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In October 2025, the UN community will mark the 25th anniversary of UN Security Council Resolution 1325, which launched the women, peace, and security (WPS) agenda. Since 2019, IPI has analyzed challenges and successes in increasing uniformed women’s meaningful participation in peace operations as part of its partnership with the Elsie Initiative for Peace Operations, contributing to a global community of practice that provides evidence-based research on gender and peacekeeping. Over the past six years, this research has explored a range of topics related to women in peace operations, highlighting gaps and offering actionable recommendations for the implementation of the WPS agenda.

IPI in partnership with the Elsie Initiative for Women in Peace Operations (led by Global Affairs Canada), the Stimson Center, the Latin American Security and Defence Network (RESDAL), and the Gender and Security Sector (GSS) Lab, cohosted a hybrid policy forum on October 9th on “Reflecting on 25 Years of the WPS Agenda: Lessons Learned from Gender Research and UN Peace Operations.

The conversation was an opportunity to share research findings, reflect on lessons and challenges for women in peacekeeping, consider the role of research in advancing the WPS agenda, and strengthen communities of practice to ensure the sustainable implementation of recommendations on gender equality in peacekeeping in the years to come. With discussions around UN reforms underway, severe funding crises, shrinking space for women’s civil society, and rising anti-gender backlash, partnerships between researchers, practitioners, and member states committed to defending and advancing the WPS agenda are more important than ever.

Opening Remarks:
Zeid Ra’ad Al Hussein, President and CEO, International Peace Institute
Lieutenant General Mohan Subramanian, Force Commander, United Nations Mission in South Sudan (UNMISS) (virtual)

Speakers:
Jacqueline O’Neill, former Women, Peace and Security Ambassador for Canada; Director, Global Affairs Canada
Lisa Sharland, Senior Fellow and Director, Protecting Civilians & Human Security, Stimson Center
Elisa Rial, Program Coordinator, Latin American Security and Defence Network (RESDAL) (virtual)
Roya Izadi, Assistant Professor, Department of Political Science, University of Rhode Island
Joana Osei-Tutu, Deputy Director, Women Youth Peace and Security Institute, Kofi Annan International Peacekeeping Training Centre (KAIPTC) (virtual)
Colonel Roger Nilsson, Counsellor, Military Advisor, Permanent Mission of Sweden to the United Nations

Closing Remarks:
Christian Saunders, Under-Secretary-General and Special Coordinator on Improving the UN Response to Sexual Exploitation and Abuse

Moderator:
Phoebe Donnelly, Senior Fellow and Head of Women, Peace, and Security, International Peace Institute

The post Reflecting on 25 Years of the WPS Agenda: Lessons Learned from Gender Research and UN Peace Operations appeared first on International Peace Institute.

Während Europa über China als „systemischen Rivalen“ diskutiert, agiert ein einflussreicher Akteur fast unbemerkt im Hintergrund: die Internationale Abteilung der Kommunistischen Partei (CCP-ID). Hinter diesem bürokratisch klingenden Namen verbirgt sich ein zentraler Akteur chinesischer Außenbeziehungen mit klarem Auftrag: internationale Netzwerke aufbauen, Fürsprecher für China mobilisieren und politische Diskurse in anderen Ländern gezielt beeinflussen. Eine systematische Analyse zeigt, wie sich die Aktivitäten des CCP-ID in Europa seit Anfang der 2000er Jahre verändert haben.

Während Europa über China als „systemischen Rivalen“ diskutiert, agiert ein einflussreicher Akteur fast unbemerkt im Hintergrund: die Internationale Abteilung der Kommunistischen Partei (CCP-ID). Hinter diesem bürokratisch klingenden Namen verbirgt sich ein zentraler Akteur chinesischer Außenbeziehungen mit klarem Auftrag: internationale Netzwerke aufbauen, Fürsprecher für China mobilisieren und politische Diskurse in anderen Ländern gezielt beeinflussen. Eine systematische Analyse zeigt, wie sich die Aktivitäten des CCP-ID in Europa seit Anfang der 2000er Jahre verändert haben.

Während Europa über China als „systemischen Rivalen“ diskutiert, agiert ein einflussreicher Akteur fast unbemerkt im Hintergrund: die Internationale Abteilung der Kommunistischen Partei (CCP-ID). Hinter diesem bürokratisch klingenden Namen verbirgt sich ein zentraler Akteur chinesischer Außenbeziehungen mit klarem Auftrag: internationale Netzwerke aufbauen, Fürsprecher für China mobilisieren und politische Diskurse in anderen Ländern gezielt beeinflussen. Eine systematische Analyse zeigt, wie sich die Aktivitäten des CCP-ID in Europa seit Anfang der 2000er Jahre verändert haben.

• Since landing ships, made in Turkish shipyards in order to enable the invasion of Cyprus, reached their designated beachheads on the 20th of July of 1974, the Turkish defence technological industrial base (TDTIB) has been locked in a see saw pattern.
• From the late 1960’s to today the TDTIB has advanced in order to enable Turkey to exercise strategic autonomy. The very exercise of this strategic autonomy has recurrently caused ruptures with Turkey’s western allies. These ruptures have, in turn, disrupted the industrial partnerships on which the TDTIB depends.
• This pattern is experiencing a historic high currently with the TDTIB’s product range, which includes sophisticated UAVs and naval ships being employed by Turkey in support of an aggressive challenge of European interests, and most prominently in a comprehensive challenge of Greek rights, solidly established under UNCLOS, to an exclusive economic zone and to the laying of a subsea electricity cable linking Greece with Cyprus.
• At the same time, due to the European Union’ s (EU) rearmament effort, and the possibility of third countries participating in it, already provided from in the SAFE funding facility, the TDTIB has the opportunity to further grow in volume and sophistication.
• This policy paper will argue that this opportunity should be denied to the TDTIB both on the basis of past behavior of Turkey but also on solid evidence of the current and future priorities of the Erdogan regime.
• As in the past nearly sixty years, it is clear that the current Turkish leadership prioritises the exercise of its strategic autonomy, facilitated by the TDTIB, and not the TDTIB’s participation in the EU’s rearmament. Such a prioritization makes structurally unstable the relationship, and in particular highly prone to disruption, between the TDTIB and the EU’s rearmament effort.
• Additionally, the participation of the TDTIB in the EU’s rearmament effort by boosting the capacity of Turkey to challenge Greece’s and Cyprus’ sovereign rights, corrodes the principles of collective security, and thus undermines the ability of the EU to mobilise the collective resources necessary for its own strategic autonomy.
• Thus the TDTIB neither can nor should participate in the EU’s rearmament effort.

Read here in pdf the Policy Paper by Antonis Kamaras, ELIAMEP Research Associate.

Introduction

This policy paper will posit that the Turkish defence technological industrial base (TDTIB) neither can nor should benefit from the EU’s collective rearmament effort and for the same set of reasons.  Turkey’s internal repression and external aggression make participation of the TDTIB in the EU’s rearmament both highly vulnerable to disruption and corrosive to the intra-EU consensus that collective rearmament requires for its realization.

The first section will chart the evolution of the TDTIB, from the effort to prepare for military intervention in Cyprus, culminating in the invasion of the island in 1974, to today’s integration of Turkish-made UAVs either in the cross border operations of the Turkish Armed Forces or in the military operations of Turkey’s proxies and allies.  The pattern will emerge of a see saw movement whereby strategic autonomy enabled by the TDIB creates bilateral or multilateral ruptures which in turn derail the TDTIB’s partnerships with key western partners.

The second section will argue that the interaction of the TDTIB with Turkey’s striving for a strategic autonomy that is mostly antithetical to the EU’s Common Security and Defence Policy (CSDP), as well as increasing domestic repression, will continue to be a mainstay of the Erdogan regime. Consequently, even if the TDTIB is allowed to benefit from the EU’s collective defence funding, the participation of the TDTIB in the EU’s rearmament effort is bound to be a structurally unstable, and thus an inherently unreliable proposition.

The third section will explore the way in which the EU’s collective rearmament effort is both constitutive and reliant upon the construction of a new EU polity, as it involves greater collective mobilisation of resources in the service of the defence needs of all EU members. These defence needs are already more diverse than the Russo-Ukrainian war suggests and bound to get more so in the future, due to the size and diversity of the Union. By extension, this polity, the ‘geopolitical Europe’ as it has been called, cannot privilege one threat over another, nor one or more member-states’ threat perception over the threat perceptions of other member-states, if it is to achieve the cohesion and mobilisational capacity that are indispensable to its viability.  Yet the participation of the TDTIB in the EU’s rearmament, by undermining the Greek and Cypriot deterrence over Turkish aggression, discriminates in terms of which threat is considered to be important, and for which member-states, at the EU-collective level and which is less so.

The fourth section will review arguments made in favour of the participation of the TDTIB in Europe’s rearmament, and policies recommended to that effect, and evaluate whether they can indeed supersede the considerable disadvantages of such participation indentified by the author.

The concluding section will, on the basis of the above, argue that the TDTIB should be excluded from participating in the EU’s collective rearmament effort.

The evolution of the relationship between the TDTIB and Turkey’s strategic autonomy

On the 20th of July 1974 Turkish landing ships reached the designated beachheads in Cyprus out of which poured Turkish infantry, tanks and armoured personnel carriers.  As the authors of the definitive study of the Turkish invasion to Cyprus point out this was the commencement of “the only successfully completed amphibious and airborne landing against a determined defender since 1945”[1]. The invasion of Cyprus was also one of the largest, in terms of the proportion of territory lost by a sovereign state via military means, partial conquests in the post WW II era, partial as opposed to total conquests being the dominant form of territorial conquest in this period[2].     It is worthwhile mentioning that as a result of this military operation 36 % of the territory of the Republic of Cyprus is still occupied by Turkey whereas Russia, today and after more than three years of war, occupies approximately 20 % of Ukrainian territory.

Preparation for the invasion also included the founding act of the creation of the TDTIB, in the post WW II era, in the service of Turkey’s strategic autonomy.   Although discussions among Turkish civilian and military policy makers on a possible invasion of Cyprus started as early as 1955 it was after the Cyprus crisis of 1964 and the humiliating Johnson letter, in which the US President explicitly forbade Turkey from employing US equipment to invade Cyprus, that Turkey set itself on a path to acquire its own technical means necessary for such a successful invasion. Specifically, a US embargo on the sale of landing ships, tank (LSTs), led Turkey to convert ships to this configuration, acquired by other countries, and more importantly for Turkish shipyards to acquire the capability to construct 600-ton LSTs in the 1970S, twelve of which had joined the Turkish navy by 1974[3].

Importantly, the invasion of Cyprus set in motion a see saw pattern which has exercised, still today, a bit more than half a century, determinative influence over the interaction between the TDTIB and Turkey’s strategic autonomy. In essence, the TDTIB by enabling Turkey’s strategic autonomy would contribute to the implementation of weapons embargoes by Turkey’s main Western weapon systems suppliers, subsequent to the exercise of such an autonomy. In return these embargoes would both disrupt the evolution of the TDTIB while also pushing Turkish policy makers to double down in developing the TDTIB, with Turkey’s own resources, albeit subject to the structural and fiscal constraints of the country[4].

The invasion of Cyprus catalysed the mobilization of the politically influential Greek-American community which, in the aftermath of Watergate, managed to convince the US Congress to impose a weapons embargo to Turkey on all US weapons sales, which lasted for three years. This ‘rule of law’ lobby successfully argued that the invasion of Cyprus was not simply a Greek and Greek-Cypriot matter but constituted a gross violation of the universal norm of sovereignty, and as such warranted Congressional restrictions placed on the US Administration, regarding the management of the US-Turkey relationship[5].  Analysts of the TDTIB are in agreement, that the US embargo catalyzed the determination of Turkey’s policy makers to invest in a long term effort to develop comprehensively their defence industrial capacity such that a future embargo would not threaten to cripple the Turkish Armed Forces, considering for example that Turkey’s Air Force in 1974 was completely depended on US spare parts[6].

A brief review[7] of the key incidents that negatively affected Turkey’s access to Western weapon systems, including the provision of such access via bilateral or multilateral DTIB partnerships, demonstrate continuity with the pivotal Cyprus invasion and its aftermath.

The repression of the Kurds in the 1990’s, at a time when Turkey was under military tutelage, resulted in suspension of weapon sales from Western European suppliers, particularly land systems. The 1996 Imia crisis with Greece had a similar effect. Both the repression of the Kurds, which entailed massive violations of human rights, and the Imia incident which was accompanied and justified by a baseless challenge of Greek sovereignty of the Imia as well as other Aegean islets constituted norm breaking behavior to Western perceptions[8].

The Mavi Marmara crisis in 2010 which led to a complete breakdown of the defence relationship between Israel and Turkey, including the cessation of a productive for the TDTIB relationship with leading Israeli defence firms, also constituted an exception, in terms of a European and North American canon. This canon mandates that Europeans at the country and EU level, due to the status of the Holocaust as a genocide implemented in European soil, by Nazi Germany and the active collaboration of important societal forces in Nazi-occupied countries, from Lithuania to Greece,  will make allowances to the Jewish state (with suspension of weapons sales imposed on Israel in the 1960’s  by France and the UK driven solely by commercial and geopolitical considerations and in particular the need to sustain relationships with the Arab world).  Turkey, as a predominantly Muslim country which did not fall under Nazi occupation and was not a combatant in WW II, is clearly outside this canon.   The point here is not whether the EU and its constituent member-countries are in the right in not taking a more robust attitude towards the death and destruction visited upon Gaza at the time of writing by Israel’s armed forces – but rather to underline that EU member states, their diversity notwithstanding, share in a historical past and normative preferences to a greater degree among themselves than they do with Turkey.

The acquisition of the Russian S400 ground to air system, and the resulting expulsion of the TDTIB from the dominant, globally, 5th generation aircraft’s supply chain also reflects Turkish exceptionalism. In effect, Turkey struck such a close defence relationship with a country, Russia, presenting a clear threat to European security already two years prior, as the conquest of Crimea which reanimated fears of Russian intent in the Western camp had already taken place in 2014. Indicatively, France had to revisit its 2011 decision, under the Sarkozy Presidency, to sell two Mistral helicopter carriers to Russia, cancelling the sale by 2014, under the Hollande Presidency. The decision to sell the Mistrals to Russia was misaligned, to say the least, with the strategic interests of the western alliance France was a member of, which furthermore threatened its overall defence relationship with front line states of the EU and NATO[9]. To the extent that the S400 decision was motivated by Erdogan’s suspicion that the US instigated the 2016 coup attempt against him and he had to, in effect, acquire a ground to air defence system that could guard him against his own US-equipped and trained Air Force[10], this procurement decision also points to an exceptional distrust of the US by a fellow NATO-member country, exceptional even by the standards set by the second Trump Presidency.

In 2018 Turkey’s deliberated-upon partnership with Italy and France for the co-production of SMT missiles was suspended due to Turkey’s divergent interests in Syria and the Mediterranean[11].  Turkey’s aggressive challenging in the field of Greek and Greek-Cypriot sovereign rights led to Turkey’s exclusion from the PESCO and EDF R&D defence funds in the early 2020’s to today. Turkey’s military operations in Syria, against Kurdish forces, its human rights record, and other such issues, also generated opposition to weapon sales in Holland which has a strong lobby arguing for a normative-informed weapons export policy[12].    Last but not least, the sale of Eurofighter aircraft to Turkey was suspended, in early 2025, due to the opposition of the previous German government, engendered by the imprisonment of Istanbul Mayor Ekrem Imamoglou and Erdogan’s most formidable challenger for the office of the Presidency. This decision was reversed by the succeeding CDU-led government while there is ongoing speculation on whether Greece will manage to impose commitments by the government of Turkey that the Typhoons will not be used against her.

Importantly, Turkey’s policy in Libya which has alienated France was also induced by the former’s need to challenge Greek sovereign rights in the Mediterranean, by advancing through an agreement with Libya, the notion that Greece’s islands, even such large ones as Crete do not produce sovereign rights in terms of the delineation of exclusive economic zones, a notion widely accepted as contravening the international law of the seas[13]. We also mention that Greece exerted pressure, albeit unsuccessfully, to freeze the partnership between Spain and Germany and Turkey, involving respectively, the manufacturing under license of an aircraft carrier and advanced T214 submarines.

Overshadowing Turkey’s relationships with Western counterparts, is the contributing role itself of TDTIB in Turkey’s geopolitical exceptionalism. Turkish-made UAVs, and more largely their integration in combined arms operations initially in Southern Turkey and subsequently in Syria, Libya and Nagorno Karabach, have been a contributing factor in counter mobilization against Turkey by influential ethnic communities in Germany (Turkish Kurds) and the US (Greek-Americans, Armenian-Americans, Jewish-Americans).  In an action-reaction dynamic techno-nationalism, namely the vested interest of the Erdogan regime to demonstrate to domestic audiences the superiority of Turkish arms, the martial virtues of the Turkish soldier being leveraged by the indigenous technical means at his disposal, has been adding fuel to the fire[14].  Additionally, the ambitious naval shipbuilding programme of the Turkish Navy has fueled Turkish aggression in the Mediterranean, encapsulated in the Mavi Vatan doctrine, with parochial but influential economic and Service (Turkish Navy) interests being vested in Turkey’s geopolitical aggrandizement.      This package gets wrapped up in Turkey’s emergence as a classic middle power, its geopolitical ambitions informed by reimaginings of its imperial past and propelled forward by the US’s profound ambivalence of its role as a global policeman[15]. To top it all, the return of ‘Big War, as evidenced in Ukraine, has reinforced the link between a country’s ability to achieve escalation dominance and the size and capability of its DTIB, with even war gaming now including defence industrial capacity in the context of a sustained war effort[16].  As such the TDTIB, depending on its evolution, can very well contribute to the ‘war optimism’ of Turkeys’ leadership under an ever expanding range of military conflict scenarios.

All in all, what is observed in Turkey is a recurrent pattern over a period of approximately sixty years of divergent geopolitical interests, informed by geography, history and identity, as well as of impossible to dislodge for long domestic authoritarianism, derailing bilateral or multilateral defence relationships. Domestic and international Western norm breaking, or even lack of sharing of historically-informed western preferences, as in the case of Israel, are also an important factor. Geopolitical divergence and norm breaking also create fertile ground for the seeding and growth of coalitions in Europe and North America which prioritise the breaking up of such bilateral and multilateral defence relationships between Turkey and the West.  Such a counter-reaction is assisted by the fact that Erdogan has now been entrenched in a gallery of rogues, right next to Putin, of leaders willing to employ force to impose their will both to their own citizens and to neighbouring states[17].

Furthermore, the more capable the TDTIB has become and the greater a share of a sophisticated supply chain of a weapon system it can claim, the more disruptive the subsequent rupture becomes for its western partner(s).  This highly volatile relationship of weapons manufacturing and sales by the West to Turkey, of sixty years standing, started with the denial and then suspension of sales of weapon systems for which the nascent TDTIB would provide limited  maintenance, repair and overhaul (MRO) support services, such as the technologically simple, WW II-vintage LSTs, and culminated in the need by Lockheed Martin, the US manufacturer of F35s, the world’s leading fifth-generation fighter jet,  to replace in short order a total of 12 billion USD’s worth of supply chain production  by those Turkish firms which were expelled from the F35 manufacturing programme, after Erdogan’s  decision to procure the S400s[18]. Indeed, if the F35 imbroglio demonstrates anything is that the participation of the TDTIB to valuable for the Turkish economy supply chains, as much as to the its Western partners, will and can be sacrificed if domestic imperatives and or strategic autonomy rationales mandate so.

Can the Erdogan regime strike a viable partnership between the TDTIB and the EDTIB?

There is no doubt that the TDTIB stands to gain a lot in turns of both volume of sales and innovation capabilities were it to be incorporated in the European Defence Technological Industrial Base (EDTIB), in terms similar to those accessible to the UK and Norway. As with the case of South Korea, industrialised nations which doubled down in the development of their DTIBs due to geopolitical circumstances different from those enjoyed by most EU-members, are now in a position to meet rapidly increasing demand for everything military[19]. More largely, Turkey’s robust manufacturing base together with the geographic proximity to the EU, make the country one of the potential greatest beneficiaries of the EU’s need to build up resilient supply chains via near-shoring partnerships. Naturally such a geopolitically driven partnership between the EU and Turkey can also be translated in political leverage in terms of the enhanced ability of Turkish policy makers to make what EU interlocutors, including Greek ones, would consider as legitimate Turkish interests and policy priorities appreciated and respected both in Brussels and the chancelleries of Europe.

Equally, such an alignment of industrial and geopolitical interests is simply not realistic if Turkey, under Erdogan and his potential regime successors, stays on the same course, of a) geopolitical heterodoxy, a heterodoxy which includes the attempt to challenge the sovereignty of EU member-countries, namely Greece and Cyprus, as well as b) to effectively suspend democracy in Turkey, and go, as international commentators have noted, for ‘full autocracy’[20].  As with the previous instances of the disruption in TDTIB bilateral and multilateral partnerships which we briefly reviewed above, sooner or later this domestic and foreign policy mix, catalyzed by any one or more future incidents that it is bound to generate, will derail Turkey’s DTIB relationship with the EU.  Simply put, this Turkish comportment will, as it has so often done in the past, create the coalitions between pressure groups and states, the mutually reinforcing loop between norms and interests that will compel the EU to show the door to TDTIB, notwithstanding any defence industrial partnerships that may have been struck in the meantime. Indeed, several EU reports recurrently produced long lists of policy items where there is massive divergence between Turkey and the EU, a veritable minefield of unbridgeable gaps in interests and norms that can explode at any moment[21].

In the estimation of this policy paper, in the timeframe of any possible decision by the EU and its member-states, say the next 2-3 years, the second possibility of continuous divergence from CFSP is the most realistic one and not the first.

The fact that Erdogan is determined to hold on to power, despite the near certainty that any under conceivable scenario of free and competitive elections he will lose by any one of his  most formidable opponents, among CHP’s leadership roster, mandates repression at home and aggression abroad. The economic benefits of a geopolitically-based industrial partnership between the EU and Turkey are not enough, and cannot come fast enough, to make him prevail over any of his more charismatic opponents in the 2027 Presidential elections.   So he has to throw his opponents into prison, causing further trouble to the Turkish economy which has already eroded his popularity irrevocably.  Indeed, the more times passes, the more inexorable the process of eliminating the regime’s main political foe, CHP, as a viable political competitor becomes, with accretive imprisonments and suspensions from public life, directed against an ever widening circle of key CHP personalities[22].

Increased domestic repression, in turn, is legitimized by aggressive assertion abroad.  The militarization of Turkish foreign policy as a pillar of Erdogan’s effort to checkmate his domestic opponents has been well-documented, particularly through Turkish military operations in Syria[23].  Turkey’s currently ongoing challenge in the field, of Greece’s effort to lay an electric energy interconnecting cable between Crete and Cyprus, the Great Sea Interconnector (GSI), a project of Common European Interest, partly funded by the EU, and executed by a leading French manufacturer with an expertise in subsea electricity cable laying, has reanimated Greece’s objections to the TDTIB benefiting from the EU rearmament. These objections were most prominently demonstrated in Greek efforts to eliminate the possibility that Turkish defence firms will benefit, as subcontractors, from EU defence procurement orders funded by the concessionary rates of the 150-billio euro SAFE programme[24]

The bigger picture is one of a Turkish leader who, from the 2010’s onwards, has grounded his hegemonic enterprise on extracting geopolitical rents and prestige from unilateral force projection as opposed through economic and geopolitical integration with the EU.

This strategic choice of Erdogan has nullified politically most if not all of the advantages that accrued to the New Democracy (ND) Greek Government by the ‘calm waters’ Greco-Turkish agreement  of 2023, namely the containment of illegal migration flows from the Turkish coast to the east Aegean islands, the visa facilitation of tourist flows from the Turkish  coast  to the East Aegean islands (essentially the agreement exchanged politically destabilizing migratory flows to Greece with politically beneficial tourist flows), the cessation of violations of the Greek air space by the Turkish Air Force and the containment of the geopolitical risk, as a factor which could derail  Greece’s still painfully gradual recovery from the ten year fiscal crisis and in particular threaten the lucrative for the Greek economy tourist season.

It is illuminating that at the present juncture, when Turkey has every interest to ‘play nice’ with Greece on the basis of this ‘calms water’ agreement, in view of the potential benefits that may accrue to her from a partnership with the EU, it is challenging as we mentioned above in the field the right of Greece, according to the international law of the seas, to explore the seabed and proceed to lay the GSI cable between Crete and Cyprus.  Turkish activism in Libya and Syria also aim at maintaining the idiosyncratic challenge, according to the international law of the seas, to Greece’s right for an exclusive economic zone, based on the position and size of its island territories, most prominently, but not exclusively, the largest such island territory, Crete.

This course of action pursued by Erdogan has created a dynamic in Greece in favour of a creation of yet another nationalistic party, threatening to eat into ND support, enabled the major opposition party, PASOK, to put the government on the spot on the issue of if and when the GSI will actually be implemented and has engendered critique, both within and outside ND, that primarily SAFE betrays the promise of collective European defence, by potentially benefiting the TDTIB.

Considering the above, and the fact that elections are to be held in Greece in 2027 at the latest, we may as well take for granted that Greece and Cyprus will energetically lobby against any type of participation by the TDITB in the rearmament of Europe.   While disagreements between Greece and the Republic of Cyprus on the financial viability of GSI have cast a shadow over the project’s viability, Greek policy makers have also provided assurances that Greece is determined to proceed with the laying of the cable, even if that means a testing of wills, militarily, in the field.

Indeed the fact that the Erdogan is being so reckless in pressing his claims against Greece, through diplomacy and force deployment, itself underlines the fragility of any future partnership between the EU’s rearmament effort and the TDTIB – it is proof positive that for the Erdogan regime such a partnership is a ‘nice to have’ whereas aggression against two EU member countries, Greece and Cyprus, are politically speaking ‘must haves’.      As it is, it is only because the Greek government has refrained, thus far, from forcing this issue via military means, in the field, as she is perfectly entitled and capable of doing so, that its fellow EU member-countries have not been compelled to admit the incongruity of Turkey’s participation in the EU’s rearmament effort.

Should the Erdogan regime be given the opportunity to strike a partnership between the TDTIB and Europe’s rearmament?

National commitments reached in NATO’s Hague summit, of a rise to 3.5 % of GDP to defence spending, and an additional 1.5 % of GDP spending to domains supporting NATO’s collective defence, should not be discounted as implausible. They reflect, on the one hand, the structural trend of the US to prioritise deterring a possible Chinese invasion of Taiwan, which could be tantamount to nothing short of terminating US hegemony in Asia and the Pacific.  And, on the other hand, they illuminate Europe’s need to secure continued US fealty to NATO’s Article 5, premised on European countries picking up an ever greater share of the bill for conventional deterrence in Europe and, in exchange, retaining the US nuclear guarantee, as the ultimate deterrent against Russian aggression.

That being said, it is also commonly acknowledged that European states are determined to develop and deploy their own strategic enablers so that they do not become hostages to diverging US priorities, relating to collective European defence, or to US determination to leverage its military indispensability to extract rents from Europe via its trade and/or monetary policy[25].

Such enablers refer, first, to achieving economies of scale in the production of weapon platforms that are already within the technological reach of EU member-states, via EDTIB consolidation. Economies of scale in already available technologies would underpin strategic autonomy by producing enough quantities of limited in number platforms, by a consolidated EDTIB, so that the EU can deter against Russia, with the massive quantities of war materiel that the return of peer to peer conflict necessitates.

Second, strategic enablers are for the EU those technologies and weapon platforms which are currently provided by the US, as EU countries have not developed comparable capabilities. They refer, mainly, to strategic lift, ISR based on an extensive satellite network, sixth generation aircraft and long range ground to air and ground to ground missile systems.

Obtaining such enablers is a profoundly political exercise, the success of which would be constitutive of an essentially evolved European polity, which has already received the relevant coined terms, such as ‘a geopolitical Europe’ of a European ‘defence community’ and so on[26].  While EU member countries have indeed sacrificed the important for the sake of the urgent, as in the case of covering capability gaps which have accumulated over two decades by procuring US and Israeli weapon systems, setting back the cause of the EUs strategic autonomy, the direction of travel towards a European defence polity is still clear.

Such a polity, to come into being, requires achieving consensus, as per the Draghi Report recommendations[27], on a massive, recurrent programme of debt issuance by the European Commission. Such issuance would fund, among other priority domains, the research, development and production of the EU’s strategic enablers as well as provide the fiscal incentivisation of joint procurement necessary for the EDTIB’s drive for economies of scale through industrial consolidation.  The alternative, and more modest policy suggestion, is based on shifting resources from cohesion funding and the Common Agricultural Policy to collective European defence spending.

Both courses of action are highly contestable politically[28]. The former course of action needs to overcome the reluctance of net contributors among EU member states to underwrite fiscal issuance by the EU while the latter course of action means overcoming the reluctance of the net recipients, among EU member countries, to see a substantial decline in fiscal resources directed to those socioeconomic groups and regions most depended on EU transfers.

That being said, either exercise can also command a unique common ground among EU member states which were only recently, during the euro’s fiscal crisis, in opposing camps.  Strengthening the EU’s collective defence is a shared priority from the very end of both the North and the South, in the EU’s eastern periphery, from Lithuania to Cyprus.    Defence has shortened if not collapsed the policy distance separating the ‘frugals’ from the ‘spendthrifts’ with leading members of both cohorts facing existential threats due to the partial disengagement and growing unreliability of the US security guarantee.   To illustrate, when the US Department of Defence starts considering withdrawing military aid from the Baltics[29], Denmark, Sweden and Finland have every reason to boost the EU’s common defence and entertain financial arrangements, such as common bond issuance, that a fiscally constrained Greece would most welcome.

Significantly, the blatant assertion by the Trump Administration that Greenland will, one way or another, fall under US sovereignty, has universalized the perception of threat, cutting its unbiblical cord from Russia, and impressing on all member-states that the capacity for collective defence needs to be developed against all threat contingencies.  Simply put, it makes it that much easier for Greek policy makers to relate to their EU colleagues how serious as much as unacceptable is Turkey’s comportment on the basis of ‘might is right’ and, as such, deserving of a common European response. And once threat loses its specificity, threat representation becomes important, as each and every threat is entitled to be addressed and no threat posed to a member-states’ national security can be airily dismissed as an unrealistic obsession, as a mere domestic perception as opposed to a geopolitical fact.  Arguably, as the recommendations of the Niinisto report are implemented, particularly with regard to a common EU intelligence function, that will have the effect of Europeanising each member country’s valid threat perceptions[30], rendering ever more untenable defence industrial and other policies that are incompatible with such Europeanised threat perceptions. Suffice it to say here that Turkey’s gray zone playbook vis a vis Greece and Cyprus is starkly similar to that of Russia in CEE and in the Baltics and China in the South China Sea.

Denmark is emblematic in that regard, a small Scandinavian country, one of the ‘frugals’ during the Eurozone crisis, now in favour of rising defence expenditures, in order to deter Russia, as in the case of all Scandinavian countries which are with the exception of Finland in the second line of defence against Russia, while also being the first EU member country to have its sovereignty challenged by the US[31].

Τhe drive of the EU for strategic autonomy, tantamount to the construction of a new European polity, both puts the importance of the TDTIB, but also of the Turkish Armed Forces, in its appropriate scale, as important but by no stretch of imagination indispensable, in terms of providing scarce material and human resources to Europe’s collective defence. It is the intra-European consensus necessary for collective mobilization that is indispensable, not the contribution to such a vast mobilization of any one third party, Turkey included.

This is even more the case when such a third party participation is corrosive of the consensus that needs to be achieved. For that level of consensus to be generated, all member states need to be convinced that collective defence is one and indivisible, just as within any nation-state one region bordering to a third country has an absolutely equal claim to its integrity and rights, conferred by its inclusion in the sovereign entity, to all other regions of that country bordering with other third countries.  It is that foundational assumption that is indispensable to the project of the EU’s strategic autonomy.

It is also important to note that it is inevitable that the more the EU develops its strategic autonomy the less this autonomy will come to be limited to countering the Russian threat.  Military capabilities, as much as the modalities of their acquisition, will expand the domains of their application, commensurately with their growth.  These capabilities may be deployed in a massive operation to stabilize sub-Saharan Africa. On another occasion, they could embolden the EU to risk rupture with the US, by imposing punitive regulations to US IT titans operating in the EU, in case of a forceful acquisition of Greenland by the US.  In yet another possibility, the EU’s military capabilities could provide leverage to the EU to exert moderating influence over Israel’s behaviour in the West Bank due to the growing reliance of Israel’s DTIB on the rapidly growing EDTIB.

Greece together with Cyprus are not stowaways in this exciting European voyage but rather key members of the crew. Greece is the only country in the EU to be so physically distant to Moscow that in 2024 spent above 3 % of its GDP in defence – as much or nearly as much as those EU member countries close to Moscow.  Through the port of Alexandroupolis it has proven its significance, in terms of military logistics, for the integrity of the Southern part of the EU’s collective defence against the Russian Federation as well as for the support of the energy needs of Bulgaria and Romania through the Alexandroupolis FSRU.  Greece has also taken the lead in the setting up of EUNAVFPOR ASPIDES which seeks to mitigate Houthi attacks against the merchant marine in the Red Sea – where the Turkish navy has been conspicuously absent[32].  Needless to say in the years ahead, as the Hellenic Navy renews its fleet and as other EU Mediterranean Fleets similarly get strengthened, Greece will be a pillar of freedom of navigation in the critical seaways linking Asia with Europe.

Both Greece and Cyprus reaffirmed their strategic importance due to the wars of the Middle East with the heavy use respectively of the US Suda Bay base in Crete and the UK Akrotiri base in Cyprus.  Greece, as already suggested enjoys important leverage in the US, considering that US engagement will continue to be important for the EU’s collective defence.  The Suba Bay base is critical to the operations of the US Navy and Air Force in the Mediterranean. Alexandroupolis is a point of entry for US natural gas servicing Southern European energy needs, the defence relationship with Israel is growing as it involves strategic Israeli investments in the GDTIB and the Greek-American lobby, in alignment with the Jewish-American lobby enjoys considerable influence in the US Congress[33].

All in all, Greece, both on its own and together with Cyprus, as a typically medium-sized EU member country, with its contribution to the ongoing defence effort against Russian aggression, its participation in mitigating the negative consequences of the Middle East wars, its exceptionally high defence spending and its military and geopolitical contributions that it will be able to make in the future strategically autonomous Europe –  a Europe that will have to confront a threat diversity  commensurate with its growing strategic autonomy – represents  precisely the type of EU member country that needs to have its own threat environment acknowledged and addressed if there is to be a successful construction of a European polity that guarantees the safety of all its member-states. And in such a European polity there is no place for defence firms of a non-EU member that persists in threatening an EU member country, such as Turkey.

The TDTIB and the EU’s Rearmament: Simply not worth the trouble

A flurry of policy papers and press coverage have presented the TDITB as indispensable to the EU’s rearmament and/or, more largely, argued for the vital role that Turkey needs to play in Europe’s collective defence[34].

This advocacy is grounded in three claims.  First, that the TDITB is critical both in terms of filling the need of the EU for manufacturing of mass, reliable quality, NATO-standard defence articles as well as in addressing important niche capabilities as in the UAV domain. Second, such an TDTIB participation will enable the EU to avail itself of the Turkey’s Armed Forces manpower in case it decides to sent a peacekeeping force to Ukraine, considering that it is the second largest Army in NATO and that the Turkish government has a high tolerance, at least compared to European governments, for casualties in the field of battle. Third that such a package – TDTIB and the contribution of troops – will anchor Turkey in the Western alliance.

None of these arguments are to be easily dismissed but rather carefully weighted in the cost benefit calculations and robust risk assessments that are attendant to any difficult policy choice.

On the TDTIB aspect what is essential to point out is that its relative contribution to the EU’s rearmament effort is a declining rather than a rising asset, precisely because of the mobilisation of resources in EU member countries catalyzed by country-member, EU funding and strategic and portfolio investments in the EDTIB as well as in parallel developments taking place in key EU-allied countries, European and non-European, such as the UK, Ukraine, Norway and Canada.  On mass what we see in the EU is a combination of investment in new plants and machinery, investments in older plants including reactivation, with a special focus on the Central Eastern European defence industry which had not attracted FDI in the transition period, due to peace dividend dynamics. We can expect that German and CEE experience in activating industrial supply chains in the post – 1989 period in the civilian sector where it has excelled, will now prove its worth in the military domain.  In niche capabilities such as UAVs, innovation’s baton has been decisively transferred from Turkey to Ukraine with a variety of European defence firms operating in Ukraine and / or partnering with Ukrainian firms in order to be able to be innovative.   What is striking in the latest assessment of defence manufacturing in Europe[35] is the common playbook, on top of increases in defence spending, adopted by all significant, in defence manufacturing terms, European countries, all geared to increasing the supply of defence platforms, systems and materiel: relaxation of regulatory environment relating to defence manufacturing, the speeding up of procurement through reform, increased funding for innovation in defence, investing in the defence sector’s skills base, and so on.   Relatedly, the TDTIB is identified as a meaningful contributor only in one capability gap of collective European defence, in medium altitude long endurance (MALE) UAVs and, potentially, in land attack systems up to 1,000 kms[36].  This rather marginal role of the TDTIB in Europe’s capability building is also reflected in its export record of defence systems to European countries which mostly involves low or middle range technologies such as MALE UAVs, corvettes and armoured personnel carriers[37]. Inevitably Turkey’s mid size economy, with its mediocre innovation record, cannot rise to the challenge of contributing, let alone replacing, such US-originating capabilities as space-based ISR, integrated air and missile defence, battle management systems and long range attack systems[38].

Relatedly, the increasingly well-funded defence industrial strategies of those EU member state’s that have them, also focus on the UAVs and other niches so as to spur innovation in their own defence sectors.   Their twin motive is both to provide a qualitative edger to their own armed forces via homegrown innovation and to be able to leverage this edge to commercial success throughout Europe.  Indeed, the TDTIB itself partakes in this process with the industrial  presence in Ukraine of its most prominent UAV manufacturer, Bayraktar.    In the end nobody intimated this decline in relative terms of the TDTIB than one of its most fervent advocates, NATO Secretary General Mark Rutte. Pointing out that Europe in seeking to prevail militarily over Russia, needs  to prevail, by mobilising its economic prowess, over an “economy [that] is not bigger than Texas. So can you imagine that Texas, the State of Texas, producing more ammunition than the whole of NATO?”[39]. By the same token, how credible is to argue that the whole of the EDTIB cannot, when effectively mobilized, cannot produce the defence materiel necessary to deter against Russian aggression, without the participation of an economy, namely Turkey’s, which is just a bit larger  than that of the state of Illinois, which is to say 1/17th of the EU’s GDP?

Similar dynamics are operative in terms of the availability of sufficiently manned units to be fielded by EU and non-EU countries, most prominently the UK, in the much discussed prospect of a European peace keeping force in Ukraine.  The advisability of such a mission has been contested but that is not the issue. As with the EDTIB there is an ongoing effort across Europe to both hire more professional soldiers and reintroduce conscription[40].    We do not believe that higher tolerance of casualties, on the part of the Turkish government, and more largely polity and society is a valid argument for two reasons.  First, European states have demonstrated in Afghanistan, through participation in ISAF, that they are willing to suffer casualties in the service of vital allied goals (in this case supporting US operations in Afghanistan not least so as to help preserve US commitment to the collective defence of Europe).  It is worth pointing out that eight EU member countries, from Denmark (population 5.5. million) to Germany (population 82 million), suffered more casualties, both relative to their population and in absolute terms, through their ISAF participation, than Turkey did[41].  More generally the west’s democracies have demonstrated their ability to generate parliamentary consensus when invoking allied commitments in order to put troops in harm’s way[42].  Indeed, the rise of the EU as a collective provider has added a case example in this canon by enabling the Greek government to participate in the high risk EUNAVFOR ASPIDES freedom of navigation mission where the Hellenic Navy employed its guns for the first time since WW II, in an allied operation. Nor is it credible to suggest that in any such operation in Ukraine Turkey would play the role of the mercenary, putting at risk of death of injury a disproportionate number of its soldiers than other European states, in a mission that is definitive for the collective will of Europe and more specifically for the EU and its member states to defend themselves.  So, as in the case of the TDTIB, we are talking about a useful but not indispensable contribution in risk-taking troops.   As with the Rutte evocation of the disparity between collective European versus Russian economic-industrial mobilization, so with force generation we recall Poland’s PM rhetorical evocation of the EU’s collective population preponderance: ‘500 million Europeans are asking 300 million Americans help fight 140 million Russians’[43]. To suggest that such a Europe, of 500 million Europeans, cannot muster a peacekeeping force in the tens of thousands, for the defence of Ukraine, without Turkey’s troop contribution is simply risible.

The third argument of the TDTIB’s participation in the EU’s rearmament is about Turkey’s geopolitical and economic importance, and the importance of TDTIB participation in Europe’s rearmament as a means of engaging with Turkey, of in effect ‘not losing’ Turkey. It is important to note that within Turkish opinion, there is a diversity of opinion. We do have Imamoglou’s own advocacy in favour of lifting the embargo to the sale of Typhoons to Turkey[44]  as well as arguments of critics of the Erdogan regime to the effect that an EDTIB-TDTIB relationship will affirm Turkey’s European vocation and is bound to outlive Erdogan’s authoritarian turn[45]. Equally, we have voices arguing that the EU should not reward Turkey’s authoritarian backsliding, due to its potential contribution to the EU’s rearmament, as this backsliding no more entrenched it becomes there more bound it is to make Turkey even more of an unreliable security partner to the EU[46].

The position of this paper is that the imperative of Erdogan’s maintaining himself in power privileges further internal repression and external aggression and that the opportunity of the TDTIB to participate in the EU’s rearmament is not a sufficient incentive for him to abandon this twin track approach.   At the point of writing developments on both tracks prove our point, with further politically-engineered court actions seeking to neutralize CHP as an effective political force and the threat of military brinkmanship hanging over Greece’s and Cyprus’ perfectly legitimate plans to connect themselves energy-wise by laying the GSI undersea cable.  It is indeed hard to see how Turkey, even if its TDTIB is definitively excluded from the EU’s rearmament, can be lost to Europe more than it already has. It is, however, much more plausible to envisage a situation whereby a growing reliance ofEurope on the TDTIB could lead Erdogan to miscalculate his personal importance, and that of his country, and make him even more reckless vis a vis Greece and Cyprus.

Concluding Remarks

Turkey neither can nor should participate, through the TDTIB, in Europe’s rearmament effort and for the same set of reasons.

Under Erdogan’s leadership and in the current geopolitical juncture Turkey has reaffirmed a pattern in its relations with the West that has rendered partnering with the TDTIB highly unstable as much as undesirable.  Unstable because the combination of internal repression and external aggression, by the Turkish leadership, mobilises an influential counter-reaction by western states and influential lobby groups in these states, which prioritises the cut-off of bilateral or multilateral defence industrial relationships. Undesirable, because allowing for such defence industrial relationships to continue, despite Turkey’s internal and external comportment, is bound to be corrosive to the norms and interests binding collective security arrangements among EU member-states.

Greek-Turkish relations, from this ‘neither can nor should’ prism are both illuminating and definitive, historically and currently.  Historically, the birth of TDITB in the post WWII period was due to the need of Turkey to invade and partly conquer Cyprus, an act that destabilised NATO, led to an unprecedented US embargo of weapons sales to Turkey and which has as its only peer event in the European continent, in the entire post WW II period, the invasion of Ukraine by Russia in 2022.  Currently, Erdogan’s determination to challenge Greek sovereign rights through actions in the field and diplomatically, even more so if they are successful, they are bound to either create insurmountable blocks to the entry or generate risks in the ongoing participation of the TDITB in Europe’s rearmament effort. Appropriately enough such an incongruity is addressed by the SAFE regulation conditionalities, as in the case of article 17[51]. We have argued in these pages that Erdogan has, through his policy choices, to let these roadblocks in place, because doing so is a ‘must have’ whereas participation of the TDITB in Europe’s rearmament is only a ‘nice to have’.

This calculation between the ‘must have’ and ‘nice to have’ is even more pronounced in the case of Erdogan’s uninhibited suppression of democratic contestation, as allowing such contestation would be equal to his loss of power. Inevitably, external aggression and internal repression compound each other, strengthening both the ‘cant’ and ‘shouldn’t’ of the participation of the TDTIB in Europe’s rearmament.

Finally, we have argued that the resource mobilization necessary for the EU to gain strategic autonomy, both in the ambitious scenario (Draghi recommendations) and the modest scenario (reordering of the EU budget), would render the TDIB contribution to Europe’s rearmament if not marginal definitely not critical. At the same time such a participation, under the ‘can’t and shouldn’t’ perspective would be both highly uncertain in its implementation and much more trouble than its worth, due to the resulting corrosion of the intra-EU consensus on which this mobilization needs to rest upon.

As for the icing of the European cake, a strategically autonomous Europe would substantially fill the vacuum left from an Asia-oriented US, put an end to Turkey’s geopolitical heterodoxy and convince its leadership to integrate Turkey with the EU’s CS

[1] Erickson, Edward J., and Mesut Uyar. Phase Line Attila: The Amphibious Campaign for Cyprus, 1974. Marine Corps University Press, 2020, p. 90.

[2] See, Altman, Dan. “The evolution of territorial conquest after 1945 and the limits of the territorial integrity norm.” International Organization 74.3 (2020): 490-522.

[3]Erickson, Edward J., and Mesut Uyar. Phase Line Attila: The Amphibious Campaign for Cyprus, 1974. Marine Corps University Press, 2020, p. 55.

[4]Turkey belongs to the emerging innovator category, the lowest category of the European Innovation Scoreboard, dedicating modest resources to R&D, being ranked 31st among 39 EU member states and neighbouring countries, see European Commission, European Innovation Scoreboard 2024, 2024, p. 104.

[5] Kitroeff, Alexander. “Diaspora-Homeland Relations and Greek-American Lobbying: the Panhellenic Emergency Committee, 1974–78.” Journal of Modern Hellenism 11 (1994): 19-40.

[6] See indicatively, Bağcı, Hüseyin, and Çağlar Kurç. “Turkey’s strategic choice: buy or make weapons?.” Defence Studies 17.1 (2017): 38-62 and Mevlütoğlu, Arda, et al. “Adapting security: The intersection of Turkiye’s foreign policy and defence industrialisation.” Center for foreign policy and peace research and international institute for strategic studies (2024).

[7] This overview draws from Mevlütoğlu, Arda, et al. “Adapting security: The intersection of Turkiye’s foreign policy and defence industrialisation.” Center for foreign policy and peace research and international institute for strategic studies (2024).

[8]Domestic repression and external aggression, singly or jointly, engendered official and unofficial weapons embargoes by Switzerland, Norway, Germany and the US, see, Egeli, Sıtkı, et al. “From client to competitor: The rise of Turkiye’s defence industry.” Center for Foreign Policy and Peace Research and International Institute for Strategic Studies (2024). US diplomatic sources have confirmed that the Imia islets were Greek and should have not been contested by Turkey notwithstanding the fact that the US State Department did not communicate this conviction in public so as to not alienate Turkey, see Kostoulas, Vassilis, Fascinating revelations about the 1996 Imia crisis, Kathimerini, English edition, 14 February 2025.

[9] See, for a discussion Kamaras, Antonis. “Greece’s call for an embargo on weapons sales to Turkey.” ELIAMEP, (2020).

[10] See, T. Karako, Coup proofing? Making sense of Turkey’s S-400 Decision, Centre for International and Strategic Studies, 28.4.22

[11] Mevlütoğlu, Arda, et al. “Adapting security: The intersection of Turkiye’s foreign policy and defence industrialisation.” Center for foreign policy and peace research and international institute for strategic studies (2024).

[12] Waldwyn, Tom. “Turkiye’s Defence-industrial Relationships with Other European States.” Center for Foreign Policy and Peace Research and International Institute for Strategic Studies  (2024).

[13]  For an analysis of these forces in play shaping Turkey’s naval strategy see, R. Gingeras, The Turkish Navy in an era of great power competition, War on the Rocks, 30.4. 2019

[14] See, Soyaltin-Colella, Digdem, and Tolga Demiryol. “Unusual middle power activism and regime survival: Turkey’s drone warfare and its regime-boosting effects.” Third World Quarterly 44.4 (2023): 724-743.

[15] See J. Mankof, The war in Ukraine and Eurasia’s new imperial moment, The Washington Quarterly, 2022

[16] Ministry of Defence, Defence Indiustrial Strategy 2025: Making Defence an Engine for Growth, UK, 8 September 2025.

[17]See, typically, Rachman, Gideon. The age of the strongman: How the cult of the leader threatens democracy around the world. Other Press, LLC, 2022.

[18] See, https://www.statista.com/chart/17557/details-about–the-turkish-companies-supporting-f-35-development/

[19] For a discussion of South Korea’s DTIB see, Nemeth, Bence. “South Korean Military Power: Lessons Europe Can Learn from Seoul on Spending Defence Budgets Efficiently.” The RUSI Journal 169.1-2 (2024): 92-101.

[20] See, typically of solidifying international consensus on Erdogan’s power grab, Tol, Gonul, Turkey is now a full-blown autocracy. Foreign Affairs, March 21 2025.

[21] See, indicatively Committee on Foreign Affairs, Report on the 2023 and 2024 Commission reports on Turkyie, European Parliament, 15 4 2025.

[22] See, indicatively, the analysis of Erdogan’s attempt to reinstate at CHP’s helm the ineffective Kimal Kilicdaroglou, through a court case that would put of action more capable CHP figures, GZERO Daily Newsletter, Is democracy doomed in Turkey?, 16 September 2025.

[23] See, H. Zengin, Instrumentalising the army before elections in Turkey, Third World Quarterly, 2023 and S. Adar, Understanding Turkey’s Increasingly Militaristic Foreign Policy, APSA MENA Politics Newsletter, Vol. 3, Issue 1, 2020.

[24] See indicatively Nedos, Vasillis, Turkish corvette off Crete signals Turkish intent, Kathimerini, English edition, 4,2.2025 and newsroom, SAFE could be a ‘backdoor’ for Turkish aspirations, warns Greek defence minister, Kathimerini, English edition, 29.05.2025.

[25] The discussion on Europe’s strategic enablers, and the modaliti4es of their acquisition, is based on Wolff, Guntram, Steinbach, Armin and Zettelmeyer, Jeromin, The governance and funding of European Rearmament, Policy Brief 15/25, Bruegel, April 2025 and International Institute for Strategic Studies (IISS). Building Defence Capacity in Europe: An Assessment. Routledge, 2024.

[26] The debate on the EU’s defence vocation having as its starting point the first Trump Presidency and accelerating with the ongoing war in Ukraine, see indicatively President of the EU Commission acceptance speech reference to a Geopolitical Commission,  European Commission, Speech by President-elect von der Leyen in the European Parliament Plenary on the occasion of the presentation of her College of Commissioners and their programme, 27 November 2019 and the discussion, post Brexit, of the UK being an integral part of Europe’s defence community, Leonard, Mark, Britain and Europe are Changing together, European Council of Foreign Relations,  July 15 2025.

[27] Draghi, Mario. “The Future of European Competitiveness Part A: A competitiveness strategy for Europe.” (2024).

[28] See the op-ed article of the Prime Minister of Sweden arguing, as an alternative to joint issuance of debt, the restructuring of the EU Budget, Kristerson, Ulf, The next EU budget cannot be business as usual, Politico, July 14 2025.

[29] Nicholas Oakes, Baltic allies brace as US prepares to slash security assistance, Modern Diplomacy, 6 September 2025.

[30] The author makes that point in European Defence covers Greece, Ta Nea, 12 4 2025 (Η Ευρωπαϊκή άμυνα καλύπτει την Ελλάδα, Τα Νέα).

[31] Power, Jack, A frugal no more: Russian threat shifts Denmark’s thinking on defence spending,  July 7 2025.

[32] Cafiero, George, NATO member Turkey takes role of ‘active neutrality’ in Red Sea crisis’ Responsible Statecraft, March 24 2025.

[33] Greek lobby succeeds in US efforts, Ekathimerini, https://www.ekathimerini.com/news/1189218/greek-lobby-succeeds-in-us-efforts/, 18 July 2022; Greek and Jewish Diaspora team up for Cyprus security, Knews, https://knews.kathimerini.com.cy/en/news/greek-and-jewish-diaspora-team-up-for-cyprus, 7 May 2018.

[34] See indicatively, John Paul Rathbone and Henry Foy, Military Briefing: How Turkey became vital to European Security, Financial Times, 14.5.2025, Kadri Tastan, et al, EU-Turkiye Defense cooperation: Why now – and how far?, German Marshall Fund, Ilke Toygur, et al.,  Turkey, Europe and the quest for security, CEPS, June 2025, Sinem Adar, et al, Alignment of Necessity, Centre for Applied Turkish Studies, German Institute for International and Security Affairs, August 2025.

[35] Progress and Shortfalls in Europe’s Defence – An Assessment, The International Institute for Strategic Studies, September 2025.

[36] Ibid.

[37] See, Tom Waldwyn, Turkiye’s defence industry charts a growth for European Growth,International Institute for Strategic Studies, 20 January 2025.

[38] Progress and Shortfalls in Europe’s Defence – An Assessment, The International Institute for Strategic Studies, September 2025.

[39] Rutte, Mark, Specch by the NATO Secretary General at the IISS Prague Defence Summit, 4 September 2025

[40] See, Lazarou, Eleni and Politis Lamprou, Panagiotis, Conscription as an element in European Union preparedness, European Parliamentary Research Service, March 2025.

[41] Wikipedia, Coalition casualties in Afghanistan.

[42] Wagner, Wolfgang. “Is there a parliamentary peace? Parliamentary veto power and military interventions from Kosovo to Daesh.” The British Journal of Politics and International Relations 20.1 (2018): 121-134.

[43]See his statement in the following youtube segment,  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yX06zhJf20o

[44] Imamoglu calls on Germany to lift veto on Eurofighter – “Turkey is not only Erdogan”

[45] Gonul Tol, Don’t cut Turkey out of European defence efforts because of Erdogan, Financial Times, 23 June 2024.

[46] Hurjan Asli Aksoy and Salim Cevik, Turkey’s authoritarian turn: Imamoglu’s arrest and Europe’s strategic dilemma, Centre for Applied Turkish Studies, 25 March 2025.

[47] Ruth Michaelson and Nevin Sungar, Turkish opposition leader criticizes Starmer for ingoring arrest of Istanbul Mayor, Guardian, 11 April 2025.

[48] Ekrem Imamoglou, Why Turkey’s democratic future matters for the world, Financial Times, April 16 2025.

[49] Sinem Adar, et al, Alignment of Necessity, Centre for Applied Turkish Studies, German Institute for International and Security Affairs, August 2025.

[50]

[51] Council Regulation (EU) 2-25/1106 of 27 May 2025 establishing the Security Action for Europe (SAFE) through the Reinforcement of the European Defence Industry Instrument, Official Journal of the European Union, 28.5.2025

The rebellion by senior politician François-Xavier Bellamy comes as his party is under pressure from Jordan Bardella's National Rally

• From Ottoman-era modernization through to its advanced capabilities today, Turkey has transformed itself into a major global defence exporter, with $6.3 billion in exports in 2024 and flagship products like the Bayraktar TB2 drone.

• Turkey leverages its NATO membership and geographic position to strengthen defence ties and secure influence in alliance decision-making, while at the same time contributing to the Alliance advanced technologies.

• The EU’s Security Action for Europe (SAFE) initiative allocates €150 billion for joint defence procurement to boost Europe’s defence industrial base, reduce reliance on non-EU suppliers, and enhance interoperability.

• Ankara’s SAFE participation rationale rests on enabling technological collaboration, market access, and stronger EU ties, leveraging Turkey’s expertise in drone systems, cybersecurity, and unmanned technologies.

• Turkey’s SAFE participation should remain conditional on Ankara improving its bilateral political relations with member states, and on making explicit assurances on the inviolability of the sovereignty and territorial integrity of all EU member states.

Read here in pdf the Policy paper by Dimitris Tsarouhas, Senior Non-Resident Fellow, ELIAMEP Turkey Programme.

Introduction

During NATO Summits, it is customary for leaders to engage in bilateral meetings on issues of common concern to coordinate policy or clarify policy positions. The 2025 NATO Summit in the Hague was no exception, with US President Trump dominating the spotlight on account of his reluctance to assure the US’s European allies of his country’s commitment to Article 5 (NPR 2025). The meeting between the US President and his Turkish counterpart, Tayyip Erdoğan, attracted a lot of media attention and confirmed the positive personal relations between the two leaders (Hürriyet Daily News 2025). More importantly, the fact that cooperation in the defence industry was explicitly included in the talks speaks volume about the evolution of Turkey’s defence industry over time, and its added value for the country’s economic, diplomatic and military status.

Over the past two decades, Turkey has emerged as a key player in the global defence landscape.

Over the past two decades, Turkey has emerged as a key player in the global defence landscape. It has done so in the context of increasing self-reliance, as it seeks to position itself as an emerging regional power and deepen both its sales volume and capacity to act independently of prior commitments or treaty-based obligations. This transformation is exemplified by the development of its domestically-produced Bayraktar TB2 drones, which have reinforced Turkey’s military capabilities but also been exported to countries such as Ukraine and Azerbaijan, showcasing Turkey’s technological prowess. TB2s have also allowed Ankara to enhance its leverage in the Russia-Ukraine war, and became the world’s most exported drone in 2024 (Defence Security Asia 2024). As Turkey aspires to deeper integration with the newly-created SAFE (Security Action for Europe) Regulation of the European Union (EU), the opportunities and challenges for its defence industry, as well as for Europe, multiply.

This paper begins by dissecting the opportunities and obstacles which participation in European defence initiatives (with a specific focus on SAFE) present for Turkey, while contextualizing the discussion within Turkey’s historical defence innovation journey and the state of its relationship with the European Union. The next section offers a historical context, exploring the evolution of Turkey’s defence industry over time and emphasizing the longevity of this complex project. The following section analyzes the growth of Turkey’s defence industry in the context of its NATO membership and outlines some of the advantages the country’s membership of the Alliance has brought with it. The next section presents a structured discussion of the SAFE Regulation, analysing its objectives and structure as well as its relevance to Turkey’s defence policy and innovation strategies. Opportunities and challenges follow in the subsequent sections. The paper details the potential benefits of Turkey’s engagement with SAFE, including technological partnerships and financial incentives. At the same time, it draws attention to the hurdles Turkey faces, and is likely to continue to face, in aligning with European defence frameworks; these range from political trust-building and technical compatibility to geopolitical tensions. Prior to its conclusion, the paper offers specific policy recommendations on how to shape the EU-Turkey relationship in the defence field while navigating the relationship’s multiple political and diplomatic complexities.

Historical Context of Turkey’s Defence Industry

The roots of Turkey’s defence industry can be traced back to the Ottoman era, when military innovation was the Empire’s first concrete act aimed at modernizing and prolonging its existence (Levy 2006). The Ottoman leadership understood the need to import technological know-how from the then dominant European states and do so in the military field in order to maintain operational capacity and prevent the Empire’s collapse. Although the latter proved impossible, it is no coincidence that the modernization and westernization of Ottoman structures, which were mostly inspired by Germany’s principles of operation, was initiated by the military and geared towards what would today be interpreted as the defence industry. During the early years of the Republic, reliance on foreign suppliers was significant and Turkey was largely unable to invest in the sector, which slowed down the development of the domestic defence industry (Özlü 2021).

The defence-industrial complex of today began to emerge in the late 20th century in line with a policy aimed at combining NATO membership with a more robust defence industry. Institutionally, the origins of change go back to the Cold War period, however, when companies such as ASELSAN and TUSAŞ were set up in the 1970s and 1980s respectively. They marked the beginning of a domestic focus on defence technology, which accelerated following the imposition of the US arms embargo on Turkey in 1975. These efforts were further reinforced by legislative measures, such as the Defence Industry Law of 1985, which aimed to enhance indigenous production capabilities. That law facilitated the creation of a structured framework for defence procurement and manufacturing, establishing financial incentives for domestic companies, and encouraging collaboration between the public and private sectors. It also mandated the prioritization of local resources and expertise to reduce dependency on imports, making the Undersecretariat for Defence Industries (SSM) the primary institution for enacting that policy (Wicaksono and Perwita 2020: 54). The implementation of these policies provided the defence industry with a clear roadmap and fostered an environment conducive to innovation and sustained growth. Over time, this institutional foundation enabled Turkey to produce advanced technologies such as drones, naval warships, and missile systems, laying the groundwork for its modern defence capabilities.

During the 1990s, Turkey’s prioritization of domestic supplies for its own defence industry became manifest. At that time, Turkey’s tumultuous relations with neighbouring states and the sanctions imposed on it by western states led to a decision to initiate long-term strategic investments in the sector, in order to reap the benefits of the approach in later years. By investing heavily in research and development, Turkey was able to launch domestic production projects for drones, armoured vehicles, naval warships, and missile systems (Baysal 2025). Today, notable products such as the Bayraktar TB2 drone and T129 ATAK helicopter have gained international recognition for their capabilities. It is important to note that Turkey’s military products carry the “distinction” of being battle-tested, given Turkey’s multiple war fronts and military operations in its near abroad. For potential buyers, this constitutes an added advantage, as the Turkish armed forces have already tried and tested the products before they are made available for export.

…the defence industry that Turkey relies on today did not result from the vision of a single leader or party, but is the product of decades of strategic planning and innovation.

In the early 2000s, a paradigm shift was introduced by Turkey’s political and military decision-makers. Strategic investments were made in research and development, bolstered by partnerships between public institutions and private companies (Demir 2020). The period of rapid economic growth in the first decade of the 21st century enabled large-scale public investment in Research and Development, the fruits of which Turkey is still enjoying to this day. This transformation was driven by geopolitical pressures, including sanctions on Ankara imposed by western powers and the need for operational independence in regional conflicts. At the same time, Turkey’s discourse on cultivating domestic defence production also serves political ends, in so far as it allows for the deepening of nationalist sentiment and despite the need for consolidation that the sector is exposed to (Kurç et al. 2025). Even so, there is little doubt that the defence industry that Turkey relies on today did not result from the vision of a single leader or party, but is the product of decades of strategic planning and innovation, which included setbacks and mistakes along the way.

Today, Turkey has not only achieved prominence through its cutting-edge drone technology, it has also diversified its export portfolio to include a wide range of defence products such as armoured vehicles, naval corvettes, and advanced communication systems. Turkish firms such as Aselsan, Roketsan, and Havelsan have secured deals to supply electronic warfare systems and smart munitions to countries including Pakistan, Qatar, and Malaysia. The export of MILGEM-class corvettes to the Pakistani Navy and the delivery of T129 ATAK helicopters to the Philippines underscore Turkey’s ability to compete in complex, high-value segments of the global arms market (Rakesh 2022).

In 2023 alone, Turkish defence exports exceeded $4 billion, making it one of the fastest-growing exporters in the global arms market; by 2024, the figure had risen to $6.3 billion.

Beyond individual sales, Turkey has increasingly focused on strategic partnerships and technology transfer agreements with Western defence companies. Collaborations with European firms, such as joint ventures between Turkish Aerospace Industries (TAI) and Airbus, have broadened Turkey’s access to aerospace technologies and global supply chains. Additionally, Turkish defence companies have participated in co-development projects with Italy’s Leonardo and the UK’s BAE Systems, most notably in the ongoing development of the TF-X next-generation fighter jet. These agreements facilitate the exchange of technical expertise, but also open new avenues for Turkish firms to integrate with European defence ecosystems. Importantly, they also create the sort of cordial political atmosphere in which arguments for including Turkey in SAFE sound rational. In 2023 alone, Turkish defence exports exceeded $4 billion, making it one of the fastest-growing exporters in the global arms market; by 2024, the figure had risen to $6.3 billion (Kuyucak 2025).

Leveraging NATO membership

As an Alliance member since 1952, Turkey has contributed to several NATO missions, deploying troops, hosting military bases, and sharing intelligence pivotal to counter-terrorism operations. In recent years, Turkey’s focus on cybersecurity and unmanned systems has provided NATO with solutions to modern challenges (Akgül-Açıkmeşe and Aksu 2024). The country’s expertise in drone technology has been particularly noteworthy, with its UAVs gaining recognition for their operational effectiveness and adaptability to various conflict scenarios. Turkey’s cybersecurity initiatives have also enhanced NATO’s ability to safeguard its networks against increasing cyber threats, demonstrating the country’s forward-thinking approach to emerging security dimensions. Turkish defence exports to NATO and partner countries reinforce political relationships and create interdependencies that enhance Turkey’s negotiating position within the Alliance. This leverage was evident in Turkey being able to insist on technology transfer and joint production in major procurement programs, such as the modernization of tanks and aircraft. These stipulations often shape NATO’s broader industrial cooperation and encourage the alignment of Alliance standards with Turkish capabilities.

Additionally, Turkey utilizes its geographic and technological assets to push for a greater role in NATO’s strategic decision-making. Its control over key logistical corridors and access to critical regional intelligence mean that Turkish support is often essential for the success of collective operations. By coupling its defence production prowess with its pivotal location, Turkey can ensure its interests are considered in Alliance planning. In leveraging its defence industry, Turkey enhances the operational strength of NATO, but also ensures that its national interests are served. In other words, Turkey leverages its modern and capable defence industry in the NATO context to attain broader objectives. Turkey’s defence industry should not, therefore, be viewed in isolation from its foreign policy objectives, but rather in the broader context of Ankara’s regional ambitions and willingness to capitalize on the nation’s location and resources that may appear only remotely linked to its defence industry.

As a longstanding member of the Alliance and one of its largest standing armies, Turkey often underscores its self-proclaimed role as a security anchor on NATO’s southeastern flank, while also providing a bridge between Europe, the Middle East, and the Black Sea. In recent years, Turkey’s investment in indigenous defence technologies has enabled the country to support NATO missions with advanced, homegrown equipment, enhancing both operational flexibility and Alliance resilience. The development and fielding of Turkish-made drones, such as the aforementioned Bayraktar TB2, have provided NATO with proven assets in intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance (ISR) operations. These platforms have been tested in multiple conflict zones, including Syria and Libya. Turkish unmanned aerial vehicles (UAVs) have enabled NATO allies to benefit from interoperable systems that can be quickly integrated in joint operations and exercises. It has also been frequently argued that Turkey’s expertise in electronic warfare, smart munitions, and secure communications has expanded NATO’s technological toolbox, particularly in areas where timely, reliable information and rapid responses are crucial. Turkish firms supply a range of command-and-control, radar, and defensive countermeasure systems that have been deployed in alliance exercises and operations (Kasapoğlu and Özakaraşahin 2024).

Turkey’s stance on the Russia-Ukraine war and longstanding disputes with both EU and NATO members have not deterred NATO partners from deepening cooperation with Ankara in an attempt to expand mutual defence ties and allow for mutual benefit through technology transfer and knowledge exchange.

Politically, Turkey’s stance on the Russia-Ukraine war and longstanding disputes with both EU and NATO members have not deterred NATO partners from deepening cooperation with Ankara in an attempt to expand mutual defence ties and allow for mutual benefit through technology transfer and knowledge exchange. To illustrate, Turkey and Finland signed a memorandum of understanding to boost cooperation through joint technology development and joint production in June 2025 (Helsinki Times 2025), and a similar deal has been agreed between Turkey and Romania (Blank 2025). These come in the wake of similar agreements between NATO and EU member states such as Italy, Spain and the UK, as well as expanding ties with Central and East European members (Waldwyn 2024).

The SAFE Regulation in Context

The Security Action for Europe (SAFE) was proposed in direct response to an increasingly unstable security landscape. The ongoing Russian war against Ukraine, coupled with Russia’s shift to a wartime economy, has significantly heightened the threat environment, leading to worrying debates as to the possibility of further acts of military aggression committed by Russia against European states. EU leaders recognized that Europe must take a major leap forward in its defence capabilities—not just in support of Ukraine, but also to protect the Union’s own sovereignty and bolster its resilience (European Commission 2025). In that context, SAFE is one of five pillars in the broader ReArm Europe Plan introduced by the Commission in March 2025. The Plan aims to unlock €800 billion in defence-related investments. The other ReArm pillars include the flexible application of fiscal rules to ease national defence investments, reprogramming cohesion policy funds to enhance the defence dimension, and providing EIB support through the mobilization of private capital to fund strategic defence projects, as well as direct financing.

In the specific case of SAFE, the Commission has proposed, and member states accepted, a €150 billion defence fund instrument in the form of loans to Member States for the joint procurement of defence capabilities. The loans are conditioned on collaborative procurement, which is meant to encourage joint projects, cost savings, and increased interoperability. The SAFE instrument focuses on strengthening the European Defence Technological and Industrial Base (EDTIB) by boosting production capacity in critical areas such as missiles, artillery, drones, cyber-defence, military mobility, and enhancing EU-wide defence readiness (Council of the European Union 2025). SAFE also aims to support deliveries to Ukraine (for those member states that do not wish to add to their own stockpiles, preferring to support Kiev instead) and reduce defence market fragmentation by providing clear incentives for Member States to work together, rather than competing or relying on non-EU suppliers, such as the United States.

SAFE is grounded in Article 122 of the Treaty on the Functioning of the EU, which allows for emergency financial instruments in extraordinary situations. It draws inspiration from past tools like SURE (which funded employment support during the COVID-19 pandemic), providing a temporary but powerful mechanism to unlock EU-wide support and demonstrating that the Union can make creative use of existing instruments under crisis conditions. The regulation sets a three-stage process for participation: first, member states express interest (within 2 months of SAFE entering into force); then a tentative loan allocation is made by the Commission; finally, each interested member state submits a detailed investment plan.

SAFE reduces EU reliance on non-EU suppliers by ramping up European defence industrial capabilities, and enables the kind of fast-track joint procurement initiatives that had been sorely lacking in Europe for several decades.

Overall, then, SAFE comes with a number of important advantages that member states should be able to leverage: It reduces EU reliance on non-EU suppliers by ramping up European defence industrial capabilities, and enables the kind of fast-track joint procurement initiatives that had been sorely lacking in Europe for several decades, despite the Union having long aspired to enhancing its military and political role. In addition, European states, through structured collaboration, can now avoid duplication and reduce the fragmentation of the defence market that many have been complaining about for years. Furthermore, SAFE enables Europe’s continued support of Kiev, not least by treating Ukraine as an EU member state for SAFE purposes at a time when Russia’s advances on the ground are making the outcome of the war all the more difficult to predict. On the financial side, €150 billion in loans will drive large-scale public defence spending and investment, likely resulting in new industrial contracts, factory expansions, and jobs in key defence sectors, potentially boosting the European economy. The provision allowing member states to use SAFE loans in a fiscally flexible manner under the Stability and Growth Pact also provides them with some much-needed breathing space to invest without breaching EU budget rules. To date, 16 member states have activated the national escape clause allowing them to boost military expenditure by an additional 1.5% of annual GDP over the next four years without being found in violation of the Union’s fiscal rules (Moller-Nielsen 2025).

SAFE and Turkey: can they go together?

How does Turkey and its burgeoning defence industry fit into the SAFE framework, if at all? The Commission Regulation makes clear that, to qualify for SAFE loans, a minimum 65 percent of the value of the weapon system being acquired must be made in an EU member state, Ukraine, or European Economic Area (EEA)/European Free Trade Association (EFTA) country. Other states can take part subject to eligibility conditions. Specifically, Article 16.8 foresees the possibility of third-country participation up to 35%, but excludes components from states which pose a risk to the EU’s security and defence interests. While non-EU countries can take part in joint procurements, it is noteworthy that they are not eligible to receive the loans (Tidey 2025). Turkish defence companies are keen to ensure they will not be excluded from the sort of large contracts SAFE is likely to lead to, but their participation remains uncertain. In August 2025, the European Commission noted that Turkish firms are currently barred from SAFE procurement, since Turkey has not yet signed an international agreement under Article 218 TFEU that ensures there will be no conflict with the EU’s common foreign and security policy (European Parliament 2025).

Opportunities offered by Turkey’s Participation

Although Turkey is not an EU member state, its existing partnership with NATO provides a foundation for potential collaboration within SAFE. Ankara’s ability to adapt and innovate within collective frameworks highlights its readiness to contribute. By leveraging its history with NATO, Turkey is seeking to reinforce its credentials as a reliable and capable partner for SAFE, fostering mutual benefits in technological and strategic domains.

Turkey’s active participation in NATO projects provides valuable lessons for its potential involvement in SAFE. As discussed above, NATO has benefited from Turkish contributions in cybersecurity and unmanned systems. Turkey has already engaged in successful joint ventures with European defence companies, too, and these partnerships demonstrate the feasibility of technological integration, while underscoring the mutual benefits of collaboration. Turkish defence products, and in particular its drones and missile systems, are globally recognized for their cost-effectiveness, innovation, and operational success.

Moreover, Turkey’s existing expertise in drone technology could complement the EU’s efforts to enhance its autonomous defence capabilities. SAFE offers financial incentives to nations participating in joint projects and research. Turkey’s inclusion could bring significant funding opportunities, enabling it to scale innovation projects. By engaging with SAFE, Turkey has the potential to strengthen its ties with Europe. Cooperation could also both sides to address shared challenges, such as terrorism and cyber security. SAFE could also open European markets to Turkish defence products.

Challenges posed by Turkey’s Participation

Turkey’s involvement with SAFE is not merely an issue of defence technology or cooperation potential; it is also undeniably affected by longstanding political tensions with the EU and several of its member states.

Turkey’s involvement with SAFE is not merely an issue of defence technology or cooperation potential; it is also undeniably affected by longstanding political tensions with the EU and several of its member states. These tensions stem from a myriad of issues, including territorial disputes with Greece, the continued impasse over Cyprus, Turkey’s purchase of the S-400 Russian missile system, as well as growing concerns over autocratization on Turkey’s domestic political front. Historically, Turkey’s assertive and, on occasions, aggressive stance on issues such as maritime boundaries and energy exploration in contested waters has fuelled disputes with EU member states like Greece and Cyprus, leading to heightened diplomatic friction. Migration management remains another contentious area, with Turkey often leveraging its role as a transit country for migrants heading to Europe in negotiations with the EU, not least through the EU-Turkey deal of 2015-2016. Meanwhile, critiques of Turkey’s handling of human rights and political and media freedoms further strain relations, casting doubt on its alignment with EU values and willingness to abide by EU standards. Finally, some EU member states perceive Turkey’s involvement in SAFE as a threat to Europe’s strategic autonomy, given its democratic backsliding and attempt to balance its relations with Russia, despite the latter’s ongoing aggression in Ukraine.

These tensions are no transient obstacles; they are deeply entrenched legal and political challenges. Turkey’s growing strategic autonomy, as evidenced by its independent foreign policy decisions and defence capabilities, clash with the EU’s goal of maintaining unified regional governance and a rules-based approach anchored in international legal practice. Furthermore, the SAFE Regulation could exacerbate these divides, as Turkey’s integration might be perceived by certain EU member states as encroaching upon Europe’s strategic autonomy and contradicting the message that Europe wishes to send to the world by adopting SAFE.

Given these factors and historical precedents, political tensions between Turkey and the EU are likely to persist. The SAFE Regulation, while offering opportunities for cooperation, will require sustained diplomatic efforts to address the underlying mistrust and conflicting priorities that have long defined the relationship between the two sides, but also substantial material change in Turkish foreign policy in the direction of greater alignment with the EU acquis. Turkey’s strained relations with the EU, including concerns relating to Turkey’s commitment to democratic governance, present significant barriers to SAFE participation.

Recommendations to the EU

Turkey’s involvement with SAFE comes with an important set of challenges that would need to be overcome prior to its participation. To effectively integrate Turkey into the SAFE framework, the European Union must take proactive steps that prioritize inclusivity, strategic collaboration, and mutual growth.

Turkey’s SAFE participation should remain conditional on Ankara improving its bilateral political relations with member states, and on Turkey making explicit assurances as to the inviolability of the sovereignty and territorial integrity of all EU member states. 

First off, the EU should intensify its political dialogue with Turkey to rebuild trust and address long-standing geopolitical tensions. Turkey’s SAFE participation should remain conditional on Ankara improving its bilateral political relations with member states, and on Turkey making explicit assurances as to the inviolability of the sovereignty and territorial integrity of all EU member states. This should build on the positive momentum Ankara has brought to Turkey-Greece relations over the last couple of years. If Ankara is serious about a long-term structural improvement in relations with its EU neighbour, implementing the Greek PM’s proposal that the Turkish Parliament revoke its 1995 “casus belli’” declaration towards Greece (which stated that Athens extending its territorial waters beyond 6 nautical miles in the Aegean would constitute a cause for war) would be a symbolic, yet powerful, declaration of Turkey’s intentions. Moreover, EU conditionality could be operationalized too, with Brussels reassuring member states as to Ankara’s intentions, but also nudging Turkey towards peaceful and harmonious cooperation with every EU member state by declaring that its political and military capacities guarantee the inviolability of EU borders. Establishing dedicated forums for defence and security collaboration, coupled with high-level diplomatic engagement, can create an atmosphere of mutual respect and shared objectives, but also make it clear to Turkey that its participation in SAFE hinges on its policy behaviour.

By framing Turkey’s inclusion in SAFE as a means to bolster Europe’s collective strength, the EU can align member states’ perspectives with a unified vision for strategic autonomy and ensure that Turkey’s participation genuinely adds value to EU endeavours.

Second, the EU could support Turkey in aligning its defence technologies with EU standards through co-funded research initiatives and technical workshops. Turkey’s defence systems may need modifications to meet EU standards, which could involve substantial investment and time. Joint investments in testing facilities and innovation hubs can accelerate integration and ensure interoperability within the SAFE framework. Moreover, Turkey’s participation would depend on compliance with EU regulations, intellectual property norms, and export controls. These are issues the EU and Turkey have discussed over the years, but without a successful resolution being achieved as yet. Navigating these legal complexities is a prerequisite for successful integration. In this context, the EU must emphasize shared objectives such as regional stability, technological innovation, and resilience against security threats. By framing Turkey’s inclusion in SAFE as a means to bolster Europe’s collective strength, the EU can align member states’ perspectives with a unified vision for strategic autonomy and ensure that Turkey’s participation genuinely adds value to EU endeavours in the field of defence.

Conclusion

Turkey’s defence industry is at a pivotal moment in its evolution, and stands poised to leverage its considerable expertise. While challenges such as political tensions and the alignment of technical standards continue to complicate in EU-Turkey relations, they should not be viewed as insurmountable barriers. Turkey has demonstrated its capacity to participate in international defence initiatives with its contributions to NATO projects and joint ventures with European companies, while continuing to push for more defence autonomy through the development of a wide industrial base. At the same time, there is little doubt that Turkey’s foreign policy is often misaligned with EU priorities, and Turkish foreign policy priorities are increasingly at odds with the Union’s Common Foreign and Security Policy (CFSP), especially on Russia but also with respect to Turkey’s stance on Hamas and its interventionist role in the Middle East (European Commission 2023). Turkey’s purchase of the Russian S-400 missile system in 2017, and Ankara’s refusal to recognize Cyprus, despite Turkey being an EU candidate country, continue to complicate its relations with Brussels, as do flare-ups in tensions with Greece and open policy disagreements with EU foreign policy priorities on a number of other issues.

This policy paper has argued that leveraging EU conditionality can allow Brussels to not only assuage some of its member states’ concerns about Ankara’s intentions, but also to re-engage with Ankara from a position of principles and values, rather than engaging with it purely on the basis of instrumentality and expediency. In other words, the value-oriented and practical aspects of SAFE can come together in a way that proves beneficial to the Union as a whole, while calming the fears of some of its member states regarding the role Turkey could play in the context of this initiative.

Turkey stands to gain in terms of both technological advancement and financial investment, not to mention the diplomatic overtures that such participation will allow, especially to member states that Ankara is close to, such as Hungary, Italy and Spain.

For Turkey, there is little doubt that SAFE participation would be another step towards consolidating an important position in the regional geopolitical landscape. Turkey stands to gain in terms of both technological advancement and financial investment, not to mention the diplomatic overtures that such participation will allow, especially to member states that Ankara is close to, such as Hungary, Italy and Spain. Moreover, its collaboration with SAFE would constitute an opportunity to contribute meaningfully to Europe’s autonomy and stability, shaping a future where security challenges are met with collective strength and innovation instead of threats and regional antagonism. This is a future that would vindicate the setting up of SAFE, and prove that lessons from the war of Russia against Ukraine have been widely learned.

 

References

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Baysal, B. (2025) “Evaluating the advances and challenges in Turkey’s defence industry: a comparative analysis”, Southeast European and Black Sea Studies, 25(1): 31-52.

Blank, S. (2025) “Turkish-Romanian Defense Deal a Model for Europe”, Center for European Policy Analysis, 9 June.

Council of the European Union (2025) “Council Regulation 2025/1106 of 27 May 2025

 establishing the Security Action for Europe (SAFE) through the Reinforcement of the European Defence Industry Instrument”, Official Journal of the European Union 2025/1106

Defence Security Asia (2024) “Bayraktar TB2 Emerges as the World’s Most Exported Drone This Year”, 20 November.

Demir, I. (2020) “Transformation of the Turkish Defense Industry: the story and rationale of the great rise”, Insıght Turkey, 22(3): 17-40.

European Commission (2023) “State of Play of EU-Türkiye political, economic and trade relations”, JOIN (2023) 50 final.

European Commission (2025) “Proposal for a COUNCIL REGULATION establishing the Security Action for Europe (SAFE) through the reinforcement of European Defence Industry Instrument”, COM (2025) 122 final.

European Parliament (2025) “Answer given by Mr Kubilius on behalf of the European Commission”, E-002181/2025(ASW).

Helsinki Times (2025) “Finland and Turkey sign defence pact as tensions with Russia grow”, Helsinki Times, 4 June.

Hürriyet Daily News (2025) “Erdoğan, Trump discuss defense ties at NATO summit”, 25 June.

Kasapoğlu, C. and Özkaraşahin, S. (2024) “Turkey’s emerging and disruptive technologies capacity and NATO: Defense policy, prospects, and limitations”, Atlantic Council Issue Brief, 8 July.

Kurç, Ç., Güvenç, S., Mevlütoğlu, A. and Egeli, S. (2025) “Balancing aspiration and reality: autarky in Turkish defence industrial policy”, Defence Studies, 25(2): 383-406.

Kuyucak, D. (2025) “Türkiye’s Role in European defense: The SAFE Regulation”, The Istanbul Chronicle, 26 May.

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Moller-Nielsen, T. (2025) “EU €800 billion defence push hit with tepid response”, Euractiv, 6 May.

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Waldwyn, T. (2024) “Turkiye’s Defence-industrial Relationships with Other European States”, Center for Foreign Policy and Peace Research and the International Institute for Strategic Studies, September.

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Written by Ralf Drachenberg.

As announced by the European Council President, António Costa, the core theme of the informal European Council meeting on 1 October 2025 was to safeguard the security of the European continent. Amid repeated violations of European airspace by Russian fighter jets and drones in recent weeks, the discussions focused on two elements: ‘strengthening European common defence readiness and reinforcing our support for Ukraine’. Based on a scoping paper presented by the President of the European Commission, Ursula von der Leyen, and the High Representative, Kaja Kallas, EU leaders discussed initial flagship projects aiming at a 360-degree security approach covering all EU borders, notably a ‘Drone Wall project’. On Ukraine, Heads of State or Government discussed the mobilisation of further funds, the 19th sanctions package against Russia, and ways of advancing the enlargement process.

‘A good discussion today and [we] are now ready to take the next steps’, was the summary of Mette Frederiksen, the Prime Minister of Denmark, which currently holds the rotating presidency of the Council of the European Union. The informal European Council meeting prepared the ground for the formal 23-24 October meeting, which will be ‘decision time’, in the words of President Costa.

Following the European Council, leaders of 47 European countries, 20 of which are non-EU partners, participated in the seventh meeting of the European Political Community (EPC) on 2 October 2025. As on the previous day, the EPC focused on two central topics: i) strengthening Ukraine; ii) a strong and secure Europe in the current geopolitical situation. The EPC also highlighted disinformation and electoral manipulation, tackling traditional and hybrid threats, economic security, and migration.

Read the complete briefing on ‘Outcome of the meetings of EU leaders, 1-2 October 2025‘ in the Think Tank pages of the European Parliament.

This policy brief discusses how developing countries should continue leveraging the G20 and UNFCCC platforms while improving South–South and North–South cooperation, amid a combative geopolitical scenario, to 1) quantify their finance, technology, and capacity needs for transition and adaptation; 2) ensure – and enhance – finance flows; 3) develop or acquire appropriate at-scale technologies blending modern and traditional expertise; and 4) shape bespoke national energy transition pathways that best suit their developmental priorities and resources.

This policy brief discusses how developing countries should continue leveraging the G20 and UNFCCC platforms while improving South–South and North–South cooperation, amid a combative geopolitical scenario, to 1) quantify their finance, technology, and capacity needs for transition and adaptation; 2) ensure – and enhance – finance flows; 3) develop or acquire appropriate at-scale technologies blending modern and traditional expertise; and 4) shape bespoke national energy transition pathways that best suit their developmental priorities and resources.

This policy brief discusses how developing countries should continue leveraging the G20 and UNFCCC platforms while improving South–South and North–South cooperation, amid a combative geopolitical scenario, to 1) quantify their finance, technology, and capacity needs for transition and adaptation; 2) ensure – and enhance – finance flows; 3) develop or acquire appropriate at-scale technologies blending modern and traditional expertise; and 4) shape bespoke national energy transition pathways that best suit their developmental priorities and resources.

In recent years, the international relations of African countries have been increasingly analysed through the lens of multipolarity and the growing economic, political and strategic competition between external powers. This debate started to gain prominence around 2018–19, when The Economist identified a “new scramble for Africa”. It has since intensified in the context  of the COVID-19 pandemic. Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine finally
exposed the sharp divides as Russia, on one side, and Ukraine and its Western partners, on the other, sought to mobilise African governments in pursuit of international support for their respective positions within the UN.
The world’s political superpower – the US – has been in a process of relative disengagement from Africa for more than a decade now. By contrast, China, India, Turkey and, to a lesser extent, Brazil and Middle Eastern countries such as the United Arab Emirates, Saudi Arabia and Qatar have expanded their presence on the continent in the areas of trade,
investment, diplomatic support and security engagement. At the same time, Russia, a major player during the Cold War, has renewed its engagement, although, arguably, its activities remain more limited both in scope and in scale. The increasing presence in Africa of the BRICS – South Africa became a member in 2010, while Egypt and Ethiopia followed in 2024 –
is another manifestation of today’s shifting power relations and multipolarity. Similarly, the recent entry of the African Union (AU) into the G20 underscores the external recognition of Africa’s importance. Moreover, it demonstrates the continent’s growing ambition to shape international politics and defend its interests vis-à-vis the rest of the world. [... ]A common thread running through all the chapters in this volume is that in Africa, multi-polarity is not simply a tale of the decline of the West and the rise of competitors like China, Russia, the UAE and Turkey. Rather, there is a complex reconfiguration of power relations under way in which African governments, institutions and societies have their say in negotiating the terms of engagement with the rest of the world, despite the undeniable persistence of asymmetries in terms of material power.

In recent years, the international relations of African countries have been increasingly analysed through the lens of multipolarity and the growing economic, political and strategic competition between external powers. This debate started to gain prominence around 2018–19, when The Economist identified a “new scramble for Africa”. It has since intensified in the context  of the COVID-19 pandemic. Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine finally
exposed the sharp divides as Russia, on one side, and Ukraine and its Western partners, on the other, sought to mobilise African governments in pursuit of international support for their respective positions within the UN.
The world’s political superpower – the US – has been in a process of relative disengagement from Africa for more than a decade now. By contrast, China, India, Turkey and, to a lesser extent, Brazil and Middle Eastern countries such as the United Arab Emirates, Saudi Arabia and Qatar have expanded their presence on the continent in the areas of trade,
investment, diplomatic support and security engagement. At the same time, Russia, a major player during the Cold War, has renewed its engagement, although, arguably, its activities remain more limited both in scope and in scale. The increasing presence in Africa of the BRICS – South Africa became a member in 2010, while Egypt and Ethiopia followed in 2024 –
is another manifestation of today’s shifting power relations and multipolarity. Similarly, the recent entry of the African Union (AU) into the G20 underscores the external recognition of Africa’s importance. Moreover, it demonstrates the continent’s growing ambition to shape international politics and defend its interests vis-à-vis the rest of the world. [... ]A common thread running through all the chapters in this volume is that in Africa, multi-polarity is not simply a tale of the decline of the West and the rise of competitors like China, Russia, the UAE and Turkey. Rather, there is a complex reconfiguration of power relations under way in which African governments, institutions and societies have their say in negotiating the terms of engagement with the rest of the world, despite the undeniable persistence of asymmetries in terms of material power.

In recent years, the international relations of African countries have been increasingly analysed through the lens of multipolarity and the growing economic, political and strategic competition between external powers. This debate started to gain prominence around 2018–19, when The Economist identified a “new scramble for Africa”. It has since intensified in the context  of the COVID-19 pandemic. Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine finally
exposed the sharp divides as Russia, on one side, and Ukraine and its Western partners, on the other, sought to mobilise African governments in pursuit of international support for their respective positions within the UN.
The world’s political superpower – the US – has been in a process of relative disengagement from Africa for more than a decade now. By contrast, China, India, Turkey and, to a lesser extent, Brazil and Middle Eastern countries such as the United Arab Emirates, Saudi Arabia and Qatar have expanded their presence on the continent in the areas of trade,
investment, diplomatic support and security engagement. At the same time, Russia, a major player during the Cold War, has renewed its engagement, although, arguably, its activities remain more limited both in scope and in scale. The increasing presence in Africa of the BRICS – South Africa became a member in 2010, while Egypt and Ethiopia followed in 2024 –
is another manifestation of today’s shifting power relations and multipolarity. Similarly, the recent entry of the African Union (AU) into the G20 underscores the external recognition of Africa’s importance. Moreover, it demonstrates the continent’s growing ambition to shape international politics and defend its interests vis-à-vis the rest of the world. [... ]A common thread running through all the chapters in this volume is that in Africa, multi-polarity is not simply a tale of the decline of the West and the rise of competitors like China, Russia, the UAE and Turkey. Rather, there is a complex reconfiguration of power relations under way in which African governments, institutions and societies have their say in negotiating the terms of engagement with the rest of the world, despite the undeniable persistence of asymmetries in terms of material power.

Over the past few years, European political elites have increasingly viewed the EU’s and China’s engagement in Africa through the lens of a political rivalry between democracy and autocracy. As early as 2019, the European Commission described China as a strategic rival aiming to normalize its authoritarian model as an alternative to Western democracy. This perception has only deepened in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic and Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, further reinforcing concerns among  policymakers in Brussels and other European capitals. While Chinese leaders avoid publicly framing the relationship as a systemic rivalry, in practice they invest heavily in public diplomacy and international networks, at least partly in order to promote China’s political model and modernization approach. When it comes to democracy and political regimes more generally, multipolarity in Africa’s external relations thus takes the form of systemic political rivalry, at least in the view of Western and Chinese policymakers.

Over the past few years, European political elites have increasingly viewed the EU’s and China’s engagement in Africa through the lens of a political rivalry between democracy and autocracy. As early as 2019, the European Commission described China as a strategic rival aiming to normalize its authoritarian model as an alternative to Western democracy. This perception has only deepened in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic and Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, further reinforcing concerns among  policymakers in Brussels and other European capitals. While Chinese leaders avoid publicly framing the relationship as a systemic rivalry, in practice they invest heavily in public diplomacy and international networks, at least partly in order to promote China’s political model and modernization approach. When it comes to democracy and political regimes more generally, multipolarity in Africa’s external relations thus takes the form of systemic political rivalry, at least in the view of Western and Chinese policymakers.

Over the past few years, European political elites have increasingly viewed the EU’s and China’s engagement in Africa through the lens of a political rivalry between democracy and autocracy. As early as 2019, the European Commission described China as a strategic rival aiming to normalize its authoritarian model as an alternative to Western democracy. This perception has only deepened in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic and Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, further reinforcing concerns among  policymakers in Brussels and other European capitals. While Chinese leaders avoid publicly framing the relationship as a systemic rivalry, in practice they invest heavily in public diplomacy and international networks, at least partly in order to promote China’s political model and modernization approach. When it comes to democracy and political regimes more generally, multipolarity in Africa’s external relations thus takes the form of systemic political rivalry, at least in the view of Western and Chinese policymakers.

The global rush for critical minerals has intensified amid a changing and complex world order. Multiple powers, including China and the United States, as well as the European Union (EU) and others, are vying for influence in Africa, which holds vast reserves of cobalt, lithium, rare earths, and other minerals essential for the clean energy transition. Demand for these resources is surging; for example, global lithium demand is expected to increase tenfold by 2050, driving billions in new mining investments, with Africa likely to attract a substantial share. African countries collectively hold around 30 per cent of the world’s known mineral reserves – including 70 per cent of global cobalt reserves, a metal crucial for batteries. Historically, African economies were trapped in a “primary commodity” model, exporting
raw materials under conditions shaped mainly by external powers, thereby limiting African agency and development.[...]

The global rush for critical minerals has intensified amid a changing and complex world order. Multiple powers, including China and the United States, as well as the European Union (EU) and others, are vying for influence in Africa, which holds vast reserves of cobalt, lithium, rare earths, and other minerals essential for the clean energy transition. Demand for these resources is surging; for example, global lithium demand is expected to increase tenfold by 2050, driving billions in new mining investments, with Africa likely to attract a substantial share. African countries collectively hold around 30 per cent of the world’s known mineral reserves – including 70 per cent of global cobalt reserves, a metal crucial for batteries. Historically, African economies were trapped in a “primary commodity” model, exporting
raw materials under conditions shaped mainly by external powers, thereby limiting African agency and development.[...]

The global rush for critical minerals has intensified amid a changing and complex world order. Multiple powers, including China and the United States, as well as the European Union (EU) and others, are vying for influence in Africa, which holds vast reserves of cobalt, lithium, rare earths, and other minerals essential for the clean energy transition. Demand for these resources is surging; for example, global lithium demand is expected to increase tenfold by 2050, driving billions in new mining investments, with Africa likely to attract a substantial share. African countries collectively hold around 30 per cent of the world’s known mineral reserves – including 70 per cent of global cobalt reserves, a metal crucial for batteries. Historically, African economies were trapped in a “primary commodity” model, exporting
raw materials under conditions shaped mainly by external powers, thereby limiting African agency and development.[...]