From the Gulf to Makkah: The Search for a Muslim Security Architecture

Baba Yunus Muhammad

The signing of the Makkah Joint Defence Agreement by Saudi Arabia, Türkiye and Pakistan on 7 August 2026 may eventually be remembered as more than another regional security arrangement. Its immediate significance is clear enough: the three countries have agreed that an armed attack against one of them will be regarded as an attack against all three. Yet the deeper significance lies not in the language of collective defense itself, but in what it reveals about a Muslim world increasingly uncomfortable with a security order that has depended for decades upon external powers.

The agreement has already been compared with NATO. The comparison is useful, but incomplete. NATO emerged from a particular European historical experience and was constructed principally around the perceived Soviet threat. The Makkah arrangement has no declared equivalent adversary. Indeed, Türkiye’s Foreign Minister Hakan Fidan has explicitly said that the agreement is not directed against Iran or any other country, while Pakistan has described it as purely defensive and open to other states.

That clarification creates a fascinating paradox. If the agreement is not directed against a particular country, what insecurity is it designed to answer? Perhaps the answer lies not in one adversary but in an entire regional order that has become increasingly unstable.

The modern security architecture of the Gulf and Middle East did not emerge from the independent strategic choices of today’s Muslim states alone. It was profoundly shaped by the collapse of the Ottoman order, European colonial intervention, the creation of new states, the discovery of petroleum and, after the Second World War, the emergence of the United States as the principal external security power in the Gulf.

Oil transformed the strategic importance of the region. The Persian Gulf became not merely a collection of neighboring states but one of the central arteries of the world economy. Whoever could influence the security of the Gulf could influence energy supplies, maritime commerce and, by extension, the economic fortunes of industrial economies far beyond the region.

The result was an extraordinary contradiction. Countries possessing some of the world’s most valuable natural resources increasingly relied upon external powers to help guarantee their security.

That dependence became particularly pronounced after the Iranian Revolution of 1979 and the Iran-Iraq War of the 1980s. The emergence of revolutionary Iran, the Soviet intervention in Afghanistan and fears of regional instability accelerated the construction of new security arrangements. The Gulf Cooperation Council was established in 1981 by Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, Bahrain, Qatar, the United Arab Emirates and Oman, partly reflecting the desire of the Gulf monarchies for collective security.

Yet the GCC never became the equivalent of NATO. Its members retained different threat perceptions and foreign-policy orientations, and external powers remained central to the region’s security calculations.

The United States consequently became deeply embedded in the Gulf security system. American military facilities, naval assets and defense relationships developed across the region. Qatar hosts Al Udeid Air Base, Bahrain hosts the headquarters of the US Fifth Fleet, and American military relationships extend across several Gulf States.

This arrangement provided deterrence, but it also created a strategic dilemma.  A country that hosts the military forces of a powerful external state gains protection against some threats while potentially becoming exposed to threats generated by that external power’s conflicts.

The dilemma has become particularly stark in the present war. If an American military installation is located on the territory of a Muslim country and American forces use that infrastructure in a conflict with Iran, what happens when Iran retaliates against the American facility? Is the host country an innocent bystander, an ally of the United States, a participant in the conflict—or a target because it has permitted the foreign military presence? This is not an abstract question.

The current regional conflict has already demonstrated how difficult it is to maintain a clean distinction between foreign military operations and the security of the states that host foreign forces. The strategic consequences of the war have spread across borders, while the Gulf’s dense network of military facilities and alliances has made the region increasingly interconnected.

The fundamental question is therefore not whether the United States should or should not have a military presence in the region. It is whether the Muslim states of the region can ultimately claim genuine strategic autonomy while their security remains substantially dependent upon the military capabilities and strategic decisions of an external power.

This is where the Makkah Agreement becomes particularly interesting. Saudi Arabia is not a weak state seeking protection because it lacks resources. It is one of the world’s largest economies, a major energy producer, a significant investor and an increasingly diversified economic power. Türkiye possesses a large industrial base, a substantial defense industry and the strategic geography of a country connecting Europe, Asia and the Middle East. Pakistan possesses a large economy and population, substantial military capabilities and a unique strategic position linking South Asia with the Middle East.

Together, the three countries represent a remarkable combination of economic, industrial, geographical and strategic capabilities. Their military expenditures alone illustrate the scale involved. According to the Stockholm International Peace Research Institute, Saudi Arabia spent an estimated US$83.2 billion on its military in 2025, making it the world’s eighth-largest military spender. Türkiye spent approximately US$30 billion, while Pakistan’s military expenditure rose to about US$11.9 billion. These numbers are significant, but they also reveal a paradox.

The three countries collectively spent roughly US$125 billion on defense in a single year, yet the Muslim world remains heavily dependent upon external suppliers for advanced military technology, strategic systems and components. The problem, therefore, is not simply how much money Muslim countries spend on security. It is what they obtain for that expenditure.

A strategic system that continuously converts enormous public resources into purchases from external manufacturers may create military capability without necessarily creating strategic independence. The real test of sovereignty is not merely the ability to buy sophisticated equipment. It is the ability to develop the knowledge, industries, institutions and human capital required to sustain one’s own strategic capabilities.

This distinction is fundamental. The same principle applies to the economy. The Muslim world possesses enormous financial resources, energy reserves, markets and human capital, yet its economic relationships remain fragmented. Trade between Muslim countries is far below what their combined populations and resources might suggest. Capital frequently travels from Muslim countries into Western financial centers before returning in different forms. Strategic technologies remain concentrated elsewhere. Pharmaceutical and advanced industrial supply chains are similarly fragmented.

This is why the idea of a Muslim security architecture should not be confined to defense ministries. A serious security architecture would require an economic architecture beneath it. Food security is security. Energy security is security. Financial resilience is security. Pharmaceutical production is security. Digital infrastructure is security. Scientific research is security. Transport corridors are security.

A civilization that cannot produce essential medicines, secure its food supply, develop critical technologies or protect its financial system remains vulnerable irrespective of how much it spends on military hardware. The Makkah Agreement therefore presents an opportunity to rethink the very meaning of collective defense.

Could Saudi Arabia’s financial resources be linked with Türkiye’s industrial capabilities and Pakistan’s human capital and strategic depth to create new regional industries? Could the three countries develop joint research institutions, technology partnerships, pharmaceutical manufacturing, food-security systems and infrastructure corridors? Could Islamic finance become a mechanism for mobilizing capital into these strategic sectors rather than merely providing Shariah-compliant versions of existing financial products? Such a development would begin to transform the concept of security from collective military response into collective strategic resilience.

There is another historical fact that makes this possibility particularly important: Saudi Arabia and Iran have already demonstrated that rivalry does not necessarily have to become permanent hostility.

In March 2023, after years of diplomatic rupture and regional rivalry, Saudi Arabia and Iran agreed in Beijing to restore diplomatic relations and reopen their embassies. Their joint statement explicitly affirmed respect for sovereignty and non-interference in internal affairs. They also agreed to revive earlier agreements concerning security cooperation, economic cooperation, trade, investment, technology and other areas.

That agreement was welcomed by the Organization of Islamic Cooperation, which described the restoration of relations as an important contribution to regional security and stability. The significance of that reconciliation should not be underestimated.

It demonstrated that one of the most consequential rivalries in the Middle East could be addressed through diplomacy. It also suggested that the Muslim world need not permanently organise itself around the assumption that Saudi Arabia and Iran must inevitably remain strategic enemies.

The Makkah Agreement should therefore not be interpreted automatically as a new anti-Iranian bloc. Indeed, if its architects are sincere in describing it as defensive, that distinction matters enormously. Iran is a major Muslim country with its own strategic interests, economic resources, population and geographical importance. It has pursued policies that have caused serious concern among neighboring states and has supported armed movements beyond its borders. Those realities cannot simply be ignored. But neither should the answer to every regional security problem be the permanent construction of rival military blocs.

Genuinely mature Muslim security architecture would have to distinguish between deterrence and confrontation, between defending sovereignty and creating permanent enemies. That is why the question of foreign military bases is equally important.

No sovereign country should be denied the right to enter defense arrangements with another sovereign country. But sovereignty also means accepting responsibility for the strategic consequences of such arrangements. If foreign forces use a country’s territory to conduct military operations against another state, the host government cannot indefinitely pretend that the consequences have nothing to do with it.

The Makkah Agreement could provide an opportunity to establish a new principle: Muslim collective defense should protect the sovereignty of Muslim states without automatically turning those states into instruments of external wars. That principle would be particularly important if the agreement expands.

Egypt has already been mentioned as a possible future participant, although Cairo’s position remains uncertain. If the arrangement eventually expands to include Egypt and perhaps other Muslim countries, its combined economic and strategic weight could become substantial.

But expansion alone would not make it successful. The Muslim world has experienced numerous organizations and declarations that promised unity but produced little institutional integration. What is required is not another summit, another communiqué or another symbolic alliance.

It requires institutions. A permanent secretariat is reportedly envisaged for the new arrangement. That could become important if it develops genuine capacity for coordination rather than merely administrative functions. The agreement would need mechanisms for consultation, crisis management, intelligence cooperation, diplomatic coordination and, most importantly, conflict prevention.

The greatest achievement of Muslim security architecture would not be winning wars. It would be preventing them. That requires a fundamental change in strategic thinking.

For generations, the Muslim world has often approached security reactively. A crisis occurs; military expenditure rises. A conflict erupts; alliances are strengthened. A foreign power intervenes; another external power is invited to provide counterweight. This is the logic of perpetual vulnerability. Strategic resilience requires something different. It asks why a society remains vulnerable in the first place.

Why should countries with enormous energy resources import so much of their strategic technology? Why should countries with vast agricultural capacity remain exposed to food-supply disruptions? Why should countries with hundreds of millions of young people depend so heavily upon external technology and expertise? Why should the world’s largest concentration of Muslim capital not generate a more integrated financial system capable of supporting Muslim infrastructure and industrialization?

These are not merely economic questions. They are questions of sovereignty. And this is where the Makkah Agreement could become the beginning of something much larger than a defence pact. Imagine a future in which the agreement evolves into a broader strategic compact linking defense cooperation with economic resilience. Imagine joint investment funds financing infrastructure across member states. Imagine Islamic financial institutions mobilising capital for strategic industries. Imagine integrated food and pharmaceutical supply chains. Imagine coordinated energy systems, digital infrastructure and technology research. Imagine universities and research institutions collaborating across borders rather than competing for fragmented resources.

Such a system would not require the Muslim world to become a closed economic bloc. On the contrary, genuine strategic autonomy does not mean isolation. It means having the capacity to engage the world from a position of strength rather than dependency.

This is particularly important because the economic cost of insecurity is enormous. SIPRI estimates that military expenditure in the Middle East reached approximately US$218 billion in 2025. Saudi Arabia alone accounted for US$83.2 billion, while Türkiye’s expenditure reached US$30 billion and Iran’s declined to US$7.4 billion in real terms amid severe economic pressures.

These figures represent resources that could otherwise contribute, at least in part, to infrastructure, education, scientific research, industrial development and human capital. Security is necessary for development. But insecurity can also consume the resources required to achieve development.

That is the vicious circle the Muslim world must break. A more integrated economic system could help create the material foundations of peace. Countries that trade extensively, invest in one another and build shared infrastructure acquire stronger incentives to preserve stability. Economic interdependence does not eliminate conflict, but it can raise the cost of confrontation and create constituencies for peace.

This is why the future of the Makkah Agreement should not be judged only by its military dimension. Its real test may be whether it can help create an environment in which Muslim countries become less dependent upon external powers not merely for defence, but for the economic foundations of national resilience.

There is also a deeper civilizational question. The Muslim world is not poor in resources. It is poor in integration. Its problem is not the absence of capital, talent, geography or markets. It is the fragmentation of these assets across political boundaries without sufficient mechanisms to combine them strategically.

The three countries that signed the Makkah Agreement offer a small but revealing illustration. Saudi Arabia possesses capital and energy. Türkiye possesses industrial capacity and strategic geography. Pakistan possesses a large population, human capital and strategic depth. What they lack individually can, to some extent, be complemented by the others.

That is precisely the logic behind civilizational resilience: not that every country must possess everything, but that a civilization must possess enough interconnected capabilities to withstand external shocks.

The Makkah Agreement could therefore mark the beginning of a new strategic conversation. But there is a danger. If the Muslim world interprets collective security merely as the construction of another military alliance against another perceived enemy, it will reproduce the old logic in new clothing.

If it interprets collective security as a commitment to sovereignty, mutual defense, economic integration, technological capability, diplomatic reconciliation and strategic resilience, it could become something genuinely transformative. The choice ultimately belongs to the countries involved.

The history of the region has demonstrated the cost of fragmented security. External powers have entered repeatedly because regional states have been unable to construct sufficiently robust collective institutions of their own. Rivalries have invited intervention; intervention has deepened rivalries; insecurity has generated further dependence. Breaking that cycle will require more than a treaty. It will require a new conception of power.

Military power will remain important. But the power that ultimately determines whether a civilization can shape its future is broader: productive capacity, scientific knowledge, financial strength, technological competence, food and energy security, institutional integrity and the ability to cooperate across political boundaries. The Makkah Agreement has therefore arrived at an interesting historical moment. It may become merely another defense arrangement in a region already crowded with alliances. Or it may become the first institutional expression of a much larger idea: that Muslim countries can gradually move from a system of fragmented national security and external dependence towards a system of collective strategic resilience.

If that transformation occurs, Makkah will have given the Muslim world more than another military pact. It will have given it a question—and perhaps the beginning of an answer:

Can the Muslim world become secure not because another power guarantees its security, but because its own economic, technological, diplomatic and institutional capabilities make its security increasingly its own responsibility?

That is the test before the architects of the new Makkah order.  And it is a test that extends far beyond the three countries that signed the agreement.

Baba Yunus Muhammad is the President of the Africa Islamic Economic Forum (AFRIEF) and a leading intellectual, writer and policy advocate specializing in Islamic economics, governance, and ethical development. His work focuses on the intersection of political authority, economic justice, and civilizational thought in Africa and the Muslim world.