outcomes, but unsustainable commitments that should no longer be prioritized (Mitchell 1991).

The perception of a “way out” from an unbearable conflict represents the second element of ripeness. Such a perception drives the parties toward a process that was initially resisted for a variety of reasons, from an apprehension that it might signal abandonment of the original cause to the legitimization of the other side's goals and methods (Kaplow 2016). As there is no guarantee that a peace process may produce its expected utility, parties ought to perceive a “mutually enticing opportunity” (MEO) emanating from the process that is unavailable outside of the talks. An MEO represents the gain that offsets the pain caused by the MHS, setting in motion the process of ripening the conflict for resolution (Vuković 2022).

In situations where the conflict is not ripe for peacemaking, it is up to the mediating parties to ripen the situation and move the conflict to a point where there is room for talks. To ripen it, the mediator must change the parties' perception of the conflict by reframing the contested issue, creating the conditions on the ground, and offering attractive opportunities that are exclusive and unique (Zartman and de Soto 2010; Vuković 2019). The aim is to help the parties perceive an impasse in their efforts at dispute resolution so that they are willing to explore other options.

Leverage is critical in any mediation. It enhances a mediator's ability to shape the process and influence the outcome (Bercovitch, Anagnoson, and Wille 1991). To exercise such power, mediators use material and nonmaterial resources. Material resources may involve promises to reward cooperative behavior and threats to punish noncompliance. Nonmaterial resources include information and expertise on the matter, capacity to lead by example, existing (or prospective) ties with the parties, and the ability to invoke a specific norm to prescribe appropriate behavior (Vuković 2015). Both material and nonmaterial resources, also known as “strategic power,” represent what mediators bring with them to the process, which in turn recommends them for the task in the first place (Carnevale 2002). Along with strategic power, mediators have “tactical power”—the skills they use to foster a sense of momentum and procedural predictability and to promote an environment of mutual trust and confidence in the process (Carnevale 2002). Zartman and Touval have suggested that leverage is also projected through persuasion, which represents the ability to present an alternative future, one more favorable than the ongoing conflict (Zartman and Touval 2007). The ability to reframe the issues, use incentives to support realistic perceptions of the status quo, and provide a credible and attractive alternative through a mediated solution allows mediators to ripen the conflict for resolution incrementally.

One of the fundamental drivers of reluctance to mediate is the difficulty of managing power relations between parties that are characterized by pervasive symmetry. This is not to suggest that symmetric conflicts are impossible to mediate; rather, they offer fewer opportunities for mediation than asymmetric conflicts. Similarly, it is also likely that, in an asymmetric conflict, a more powerful side will initially resist or refuse a peace process, as it might undermine the power‐hold it managed to achieve until that point. To understand the dispute, it is important to consider power as a social construct—dynamic in character and situational by nature.

Although conventional logic equates resources with power, resources do not automatically translate into outcomes. As Hopmann has pointed out, capabilities and influence reflect relative power in a specific situation: “Influence is symmetrical when B can use counter‐threats or counter‐promises to cancel or to in some other way substantially negate A's attempt to influence B. Conversely, influence is asymmetrical when B has little or no such ability to exert influence in reply to A" (Hopmann 1996: 108). Similarly, Rubin and Zartman have noted that in negotiations, the focus should be on power as a perceived relation: “If one party perceives itself to be better armed, richer, or more skilled—that is, more powerful—than the other, it may transmit that perception, and the other's confirming actions will make it so. If the party so perceives itself but, in fact, is not, that party may act on the basis of its perception but most likely will fail, tripped up by reality. Of course, perception is not immutable either: the target may have the ability—hence, the power—to change the agent's perception.” (Rubin and Zartman 1995: 350). Following this reasoning, symmetry and asymmetry are assessed against the ability to produce desired effects, not against the absolute value of relevant resources.

Contrary to the conventional wisdom and a large body of literature that has upheld the claim that conditions of power symmetry are more propitious for constructive negotiations (Pruitt and Carnevale 1993; Mitchell 1995; Aggestam 2002; Greig 2005; Quinn et al. 2006), Rubin and Zartman have offered a more dynamic outlook on how power relations impact the decision to initiate a mediation process. Although their findings do not contradict the conventional expectation that a relatively stronger party will “typically attempt to dominate the exchange with their less powerful counterparts” (Rubin and Zartman 1995: 355), it remains “unclear whether the strong did this because of their sense of their own strength or because of their perception of bilateral asymmetry, that is, because they were strong or because they were stronger” (Rubin and Zartman 1995: 356). More importantly, they found that “weaker parties typically respond not by acting submissive, but by adopting appropriate countering strategies of their own” (Rubin and Zartman 1995: 356). They ultimately concluded that “negotiating parties are effective to the extent that they adjust their behavior in relation to the relative power of the other side” (Rubin and Zartman 1995: 358). Pfetsch and Landau expanded this argument, claiming that “notwithstanding existing power discrepancies, the weaker party tries to negotiate on equal terms with the stronger” (Pfetsch and Landau 2000: 29). Although relatively deprived of material resources, weaker parties may employ a broad range of tactical moves, including coalition building, procedural techniques, and package‐dealing, which offset the apparent power imbalance and level the playing field.

Conditions of power symmetry are more prone to drive the situation into a deadlock that is stable and self‐perpetuating (Zartman & Rubin 2000). As one party is unable to move toward victory, both parties may lack an incentive to upset the status quo, holding each other in check. Symmetries also generate suspicion and mistrust, reducing confidence in a negotiated agreement (Zartman 2007). In asymmetric conflicts, mediators may ripen conditions by strengthening a perception of changing power dynamics—warning the stronger side that their power may be jeopardized in the near future, while at the same time directing countermoves by the weaker party to seize an opportunity stemming from a negotiated agreement. In symmetric conflicts, such efforts may prove futile.

Disrupting a symmetric relationship is costly and risky. If a mediator decides to upset the established power balance, it may frustrate one or all sides with a newly unstable and unpredictable environment. At the same time, the mediator risks jeopardizing existing relations with both parties, as through the process of ripening, they are expected to offset the established balance by increasing a sense of urgency to negotiate. This usually requires a certain sense of pain, which does not exist in symmetric relations. As a consequence, mediators may be blamed for undermining the fundamental interests and goals that parties are trying to achieve. This risk is further complicated, as mediators still must find it in their own interest to increase a sense of pain between the parties. Formulating such an interest may compromise their reputation and stand with the parties.

Whether or not to offer mediation is based on a cost/benefit analysis of the impact of mediation on the mediator's offensive and defensive interests. While it is true that a state must have an interest in the conflict in order to extend an offer to mediate, this interest can also have a contrary effect. If the potential mediator has strong structural linkages and strategic interests with both conflicting parties, then it may be reluctant to mediate, as this could negatively impact its critical relationship with one or both of the parties. If, to reach an agreement, the potential mediator must detrimentally affect its strategic interests and allies, it is plausible that it will opt not to challenge the status quo and disturb the balance. The potential mediator recognizes that its interests may be better protected under the status quo (during conflict) than they would be in the absence of conflict.

Therefore, when a conflict has a stable and self‐serving stalemate with high power symmetry, it is likely that the best action for a third party is to preserve its relationships and maintain the status quo since the cost of involvement exceeds potential gains. The greater the power symmetry among the conflicting parties under conditions of strong structural linkages and strategic interests between both the conflicting parties and the potential third‐party mediator, the greater the reluctance of the third party to offer to mediate.

From 2017 to 2020, the U.S. was reluctant to mediate the Gulf Crisis and did not take action to resolve it. The case study below illustrates the complicated web of strategic interests the U.S. held with Saudi Arabia and Qatar, all of which the U.S. could have used as leverage to force the parties into an MHS. The case study shows that the U.S. was reluctant to force the parties into an MHS due to its fear of disrupting the status quo, which might have been detrimental to its strategic interests in the region (including security, economic, and military interests). Forcing ripeness would have led to power relations that were less stable and symmetric, but to do this, the U.S. needed to bring pain to its allies. Therefore, it was unlikely that the U.S. was willing to risk its interests by offering to mediate and resolve the conflict.

The Middle East has long been a focus of American foreign policy. In 1980, President Jimmy Carter stated: “An attempt by any outside force to gain control of the Persian Gulf region will be regarded as an assault on the vital interests of the United States of America, and such an assault will be repelled by any means necessary, including military force” (Geyelin 1980). Since then, American relations in the Gulf have been built on the economic and security interests of the U.S. within the broader Middle East. The American military presence in the Gulf has been based on a quid pro quo: security cooperation and economic and military assistance in exchange for access to military bases and coordination efforts in the region. Although Washington holds substantial influence in the Gulf, problems arise when Gulf countries have divergent interests. At these times, the U.S. must choose between encouraging countries to resolve their differences and attempting to maintain the status quo to avoid disrupting its interests.

The Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) was established in 1981 in response to a series of security challenges in the Middle East, most notably the 1979 Iranian revolution and the 1980 Iran–Iraq war. Through the GCC, six reigning monarchies—the United Arab Emirates (UAE), Oman, Kuwait, Saudi Arabia, Bahrain, and Qatar—present a common stand on developments that threaten the survival of their regimes (Bianco and Stansfield 2018). The most significant challenge to the GCC's unity of purpose came in 2011 with the Arab Spring, when a series of protests (some turning into outright revolts) swept the Middle East and North Africa (the MENA region), with disproportionate effects on GCC member states. Saudi Arabia and Bahrain experienced sustained protests with significant identarian characteristics, while the UAE, Oman, and Kuwait witnessed smaller‐scale protests that were effectively managed by the ruling monarchies. The only country spared from the protests was Qatar. Consequently, the ruling elite in Doha had a significantly different diagnosis of the situation than did its neighbors. While others saw a threat to their regimes, Qatar saw an opportunity to expand and consolidate its political influence across the MENA region. Further rifts within the GCC surfaced in 2013 when the international community announced progress in negotiating a comprehensive agreement with Iran over its nuclear program. Qatar viewed such development positively, while Saudi Arabia was apprehensive about the agreement. According to Bianco and Stansfield, “opening a line of dialogue with Iran—which historically has never posed a threat to Doha's stability—potentially provide[d] Qatar with a hedging opportunity that might prove useful in its quest to pursue its own political interests and act independently from Saudi Arabia" (Bianco and Stansfield 2018: 632).

On June 5, 2017, Saudi Arabia and the UAE led an effort to blockade Qatar, supported by Bahrain and Egypt. The American response was, at times, mixed and contradictory. President Donald Trump was quick to take sides and praised the Saudi‐led efforts to isolate Qatar. He even appeared to take credit for the Saudi move by insisting that the isolation of Qatar was a victory in the effort to end support for “extremists” and the beginning of the end for “terrorism,” claiming that Qatar was “a major source of support for extremism” (Kabalan 2018: 37). This pronouncement came just two weeks after Trump's speech in Riyadh during his first trip overseas, in which he praised Saudi counterterror efforts and offered support for Saudi regional policy, notably in the conflict in Yemen (Saudi Embassy 2017).

As both Qatar and Saudi Arabia are strategic U.S. allies, Trump's initial response diverged from a long‐established American tradition of neutrality in conflicts between allies, and of mediating such disputes. Secretary of State Rex Tillerson attempted to lessen the affront to Qatar, suggesting that all Gulf countries needed to do more to curb the financing of extremism. Other senior officials from the State Department and the Department of Defense also seemed to deviate from Trump's stance, asking: “Were the actions [of Saudi Arabia] really about their concerns regarding Qatar's alleged support for terrorism? Or were they about the long‐simmering grievances between the GCC countries?” (Kabalan 2018: 38). Given the mixed signals coming from Washington, many international actors were perplexed about the American stance on the Gulf Crisis.

Following these developments, the Gulf Crisis evolved into a stalemate; however, it was not mutually hurting. With the exception of Trump's initial oversight, the U.S. maintained a balanced approach in the Gulf. This balance arguably prevented further escalation but also allowed the stalemate to become more tolerable, as the U.S. did not leverage its relations with either party to ripen the stalemate and create room for negotiation and mediation. Arguably, the U.S. did not intervene for fear that ripening the conflict and disrupting the current deadlock would threaten American interests. The following sections will attempt to elucidate the complicated web of U.S. relations with both Saudi Arabia and Qatar from the following perspectives: economic interests, military interests, and regional security interests.

The U.S. and Saudi Arabia have strong economic ties. In terms of dollars, Saudi Arabia was the United States' largest trading partner in the Middle East in 2017. Total Saudi exports to the U.S. amounted to more than $18.8 billion, while American exports to Saudi Arabia were valued at over $16.3 billion (Blanchard 2018). The U.S. was a primary importer of hydrocarbons from Saudi Arabia, and the U.S. exported billions of dollars worth of weapons, vehicles, and machinery to Saudi Arabia.

Energy commodity trade, established between the two countries in 1933, also was significant during this period. Between 1973 and 2017, U.S. imports of Saudi Arabian crude oil annually ranged from 132,000 to 1.73 million barrels per day and accounted for approximately 10 percent of total U.S. imports of crude oil (Congressional Research Service 2018). A Saudi Aramco subsidiary was the parent company of Motiva Enterprises, which owned and operated a 600,000 barrel per day refinery in Texas and stored petroleum in other U.S. locations. Between January and July 2018, Motiva accounted for 31 percent of U.S. crude oil imports (Congressional Research Service 2018). In addition, Saudi Arabia owned other Aramco‐affiliated businesses, including multiple research centers. In March 2018, Saudi Aramco reported a new deal with American businesses in the oil field services, a package valued at more than $10 billion (Congressional Research Service 2018).

Saudi Arabia's influence on global petroleum prices also affected American interests. As of September 2018, Saudi Arabia held 72 percent of the global spare capacity (Congressional Research Service 2018). In addition to U.S. reliance on Saudi oil, in 2008 the two countries signed a Memorandum of Understanding (MOU) on the countries' intent to cooperate on a variety of nuclear activities in the fields of medicine, industry, and electricity production. Based on this analysis, there is no doubt that the U.S. had clear defensive interests in Saudi Arabia related to energy and trade.

During this period, the U.S. was the single largest arms supplier to the Middle East, and the Saudis were the primary consumer. For many years, Saudi Arabia's armed forces had relied on American arms. The U.S. sought to improve interoperability, reduce the need for U.S. deployments, deter Iran, and support U.S. industry (Blanchard 2018). From 2009 to 2017, U.S. government‐proposed arms sales to Saudi Arabia had an aggregated value of more than $120 billion (Thomas 2017). The sheer amount of technologically advanced weapons sent to Saudi Arabia each year reinforced U.S.–Saudi ties. The Saudis wanted to solidify this military relationship and make access to weapons easier. “We want a NATO‐type relationship with the U.S.,” one Saudi official proclaimed (Martin 2019).

As part of Saudi Arabia's Vision 2030 (Grand 2018), the kingdom sought to meet 50 percent of its military needs through domestic production by 2030 (Thomas 2017). The U.S. supported this ambition. In May 2017, Lockheed Martin signed an agreement with the Saudi government to assemble 150 Black Hawk helicopters in the kingdom. This was only a small portion of a larger purchase of over $28 billion that included technologically advanced air and missile defense, combat ships, tactical aircraft, and rotary‐wing technologies and programs (Arab News 2017). That same month, during his visit to Saudi Arabia, President Trump claimed that Saudi authorities signed Letters of Offer and Acceptance for new U.S.‐Saudi arms sales totaling over $110 billion (Thomas 2017). The new arms package included allocations for combat ships, Abrams tanks, patriot missiles, heavy equipment recovery systems, Chinook helicopters, and a THAAD anti‐missile system. In addition, the two countries signed a Memorandum of Intent (MoI) for an estimated $18 billion package to upgrade the Saudi military defense communication infrastructure and command and control operations (Thomas 2017). The entire $110 billion in arms sales did not come to fruition; however, the fact that the deal was signed illustrated the Saudis' intent to improve local capacities and maintain their economic relationship with the U.S.

In 2018, the U.S. exported $4.4 billion in goods to Qatar and imported over $1.57 billion in Qatari goods (Congressional Research Service 2019). Like Saudi Arabia, Qatar imported primarily aircraft, machinery, weapons, and information technology from the United States. Petroleum products made up the bulk of U.S. imports from Qatar, which was then the world's largest supplier of liquefied natural gas (LNG). Qatari LNG came from the Ras Laffan processing site, which was built with U.S.‐made equipment. State‐run Qatar Petroleum was a major investor in the American LNG export market, holding a more than 70 percent stake in a Texas terminal (Congressional Research Service 2019). In January 2018, the Qatar Investment Authority agreed to invest $45 billion in American companies and real estate (Congressional Research Service 2019). Additionally, Qatar Airways agreed to purchase 100 passenger jets with an estimated $18 billion dollar price tag (Congressional Research Service 2019).

For many years, France was the largest supplier of arms to Qatar. In 2018, Qatar began to diversify its arms mix, purchasing an estimated $25 billion in U.S. equipment and weapons and becoming one of the largest U.S. foreign military sales customers (Congressional Research Service 2019). While the dollar value paled in comparison to Saudi Arabia's arms sales, the trend was significant. From 2011 to 2015 alone, Qatari arms sales increased by 279 percent when compared to the previous four years, which was roughly equal to Saudi Arabia's 275 percent increase in military spending (Middle East Eye 2016). The main reason for the Qatari increase in equipment and arms purchases from the U.S. was Qatar's desire for interoperability. The country wanted to make its tanks, aircraft, and other weaponry more compatible with that of the U.S. to facilitate joint U.S.–Qatari exercises, particularly in Libya and Syria (Congressional Research Service 2019).

In November 2018, the U.S. State Department approved an arms sale to Qatar in the amount of $25 billion; it included missiles, training, and a National Advanced Surface to Air Missile System (Defense Security Cooperation Agency 2018a). The State Department also approved a separate sale for an estimated $197 million in equipment and support to upgrade the Qatari Air Force Operations Center (Defense Security Cooperation Agency 2018b).

For decades, the U.S.–Saudi security relationship had been anchored by critical infrastructure cooperation, long‐standing military training initiatives, high‐value weapons sales, and counterterrorism initiatives (Blanchard 2018). While differences arose over how best to maintain regional security, the U.S. showed no sign of changing course and appeared to be deepening and strengthening its military alliance with Saudi Arabia. Since mid‐2017 when Mohammed bin Salman was elevated to Crown Prince, the U.S. and Saudi Arabia ramped up efforts to counter Iran, expand arms sales, and increase support for the Saudi‐led international coalition forces in Yemen.

During Trump's visit to Riyadh in May 2017, he and King Salman bin Abd al Aziz agreed to a Strategic Partnership for the 21st Century. Also during that visit, the U.S. and Saudi Arabia announced a Joint Strategic Vision for the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia and the United States of America; its goal was to promote a peaceful Middle East through security and economic cooperation. As part of that vision, both countries worked to develop institutional partnerships to combat ideological extremism and financing for extremist violence (Saudi Embassy 2017). The U.S. continued to express willingness to arm and train Saudi security forces, even if such support increasingly intertwined with regional disputes.

The U.S. had withdrawn the majority of its forces from Saudi Arabia in 2003 (Wallin 2018) and had one primary military compound there—the Eskan Village Air Force Base in Riyadh. While the decision to withdraw most U.S. troops was reached by mutual consent, only some Saudi leaders welcomed this development, especially those who supported rising nationalism in the royal family. Others worried that global leaders would perceive a diminishment of Saudi Arabia's strategic importance to the U.S. (Time Magazine 2003).

The objectives of the United States Military Training Mission (USMTM) to Saudi Arabia were to “train, advise, and assist” (US Central Command 2019)—train Saudi troops, provide security assistance, and cooperate with the Saudis in their overall security operations. Joint training operations occurred at ten locations throughout the kingdom; their goal was to promote U.S. national security by increasing the capability and capacity of the Saudi Arabian Armed Forces, who, once trained, could help carry out the U.S. security agenda in the Middle East. Trump's $110 billion of arms sales included training in the use of technologically advanced weapons to enable the Saudis to utilize them to their full capacity. The cost of one such program, the naval blanket order training program, was expected to cost $250 million. In June 2017, the U.S. approved a continued blanket order training program estimated at $750 million, which included specialized flight training, technical training, professional military education, mobile training teams, and English language training (Stone 2017).

Prior to the Gulf Crisis, U.S.–Qatari security relations were extensive and long‐standing. As noted above, the U.S. military pulled the majority of its troops out of Saudi Arabia in 2003; these troops were relocated to U.S. regional headquarters at Al Udeid Air Base southwest of Doha. A relatively small Gulf state, Qatar had long depended on the defense and security presence of the U.S. (Taylor 2019) and had many more U.S. military bases than Saudi Arabia. Al Udeid was the largest U.S. military base in the Middle East; it housed the Combined Air Operations Center, U.S. Special Operations Command Central, U.S. Central Command (CENTCOM) Forward Headquarters, and U.S. Air Forces Central Command. Since the establishment of the base, Qatar had invested over $5 billion to maintain and expand it (Wallin 2018). This was in addition to the $8 billion that Qatar had contributed since 2002 to supporting U.S. and coalition operations at Al Udeid (Congressional Research Service 2019).

The 2018 Strategic Dialogue between the U.S. and Qatar focused on increasing the two nations' defense and security cooperation. The Qataris offered to expand and enhance Al Udeid Air Base over the next two decades in return for an “enduring” and “permanent” U.S. military presence in Qatar (Congressional Research Service 2019). The base held 10,000 military personnel. An expansion was planned to include 200 new housing units as well as new ramps and cargo facilities. Qatar's Defense Minister Khalid bin Mohammad al‐Attiyah predicted that, with the upgrades at Al Udeid, it would “very soon become a family‐oriented place for our American friends there. We want more of the families to be stable and feel more comfortable in their stay” (Brimelow 2018). In addition, Qatar began to enlarge its Hamad Port to accommodate expanded U.S. Navy operations. Although the U.S. did not commit to making the Al Udeid base “permanent,” the Qataris made efforts to ensure it became a long‐term security presence. Just outside Doha, Qatar also hosted As Sayliyah Army Base to serve as a strategic prepositioning point for armored equipment.

In 1992, the U.S. and Qatar signed a Defense Cooperation Agreement (DCA); in 2013, they renewed the agreement for ten more years. The DCA addressed military access to facilities and, most importantly, training and capacity building for Qatari military forces (Congressional Research Services 2019). The U.S. trained a Qatari military force of about 11,800 personnel. Joint exercises included training in military decision‐making and counterattack implementation. These exercises were part of establishing an “enduring and permanent” military partnership between the U.S. and Qatar.

Notwithstanding the blockade of Qatar, some military exercises involving both Qatar and Saudi Arabia were allowed to continue. From March to April 2018, Qatari forces participated in a GCC military exercise in Saudi Arabia named “Gulf Shield” (Gulf Business 2018). In September 2018, Qatar also participated, along with Saudi Arabia and the UAE, in a meeting of all GCC chiefs of staff in Kuwait (The New Arab 2018). Saudi officials claimed that the Gulf Crisis would not affect joint military operations with the U.S. and other GCC allies (Martin 2019). However, the assessment in Doha was different. Technically, the Qataris were allowed to enter Saudi Arabia and participate in GCC military exercises, but in practice, they encountered bureaucratic obstacles. By the time these issues were resolved, the Qataris had missed the opportunity to participate in the exercises (Martin 2019).

One of the main American goals in the region was to prevent the emergence of safe havens for terrorist organizations, something both the Saudis and the Qataris said they supported. But there was no universally accepted definition of a “terrorist organization,” allowing each side to use the term according to their political preferences. When the Arab Spring unfolded in 2011, the division between Qatar and Saudi Arabia became apparent. The Saudis preferred preserving the status quo and thus opposed the Muslim Brotherhood; meanwhile, the Qataris supported the changes in Egyptian and Tunisian leadership and provided support for the Muslim Brotherhood branches in Egypt, Libya, and Tunisia. Saudi Arabia had at one time welcomed to its soil Muslim Brotherhood members who were persecuted or unsafe in their home countries. However, when the Arab Spring occurred, Saudi Arabia saw the Muslim Brotherhood as an existential threat. The Brotherhood challenged the kingdom's authoritarian, monarchical Islam and instead spread the concept of populist Islam. Saudi Arabia heralded a campaign to rebrand the Brotherhood as a terrorist organization. Egypt and the UAE also labeled the Brotherhood a terrorist group. Qatar took a different stance, embracing the Muslim Brotherhood movements because they represented Political Islam, which Qatar thought could foster regional stability. In Saudi Arabia's view, Qatar's support of the Muslim Brotherhood was tantamount to supporting “terrorism.”

In the absence of a universally accepted definition of “terrorist,” both Saudi Arabia and Qatar looked to the U.S. to support their position. Hesitant to take a side, the U.S. sought to take a middle position. Rather than designate the entire Muslim Brotherhood as terrorist, the Trump Administration applied the label to individual affiliates of the organization (Lake 2018).

Both Saudi Arabia and Qatar tried to align themselves strategically with U.S. counterterrorism efforts. In May 2017, during President Trump's visit to Riyadh, the Saudis inaugurated the Global Center for Combating Extremist Ideology, which they hoped would be a state‐of‐the‐art facility for countering terrorism using artificial intelligence to track online radical and extremist thought and stop the recruitment of militants (Saudi Embassy 2017). It was the first time a Gulf country used cybertechnology to fight the dissemination of media and information that promoted extremism around the globe. The U.S. government described the Saudi government as “a strong partner in regional security and counterterrorism efforts” (Blanchard 2018: 16). Saudi Arabia acted to stem the flow of financing to terrorist organizations, maintain strict oversight of the banking sector, tighten regulations on the charitable sector, strengthen penalties for terrorism financing, prevent Saudis from traveling in support of extremist groups, and continue efforts to counter bulk cash smuggling (Blanchard 2018).

While the U.S. and Saudi Arabia generally were aligned on counterterrorism efforts and on which organizations to label as terrorist (with the exception of the Muslim Brotherhood), Qatar and the U.S. held some opposing viewpoints. For example, the U.S. declared Hamas a terrorist organization, while Qatar strongly supported Hamas and actively contributed to its efforts. In July 2017, Qatar and the U.S. signed an MOU on broad counterterrorism cooperation (Congressional Research Service 2019). In an effort to implement the MOU and gain support from the U.S. (and possibly other GCC countries), in March 2018 Qatar designated nineteen individuals and eight entities as terrorist, ten of whom were also listed as terrorist by other GCC countries and the U.S. (Congressional Research Service 2019). Also in accordance with the MOU, Qatar took action to prevent terrorism financing and stem the flow of suspected terrorists through the country. In addition, Qatar continued to participate in the State Department's Antiterrorism Assistance program aimed at increasing its domestic security capabilities and approved a new law to strengthen terrorism‐linked cyber offenses and restrict overseas activities of Qatari charities linked to illicit financing (U.S. Dept. of State 2017).

Saudi Arabia and the U.S. were closely aligned in their efforts in Syria and Yemen; both aimed to keep Iran’s expansionism in check. Meanwhile, since the start of the Gulf Crisis, Qatar had tightened its relationship with Iran. After the blockade was announced, Iran was quick to offer support to Qatar, allowing flights to be rerouted over Iranian airspace, sending food, and increasing trade routes (Bianco and Stansfield 2018).

After the blockade, Qatar ended its support for the Saudi‐led (and U.S.‐supported) efforts in Yemen. The Qataris claimed they had been “expelled” from Yemen by the Saudi‐led coalition (Hassan 2018). Shortly thereafter, the Qataris were accused of supporting the Houthis (Hassan 2018). Such alleged support included a Qatari donation of $1 million to Saada to aid in reconstruction efforts and an additional $20 million for humanitarian assistance, all of which allegedly were funneled to Houthi forces (Ramani 2018). There was no hard evidence to support such an allegation. Meanwhile, the U.S. continued to provide limited military support to the Saudi‐led coalition in Yemen. Like the Saudis, the Americans were concerned about Iranian ties to the Houthi movement. The U.S. seemed trapped in an intractable conflict in which the Saudi use of American‐made weaponry appeared to contribute to a surge of refugees in the region, a great number of civilian casualties, and damage to infrastructure (Blanchard 2018), leading the U.S. Senate to invoke the War Powers Act of 1973. Intended as a congressional check on the presidential ability to wage war, the Act requires Congressional authorization for U.S. military forces to remain in any conflict for more than sixty days (Wilkinson and Haberkorn 2018).

In Syria, the Saudis, Americans, and Qataris (who opposed Iranian influence in Syria notwithstanding Qatar's expanded relations with Iran) led various efforts against the Iranian‐backed president, Bashar al‐Assad. The U.S. still had roughly 2,000 troops deployed in Syria and spent nearly $30 billion on the war (Bremmer 2018). The Saudis contributed to American efforts by undertaking airstrikes, co‐leading the Coalition's Counter Finance Group, establishing the Etidal Center, and providing over $1 billion in humanitarian assistance. In August 2018, the Saudis announced a contribution of an additional $100 million to aid coalition‐supported stabilization efforts in Syria (Nauert 2018).

On December 19, 2018, President Trump made an unexpected announcement, declaring victory over the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria (ISIS) in Syria and announcing the withdrawal of all U.S. troops. However, implementation was slow (Macaron 2018). The implications of Trump's decision were not yet clear, but the Saudis, fearing a power vacuum in Syria, shifted their strategy following Trump's declaration of victory, investing in Syria through the King Salman Humanitarian Aid and Relief Center and seeking to normalize Saudi–Syrian relations (Lillywhite 2019). With the U.S. pulling out, the kingdom sought to gain leverage inside Syria and lessen Iranian influence in the country. The Qataris took the opposite approach. Foreign Minister Sheikh Mohammed Bin Abdulrahman Al‐Thani reaffirmed the Qatari position, stating, “[T]he Qatari government sees no reason to reopen its embassy in Damascus, nor any other signs for a normalization of ties with the Syrian government” (Middle East Eye 2019).

Lastly, and of greatest significance, Qatar provided a location for American negotiations with the Taliban. The Taliban had established an office in Doha in 2011, from which it held a series of secret talks with U.S. officials that were followed by more formal and public negotiations beginning in July 2018 (Wahidi 2011; Congressional Research Service 2020). These talks were one of the most pressing foreign policy priorities for Washington, which sought a way to end the longest war in U.S. history. By mid‐February 2020, there had been nine rounds of talks and the two sides seemed to have reached a truce agreement, which the U.S. hoped would be followed by its withdrawal from Afghanistan (Politico 2020).

As demonstrated above, the U.S. had clear interests and held leverage in both Saudi Arabia and Qatar, which both were America's strategic regional allies. The U.S. had strong structural linkages with the two nations and compelling self‐interests to offer to mediate their conflict, two factors which, according to Zartman, greatly influence whether a third party will choose to mediate. However, beyond dispatching diplomatic envoys and issuing statements, the U.S. did not try to mediate the conflict. Thus, to understand the American reluctance to mediate the Gulf Crisis, one must analyze the ripeness of the conflict (or lack thereof) and the power dynamics of the conflicting parties which, according to our hypothesis, will explain the reluctance of the U.S. to mediate this conflict.

The timing was not right for mediating the Gulf Crisis; the conflict was not yet ripe. There was neither a mutually hurting stalemate nor a true willingness by the actors to participate in negotiations. While on the surface both sides claimed a “willingness” to talk, they took no tangible actions to move the talks forward. Qatar claimed to be “willing to sit and talk,” yet added that “there [was] no more trust” between them and the Saudis (Hunt 2017). The Saudis claimed they were willing to speak with the Qataris “without any preconditions” (Martin 2019) but seemed to require that the Qataris meet some preconditions or make certain acknowledgments before they would speak to them.

The Gulf Crisis reached a stable and self‐serving stalemate. From the start of the crisis, Qatar succeeded in reorienting its economy, diplomatic relations, and security apparatus through the development of new regional partnerships that allowed it to weather the storm. Before the blockade was put in place, almost four‐fifths of Qatar's food imports entered through the land border with Saudi Arabia (Ulrichsen 2018). With most of its trade routes shut down, Qatar leveraged its network and within hours was supported by new trade routes and the importation of goods from China, India, Iran, Pakistan, and Turkey. Qatar also increased its defense capabilities, acquiring new weapons and missile defense systems from the U.S. In addition to building new partnerships and becoming more self‐sufficient, Qatar emerged as a new player in the Gulf with greater influence in the region.

The effects of the blockade on Saudi Arabia were less substantial. Given their economic capacity, the trade deficit with Qatar did not significantly impact the Saudis, although the blockade forced them to increase their efforts to achieve economic diversification, expand their foreign investments, and form new trade relationships. From a security perspective, some military exercises involving both Qatar and Saudi Arabia were allowed to continue during the blockade. For example, Qatari forces participated in the GCC military exercise “Gulf Shield” in Saudi Arabia from March to April 2018 (Gulf Business 2018). Thus, the conflict did not greatly affect regional security or the countries' economies. Both the Saudis and the Qataris successfully navigated the blockade and became stronger by diversifying their resources and developing new partnerships.

Without a true willingness by Saudi Arabia and Qatar to mediate the conflict and in the absence of an MHS, the U.S. maintained a balanced approach with both of the conflicting parties, making the stalemate more tolerable for both sides. However, the role of a potential mediator is to “ripen” the situation and make room for negotiation. If the U.S. were to ripen the conflict, it would have to disrupt the power symmetry within the self‐serving stalemate.

The real root of American reluctance to mediate the Gulf Crisis was power symmetry, as the U.S. did not want to disrupt the status quo. There are more opportunities to negotiate a conflict when parties perceive asymmetry in power; power symmetry leads to deadlock (Zartman and Faure 2005). Power asymmetry expands the zone of possible agreement (ZOPA) and opens the door for resolution. In conditions of high power symmetry, each party essentially holds the other in check and preserves the status quo.

There was a high degree of power symmetry in the Gulf Crisis. Both Saudi Arabia and Qatar were focused on maintaining the status quo, and neither side was willing to disrupt the perceived balance. Since the crisis had a highly symmetric power balance, the only way to ripen the situation (to move the parties to an MHS) was to disrupt this power dynamic, which the U.S. was not willing to do. Had the U.S. disrupted the power balance between the two nations, it would have damaged one or both of its relationships with Saudi Arabia and Qatar and posed a major risk to American interests within the Gulf.

The U.S. had leverage and interest in both Saudi Arabia and Qatar and so was positioned to be a perfect mediator for the conflict. However, since the conflict was not yet ripe for mediation, the U.S. needed to disrupt the power symmetry and create an asymmetric power dynamic to open space for a ZOPA. This action likely would have jeopardized allies and harmed American security interests in the region, which the U.S. was loath to do since those were the very interests it had sought to protect from the start of the conflict.

The Gulf Crisis case study provides empirical evidence to support the following hypothesis: The greater the power symmetry among the conflicting parties under conditions of strong structural linkages and strategic interests between both the conflicting parties and the potential third‐party mediator, the greater the reluctance of the third party to offer to mediate. As demonstrated, there was high power symmetry between Saudi Arabia and Qatar. Both countries became increasingly self‐sufficient through new alliances and trade and were able to maintain the status quo, a self‐serving stalemate. The U.S. had strong structural linkages to both parties, including shared economic, energy, trade, security, and defense interests.

Mediation is a foreign policy tool. The U.S. was not willing to invest tangible and intangible resources in the Gulf Crisis and mediate the conflict without a strategic reason for doing so. Mediators are called on to ripen disputes to push conflicting parties outside their comfort zone to create a ZOPA. The U.S. declined to disrupt the parties' self‐serving stalemate to create room to mediate the crisis, which would have disturbed the power symmetry within the region. Were the U.S. to use its leverage and ripen the conflict, it would have alienated key allies in the Gulf. The primary strategic interests of the U.S. were economic stability and regional security. It was reluctant to do anything to disturb the status quo and risk negatively impacting the very interests it sought to protect.

The topic of the reluctant mediator is one that should be researched further, as findings in this area can significantly impact the study of mediation. Specifically, further research is recommended on the role of bias and credibility as it pertains to the reluctance of a mediator. Moreover, as the number of potential international mediators continues to rise, answers should be sought to the following questions: How is this proliferation of peacemakers shaping the decisions of potential mediators to refuse to mediate? How is the framework of the reluctance to mediate affected by these dynamics? The question of the reluctant mediator is fundamentally important to researchers and practitioners alike. It brings to light a surprisingly overlooked dynamic: Even when third parties meet all of the requirements to “say yes” to mediation, they may “say no” if the conflict is highly symmetric and characterized by strong structural linkages and pronounced strategic interests. Such decisions clearly show that international mediation should not be understood as an altruistic endeavor, but as a purposeful action driven by the strategic choices of international actors.