Beyond OPEC: The Geopolitical Earthquake Reshaping the Middle East and Its Neighbors

by Rachel Bronson
Fatima Shbair / AP
The skyline of Dubai, United Arab Emirates

The Iran war may have been the catalyst, but the UAE’s decision to leave the oil cartel is the culmination of years of geopolitical divergence with Saudi Arabia.

When the United Arab Emirates announced on April 28 that it would exit the Organization of the Petroleum Exporting Countries (OPEC) oil cartel and the wider OPEC+ alliance on May 1, the reaction in financial capitals and foreign ministries alike was one of genuine shock. And yet, those watching Abu Dhabi carefully over the past several years knew the tectonic stress had been building. They had anticipated the earthquake, even if not its precise moment. 

The UAE's dissatisfaction with OPEC stems from a straightforward grievance: The oil production quotas assigned to it bear no relationship to the country's actual investment or capacity. The state-owned Abu Dhabi National Oil Company (ADNOC) has been systematically increasing its output, targeting 5 million barrels per day by 2027. But OPEC+ rules set in 2018 limit UAE production to roughly 3.2 million barrels per day, and thus the country’s ability to profit from its expanded production. Researchers at Rice University's Baker Institute estimated in 2023 that unconstrained production could add upward of $50 billion in additional annual revenues to UAE coffers—a gap between aspiration and permission that had finally become intolerable. 

Still, the timing of the UAE’s decision is astonishing. The announcement comes in the middle of an active conflict in the Persian Gulf. Iran has launched thousands of missiles and drones at Arab Gulf states, including targeting Gulf energy infrastructure. The Strait of Hormuz is effectively closed to normal shipping. The entire region is on edge. Gulf expert F. Gregory Gause III underscored that if there was ever a moment for unity among the Arab Gulf states, this would be it. 

The UAE's decision to exit OPEC at precisely this juncture is not a neutral act. It is a clear challenge to Saudi Arabia, the world’s largest oil exporter and nominal leader of the cartel since its inception. The UAE joined OPEC in 1967 through the emirate of Abu Dhabi, four years before the UAE was recognized internationally as a sovereign state. It ended its 59 years of membership with a terse press release. 

While most of the initial analysis has focused, reasonably enough, on the geoeconomic implications and what this means for oil prices, for OPEC's leverage, and for global energy markets, the UAE’s departure from OPEC is as much a geopolitical earthquake as it is a geoeconomic one. The fault lines it has exposed have been accumulating for years, stretching across a vast geography from the Horn of Africa to the Eastern Mediterranean and into South Asia. 

Shifting Geopolitical Plates 

In 1960, Kuwait, Iraq, Iran, Saudi Arabia, and Venezuela formed OPEC to regulate oil prices and continue wresting control of domestic production from Western companies. The group gained international prominence in the 1970s, when member states coordinated actions that triggered the 1973 and 1979 oil shocks. In 2016, US shale production put downward pressure on global oil prices. With Cold War tensions receding, OPEC made the decision to form OPEC+, adding 10 additional major exporters—including Russia, Kazakhstan, and Mexico—to the alliance. Frustrations within the wider coalition grew steadily over time, particularly over perceived collusion between Riyadh and Moscow to keep prices elevated to fund their respective domestic and global agendas. But for the UAE, the Iran war was the final straw. 

UAE Energy Minister Suhail Al Mazrouei offered an economic defense of the timing, saying the country’s exit from OPEC “will have a minimum impact on the price” and a “a minimum impact on our friends at OPEC and OPEC+.” Indeed, with the Strait of Hormuz closed and the UAE's exports already constrained, the immediate market effect of the departure is limited. And given current realities, Saudi Arabia will be unable to suddenly flood the market with its excess capacity—its tried-and-true tactic for punishing recalcitrant OPEC members. Instead, the real impact will be felt after the war, when Abu Dhabi will be free to ramp production toward its stated ambitions without seeking Saudi approval, and the Saudis will have the ability to counter. 

The UAE's decision to exit OPEC at precisely this juncture is not a neutral act. It is a clear challenge to Saudi Arabia.

Still, security issues clearly drove the timing of the recent decision. The UAE has borne a disproportionate share of Iranian missile and drone attacks, and Abu Dhabi’s Gulf partners, including Saudi Arabia, have been less forthcoming with assistance than Israel, the United States, and European states. The Israeli Defense Force, for example, deployed personnel and Iron Dome batteries to the UAE—the first use of that system outside of Israel. And UAE Presidential Advisor Anwar Gargash has been outspoken about the UAE’s growing ties with the United States and Israel, as well as his disappointment with Arab allies.  

But to fully understand the UAE’s decision to leave OPEC, one must widen the aperture even further to include political decisions in Yemen, Sudan, Somalia, and the eastern Mediterranean, and investments flowing toward Islamabad and New Delhi. In this context, the Emirates’ break from OPEC becomes the latest step in an ongoing reorganization of political alignments in the region which stacks Saudi Arabia on one side and the UAE on the other. 

The Saudi-UAE Rift and Its Regional Implications 

The Saudi-UAE rift crystallized most recently in Yemen, where a joint military intervention gave way to competing endgames: Saudi Arabia backed a unified Yemeni state, while the UAE supported a separatist force. The confrontation turned sharply in late December 2025, when Saudi Arabia bombed an Emirati weapons shipment to a Yemeni port, a remarkable act of aggression against a supposed Gulf partner. 

Sudan tells a parallel story. Abu Dhabi and Riyadh have backed rival factions in what has become one of the world’s worst humanitarian crises. Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman raised UAE activities directly with US President Donald Trump during a White House visit in November 2025, a conversation that reportedly had shattering consequences for regional diplomacy. 

Somaliland offers perhaps the most striking illustration. Israel became the first UN member state to formally recognize Somaliland's independence in December 2025, a move that was widely criticized by Arab nations. The UAE, which had invested in the region’s infrastructure and economy, declined to join a coalition of Muslim-majority nations led by Saudi Arabia in condemning the act. According to analyst Giorgio Cafiero, the moment highlights the “complicated struggle between various Middle East powerhouses as they compete for influence.”   

But the strategic divergence between the two countries extends beyond the Horn of Africa. Saudi Arabia has deepened its ties with Pakistan, while the UAE has doubled down on India, a natural counterweight that also shares Abu Dhabi’s wariness about Islamist politics. And as Saudi Arabia has drawn closer to Qatar and Turkey, the UAE has tightened its relationship with Israel. Amid the energy crisis, Israel, Greece, India, and the UAE have aligned around eastern Mediterranean gas resources, while Saudi Arabia appears to be backing energy corridors through Syria in a possible convergence of interests with Turkey. 

What is emerging, imperfectly and with caveats, is a rough alignment of the UAE, Israel, India, and Greece around limiting Iranian power, managing Islamism, and exploiting new energy opportunities. On the other side is a looser convergence of Saudi Arabia, Turkey, Pakistan, and Qatar, which appears more comfortable interacting and aligning with Russia. While these are not formal alliances, they signal a shifting of geopolitical plates. 

The Risks Ahead 

A Wall Street Journal suggestion that the UAE's departure "signals a new Middle East order" may be an overstatement. But there are serious changes and compounding risks that deserve more attention than geoeconomic analyses alone provide. 

The first is an asymmetry of scale. The UAE-Israel alignment is formidable in financial, intelligence, and technological terms. But they are two small states facing heavy counterweights. Turkey is a NATO member with a large military; Pakistan is a nuclear power; and Saudi Arabia holds the world’s largest proven oil reserves and speaks for the holy sites of Mecca and Medina. The UAE’s sovereign wealth, north of $1 trillion, is a genuine force multiplier. But wealth is not the same as strategic depth. And leaving OPEC untethers the UAE from an important economic institution in its immediate neighborhood. 

The second risk stems from a weakened OPEC. The cartel has been frequently criticized, and not without reason. Trump has long viewed OPEC as operating against American interests:  suppressing oil supply, inflating energy prices, and leveraging American military protection without adequate compensation. But the alliance performs a stabilizing function in global energy markets that is easy to underestimate until it is gone. American presidents of both parties have engaged with Saudi Arabia precisely because OPEC's capacity to calibrate oil supply stabilizes prices—a constraint that, on balance, has been worth accepting. Amid a war that has already closed the Strait of Hormuz and pushed Brent crude past $100 per barrel, a more fragmented OPEC threatens a stabilizing architecture at a tenuous moment. 

For the United States, the third may be the most consequential of all: the deepening fissure between two of its most important regional partners in the middle of an active conflict in the Middle East. While the United States has managed analogous rifts before—Israel and Saudi Arabia, South Korea and Japan—the one between Saudi Arabia and the UAE is particularly costly. Since Operation Desert Storm, the United States has worked systematically to build interoperability among the Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) states by advancing common standards, creating joint command structures, integrating air defense networks, and sharing logistics. This has all been driven by the belief that a cohesive Gulf security bloc is far more capable of deterring Iran than a collection of individually wealthy but strategically fragmented states—a consistent thread of American security policy across administrations for more than 30 years. 

The UAE’s departure is the most public expression of a more assertive UAE approach—one that prioritizes autonomy, embraces the Abraham Accords, and pursues technological innovation.

Managing this rift is thus urgent. Two of the most heavily armed, financially powerful, and strategically positioned states in the Middle East—both dependent on American security guarantees and central to the Trump administration’s vision for a new Middle East and beyond—are engaged in open competition across multiple theaters simultaneously. The consequences of mismanaging that competition in a region already on fire are not theoretical. 

The UAE’s exit will ultimately weaken OPEC’s institutional cohesion and capacity to discipline supply. But reading the UAE’s departure solely through the lens of oil markets misses the larger picture. It is the culmination of years of geopolitical divergence between Abu Dhabi and Riyadh, which has been playing out across a geography stretching from the Horn of Africa to the eastern Mediterranean to South Asia. The UAE’s departure is the most public expression of a more assertive UAE approach—one that prioritizes autonomy, embraces the Abraham Accords, and pursues technological innovation. It is one that aligns more closely with Israel, Greece, and India, and one that raises concern about the drift of Saudi Arabia, Turkey, Qatar, and Pakistan.  

The UAE’s move from OPEC is a rupture in the regional architecture that has governed both energy markets and regional power politics for decades. It is an earthquake. And not simply a geoeconomic one but a geopolitical one, perhaps even more profoundly. The aftershocks of the war in the Gulf are only just beginning. 


The Chicago Council on Global Affairs is an independent, nonpartisan organization and does not take institutional positions. The views and opinions expressed in this commentary are solely those of the author.

About the Author
Lester Crown Senior Nonresident Fellow, Energy and Geopolitics, Chicago Council on Global Affairs
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Rachel Bronson is a senior advisor at the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists, having previously served as president and CEO, overseeing programming, communications, and the iconic Doomsday Clock. Before that, Bronson served as vice president of studies at the Council and as a senior fellow and director of Middle East studies at the Council on Foreign Relations, among other roles.
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