Why Tucker Carlson Is Suddenly the Most Watched Man in the Middle East

Tucker Carlson’s interviews with Arab monarchs are reshaping how American conservatives understand the Middle East—and exposing unexpected ideological overlap

In recent weeks, Tucker Carlson has been quietly reshaping his global image—and nowhere is this more evident than in the Middle East. From his high-profile sit-down with Saudi billionaire Prince Alwaleed bin Talal to a headline-grabbing interview with Qatar’s Prime Minister Sheikh Mohammed bin Abdulrahman Al Thani, Carlson has positioned himself as something more than a polarizing figure in American media. He’s becoming, oddly enough, a sought-after interlocutor among the Gulf’s ruling class.

The result? Carlson is no longer just America’s most controversial cable host-turned-new media powerhouse. He’s quickly becoming one of the most discussed American journalists in the Arab world.

In the U.S., Carlson has long been cast as either a truth-telling populist or a dangerous demagogue, depending on whom you ask. But scroll through encrypted WhatsApp groups or tune into state-funded media channels in the Gulf, and you’ll find him portrayed in an entirely different light: as a rare Western journalist willing to break bread with Arab leaders and engage with their worldview on its own terms. Clips from his interviews are circulating widely across Arabic-language media, including platforms like MBC’s Al Arabiya and Al Jazeera, the region’s most influential news channels.

His growing cachet in the region was solidified by his appearance at the One Billion Summit in Dubai—a tech and business gathering attended by global elites and social media influencers, where Carlson delivered remarks to a packed house. Not bad for someone whose most recent headlines back home involve sparring with legacy media and airing iconoclastic takes on YouTube and X.

One reason for Carlson’s newfound relevance is simple: access. Gulf royals and high-ranking officials seldom appear on American television, and when they do, it’s typically in tightly controlled settings with deferential interviewers. Carlson’s approach is different. His guests—power brokers like Alwaleed bin Talal, who owns a sizable stake in media and financial institutions, or Prime Minister Al Thani, a key player in the Israel-Hamas negotiations—speak to him in a way that feels remarkably candid, at least by regional standards.

In a fractured media landscape driven by surprise and spectacle, these pairings are pure viral fodder. Few in the American right-wing media ecosystem, where Carlson remains a towering figure, are broadcasting lengthy interviews with Gulf rulers. Fewer still are giving them the room to articulate their worldview without immediate pushback or oversimplification.

Yet it’s not just the novelty factor driving these interviews’ popularity.

Since October 7, the dominant narrative on the American right regarding the Gaza war has been shaped largely by images of campus protests and culture-war skirmishes. The caricature that emerges is of a chaotic, grievance-fueled left—protesters with keffiyehs, waving radical slogans, often on Ivy League campuses that conservative America already views with deep suspicion.

But Carlson’s conversations with Gulf leaders offer a different lens: one that is sober, technocratic, and harder to dismiss. Figures like Prince Alwaleed and Prime Minister Al Thani are not university students or fringe activists. They are veteran statesmen and businessmen with billions invested in Western economies. They are polished, pragmatic, and deliver critiques of the West’s handling of the Gaza conflict in calm, strategic tones.

Their gravitas demands a different kind of attention, especially from Carlson’s audience. Suddenly, a conservative viewer in Des Moines or Dallas is watching someone in traditional Gulf attire echoing concerns about global instability, “woke culture”, Western hypocrisy, and the perceived erosion of traditional values. It resonates.

These leaders aren’t simply speaking for themselves, either. As the owners or backers of the two most influential media empires in the region—MBC Group (home to Al Arabiya) and the Al Jazeera Media Network—they help shape public opinion across the Arab world. Their messaging doesn’t just reflect the Gulf's view on Gaza and the West; it defines it.

Perhaps the most intriguing element in Carlson’s Gulf interviews is the unexpected ideological overlap. Consider Prime Minister Al Thani’s remarks on the importance of family and social cohesion. His rejection of Western-style cultural and excessive liberalism struck a familiar chord with Carlson’s base.

Tradition, hierarchy, skepticism of social progressivism, and an emphasis on national and religious identity—these are pillars of both Gulf state conservatism and the MAGA-aligned American right. It’s a transnational affinity that has long existed under the radar but is now surfacing more publicly.

This paradoxical alignment isn’t new. During the Cold War, many Muslim-majority states allied with the United States against the Soviet Union, deploying arguments that would be instantly recognizable to members of the American Christian right. Pakistan, for example, justified its alignment with the West through anti-communist and religious frameworks that dovetailed with those of Ronald Reagan’s Washington.

But in a post-9/11, post-October 7 world, this alignment is complicated within segments of the American right, where “Judeo-Christian values” are sometimes defined in direct opposition to Islam and the Arab world writ large. Carlson’s interviews implicitly challenge that binary by foregrounding Muslim leaders who share priorities with American conservatives—from skepticism of “woke” culture to calls for global stability rooted in tradition.

Of course, much depends on where you stand. As someone who grew up in Iraq—where Iranian-backed militias now wield enormous influence—I’m naturally wary of analyses that underplay Iran’s ambitions. For Qatar, with its economic interdependence with Tehran, the threat is perceived differently in Doha than it is in Baghdad or Erbil.

This divergence reveals a crucial point: Carlson’s guests represent a subset of the region’s elite, not the full spectrum of Middle Eastern perspectives. Their voices are essential, but they’re not the only ones.

Carlson’s sudden status as the American face of Gulf diplomacy should raise important questions for conservatives and liberals alike. Why is this space being ceded to a single, polarizing figure? Why aren’t more American journalists, policymakers, or intellectuals engaging directly with regional leaders—not just dissidents or Western-facing reformers?

The Middle East is not simply a stage for America’s foreign policy anxieties or a backdrop for ideological posturing. It is a region of immense complexity, where conservatism, liberalism, nationalism, and pragmatism coexist in often surprising ways. And for all the discomfort this may provoke in some corners of the American commentariat, Carlson is tapping into a real and growing convergence of interests between elements of the American right and Gulf leadership.

Those interested in understanding the future of U.S.-Middle East relations—whether they view Carlson as a hero or a threat—would do well to pay closer attention.

Because, like it or not, these conversations are just beginning.