Saudi Arabia Confronts Abu Dhabi’s Imperial Ambition

As I See

Adel El-Baz

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The phone call President Al-Burhan held with Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman last week—during which he urged the Crown Prince to intervene with President Trump during his upcoming visit to Washington on the 18th of this month to pressure the UAE to halt its aggression against Sudan—offers significant insight into shifting regional dynamics. According to Middle East Eye, which leaked details of the conversation, the Crown Prince agreed to the proposal and promised to raise the issue with the U.S. president.

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The pledges exchanged in that call, and the potential consequences that may follow, suggest that Saudi Arabia is on the verge of a strategic shift in its position on the war in Sudan. Several factors—long brewing beneath the surface—have contributed to this moment. For some time, Riyadh has been reassessing its stance on the conflict. Yet the slow pace of Saudi diplomacy created a vacuum that allowed the UAE to expand its influence and secure a dominant foothold, both in the Horn of Africa and across the Sahel. This vacuum also paved the way for other international powers—Russia through “Africa Corps,” and China via emerging trade corridors—to deepen their presence in the Red Sea, developments that Saudi Arabia sees as a direct threat to its traditional regional influence.

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Saudi Arabia has recently grasped the full magnitude of the UAE’s expanding imperial project on its western flank, particularly in light of the profound transformations within the Sudanese conflict. What was once a local struggle between two generals—or a confrontation between the Sudanese state and rebel forces—has evolved into a multi-polar, geo-strategic battle over influence, resources, and maritime routes.
It has now become unmistakably clear to Riyadh that Abu Dhabi’s imperial ambition is advancing with no ceiling, anchored in four core pillars:

First: Arming militias and recruiting mercenaries to build parallel armies that can shield Emirati investments across Africa—investments that exceed $110 billion, according to the Financial Times.
Second: Using these forces as tools of military and political coercion, not only against regional states but potentially even Gulf neighbors in the future.
Third: Securing control over African resources—agriculture, gold, minerals—and dominating ports and informal trade routes, particularly in the gold sector.
Fourth: Expanding geographically and militarily across the Red Sea and the Horn of Africa, reaching as far as Libya and Chad, creating a sphere of influence that threatens regional balance and amplifies the UAE’s leverage over critical maritime corridors.

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This Emirati project—built on aggression, exploitation, and the instrumentalization of militias—is fundamentally at odds with Saudi Arabia’s strategic vision in Africa. Riyadh’s approach prioritizes stability as the foundation for investment, followed by the establishment of durable partnerships.
Saudi mega-projects on the continent are based on productive cooperation with China and Turkey, reflecting a development-focused approach rather than one driven by domination.
Protecting Red Sea security—through which 12–15% of global trade and 40% of Saudi trade flows—is also a cornerstone of Riyadh’s strategy.
Moreover, Saudi Arabia prefers to support national state institutions rather than militia groups. Recent humanitarian and UN outcries—particularly after the atrocities in El-Fasher and Zamzam—have intensified moral pressure on the Kingdom, making silence increasingly costly both politically and ethically.

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The Emirati and Saudi projects—with all diplomatic attempts to downplay friction—stand on fundamentally opposing tracks. And no matter how much Riyadh seeks to avoid direct confrontation with Abu Dhabi, a clash appears inevitable. The evolution of the war has accelerated this collision, as the Emirati project has crossed red lines Saudi Arabia can no longer ignore.
Riyadh cannot accept Emirati control over Sudan through the Dagalo militias, which would place Sudanese ports and an 800-kilometer stretch of Red Sea coastline under the influence of a force numbering roughly one million Janjaweed fighters and Arab mercenaries.
Such an expansion poses a direct threat to the NEOM project—located just 1,200 kilometers from Sudan’s coast—and echoes the threat once posed by the Houthis at Bab al-Mandab. It also jeopardizes future trade, investment, and Red Sea security.

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Saudi Arabia now has a historic opportunity to contain Emirati expansion. The Crown Prince’s visit to Washington this week—widely anticipated—gives him leverage to pressure President Trump into compelling the UAE to stop arming the Janjaweed militia, especially after the recent statement by the U.S. Secretary of State confirming Abu Dhabi’s role in funding the group.
Riyadh can also capitalize on the convergence of major-power interests—Washington, Beijing, and Ankara—around stabilizing the Red Sea, giving Saudi Arabia additional tools of influence.

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But political condemnation or diplomatic pressure alone will not be enough to deter the Emirati project. What is required is practical coordination between Saudi Arabia, Egypt, and Qatar to help the Sudanese army regain military balance—through direct support using tools these states are already adept at employing.
If the UAE had the audacity—and capability—to arm a militia accused of genocide, why should allies of the internationally recognized government be prevented from supporting the national army?
This support is not a mere political gesture; it is essential for protecting the national security of these states, which would be the first to suffer if the UAE were to dominate Sudan.
Saudi Arabia has the ability to reshape the balance of power—in Sudan, the Horn of Africa, and the Sahel—drawing on its historic influence and capacity to lead a new political process akin to the “Jeddah Agreement,” but this time from a position of strength that ensures a genuine peace, not one imposed by a foreign-backed militia.