Anyone seeking to understand Washington’s priorities in the coming years must begin with a simple question: Where is the epicenter? Not the geographic center, but the strategic one. The answer is unambiguous: the US itself.

Every other region is assessed by the extent to which it serves American interests, not by proximity, history, sentiment, or loyalty.

This is neither intuition nor hindsight. It is stated explicitly in the US National Security Strategy published last November. This document is not a routine policy paper; it is a map of American priorities. It clarifies what matters, what matters less, and where the true centers of gravity of American power will lie over the next decade.

Those searching for affection toward Israel, or for the Middle East as a strategic core, will be disappointed. Those looking for a cold hierarchy of interests will find one laid out with striking clarity. The document leaves little room for ambiguity.

The central arena of the twenty-first century is the Asia-Pacific, where economic power is concentrated, technological dominance is contested, risk accumulates, and where the future is being shaped.

Nearly half of global GDP, measured by purchasing power parity, is already located there. Global supply chains converge there. The struggle over semiconductors, energy routes, maritime trade, and deep technologies is waged there.

Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu is dealing with a US president who is personally, emotionally, and politically invested in his fate. Trump has never hidden his view that Netanyahu should be pardoned. Here, the two stand together in the Knesset, during Trump’s October visit.
Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu is dealing with a US president who is personally, emotionally, and politically invested in his fate. Trump has never hidden his view that Netanyahu should be pardoned. Here, the two stand together in the Knesset, during Trump’s October visit. (credit: Evelyn Hockstein, pool/Getty Images)

Against this backdrop, every other region becomes secondary, derivative, or supportive.

At the heart of this arena lies one small but decisive point: Taiwan. Not merely as a semiconductor powerhouse, but as a geopolitical anchor.

Taiwan is of strategic importance to China

Taiwan sits at the core of the First Island Chain, along with Japan and the Philippines, a geographic arc that restricts China’s otherwise unrestricted access to the Pacific Ocean. Control over Taiwan would not be a symbolic victory for Beijing; it would unlock expanded military, naval, and economic capabilities.

From an American perspective, Taiwan is not just another regional dispute. It is a strategic red line.

This reality leads to a conclusion that is uncomfortable for many in Israel: the Middle East is no longer at the center of America’s strategic worldview. Not because it lacks importance, but because it lacks urgency. The US is no longer dependent on Middle Eastern oil as it once was.

Major terrorist hubs have weakened. The region is viewed as manageable through burden sharing, regional partnerships, and normalization frameworks, rather than constant attention and force deployment.

In this context, Israel is a pin on the map. A valuable pin. A contributing pin. But far from the top of American priorities. This is not an emotional judgment. It is a policy assessment.

American strategy speaks explicitly of burden shifting, reduced direct involvement, and a transition from permanent presence to narrowly defined, measurable interests.

The political implications become even sharper when looking beyond the Trump era. Figures such as J.D. Vance, widely seen as a representative of the next Republican generation, embody a sharper and more disciplined version of “America First.” In this worldview, every alliance, commitment, and aid package is evaluated through a strict American balance sheet, economic, industrial, and strategic. Not moral. Not historical. Not emotional.

On the Democratic side, even relatively moderate figures such as Gavin Newsom do not signal a return to automatic geopolitical generosity. There, too, the language centers on competition with China, industrial policy, innovation, and American advantage. The difference is stylistic, not directional.

From this emerges perhaps the most consequential strategic question for Israel: not whether Washington is “for us” or “against us,” but whether Israel is perceived as an Asset or a Liability. Is Israel a contributor to the US’s bottom line, or an expense?

Here, Israel possesses an advantage, one that remains underutilized. Israel is a living R&D laboratory, not as a slogan, but as an economic and technological reality. Its technology ecosystem, spanning cybersecurity, artificial intelligence, defense technologies, and advanced manufacturing, generates enormous value for American companies, investors, and defense institutions.

The recent decision by NVIDIA to establish a major new campus in northern Israel was not a gesture. It was a cold profit-and-loss calculation, about where talent, knowledge, and competitive advantage are created.

Beyond this, Israel functions as a real-world testing ground for America's weapons systems, sensors, missile defense technologies, and battlefield innovations, not in simulations, but under live operational conditions. In American terms, this is Return On Investment (ROI).

If it continues to rely primarily on the language of entitlement, history, and moral obligation, it will remain a small pin on a very large map. In contrast, if Israel succeeds in framing itself as a value generator, a technological accelerator, and a partner that delivers dollars, data, and competitive edge, it will remain relevant even as American focus moves to Asia-Pacific.

The writer is a major (res..) in Israeli Military Intelligence, a technology entrepreneur and investor, and the creator and host of the Owl podcast.