ELIAMEP

• The AKP–MHP alliance has built a form of hegemonic authoritarianism that is not based on repression alone. It combines control over state institutions (judiciary, bureaucracy, security apparatus, media) with deep alignments to conservative–nationalist social bases and newly-enriched economic groups, creating a durable state–society block.
• The Kurdish question is simultaneously indispensable and explosive for the opposition. Without Kurdish electoral and discursive support, a change in power is nearly impossible; yet open cooperation with Kurdish parties risks alienating nationalist voters, especially those in and around the IYI Party, and is easily framed by the government as “terror collaboration” under the “Terror-free Turkey” and security narrative.
• The economy has shifted from being the AKP’s core asset to its main liability, but this has not automatically translated into opposition advantage. High inflation, collapsing real wages and middle-class erosion are undermining the regime’s social contract, yet clientelist networks, selective social assistance and media control still prevent economic discontent from consolidating into a stable opposition majority.
• The CHP and the İYİ Party suffer from persistent leadership, cadre, and programmatic weaknesses that prevent them from converting regime vulnerabilities into a credible alternative. Although Ekrem İmamoğlu is arguably the opposition’s most charismatic and electorally competitive figure, his imprisonment has removed him from the national stage at a critical moment, creating a profound leadership vacuum. Özgür Özel, despite his constructive political style and rising public recognition, has not yet reached Erdoğan’s level of charismatic authority or nationwide resonance. Mansur Yavaş, meanwhile, remains an ambivalent national actor: his popularity is undeniable, but his reluctance to openly seek national leadership prevents him from anchoring a coherent opposition strategy. At the same time, neither the CHP nor the İYİ Party has consistently cultivated young, technocratic, socially-diverse elites or articulated clear, persuasive positions on foundational issues – including the economy, foreign policy, and especially the Kurdish question. As a result, the opposition remains structurally fragmented and strategically incoherent, unable to project itself as a confident and united governing alternative.
• In the short term, electoral breakthroughs remain possible, but structural transformation is hard without a bolder, inclusive democratic project. Lasting change would require moving beyond purely tactical electoral alliances towards a programme that tackles institutional reconstruction; seeks to bolster the rule of law, transparency and centre–periphery relations; and reframes the Kurdish question within an inclusive, citizenship-based vision – points the opposition has so far struggled to articulate.

Read here in pdf the Policy Paper by Ahmet Erdi Öztürk, Non-Resident Senior Scholar, Turkey Programme, ELIAMEP.

Introduction

Over the past two decades, Turkey has moved from being treated as a difficult but promising candidate for democratic consolidation to being widely described as a paradigmatic case of “competitive” or “hegemonic” authoritarianism (Esen and Gümüşçü 2016; Özbudun 2015; Baser and Ozturk 2017; Akkoyunlu and Oktem 2018). The Justice and Development Party (Adalet ve Kalkınma Partisi, AKP), in power since 2002, has gradually transformed the institutional and normative foundations of the Turkish political system. What began as a reformist and pro‑European conservative party evolved into a dominant actor presiding over a highly-centralised presidential regime, tightly-controlled media, politicised bureaucracy and dense networks of neo‑patrimonial distribution. Especially since the 2013 Gezi protests, the 2015–16 conflict cycle in the southeast, and the failed coup attempt of July 2016, the AKP – in alliance with the Nationalist Action Party (Milliyetçi Hareket Partisi-MHP) – has consolidated a new political order in which electoral competition persists but takes place on a profoundly uneven playing field.

At the same time, this transformation has profoundly constrained the space in which the opposition can operate. Parties, movements and individual politicians critical of the AKP–MHP bloc face continuous legal and administrative pressure: criminal investigations, prosecutions on terrorism-related charges, the removal and detention of elected mayors, bans on political activity, and the routine targeting of journalists and activists have become part of the repertoire of governance. When opposition actors attempt to replicate instruments long monopolised by the ruling coalition – for example, building dense local patronage networks, mobilising through religious or neighbourhood associations, or articulating alternative security discourses – they often encounter swift repression and delegitimisation by state institutions aligned with the executive. In this sense, the opposition is expected to compete under rules that are neither clear nor consistently enforced, in a context where the “referee” is also a player. Yet the difficulty of the environment does not fully absolve opposition parties of responsibility. Their chronic fragmentation, recurrent leadership crises, inadequate intra-party democratisation, and frequent reliance on short-term electoral bargains rather than long-term programmatic renewal all contribute to their limited capacity to convert regime vulnerabilities into a credible governing alternative.

The ruling bloc also benefits from significant structural advantages inside the state apparatus and from enduring support among important social constituencies. 

Under the given realities, this policy paper examines the dilemmas, opportunities and weaknesses of the Turkish opposition under conditions of hegemonic authoritarianism. It proceeds from two core assumptions: First, that the resilience of AKP–MHP rule cannot be understood solely through reference to coercion, clientelism or institutional manipulation. The ruling bloc also benefits from significant structural advantages inside the state apparatus and from enduring support among important social constituencies. The opposition, in other words, is confronted not only by an authoritarian incumbent but also by an entrenched societal and bureaucratic alignment that makes alternation in power exceedingly difficult. But second, that these structural advantages coexist with growing vulnerabilities: a deteriorating economic record, deepening social inequalities, the erosion of public services and mounting dissatisfaction with the quality of governance. These failures potentially create openings for opposition parties, but only if they can respond with credible leadership, programmatic clarity and organisational capacity.

The paper focuses on the two principal opposition forces: the Republican People’s Party (Cumhuriyet Halk Partisi, CHP) and the Good Party/IYI Party (İYİ Parti). Although İYİ Parti does not command a very large share of the vote, it plays a significant role by maintaining its own parliamentary group and, particularly during election periods, demonstrating an ability to aggregate and represent segments of the nationalist electorate under its organisational umbrella. This analytical choice is not meant to downplay the importance of other actors – most notably the pro-Kurdish left mobilised around the Peoples’ Equality and Democracy Party (Halkların Eşitlik ve Demokrasi Partisi, DEM), as well as smaller conservative or centre-right formations – but reflects the specific objective of assessing the capacity to generate a credible, nationwide alternative governing bloc under conditions of hegemonic authoritarianism. In particular, the recent “Terror-Free Turkey” (Terörsüz Türkiye) discourse, and the accompanying securitisation of Kurdish politics, have further constrained DEM’s room to operate as a “classic” opposition party, pushing it towards a more defensive, survival-oriented stance and heightening its distance from the institutional core of the opposition camp. By contrast, in electoral and institutional terms, the CHP and the IYI Party now constitute the core of a ‘systemic’ opposition: they are represented across the country, they lead or co-lead key municipal administrations (most prominently in Istanbul and Ankara), and they have been the primary architects and public faces of broad opposition alliances such as the Nation Alliance and the “Table of Six”. As parties whose organisational structures, ideological profiles and leadership cadres are oriented towards capturing the executive at the national level, they occupy a structurally different position from actors whose strategic horizon is more explicitly movement-, identity- or region-based.

In this landscape, it is also important to note the position of the Kurdish political movement, where Selahattin Demirtaş has long stood out as the most resonant opposition figure. Among younger generations, progressive circles, and segments of the broader democratic public, Demirtaş enjoys a level of moral authority and popular appeal far exceeding that of Abdullah Öcalan in the contemporary moment. However, a combination of structural constraints has prevented Demirtaş from functioning as a fully active pole of attraction within the opposition field. His ongoing imprisonment since 2016, coupled with an environment shaped by the opaque bargaining dynamics surrounding the “Terror-Free Turkey” process, has significantly limited his ability to articulate an alternative political vision or to participate directly in coalition-building efforts. As a result, despite his symbolic centrality and potential to broaden the opposition’s social reach, the Kurdish movement’s most charismatic political figure has been relegated to a constrained, mediated form of influence – further complicating the prospects for constructing a cohesive, cross-cleavage opposition bloc capable of challenging hegemonic authoritarian rule.

The CHP remains the only opposition party with a realistic claim to forming a government on its own or leading a broad coalition, whereas the İYİ Parti – despite having no viable prospect of winning national power independently – retains significant influence through its ability to aggregate and mobilise nationalist constituencies.

The CHP and İYİ Parti are the opposition actors most directly interpellated by domestic audiences as potential “governments-in-waiting”, though they do not occupy identical positions within the opposition field. The CHP remains the only opposition party with a realistic claim to forming a government on its own or leading a broad coalition, whereas the İYİ Parti – despite having no viable prospect of winning national power independently – retains significant influence through its ability to aggregate and mobilise nationalist constituencies. Its parliamentary group, organisational reach among segments of the centre-right, and capacity to shape nationalist sensitivities within opposition blocs make it an important, agenda-setting actor even without the numerical strength to contend for executive office alone.

The IYI Party’s roots in MHP tradition and its long-standing ties to the security bureaucracy mean that, in an eventual alternation of power, it is widely perceived as more able – and in some respects more willing – to work with existing state cadres and within institutional reflexes. Its opposition is thus framed primarily against the current political duo of President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan and the leader of MHP, Devlet Bahçeli, rather than against the deeper continuities of the state apparatus. By contrast, the CHP under Özgür Özel’s leadership, and with figures such as Ekrem İmamoğlu at its symbolic centre, is increasingly signalling an ambition to reconfigure state personnel and practices more substantially, especially at the mid- and upper-bureaucratic levels. This makes the CHP the core carrier of a more transformative opposition project. Both parties are nonetheless expected, unlike smaller or more specialised actors, to demonstrate governing competence across the full spectrum of policy domains: economic management, foreign and security policy, state administration, social policy and the rule of law. Their organisational choices (candidate selection, resource distribution, branch-building), leadership profiles (credibility, visibility, resilience), and programmatic (in)clarity on core issues such as the economy, the Kurdish question and Turkey’s international alignment therefore carry disproportionate weight in shaping perceptions of whether a transfer of power is both possible and desirable.

By concentrating on the CHP and the IYI Party, the paper can more precisely interrogate the distinct mechanisms through which opposition weakness and fragmentation are reproduced at the level of party organisation and strategy, while still situating these dynamics in relation to other opposition actors – above all, the HDP and its successors – whose inclusion in, or exclusion from, broader coalitions remains one of the central structural dilemmas facing any project of political change in contemporary Turkey.

AKP–MHP Hegemony: Structural Advantages at Home and Abroad

From a domestic perspective, the ruling coalition now enjoys three interlocking sets of advantages: control of key levers of the state and bureaucracy; deep embeddedness in conservative, religious and nationalist constituencies; and an ability to construct and sustain existential security narratives around both domestic dissent and regional crises.

The endurance of AKP–MHP rule rests on a complex combination of electoral strength (Aylan Musil 2024), institutional capture (Yesil 2018) and discursive hegemony (Gurpinar 2022), but it is also shaped by the evolving interests of the two partners. Historically, the AKP and MHP emerged from different ideological and sociological traditions; yet over time, the AKP’s drive to remain in power and its progressive “statisation” (devletleşme) (Yavuz 2020) have dovetailed with the MHP’s long-standing aspiration to anchor itself within the core state apparatus and security bureaucracy (Yavuz 2002). The result is not so much a principled ideological convergence as a largely interest-driven pact over control of the state and its coercive and administrative capacities. From a domestic perspective, the ruling coalition now enjoys three interlocking sets of advantages: control of key levers of the state and bureaucracy; deep embeddedness in conservative, religious and nationalist constituencies; and an ability to construct and sustain existential security narratives around both domestic dissent and regional crises. These narratives, articulated through the idioms of survival (beka) (Adisonmez and Al 2024) and national unity, help to legitimise the asymmetric distribution of power within the political system and to normalise the fusion of partisan and state interests that underpins the current governing bloc.

First, the AKP’s long tenure has allowed it to remake the state apparatus while preserving a high degree of coalition flexibility for President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan. Successive constitutional and legal reforms – most notably in 2010 and 2017 – have concentrated decision-making in the presidency and expanded executive leverage over the judiciary, higher courts, regulatory agencies and the civil service. At the same time, the leadership has cultivated an informal, shifting majority that rests on a blend of material patronage (Oyvat, Tekguc and Yagci 2025), shared conservative–nationalist worldviews and ad hoc bargains with different segments of the bureaucracy, business community and subnational elites. Key posts in the security sector, provincial administration and state-linked economic institutions are occupied not only by formal party loyalists, but by actors whose careers and protection depend on alignment with President Erdoğan’s personal authority (Keskin 2020) and the continuity of the broader governing project. This produces a state structure that is simultaneously personalised and coalition-capable: the centre can reconfigure alliances within the conservative–nationalist and state elite spectrum without relinquishing control. For opposition forces, therefore, alternation in power would require more than an electoral victory; it would entail confronting an administrative and politico-economic ecosystem whose habits, expectations and incentive structures have been calibrated around Erdoğan’s long incumbency and the informal coalitional architecture that sustains it.

Secondly, the AKP–MHP alliance continues to command strong support among diverse but overlapping social constituencies: segments of the conservative Sunni middle and lower-middle classes; parts of the business community benefiting from public procurement, municipal contracts and politically-mediated credit; nationalist voters for whom territorial integrity and state strength trump procedural concerns; and dependent poor who are embedded in networks of social assistance and religious-communal solidarity (Ozdemir 2020). To this must be added a relatively new stratum that has emerged over the last two decades: upwardly mobile, often provincially-rooted groups with comparatively low formal educational attainments, whose social rise has been closely intertwined with AKP-era economic expansion, construction-led growth and access to state-linked opportunities. For these constituencies, regime continuity is not only an ideological preference; it is also a guarantee of status preservation and further mobility. The ruling coalition’s capacity to articulate a narrative of “national will”, religious authenticity and external besiegement allow it to speak simultaneously to these material interests and to long-standing symbolic grievances vis-à-vis secular, urban and “Westernised” elites (Bilgic 2018). Even during acute economic downturns and corruption scandals, such narratives help sustain loyalty or at least acquiescence among broad swathes of voters, particularly in Anatolian provinces, conservative metropolitan districts and newly-enriched peri-urban belts.

Thirdly, the AKP–MHP bloc has constructed a security discourse in which the boundary between “internal” and “external” threat is deliberately blurred and increasingly meaningless (Sandal and Ozturk 2023). Domestic opposition, Kurdish political demands, refugee politics, great-power competition and regional conflicts are woven into a single, composite narrative of siege and vulnerability. The post-2015 re-securitisation of the Kurdish question, the militarisation of Turkey’s Syria and Iraq policies, and persistent references to “foreign plots” behind economic turbulence or protest episodes all contribute to a climate in which internal dissent is easily coded as an extension of external hostility (Ozturk 2021). In this framing, stability and a strong centralised executive are elevated as the highest public goods, while opposition calls for democratisation, power-sharing or reconciliation can be portrayed as naïve at best and subversive at worst. The effect is amplified by the government’s near monopoly over mainstream television and much of the print media, and its growing capacity to shape digital spaces through regulation, surveillance and informal pressure. In such a mediated environment, security becomes a holistic register that fuses inside and outside, making it harder for opposition actors to articulate alternative visions without triggering fears of strategic vulnerability.

AKP rule has also benefited from international conditions that have reduced the costs of authoritarian consolidation.

From an external perspective, AKP rule has also benefited from international conditions that have reduced the costs of authoritarian consolidation. The European Union’s internal crises and its preoccupation with migration management have weakened its willingness and capacity to exercise normative leverage over Ankara. The Syrian civil war and subsequent refugee flows have transformed Turkey into a pivotal partner for the EU, enabling the government to use the “migration card” as a bargaining chip in negotiations and to shield itself from harsher criticism (Gokalp Aras 2019). At the same time, the gradual move towards a more multi-polar international order – marked by the rise of China, the renewed assertiveness of Russia and the growing importance of Gulf capital – has allowed Ankara to diversify its foreign policy and economic dependencies. Access to alternative sources of finance, investment and diplomatic support reduces the regime’s vulnerability to Western pressure and enables it to play external actors off against one another (Öniş and Kutlay 2017).

These domestic and international advantages combine to create a particular type of hegemonic authoritarianism: one that is anchored in a socially rooted, nationalist‑conservative coalition, backed by a disciplined and loyal bureaucracy, and buffered by a regional and global environment that rewards security cooperation and transactional bargaining more than liberal democratic reform. For the opposition, this implies that the challenge is not limited to contesting elections under unfair conditions: it must also confront deeply embedded structures of power, identity and interest.

The Kurdish Question and the Limits of Opposition Coalitions

The result is a paradoxical moment in which a cautious opening by the governing bloc intersects with a fragmented and ambivalent opposition field; rather than capitalising on the new space, the opposition risks being caught off-balance, with its internal divergences on the Kurdish question and regional policy exposed precisely at a time when Kurdish electoral behaviour and regional realignments remain decisive for the future of Turkey’s political order.

The Kurdish question occupies a central place in this configuration of power and constraint, but it has not always been inscribed in the same way in Turkey’s political calculus. Historically, Kurdish votes have often held a pivotal, king-making position in tightly contested elections, forcing governments and opposition alike to think in terms of coalition geometries rather than simple bloc politics. The AKP’s own trajectory on the Kurdish issue – from cautious cultural openings and the “solution process” of the 2010s to hard securitisation after 2015 – reflects the shifting interplay between electoral incentives, coalition needs and regional conflict dynamics (Ozpek 2018). Since 2024, however, developments in Syria and a reconfiguration of US Middle East priorities under Trump’s renewed regional vision have begun to alter the strategic landscape, creating pressures and opportunities for a partial recalibration. The AKP–MHP coalition has tentatively explored a more flexible line, seeking room for manoeuvre without formally abandoning its security-centred discourse. In this context, the CHP and IP have adopted distinct stances: especially under the emerging leadership profile of figures such as Özgür Özel and Mayor of Istanbul Ekrem İmamoğlu, the CHP has signalled a more rights-based, citizenship-oriented approach, whereas IYI Party’sMHP origins and closer affinity with traditional state-security reflexes have inclined it toward a more restrictive position. The result is a paradoxical moment in which a cautious opening by the governing bloc intersects with a fragmented and ambivalent opposition field; rather than capitalising on the new space, the opposition risks being caught off-balance, with its internal divergences on the Kurdish question and regional policy exposed precisely at a time when Kurdish electoral behaviour and regional realignments remain decisive for the future of Turkey’s political order.

In its early years, the AKP pursued a strategy that combined limited cultural recognition with developmentalist promises in the predominantly Kurdish southeast. This approach, coupled with the party’s distance from the secular‑nationalist establishment, allowed it to attract significant Kurdish electoral support and to weaken the hold of traditional nationalist parties. The 2013–15 “resolution process”, though opaque and ultimately unsuccessful, represented the most serious attempt in the history of the republic to address the armed dimension of the Kurdish question through negotiation. Yet the collapse of this process – amid mutual mistrust, regional spillovers from Syria and shifting electoral incentives – paved the way for a dramatic re‑securitisation. The return to armed conflict in 2015, urban warfare in the southeast and the criminalisation of the HDP reconfigured the political landscape.

For the AKP–MHP bloc, the post-2015 environment brought clear and immediate advantages, but did so by pushing Turkish politics into an exceptionally securitised phase. The convergence of renewed PKK violence, the collapse of the peace process, the Syria war and the post-coup state of emergency allowed the government to weave together a broad “anti-terror” and “survival” narrative that reached far beyond its core electorate. This discourse resonated not only with different strands of Turkish nationalism, but also with security-oriented constituencies within the bureaucracy, the armed forces and parts of the urban middle classes. In practice, it blurred the line between armed militancy, legal Kurdish politics and wider dissent, placing Kurdish actors and other opposition forces under a shared umbrella of suspicion and pressure. At the same time, this high-intensity securitisation fractured potential opposition coalitions by hardening the cleavage between Kurdish-oriented parties and Turkish nationalist actors, making any durable Kurdish–Turkish opposition alignment both politically costly and easily stigmatised. Yet, as the 2019 municipal elections showed, such alignment is a necessary (if fragile) condition for seriously challenging AKP–MHP dominance at the ballot box. The governing bloc’s strategy has therefore been to pre-empt and delegitimise precisely this kind of cross-cleavage cooperation by reframing it as collaboration with terrorism, thereby locking Kurdish voters into a double bind and constraining other opposition parties’ room for manoeuvre under an ever-present security shadow.

For the opposition, the Kurdish question thus presents a deep and enduring dilemma. On the one hand, without Kurdish support – both electoral and discursive – it is extremely difficult to assemble a coalition capable of winning national-level power. 

For the opposition, the Kurdish question thus presents a deep and enduring dilemma. On the one hand, without Kurdish support – both electoral and discursive – it is extremely difficult to assemble a coalition capable of winning national-level power. On the other hand, overt cooperation with Kurdish parties risks alienating nationalist voters, particularly those inclined towards the IYI Party or the CHP’s more security-sensitive segments. This tension has repeatedly led opposition leaders to adopt deliberately ambiguous or evasive positions, whereby they seek to maximise tactical coordination with Kurdish actors (especially at the local level and in second-round presidential contests), while avoiding clear programmatic commitments on core Kurdish demands such as decentralisation, mother-tongue education, constitutional recognition or the release of political prisoners. In practice, this ambiguity has sharply limited the transformative potential of opposition coalitions. What might, under different conditions, look like a shared project of democratisation and conflict transformation is reduced to a narrowly-instrumental electoral arrangement which is permanently vulnerable to government wedge-driving, criminalisation campaigns and media-fuelled moral panics.

By 2025, this dilemma has hardened into something close to a “shirt of fire” for opposition actors. The collapse of the peace process, the institutionalisation of the post-2016 security regime and the near-total takeover of mainstream media mean that any move perceived as accommodating Kurdish demands can be instantly reframed as a security threat or a betrayal of the “national survival struggle”. At the same time, Kurdish voters – having experienced both the promise and the violent unravelling of the peace process, as well as ongoing repression of their elected representatives – increasingly demand clarity rather than tactical silence from would-be partners in the Turkish opposition. This asymmetry of risk is striking: for CHP and IYI Party elites, even limited gestures towards Kurdish inclusion carry high short-term reputational and electoral costs; for Kurdish actors and constituencies, continued exclusion or half-measures signal that their rights and security remain permanently negotiable. The result is a structurally unstable equilibrium in which all sides know that some form of Kurdish–Turkish opposition alignment is necessary to unsettle the AKP–MHP bloc, yet none can fully own such a strategy without incurring serious political danger.

In the broader Middle Eastern and international context, the Kurdish issue has further narrowed the opposition’s room for manoeuvre, while the most recent “terror-free Turkey” initiative has heightened this constraint rather than relaxing it. 

In the broader Middle Eastern and international context, the Kurdish issue has further narrowed the opposition’s room for manoeuvre, while the most recent “terror-free Turkey” initiative has heightened this constraint rather than relaxing it. Western involvement with Kurdish forces in Syria and Iraq – justified in terms of counter-ISIS operations, stabilisation, and human rights protection – continues to feed the government’s master narrative that Kurdish political and territorial claims are embedded in a wider external project to weaken or partition Turkey. Against this backdrop, Ankara’s latest push to reframe domestic politics around the promise of a “Terörsüz Türkiye” does not only target the PKK; it seeks to redraw the regional and internal security architecture in ways that fuse counter-terrorism, border policy, and regime consolidation into a single strategic agenda.

In this new phase, the CHP has again struggled to position itself as a central, agenda-setting actor. It has offered selective critiques and procedural concerns, but it has not been able to articulate a clear, autonomous roadmap for how demilitarisation, rights, and national security could be reconciled within a post-conflict framework. The İYİ Party, shaped by its MHP origins and a strongly security-sensitive electorate, has remained largely outside the process, presenting itself as the guarantor of national unity rather than a stakeholder in any re-imagining of centre–periphery relations. As a result, the governing bloc effectively monopolises the design and language of the “terror-free Turkey” project, while the main opposition parties are reduced to reacting from the periphery.

This has direct implications for their credibility as potential governing forces. A process that aspires – at least at the level of rhetoric – to restructure the domestic order and Turkey’s regional posture inevitably raises foundational questions about citizenship, decentralisation, cross-border operations, and the future of armed non-state actors. By failing to shape that agenda, or by standing visibly outside it, both the CHP and the İYİ Party risk being perceived as either unwilling or unable to manage the country’s core security dilemmas. In a context where the government presents “terror-free Turkey” as the strategic key to a newly configured regional order, exclusion or self-exclusion from that process makes it harder for the opposition to convince both domestic and international audiences that they can assume executive responsibility without jeopardising stability. In short, the Kurdish question – now recoded through the language of a “terror-free” future – remains the opposition’s most critical and combustible fault line, and their distance from the current process structurally weakens their prospects of governing change.

AKP–MHP Governance Failures: Economy, Neo‑Patrimonialism and Social Policy

The structural strengths of the AKP–MHP regime coexist with growing and increasingly visible governance failures. These failures are especially pronounced in the fields of macroeconomic management, social policy, institutional integrity and gender equality. From a policy‑oriented perspective, they constitute potential sources of vulnerability for the ruling bloc and, conversely, potential reservoirs of legitimacy for an opposition capable of articulating credible alternatives.

First, by 2025, the economy has moved from being the AKP’s core source of legitimacy to its most visible strategic vulnerability.

First, by 2025, the economy has moved from being the AKP’s core source of legitimacy to its most visible strategic vulnerability. In the party’s first decade in power, it could credibly claim ownership of a success story built on post-2001 reforms, EU-anchored expectations and a favourable global environment; growth was robust, inflation manageable, and large segments of society experienced upward mobility. From the mid-2010s onwards, however, this configuration unravelled. Politically-driven “low interest rate” experiments, the hollowing-out of central bank autonomy, and chronic high inflation eroded real incomes and destroyed the sense of predictability that underpinned the AKP’s earlier social contract.

Poverty and inequality indicators remain acute; the professional middle classes feel squeezed; and young, educated cohorts are experiencing a combination of stagnant wages, housing insecurity and declining expectations, often expressed in a desire to emigrate. 

The policy turn after the 2023 elections – with the appointment of a more orthodox economic team and a shift towards fiscal and monetary tightening – has not reversed this damage so much as it has redistributed its costs (Akcay 2024). Stabilisation efforts have meant a spike in interest rates, rising tax pressures and de facto austerity for middle- and lower-income groups already exhausted by years of price instability. Poverty and inequality indicators remain acute; the professional middle classes feel squeezed; and young, educated cohorts are experiencing a combination of stagnant wages, housing insecurity and declining expectations, often expressed in a desire to emigrate. The government still deploys targeted social transfers, credit channels and public employment as instruments of political management, but these tools now operate in an environment where macroeconomic strain is visible in everyday life – rent, food, energy, education – and where the promise of shared future prosperity has lost much of its credibility.

In this 2025 setting, the economy no longer functions as an uncomplicated asset that can be traded for political loyalty. Rather, it is a field of permanent crisis management in which the regime must continuously balance the demands of international markets and creditors against the anger of a population living with devalued savings and compressed living standards. The AKP retains considerable capacity to distribute selective benefits and shield key constituencies, yet the structural malaise of high inflation, low trust in institutions and the erosion of the “success story” narrative has turned the economic sphere into a central fault line of regime stability rather than a pillar of its strength.

Secondly, the consolidation of a neo‑patrimonial system of rule has further weakened state capacity and public trust (Bektas 2025). Public procurement, urban development and large‑scale infrastructure projects have become key mechanisms for the redistribution of resources to politically-connected firms, creating a “crony capitalist” ecosystem in which economic and political power reinforce one another (Guven 2023). Regulatory agencies, oversight bodies and courts have been brought under tighter executive influence, hollowing out formal checks and balances. This has diminished transparency, fostered perceptions of pervasive corruption and undermined the meritocratic foundations of the civil service. From the perspective of citizens and investors alike, the predictability of rules has been replaced by personalised access and political discretion.

Thirdly, social policy domains such as education, health and gender equality have been deeply affected by ideological agendas and fiscal constraints. In education, rapid expansion in the number of universities and schools has not been matched by quality improvements. Curriculum changes and institutional appointments have reflected conservative‑religious priorities, contributing to polarisation over the role of religion in public life and perceived declines in academic freedom. In the field of women’s rights, Turkey’s withdrawal from the Istanbul Convention and rising concerns about gender‑based violence have been accompanied by discourses that re‑emphasise traditional family roles and question international gender equality norms. These trends disproportionately affect women, youth and urban middle‑class professionals – constituencies that might be inclined to support opposition parties, but whose grievances are not always channelled into coherent political projects.

From the vantage point of the opposition, these weaknesses of the incumbent regime ought to represent significant opportunities. Objective indicators and everyday experiences alike point to a declining quality of governance, shrinking economic prospects and growing social stratification. Yet the translation of these problems into sustained opposition support has been uneven and fragile. High levels of affective polarisation, partisan media consumption and clientelist ties limit the extent to which dissatisfaction with performance translates into willingness to vote for alternatives. Moreover, as the next section explores, the opposition’s own organisational and programmatic deficits have often prevented it from capitalising fully on the ruling bloc’s vulnerabilities.

Opposition Weaknesses: Leadership, Organisational Capacity and Programmatic Ambiguity

The main opposition parties, the CHP and the IYI Party, face a hostile structural environment but also suffer from significant self‑inflicted weaknesses. Three dimensions stand out: leadership and cadre formation; programmatic clarity and policy articulation; and internal cohesion.

In terms of leadership and cadre formation, the opposition has consistently struggled to produce figures who can rival President Erdoğan’s incumbency advantages, personalised authority and symbolic capital.

In terms of leadership and cadre formation, the opposition has consistently struggled to produce figures who can rival President Erdoğan’s incumbency advantages, personalised authority and symbolic capital. The 2023 presidential campaign crystallised this problem: Kemal Kılıçdaroğlu briefly became the focal point of anti-government expectations, yet he was ultimately unable to project a compelling leadership image beyond the core CHP electorate (Yavuz and Ozturk 2023). The post-Kılıçdaroğlu transition has not fundamentally altered this imbalance. Although Özgür Özel represents organisational renewal and a more dialogical style, he has so far not closed the gap with Erdoğan in terms of charisma, narrative dominance or perceived capacity to ‘run the state’. Similarly, Ankara Metropolitan Mayor Mansur Yavaş, despite consistently ranking as one of the country’s most popular political figures in public opinion surveys, does not project a charismatic leadership profile and remains an unknown quantity in high-stakes national politics. His strategic intentions at the presidential level are uncertain – not least because it is unclear whether his own party would nominate him – and even in the event of a candidacy, he could face legal and institutional pressures of the sort directed at Ekrem İmamoğlu. This combination of popularity without overt ambition, charisma or institutional protection further complicates the opposition’s ability to consolidate a clear and credible leadership alternative

A similar limitation applies to the IYI Party: under its new leader Müsavat Dervişoğlu, the party retains organisational visibility and ideological coherence within nationalist and centre-right circles, yet it has not succeeded in cultivating a leadership profile capable of generating broad cross-class, cross-regional or cross-cleavage appeal. Dervişoğlu’s political persona remains largely confined to the party’s traditional nationalist base, lacking the symbolic capital, narrative versatility and policy breadth required to mobilise constituencies beyond this core. As a result, the IYI Party continues to operate primarily as a niche actor within the opposition ecosystem – important for coalition arithmetic and nationalist signalling, but structurally limited in its ability to project itself as a plausible pillar of a nationwide governing alternative.

While episodic hopes have coalesced around particular personalities – most notably Ekrem İmamoğlu after the 2019 and 2024 municipal victories – these moments have repeatedly been blunted by legal pressures, intra-party competition and strategic hesitations over presidential candidacies and coalition design (Ozpek, Ozturk, Dagi and Erkoc 2025). The imprisonment, political banning or judicial harassment of key figures further narrows the pool of credible national contenders. At the same time, neither the CHP nor the IYI Party has managed to systematically recruit, train and promote a new generation of technocratic and political cadres capable of governing complex state institutions in the event of a transition. Much of the upper and middle-level leadership still reflects the sociological profile and worldview of earlier secular-republican or traditional nationalist elites. This continuity limits the opposition’s capacity to speak convincingly to conservative, religious or peripheral constituencies that are indispensable for constructing a durable majority, even as it tries to reposition itself through discourses of “normalisation” and institutional repair.

Programmatically, the opposition has repeatedly failed to project a clear and credible alternative on core policy domains, particularly the economy, foreign policy and the Kurdish question.

Programmatically, the opposition has repeatedly failed to project a clear and credible alternative on core policy domains, particularly the economy, foreign policy and the Kurdish question. Opinion surveys and qualitative studies suggest that many citizens are aware of existing problems – rising costs of living, declining quality of education, politicisation of the judiciary – but remain unconvinced that opposition parties possess either a coherent plan or the competence to address them effectively. Opposition economic platforms often oscillate between orthodox, market-friendly rhetoric and diffuse promises of social justice, without specifying institutional mechanisms, distributional trade-offs or coalition-building strategies that would make such programmes governable. The CHP’s late-November 2025 programme revision, its first in thirteen years, illustrates this tension. The leadership presented the new economic vision as resting on four pillars – “effective and productive public administration, a fair macroeconomic stability framework, transformation in employment and production, and strategic sectoral structuring” – yet these categories remain largely generic, technocratic and weakly embedded in a broader political economy narrative that speaks to contemporary crises of precarity, climate transition and digital transformation. In foreign and security policy, the CHP and IYI Party continue to criticise the government’s personalised, militarised and transactional diplomacy, but they have struggled to articulate a positive, multi-polar vision of Turkey’s international role that goes beyond delayed calls for a “return to the West” or abstract references to “balance” between great powers. The new CHP programme’s emphasis on external “resilience” and security does little to resolve this, offering neither a detailed roadmap for relations with the EU and NATO nor a clear framework for handling regional conflicts and migration pressures. Finally, the way in which such programmes are drafted and communicated – often through elite-driven commissions and episodic party conferences rather than sustained, participatory debate with party organisations and societal actors – further limits their persuasive power. The ruling bloc can thus continue to frame the opposition not only as divided and inexperienced, but also as programmatically anachronistic: formally updated on paper, yet substantively out of sync with the demands of the current conjuncture.

Internal cohesion presents a further challenge. Both the CHP and the IYI Party have been plagued by factional struggles, leadership contests and ideological disputes. In the CHP’s case, the tension between traditional Kemalist‑statist currents and more reformist or social‑democratic segments has generated recurrent crises over candidate selection, alliance strategies and the balance between identity and class‑based appeals. IYI Party, for its part, has faced difficulties in balancing its nationalist roots with the need to appeal beyond its core base, leading to cycles of fragmentation, resignations and public infighting. These internal conflicts not only consume organisational energy; they also send out negative signals to voters about the opposition’s capacity to govern coherently. Elite‑level divisions are amplified by social media dynamics, where intra‑opposition criticism often becomes more visible than constructive programmatic work.

Finally, certain strategic choices – such as an overemphasis on “softening” (yumuşama), or premature personalisation of presidential candidacies – have inadvertently strengthened the incumbents. Efforts to normalise relations with the government without clear institutional guarantees risk demobilising opposition supporters and legitimising the existing order without extracting concessions. Similarly, the early elevation of figures as inevitable presidential candidates has allowed the ruling bloc to target them through legal, media and institutional means, narrowing the opposition’s room for manoeuvre. In combination, these factors contribute to a perception that, while the opposition can occasionally win important local victories, it lacks the depth, discipline and strategic clarity required to engineer a systemic change in national politics.

Conclusion: Prospects for Change under Hegemonic Authoritarianism

The analysis presented in this policy paper suggests that the prospects for a medium‑term change in power in Turkey remain uncertain and, under current conditions, structurally constrained. The AKP–MHP coalition has succeeded in constructing a hegemonic authoritarian order grounded in bureaucratic control, nationalist‑conservative social alliances and advantageous external conditions. This order has proven resilient even in the face of serious economic downturns and governance failures. While these failures create potential vulnerabilities for the ruling bloc, they do not automatically translate into opposition gains.

For the opposition, the challenge is twofold. On the one hand, it must navigate a political arena in which the rules of the game are tilted against it: media concentration, legal repression, bureaucratic partisanship and securitisation of dissent create formidable barriers to effective contestation. On the other hand, it must confront its own internal weaknesses: limited cadre development, unclear policy platforms, leadership deficits and persistent intra‑party conflicts. 

For the opposition, the challenge is twofold. On the one hand, it must navigate a political arena in which the rules of the game are tilted against it: media concentration, legal repression, bureaucratic partisanship and securitisation of dissent create formidable barriers to effective contestation. On the other hand, it must confront its own internal weaknesses: limited cadre development, unclear policy platforms, leadership deficits and persistent intra‑party conflicts. Without significant progress on both fronts, public dissatisfaction with the status quo is likely to remain fragmented and politically underutilised.

From a policy perspective, three implications follow. First, international actors – including the EU and its member states – should recognise both the structural nature of hegemonic authoritarianism in Turkey and the fragility of opposition forces operating within it. Rather than episodic moral condemnation or purely transactional engagement, external policy should seek to support pluralism, rule‑of‑law safeguards and societal resilience in ways that do not simply reinforce government narratives of foreign intervention. Secondly, opposition parties need to invest seriously in organisational renewal: recruiting and training new cadres, formulating detailed and credible policy proposals, and building durable channels of communication with societal groups beyond their traditional bases. Finally, any realistic strategy for democratisation will have to confront, rather than indefinitely defer, the Kurdish question and broader issues of inclusive citizenship. Without a principled and politically imaginative approach to these questions, attempts to build broad opposition coalitions will remain vulnerable to securitising narratives and divide‑and‑rule tactics.

All in all, unless there is a significant shift either in the balance of power within the state apparatus or in the strategic behaviour of opposition parties, a change of government in Turkey in the medium term will remain difficult to effect. The current constellation is one in which an incumbent hegemonic bloc, despite its growing performance deficits, continues to enjoy structural advantages that the opposition has not yet found a way to neutralise. Understanding and addressing this asymmetry is crucial for any effort – domestic or international – aiming to support democratic resilience and the possibility of political alternation in Turkey’s second century.

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Panagiota Manoli and George Tzogopoulos, Senior Research Fellows at ELIAMEP, provide a first assessment of the ongoing peace talks concerning the war in Ukraine. (in Greek)

• Polarization as an impact of crises and its connection to radicalization leading to violent extremism through the study of two crises: a) the migration/refugee crisis of 2015-2016 and b) the pandemic.
• An important part of the problem is the political mainstreaming of extremist narratives, that is, the choice of politicians to increasingly exploit far-right and conspiratorial narratives that have been supported by segments of the population in recent years.
• Polarization is an issue that concerns groups of individuals and not lone actors
• the risk of conflict is magnified when society is divided into two equal groups with competing goals”
• Multiple crises are more dangerous, as on the one hand they exert greater pressure on the management mechanisms of states and on the other hand they expand the vulnerability of societies, groups and individuals.
• A broad sense of democratic deficit and two successive processes of questioning have been created that lead to a crisis: a) of trust and b) of representation.
• Prolonged polarization has led to the radicalization of a large number of citizens, without necessarily resulting from the support of a specific ideology
• Disinformation, the spread of fake news and the dissemination of conspiracy theories constitute a threat to democracy and have caused significant problems in electoral processes and fuel polarization.
• The pandemic acted as a catalyst and influenced radicalization, but also the way extremist groups operate.

Read here in pdf the Policy paper by Triantafyllos Karatrantos, ELIAMEP Research Associate (in Greek).

George Dikaios, Senior Research Fellow, ELIAMEP

The Conference of the Parties to the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change has concluded without impressive results. What seems to be confirmed is that the international community understands the need to combat climate change, as an agreement was reached at the last minute. However, neither the required progress (on what was already agreed upon since 2015) was observed, nor the political will to breathe new life into the implementation of existing policies (which would lead to achieving the goal of maintaining the Earth’s average temperature at 1.5 degrees Celsius). The current political situation is challenging, and the results of COP30 were easy to agree on: a promise to increase funding for adaptation to climate change, the creation of a just transition mechanism, and the recognition of indigenous rights. Once again, there was no agreement on the process of transitioning to climate neutrality (and thus reducing the use of fossil fuels), nor on other critical issues, such as deforestation (which was expected as COP30 took place in Brazil). Even worse, there seems to have been an informal agreement to leave the burden of active climate action to “coalitions of the willing” operating outside the United Nations framework, as the latter seems to be a victim of the current trend of drifting away from multilateral cooperation.

Emmanuella Doussis, Professor, National and Kapodistrian University of Athens; Head of the Climate and Sustainability Programme and Senior Policy Advisor, ELIAMEP

Every year, as the annual COP meeting on Climate Change is drawing to a close, a major debate starts up on how effectively the system of international cooperation is tackling climate change. This is because greenhouse gas emissions are still rising, despite the promises and ambitious plans to switch to clean energy and reduce these harmful emissions. At the same time, the current geopolitical stand-offs continue to pose unprecedented challenges for multilateral cooperation.  This year’s conference in Belém, on the Amazon, concluded without major decisions being made on the implementation of the Paris Agreement and, in particular, on a phase-out roadmap for fossil fuels. Instead, the main outcomes of COP30 were a voluntary fossil fuel reduction plan, a new target to triple climate change adaptation financing, and a mechanism for a just transition.  It is clear that the annual global climate conference cannot provide both meaningful and all the solutions to climate change, especially given the absence of a willingness to self-limit on the part of the major polluters. Substantial agreements are not possible (or even realistic) when there are 200 countries around the negotiating table, each at their own level of development and with their own priorities, interests and levels of harmful emissions. But COP can serve as a guide to what the international community is collectively willing to do to prevent further global warming, and indicate what needs to be done to achieve this goal.

Othon Kaminiaris, Research Fellow, ELIAMEP

COP30 concluded after two weeks of difficult negotiations, resulting in the adoption of 29 decisions, the “Belém Package.” This package includes several substantive steps toward implementation: the establishment of a just transition mechanism, the commitment to triple adaptation finance by 2035, and the completion of 59 voluntary indicators to track progress under the Global Goal on Adaptation. In addition, and though outside the formal decisions, the conference advanced, under Brazil’s initiative, the FINI (Fostering Investible National Implementation) mechanism for financing mature adaptation projects, as well as the Tropical Forests Forever Facility, which mobilized USD 6.7 billion for the protection of tropical forests.

However, the central political deadlock remained: no reference to phasing out fossil fuels was included in the official decisions, despite pressure from at least 80 countries. Thus, while adaptation, finance, and just transition were strengthened, no path was agreed on for decreasing global emissions in the coming years. As a counterweight, Colombia and the Netherlands announced that they will co-host, outside the UNFCCC framework, the First International Conference on the Just Transition Away from Fossil Fuels in April 2026, an initiative that may give an impetus to the COP process itself.

Looking ahead to COP31 in Turkey at the end of 2026, two issues, thus, remain unresolved:
a new collective climate finance goal (NCQG) that also covers mitigation, and the need for a shared approach to emission reductions in a decade requiring rapid and decisive acceleration.

Cheryl Novak, Research Associate, ELIAMEP

COP30 fell short of its central mandate, which is to accelerate collective action to keep global warming to 1.5°C and to establish a credible pathway for the phase-out of fossil fuels. The summit made progress on areas such as adaptation finance, Indigenous-led protection, and nature-based solutions, including the announcement of prominent initiatives like the Tropical Forests Forever Facility. Yet COP30 ultimately underscored the challenges of consensus-based multilateralism in a global environment characterized by divergent interests. UN Climate Chief Simon Stiell underscored COP30’s issues in his closing remarks, stating, “denial, division and geopolitics has dealt international cooperation some heavy blows this year.”

In response to the lack of progress on COP30’s core mission, its President, André Corrêa do Lago, announced plans to develop two “roadmaps” outside the formal negotiating process: one to halt and reverse deforestation, and another to support a just and orderly transition away from fossil fuels. Whether these parallel tracks can help unlock progress at COP31, or signal the beginning of a deeper schism between fossil-fuel-dependent states and more ambitious parties remains uncertain. Frustration over COPs opaque decision-making process and state accountability remains, as consensus rules mean countries’ positions on key provisions are undisclosed. Moreover, as in previous conferences, observers highlighted the significant presence of fossil-fuel-aligned interest groups seeking to shape outcomes. Participation by Indigenous, youth, and feminist organizations reached record levels, yet Indigenous representatives argued that their involvement remains largely symbolic and some staged blockades calling for stronger protections.

For countries in the Mediterranean, these shortcomings have direct implications. Under current policies, global warming projects now stand at 2.5–3.5°C, and Med region is warming 20% faster than the global average. This heightens existing pressures on water systems, agriculture, and food security. In this context, global agreements matter, but local action will be decisive for the future of the people of the region. Greece and its neighbors will need to accelerate renewable energy deployment, strengthen water and food systems resilience, and integrate climate risk across all planning processes. Regardless of multilateral setbacks, prioritizing climate security and system resilience should remain central to Greece’s national strategy.

 

Alexandra Brzozowski, EU affairs journalist, outlines how Ukraine enters a dangerously uncertain winter as Russian offensives intensify, energy infrastructure comes under sustained attack, Western support shifts, while unofficial diplomatic initiatives stir controversy.

Read the ELIAMEP Explainer here.

Startups do not operate in a void and institutions in their direct environment impact them. This working paper is a first in depth field research of a single accelerator in Greece, a country that is relatively lacking in international rankings for innovation and competitiveness. We chose to focus on MIT Enterprise Forum Greece (MITEF Greece, 2015-2022), the only accelerator in the country to be linked to an international university. We used a mixed qualitative and descriptive statistics methodology. Our main findings are that its accelerated startups and their founders stood out in the startup ecosystem in the following ways: founders were a mosaic of local and Diaspora Greeks as well as non-Greeks, startups had a global reach, with a presence in 20 countries and an impressive share in deep tech processes and sectors, thus enhancing substantially the geoeconomic reach of the Greek startup community. Indicatively among the top sectors medicine- life sciences, environment-energy, and technical solutions-robotics stood out from the beginning although this sectoral composition was not usual among startups in the Greek ecosystem especially before 2019. In a nutshell, MITEF Greece accelerated startuppers stood at the cutting edge of the nexus of innovation and internationalization in the Greek startup ecosystem.

How was this made possible? We put forward the hypothesis that this outcome was attained as a result of the following multiple factors: the dedication; high expertise; open mindset; heritage of a culture of trust, reciprocity and strong sense of community (“μαζί”) of the Greek MIT graduates (local, brain drain and Diaspora), who were running MITEF Greece; the careful selection process of startups accepted in acceleration programs; the ample business and technological know-how resources available to MITEF Greece by the vast global MIT entrepreneurship community and its enthusiastic pool of Diaspora Greeks in the USA who were involved in the accelerator and its offspring The Hellenic Innovation Network.

Although the case of MITEF Greece cannot be exactly replicated, we believe that it offers useful insights for minimizing the disintegration and lack of communication between support organizations and policies for the startup ecosystem. It is an extraordinary example of actively enhancing internationalization of innovation through commercialization of research results, an important GIFT for Greece at a time of rising deglobalization and global economic fragmentation. This is the ultimate lesson derived from this case study.

Read here in pdf the study by Ioanna Sapfo Pepelasis, Professor Emerita, Athens University of Economics and Business (AUEB);
Senior Research Fellow at ELIAMEP; Jenny Vidali, MA, College of Europe; Athanasios Kolokythas, PhD student, Toulouse School of Economics (TSE). Research assistance was provided by: Tigran Ghalümyan,Grant Thornton and George Themelis, Senior year undergraduate student, Athens University of Economics and Business (AUEB).

Click here to view a visual representation of the main findings, presented through tables and infographics.

In this issue of MORE, the focus is on Greek–Albanian relations between March and October 2024, shaped by the Fredi Beleris case—a local legal dispute that evolved into a major diplomatic and media controversy. Beleris, mayor-elect of Himara, was convicted for electoral corruption but later elected to the European Parliament for Greece’s New Democracy party, intensifying tensions over democracy, minority rights, and judicial independence.

In Albania, pro-government media framed his conviction as proof of judicial reform, while opposition outlets denounced it as political persecution. In Greece, coverage was overwhelmingly sympathetic, portraying Beleris as a political prisoner. Widespread misinformation—including fake stories and manipulated images—deepened mistrust and polarization.

Tensions peaked during Beleris’s October 2024 visit to Tirana as an MEP, marked by protests and symbolic confrontation. Yet, by late 2024, relations began to improve, aided by Albania’s post-election pro-EU stance and significant progress in EU accession, with five of six negotiation clusters opened.

Covering the period from March to October 2024, MORE 6 shows how one legal case exposed the fragility of regional trust, but also how diplomatic pragmatism and the shared goal of European integration can turn confrontation into cooperation.

The Media Observatory Reports are part of the broader “ALGREE – Albania–Greece: Understanding. Connecting. Partnering” project, implemented by the South-East Europe Programme of the Hellenic Foundation for Foreign & European Policy (ELIAMEP) with support from the Open Society Foundations – Western Balkans and the Friedrich Naumann Foundation for Freedom Greece and Cyprus. Based on systematic monitoring of leading Albanian and Greek media, the reports examine how each country portrays the other and how media narratives shape mutual perceptions and shared regional agendas.

Michalis Mathioulakis, Energy Strategy Analyst, Academic Director of the Greek Energy Forum and ELIAMEP Research Associate , explains how the 6th Ministerial Meeting of the Partnership for Transatlantic Energy Cooperation (P-TEC), held in Athens in November 2025, highlighted the emergence of a new transatlantic energy architecture with Greece at its center, serving as the key Mediterranean entry point for U.S. gas flows to Southeast Europe and Ukraine.

Read the ELIAMEP Explainer here.

Ricardo Borges de Castro & Leopold Schmertzing, Non-Resident Fellows on Strategic Foresight, ELIAMEP

In recent years, the European Union has increased its investment in strategic foresight capabilities. Within its institutions – the European Commission, the European Parliament, the Council of the EU, and the European External Action Service – and collectively through the European Strategy and Policy Analysis System (ESPAS), an EU inter-institutional network focused on global trends, there has been a concerted effort to boost Europe’s anticipatory edge. Yet, recent events show that these processes and insights have not sufficiently permeated the EU and, especially, national policymaking and preparedness. There is now a window of opportunity for Europe to review and strengthen its strategic capabilities.

No One Saw it Coming?

This year once again revealed how unprepared much of European politics remains for plausible events and crises. Donald Trump’s re-election and its implications for global politics and trade, Moscow’s ever-evolving forms of aggression towards Ukraine and intimidation towards Europe, and the recent Nexperia’s chip supply-chain shock: what else needs to happen before Europe stops being caught on the back foot and finally acts instead of reacting?

It does not have to be this way. While there are no crystal balls in policymaking and the future cannot be predicted, there are ways to improve how governments and European institutions respond, prepare and, if possible, mitigate or avert future crises. It is called strategic foresight and anticipation. This should not be a policy luxury item, but an established practice.

Preparation and resilience building begin with anticipation: identifying plausible, high-impact developments, before thinking them through systematically – from their origins and implications to ways to potentially avoid them. This needs political and real capital, but this is money well spent: the reality is that the current levels of uncertainty, volatility, and geopolitical and geoeconomic upheaval are likely to remain or even increase.

Crisis Management or Smart Democracy?

Europe cannot rely on emergency summits or improvised backroom negotiations to define its place in a changing international system, ensure its security and autonomy, or rebuild its economic and political strength. The EU needs to move from the constant crisis management of the last decade to anticipatory democracy.

Over the last years, the European Union and several European countries have built up their anticipatory and planning capabilities by setting-up and mainstreaming foresight units and departments into policy- and decision-making cycles. Today, the European Commission, the European Parliament, the Council of the EU, the EEAS, and the Committees have more robust foresight and anticipatory tools and processes than in the past and the ESPAS network continues to provide a forum for EU institutions, bodies and agencies to informally collaborate and share their perspectives on future challenges and opportunities, as well as strengthen their internal foresight and preparedness mechanisms.

Likewise, countries such as Spain or Portugal have joined others like Finland, Estonia or Slovenia in embedding foresight into their governance or parliamentary systems by creating new, whole-of-government departments for planning and strategic anticipation. The recent establishment of a Foresight Unit in the new German National Security Council is an additional relevant sign that  could be a blueprint for other European nations.  What is more, since the early 2020s there exists an EU-wide ministers for the future (and their sherpas) network that seeks to address key issues for Europe’s future.

Despite these positive developments and the potential of the existing work and capabilities for futures thinking and planning, European policymakers continue to be surprised or confounded by unexpected events and uncertainty. More foresight is certainly welcome in Europe, but what the EU needs is better foresight, more effective and agile foresight, and, above all, more honest foresight.

Europe’s Window of Opportunity?

There is a window of opportunity for the EU to strengthen its strategic and anticipatory capabilities and to become a global hub for strategic foresight.

The EU institutions  should do a ‘lessons learned’ exercise to assess what has worked and what did not work over the last ten years in building anticipatory and preparedness capabilities. While these processes are more common in the US, it is crucial that the EU understands what needs to be improved, where the unnecessary and costly overlaps and duplications are, and where collaboration or division of labour is needed or more effective.

A few of the problems in the European context are common to other parts of the world such as the fragmentation of foresight work across or within institutions, processes that shun politically charged topics, poor linkage to decision-makers, or the discontinuity of foresight functions after new electoral cycles. But it would be worth to study and understand what are EU-specific challenges that have undermined the impact of foresight and anticipatory efforts. Knowing the weaknesses is the first step to strengthen the EU’s culture of preparedness.

The needed overhaul of EU foresight capabilities is more important than ever because it happens at a time when close partners such as the United States – known for its strong foresight work and traditions – is scaling back its outreach, or shutting down important processes such as the Global Trends report, while competitors like China link anticipation, planning, and prioritisation in their next, the fifteenth, Five-Year Plan.

Since 2019, Singapore has also not organised its traditional International Risk Assessment and Horizon Scanning Symposium (IRAHSS). This opened a gap for what used to be the premier global policy gathering for meaningful exchanges on strategic foresight, risks, and future opportunities among strategists, policy- and decision-makers from around the world.

Just do It

Although the EU cannot replace the US or Singapore, the ESPAS network should seize this moment to become a policy-oriented, international strategic foresight hub. As it did during President Trump’s first mandate, ESPAS could provide a global common good, strengthening long-term multilateralism and collaboration, and improving European resilience and strategic capabilities.  Today’s 2025 ESPAS Annual Conference should be the starting point for a strengthened foresight ambition in Europe and beyond.”

This policy brief examines Athens’ approach to migrant inclusion within Greece’s highly centralised governance system. It finds that the municipality lacks clear mandates and stable funding for migrant integration. The local authority tends to treat migrants as temporary guests rather than long-term residents. Migrant policies remain fragmented, reactive, and short-term, largely shaped by shifting political leadership. Civil society and migrant communities play an important yet mostly symbolic role, with limited participation in decision-making. Sustainable inclusion requires institutionalised responsibilities, multi-annual funding, and stronger participatory mechanisms to ensure policy continuity and protect progress from political change.

Read here in pdf the Policy brief by Sofia Ntaliou, Researcher, PhD in Social Justice, University College Dublin.

Introduction

Historically a country of emigration, Greece’s approach to immigration has consistently been characterised by exclusion and hostility, driven by the foundational principles of ethnic and religious homogeneity, a weak formal economy, and the politicisation of migration[1]. Greece is one of the most centralised countries within the OECD, together with Ireland, Chile, and New Zealand[2]. As Greece’s capital and largest urban centre, Athens has long served as a key entry point to the European Union and a major hub for migrants.

In Athens, the municipality tends to approach migrants as temporary visitors: their presence is tolerated but not actively supported through long-term inclusion strategies.

Drawing from document analysis and interviews, this policy brief analyses Athens’ approach to migrant inclusion and offers actionable recommendations to strengthen local governance capacity and promote sustainable, inclusive migrant policies. The analysis is based on 12 semi-structured interviews with municipal officials, civil society representatives, and migrant organisations, conducted between May 2022 and July 2023, and on a review of national, regional, and municipal policy and legal documents. These materials include key migration and citizenship laws, national and regional integration strategies, Athens’ municipal integration plan and reports, as well as NGO reports. In Athens, the municipality tends to approach migrants as temporary visitors: their presence is tolerated but not actively supported through long-term inclusion strategies. Services tend to address immediate needs rather than promote integration, and local policies often change depending on the priorities of the current municipal leadership[3].

These short-term service responses reflect the city’s dependence on shifting political priorities and the absence of institutional safeguards that ensure policy continuity. Athens’ experience illustrates how even within centralised states, local political leadership can influence migration governance, yet over-reliance on political will renders policies vulnerable to change. To move beyond short-term and fragmented responses, Athens must institutionalise inclusion mechanisms and build sustainable collaborations with civil society and migrant communities. Athens’ experience offers lessons for other cities operating under centralised national frameworks—including Dublin[4]—highlighting both the constraints and opportunities of local governance in promoting migrant inclusion.

Context

Greece has a highly centralised governance system, with the national government retaining control over legislation, funding, and key integration frameworks.

Greece has a highly centralised governance system, with the national government retaining control over legislation, funding, and key integration frameworks. Over the past decade, national policy has oscillated between crisis response, securitisation, and selective inclusion, reflecting the highly politicised nature of migration in the country[5]. Municipalities have limited autonomy and fiscal capacity. While Athens’ status as the capital and largest municipality has, at times, positioned it as a key counterpart in discussions with national authorities, its ability to shape and sustain long-term migrant inclusion strategies remains limited by its structural dependence on the central government.

Athens lacks stable, institutionalised mechanisms for migrant inclusion.

Within this framework, Athens operates under poorly defined municipal responsibilities and heavy financial dependence on the central government. Despite its size and strategic role as both an arrival and transit city—where, according to the 2011 census, non-Greek nationals accounted for 22.8% of the population[6]—Athens lacks stable, institutionalised mechanisms for migrant inclusion. The proportion of migrants in the city is likely higher today, reflecting continued migration to Greece and the city since 2011. Yet, local authorities remain neither legally mandated nor financially supported to engage in migrant integration, leaving municipal action discretionary and shaped by shifting political priorities, as discussed in the next section.

Political Will and Policy Fluctuations 

For decades, Athens largely mirrored national policy by neglecting the presence and needs of migrants. However, shifts in municipal leadership, particularly between 2011 and 2019, created space for more progressive policies. During this period, the city introduced several notable initiatives, including the appointment of a Deputy Mayor for Migration, the creation of the Department for the Support and Social Inclusion of Migrants and Refugees, the establishment of advisory and service structures such as the Migrant Integration Council (MIC) and the Migrant Integration Centre (KEM[7]), and the development of Greece’s first local integration strategy. Collaboration with civil society organisations and other municipalities led to the creation of coordination structures like the Athens Coordination Centre for Migrant and Refugee Issues (ACCMR)[8] and the Cities Network for Integration (CNI)[9].

Athens also engaged in a range of integration projects, including the establishment of the Elaionas refugee camp and the development of EU-funded housing programmes coupled with integration services, such as ESTIA, Welcommon, and Curing the Limbo developed in partnership with NGOs and international organisations. Participation in European and international initiatives, such as ‘100 Resilient Cities’, EUROCITIES, Solidarity Cities, and the European Coalition of Cities Against Racism, further supported these efforts, providing access to expertise, resources, and policy exchange. While these initiatives largely focused on asylum seekers and beneficiaries of international protection, with broader migrant populations receiving less targeted attention, they nonetheless marked a significant step forward. This period of activity was facilitated by EU funding, international support, collaboration with civil society actors which contributed resources, knowledge, and service infrastructure. A relatively more supportive national policy environment during these years also helped enable municipal initiatives.

…political will can, to some extent, compensate for structural limitations in Greece’s centralised governance system.

Crucially, the role of local political leadership was central in advancing these developments, demonstrating how political will can, to some extent, compensate for structural limitations in Greece’s centralised governance system. However, this reliance also introduced significant vulnerabilities. Following the 2019 municipal elections, Athens shifted towards a more reactive and limited approach to migration. The dedicated Deputy Mayor position was downgraded to a special advisor, key services were reduced, collaboration with civil society actors weakened, and the municipality withdrew from several international networks. Partnerships and projects were disrupted, and service provision delayed or halted, highlighting how over-reliance on political leadership undermines policy continuity and stability.

But the municipal authority changed, and then the way the program was dealt with changed a lot. I mean, when the municipal authority changed, we had a big problem for a year…The program was intended to last for three years, so losing a year and losing the Municipality’s support for a year is very serious. Especially [since] this happened when…implementation [was just starting]…                                             

Expert3, 2023, interview, 06 July

 

When the municipal authority changes, so does the policy towards immigration…the staff members do not stay; they are usually relocated. This is what happens in Greece, and that is the big problem that everyone, depending on their…party affiliation, finds themselves in a [job] position, and that is the big challenge we have                     

Greek Forum for Migrants (GFM), 2022, interview, 13 October 

Athens’ experience highlights the risks of over-relying on political will to sustain migrant inclusion policies. With politically appointed officials controlling key municipal positions, policy continuity remains vulnerable to electoral shifts. Migrants’ exclusion from local voting rights further weakens their political influence, reducing incentives for sustained investment in inclusion policies. While local political leadership can act as a catalyst for progressive change, Athens’ experience demonstrates that without institutional safeguards, these gains remain fragile and easily reversible.

The ‘Pragmatic Guest-Resident’ Paradigm 

Responses tend to be ‘reactive’, addressing immediate needs during moments of, whether perceived or real, crises, rather than developing sustained inclusion policies.

Discussing a consistent policy paradigm in Athens is challenging as priorities fluctuate with changes in ‘political will’. Nevertheless, the city appears to have evolved from a ‘non-policy’ phase to what might be described as a ‘pragmatic guest-resident’[10] approach. In this model, migrants are viewed as temporary visitors whose presence is tolerated but not structurally supported. Responses tend to be ‘reactive’[11], addressing immediate needs during moments of, whether perceived or real, crises (e.g. the 2015 migration, Covid 19 pandemic), rather than developing sustained inclusion policies.

Service delivery under this approach remains fragmented and project-based (projectisation). Migrant-related activities are largely confined to specific municipal departments, such as the KEM, without integration into the city’s broader services.

‘It’s like operating separately, as if it doesn’t affect us’         

HPEDSSD, 2023, interview, 23 January 

Municipal actions rely on externally funded, short-term projects, rather than systematic, city-wide strategies. Inclusion mechanisms, where they exist, are informal and lack legal safeguards or institutional permanence, leaving them vulnerable to political shifts. Moreover, access to services depends heavily on the capacity of NGOs.

Consulted but Not Heard: Civic Participation in Athens

…civil society organisations play a crucial role in delivering services to migrants, yet their participation in municipal planning or decision-making remains limited.

In Athens, civil society organisations play a crucial role in delivering services to migrants, yet their participation in municipal planning or decision-making remains limited[12]. NGOs are primarily treated as service providers rather than strategic partners. While initiatives such as the Athens Coordination Centre for Migrant and Refugee Issues (ACCMR) have helped create a bridge between the municipality and civil society, this engagement largely remains operational rather than political. NGOs contribute resources and expertise but are seldom included in shaping policies or long-term strategies. Their involvement is typically confined to the implementation of short-term, externally funded projects, leaving them structurally dependent on municipal leadership and vulnerable to political shifts.

Migrant voices are typically mediated through NGOs rather than directly represented, leaving communities structurally sidelined from decision-making. 

Migrant communities themselves are even further marginalised. Migrants’ political agency is constrained by the absence of voting rights in local elections, limiting their ability to influence municipal priorities. While migrant associations could help bridge this gap by representing community interests, they too are largely absent from municipal planning processes and decision-making spaces. Migrant voices are typically mediated through NGOs rather than directly represented, leaving communities structurally sidelined from decision-making. Despite the establishment of the MICs, intended as advisory bodies to represent migrant voices, their role is widely criticised. Their role and visibility depend heavily on the priorities of each municipal administration: some political leaderships engage them actively, others marginalise them, or ignore them altogether. Even when active, MICs function as purely advisory bodies without any formal decision-making power. Both municipal officials and civil society actors questioned their relevance and effectiveness, with many viewing them as symbolic structures that lack influence and a clear function within the municipal system.

[The municipality could] support the very communities themselves [but] there is no interaction at all; this, I believe, is the major issue-whether there is this participation or, in any case, collaboration at this level. Not just the kind of ‘ah we’re doing this, come and dance’ or ‘we’ll have a meeting, come join us to show that we have a black person in the group’. This thing becomes a bit…we are not a wandering circus to be displayed left and right. There needs to be a meaningful conversation at some point, and although this had started, along the way, it seems that it hasn’t [continued].”

GFM, 2022, interview, 13 October

Policy Recommendations

Based on the analysis, the following recommendations aim to support Athens in transitioning from reactive, fragmented responses to a stable, inclusive, and sustainable governance framework.

1. Strengthen Institutional Frameworks

• Establish legal mandates requiring municipalities to engage in migrant integration, with clearly defined responsibilities and multi-annual dedicated budgets to reduce project-based fragmentation.
• Formalise permanent municipal roles (e.g. Inclusion Officers) and integrate structures like the ACCMR into the city administration to ensure coordination across departments and policy continuity.
• Institutionalise and strengthen participatory structures such as the MIC, clearly mandating their role in municipal decision-making. Define their functions, ensure consistent operation across political administrations, and protect them from political shifts to guarantee stable, meaningful input from migrant communities. 

2. Enhance Local Autonomy and Capacity

• Advocate for increased municipal autonomy in areas critical to migrant inclusion, such as housing, social services, and community support.
• Pursue direct access to EU funding to reduce dependency on national government allocations and enhance financial stability. 

3. Develop and Mainstream an Inclusive City-wide Integration Strategy

• Create a comprehensive integration strategy with clear targets, evaluation mechanisms, and a focus on all migrant groups—not only asylum seekers and beneficiaries of protection, including undocumented and underdocumented immigrants.
• Transition from short-term, project-based interventions to multi-annual strategic planning for migrant inclusion.
• Develop integrated service hubs (similar to KEP) accessible to all residents, reducing administrative segregation and bureaucratic barriers.
• Provide intercultural training for municipal staff to improve understanding of migrant needs and enhance inclusive service delivery across departments.

 4. Foster Civic Participation and Community Engagement

• Engage civil society organisations and migrant communities as partners in co-designing the city’s integration strategy and local initiatives, moving beyond consultation towards shared decision-making.
• Facilitate community-driven initiatives by allocating municipal spaces directly to migrant communities for activities such as language classes, legal clinics, and cultural events.

 5. Promote Data-Driven Policy Making and Accountable Policy Making

• Establish regular data collection and analysis on migrant demographics, needs, and service access to inform evidence-based policies.
• Introduce regular independent evaluations of inclusion initiatives to monitor progress, ensure accountability, and guide continuous improvement.

Conclusions

Without institutional safeguards, the city’s capacity to serve its diverse population will remain unstable and vulnerable to political shifts.

Athens’ experience highlights both the potential and the limits of local migrant governance within a highly centralised state. The city lacks the institutional structures, financial autonomy, and legal responsibilities needed to develop consistent, long-term inclusion strategies. Migrants are treated largely as temporary visitors, with municipal responses focused on short-term needs rather than structural integration. Service delivery remains fragmented, project-based, and heavily dependent on political will. Civic participation mechanisms remain weak and largely symbolic, leaving migrant communities without a meaningful role in local policy-making. While progressive leadership enabled important initiatives, subsequent reversals exposed the fragility of Athens’ migrant inclusion efforts. Without institutional safeguards, the city’s capacity to serve its diverse population will remain unstable and vulnerable to political shifts. 

At the same time, Athens shows that local agency is possible—even within a centralised governance system—when political will exists. However, political will alone cannot substitute for structural reform. Relying on individual leadership risks reinforcing cycles of progress and regression. To move beyond reactive and fragmented responses, migrant inclusion must be embedded within stable municipal structures. Legal mandates, permanent municipal roles, dedicated funding, and strengthened participatory mechanisms are essential to protect inclusion policies from political turnover. Equally important is fostering meaningful collaboration with civil society and ensuring direct engagement with migrant communities themselves.

Athens’ experience offers valuable lessons for other European cities operating in similarly centralised systems, such as Ireland or Portugal: without embedded, institutionalised inclusion mechanisms, progress will remain fragile, and exclusion will persist.

 

[1] Maroukis, T., Iglicka, K. and Gmaj, K. (2011) ‘Irregular Migration and Informal Economy in Southern and Central- Eastern Europe: Breaking the Vicious Cycle?’. International Migration, 49(5); Triandafyllidou, A., (2014) ‘Greek migration policy in the 2010s: Europeanization tensions at a time of crisis’. Journal of European Integration, 36(4), pp.409-425; Kandylis, G. (2017) ‘Urban scenes of citizenship: inventing the possibility of immigrants’ citizenship in Athens’. Citizenship Studies, 21(4), pp. 468–482. doi: 10.1080/13621025.2017.1307606.

[2] UCLG and OECD (2016) ‘Country Report: Ireland Unitary Country’. Available at: http://www.uclg-localfinance.org/sites/default/files/IRELAND-EUROPE-V3.pdf  (Accessed: 23 February 2021).

[3] Ntaliou, S. (2025) ‘Politics of Governance or Governance of Politics? Exploring Migrant Policies in the City of Athens’. In H. Bauder & M. B. Setrana (eds), Urban Migrant Inclusion and Refugee Protection – Volume 2. IMISCOE Research Series. Springer.

[4] Ntaliou, S. (2025) ‘In the shadows: Dublin’s immigrant policies in the context of highly centralized governance’. Cities, 163, p.106057.

[5] Triandafyllidou, A. (2014). ‘Greek migration policy in the 2010s: Europeanization tensions at a time of crisis’. Journal of European Integration, 36(4), pp.409-425; Frangiskou, A. et al. (2020) ‘From reception to integration: migrant populations in Greece during and in the aftermath of the crisis’. National Centre for Social Research (EKKE).

[6] At the time of writing, 2021 census data disaggregated at the municipal level had not yet been published by the Hellenic Statistical Authority. Hellenic Statistical Authority (2011) ‘Migration Census 2011’. Available at: https://www.statistics.gr/en/statistics/-/publication/SAM07/ – (Accessed: 28 April 2021).

[7] Migration Integration Centres/Κέντρα Ένταξης Μεταναστών (ΚΕΜ). I use the Greek abbreviation ‘KEM’ instead of MIC to avoid confusion with the Migrants Integration Council (MIC). KEM were a national initiative of ‘One-stop Shops’ designed to provide a diverse range of services for migrants, including psychosocial support, career counselling, and language courses. ΚΕΜ serve as community hubs, with municipalities designated as implementing bodies and funded through the European Social Fund.

[8] Operating under the municipality’s jurisdiction, ACCMR coordinates services and facilitates immigrants’ incorporation with over 90 different civil society organisations.

[9] CNI, initiated by Athens and Thessaloniki, includes 17 municipalities nationwide, aiming to exchange best practices and collaborate on joint initiatives.

[10] Alexander, M. (2007) ‘Cities and labour immigration: comparing policy responses in Amsterdam, Paris, Rome and Tel Aviv’. Research in migration and ethnic relations series; Schiller, M. (2015) ‘Paradigmatic pragmatism and the politics of diversity’. Ethnic and Racial Studies, 38(7), pp. 1120–1136. doi: 10.1080/01419870.2014.992925.

[11] van Breugel, I. (2020) ‘Towards a typology of local migration diversity policies’. Comparative Migration Studies, 8(1). doi: 10.1186/s40878-020-00179-0.

[12] OECD. (2018). ‘Working together for local integration of migrants and refugees in Athens’.

Paris. https://doi.org/10.1787/9789264304116-en; Frangiskou, A., et al. (2020). ‘From reception to integration: Migrant populations in Greece during and in the aftermath of the crisis’. National Centre for Social Research (EKKE); Leivaditi, N., et al. (2020). ‘Working papers global migration: Consequences and responses integration policies, practices and experiences’. Greece country report, RESPOND working papers, global migration: Consequences and responses (#770564, Horizon2020) Report Series. University of the Aegean. Available at: www.respondmigration.com.

The publication “Europe’s Overlooked Allies: Why the Western Balkans Matter for EU Defence Readiness” is a result of ELIAMEP’s initiative think nea – New Narratives of EU Integration, supported by the Open Society Foundations – Western Balkans.

The following policy brief and factsheet were prepared in collaboration with the Friedrich-Ebert-Stiftung Dialogue Southeast Europe and they present the core findings and strategic recommendations of the full report. It is intended to provide the audience with a concise, accessible overview of the key insights and proposed actions.

The original thematic report authored by Dr. Ana Krstinovska (Research Fellow, South-East Europe Programme, ELIAMEP & Senior Researcher, think nea – New Narratives of EU Integration) and Dr. Alessandro Marrone (Head of “Defence, Security and Space” Programme, Istituto Affari Internazionali & Non-Resident Research Associate, think nea – New Narratives of EU Integration) explores the strategic importance of the Western Balkans in the context of the EU’s pursuit of strategic autonomy and enhanced defence readiness.It underscores the argument that Western Balkan countries—despite not yet being EU member states—have increasingly proven their value as security contributors and partners. This contribution is both timely and essential as the EU confronts the implications of the war in Ukraine and potential shifts in the transatlantic security relationship. At the EU level, recent initiatives, such as the 2024 European Defence Industrial Strategy (EDIS) and the 2025 White Paper on European Defence, aim to enhance collective readiness and industrial capability. Yet, the full potential of regional partnerships—particularly with the Western Balkan region—has not been fully realized, undercutting the ability to leverage and further develop their defence capabilities.

You can read the policy brief here.

You can read the factsheet here.

The full report is available here.

• Venezuela’s crisis has long been narrated through an opposition prism: crowds in the streets demanding democracy, negotiations or contested ballots. In 2025, the spotlight has shifted. The decisive question is not how hard Venezuelans push but what the United States is prepared to do, and why.

• A draft defence review proposes a major redeployment. Led by under‑secretary Elbridge Colby, it calls for concentrating military power on the homeland and the Americas. The plan envisages shifting forces away from Europe and the Indo‑Pacific and expanding air and naval operations along the southern U.S. border and throughout the Caribbean. It revives the logic of the Monroe Doctrine: prevent rival powers from embedding in Latin America.

• For the architects of Washington’s new Venezuela campaign, success will be judged less by what happens in Caracas than by how it plays in Washington DC or Florida. By measuring success in domestic terms, the United States may very well leave Venezuelans no closer to the democracy they seek.

• Washington’s handling of the Venezuelan crisis could be a preview of a wider strategic realignment. Colby’s “homeland first, hemisphere next” doctrine would pull military assets from the East and surge them into the Americas.

• Latin America’s response reflects both caution and fatigue. They will hedge: criticise the optics of U.S. gunboat diplomacy while quietly ignoring any weakening of the Maduro regime.

• The regime’s only remaining legitimacy is the loyalty of its security apparatus and the fear it can instill.

• The opposition, meanwhile, still holds the moral mandate. That legitimacy now carries even more weight after María Corina Machado was awarded the 2025 Nobel Peace Prize.

• Against that backdrop, four trajectories remain on the table for the crisis itself: 1) Ruling‑party managed transition; 2) Negotiated exit; 3) Forced removal; 4) Regime endurance.

• Venezuela’s impasse is fast becoming a proving ground for Washington’s “America first” doctrine and a primary focus on the Western Hemisphere in their foreign policy in decades.

• The backdrop is a country with its people exhausted, and its institutions hollowed out so internally in Venezuela very little should be expected. A purely theatrical strike may consolidate the status quo rather than topple it. If the United States genuinely wants systemic change, it will need more than sinking boats and slogans, it will need a strategy that endures beyond the next news cycle. Whether that is what President Trump actually seeks remains an open question.

Read here in pdf the Policy brief by Eduardo Massieu Paredes, Executive-in-residence Fellow, Geneva Centre for Security Policy.

VENEZUELA’S CRISIS HAS LONG BEEN NARRATED THROUGH AN OPPOSITION PRISM: crowds in the streets demanding democracy, negotiations or contested ballots. In 2025, the spotlight has shifted. The decisive question is not how hard Venezuelans push but what the United States is prepared to do, and why. The United States deployed a naval buildup that includes more than 10 ships, including amphibious assault ships, a nuclear‑powered submarine, a special operations ship and an aircraft carrier, unprecedented to the Caribbean. For all that, the Venezuelan portfolio does not solely sit in the Pentagon or the State Department: Stephen Miller, the president’s homeland security adviser, has also taken a leading role in deciding which vessels to target. U.S. forces have so far destroyed sixteen suspected drug‑smuggling boats in international waters. This intervention could underscore a new viewpoint: is this campaign choreographed for a U.S. audience? Furthermore, how far are they willing to go?

A Don-Roe Doctrine?

Two forces shape the Caribbean stand‑off. First is a policy shift. President Donald Trump returned to office on an agenda that places national security, economic strength and sovereignty ahead of traditional diplomacy. Marco Rubio, the new secretary of state and the first Hispanic to hold the job, has been tasked with turning that creed into policy. The State Department’s first hundred‑day report notes that foreign‑aid programs were cut and visa rules tightened to ensure U.S. dollars serve “America First” priorities. It also touts persuading Panama and other Central American countries to reduce cooperation with China’s Belt and Road infrastructure plans. The message is clear: the Western Hemisphere is once again Washington’s sphere of influence.

The plan envisages shifting forces away from Europe and the Indo‑Pacific and expanding air and naval operations along the southern U.S. border and throughout the Caribbean.

Second, a draft defence review proposes a major redeployment. Led by under‑secretary Elbridge Colby, it calls for concentrating military power on the homeland and the Americas. The plan envisages shifting forces away from Europe and the Indo‑Pacific and expanding air and naval operations along the southern U.S. border and throughout the Caribbean. It revives the logic of the Monroe Doctrine: prevent rival powers from embedding in Latin America. In this view, Venezuela is not simply a faltering dictatorship but a potential beachhead for Iranian or Russian influence; deterrence must be visible and follow in line with this administration’s motto of ‘peace through strength’.

Always Victory at Home 

For the architects of Washington’s new Venezuela campaign, success will be judged less by what happens in Caracas than by how it plays in Washington DC or Florida. The White House homeland‑security adviser, Stephen Miller, chairs a reworked council that picks targets and sometimes sidelines the State Department. He has reportedly described the government in Caracas as a cartel—language calibrated for a domestic audience that wants to see criminals punished. War Secretary Pete Hegseth told marines aboard the USS Iwo Jima that their deployment is not a drill but a real‑world mission to “end the poisoning of Americans,” casting it as a crusade that keeps citizens safe. The presence of these two figures, alongside Secretary of State Marco Rubio, underscores how closely the ‘MAGA’ operation aligns with familiar Republican hawkishness: tough on security, unilateral when necessary, and keenly aware of how it plays in the electoral map.

Mr Rubio’s involvement also reflects personal and political ties. As Florida’s former senator he cultivated deep relationships with Venezuela’s opposition; he once called María Corina Machado, the most recent Nobel Peace Prize Laureate, the “Iron Lady” of her country and published an op‑ed praising her courage. He knows that Venezuelan‑American and Cuban‑American voters are pivotal in his home state, and he is not alone in seeing the Caribbean as fertile ground for political capital. For all three men, pressing a regime they see on the ropes may look like a low‑hanging fruit: a way to showcase toughness, score points with a conservative base and, perhaps, advance their own ambitions.

The question is whether this chase for a domestic victory will actually change anything inside Venezuela. By measuring success in domestic terms, the United States may very well leave Venezuelans no closer to the democracy they seek.

In this view, Caracas is both a proxy and an opportunity: neutralise a hostile regime, demonstrate that Washington will police its neighbourhood and send a message to US’ voters that the administration is protecting the homeland. The question is whether this chase for a domestic victory will actually change anything inside Venezuela. By measuring success in domestic terms, the United States may very well leave Venezuelans no closer to the democracy they seek.

What can Europe learn from the Caribbean 

Washington’s handling of the Venezuelan crisis could be a preview of a wider strategic realignment.

Washington’s handling of the Venezuelan crisis could be a preview of a wider strategic realignment. Colby’s “homeland first, hemisphere next” doctrine would pull military assets from the East and surge them into the Americas. In practical terms, that would mean fewer ships and aircraft watching the South China Sea or the Baltic Sea, and more watching the Caribbean and the southern border. For instance, the U.S. Navy’s most powerful aircraft carrier, USS Gerald R. Ford, and its strike group departed from Croatia and are heading to the Caribbean for a new deployment. Latin America becomes the arena where America wants to prove it can still dominate without alliances, while Europe and Asia get pushed down the priority list.

This administration also seems to be resuscitating the Reagan-Bush discourse of the “war on drugs”. Four lethal U.S. strikes against drug boats in the Caribbean are being justified as part of a “non‑international armed conflict” with terrorist cartels. In other words, this administration sees little threats in a geopolitical context of democracy vs. autocracy as well as no need to consult international allies or Congress. Domestic optics—especially playing to voters who want a hard line on drugs and immigration—seem to matter more than European approval or Asian deterrence. The Venezuelan case suggests that, for the foreseeable future, U.S. security decisions may be shaped less by global consensus and more by domestic calculations with a Monroe‑style sphere of influence twist. 

Reaction from the Neighbourhood

Latin America’s response reflects both caution and fatigue. Brazil’s President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva described the U.S. naval buildup as a source of tension and warned it could threaten regional peace. He noted that Washington’s drug‑trafficking accusations lacked evidence and that the lethal strike on a boat was likely illegal. The comment signals the delicate position of governments that distrust Mr Maduro but also remember past US interventions contemptuously. In Mexico City, Mr Rubio faced questions about sovereignty even as he promised deeper cooperation with President Claudia Sheinbaum. Mexico and Brazil may oppose an ‘invasion’ but are unlikely to expend political capital defending Caracas. They will hedge: criticise the optics of U.S. gunboat diplomacy while quietly ignoring any weakening of the Maduro regime.

As Venezuela’s largest neighbour and leading diplomatic power in South America, Brazil is deeply concerned that a forced collapse of the Maduro regime would trigger mass migration to its northern frontier, regional militarisation, and paramilitary spillover.

As Venezuela’s largest neighbour and leading diplomatic power in South America, Brazil is deeply concerned that a forced collapse of the Maduro regime would trigger mass migration to its northern frontier, regional militarisation, and paramilitary spillover. This pushes Brazil to continue favoring a negotiated scenario, yet Brazil’s influence has proven limited in the past. The opposition pointed to how it could not secure safe passage for dissidents under its protection in Caracas, and how little diplomatic pressure any international actor can put on Maduro. Brazil will continue to signal to the US against any form of intervention, will quietly promote talks, and essentially seek stability on its border regardless of the fate of Mr. Maduro.

Legitimacy at a Nadir

All this is happening while Mr Maduro’s own standing is at its lowest. International observers and independent tallies agree that opposition candidate Edmundo González Urrutia won the 2024 presidential vote, only for the regime to rewrite the results. Even some of Mr Maduro’s traditional allies in the region—like Brazil and Colombia—acknowledged doubts about the election’s legitimacy and declined to recognise his new mandate. The regime’s only remaining legitimacy is the loyalty of its security apparatus and the fear it can instill.

Yet that loyalty is brittle. Years of purges and politicisation have left the armed forces fractured. This fragmentation has done two things at once: it has prevented a coup—no faction is strong enough to depose Mr Maduro—yet it also means that if he falls, no coherent military bloc is likely to topple his successor.

As U.S. warships drew closer in September, he ordered the Bolivarian National Militia—a civilian force attached to the armed forces— instead of the Army to prepare to “defend the homeland.” In other words, the state’s coercive power rests as much on politicised volunteers as on the regular army—a sign of weakness rather than strength.

Years of dictatorship have also depoliticised society. Under the weight of hyperinflation and collapsing services, many Venezuelans have turned away from ideological debate; politics is secondary to hunger and survival. This makes Mr Maduro’s appeals to defend the homeland against imperialism ring hollow for large swathes of the population. A militarised mobilisation might energise loyalists who benefit from the status quo, but it does not convince those who are simply trying to feed their families. The contrast is stark: on one side, an ageing elite clinging to power; on the other, a society more concerned with the price of food than with slogans about sovereignty.

The opposition, meanwhile, still holds the moral mandate. That legitimacy now carries even more weight after María Corina Machado was awarded the 2025 Nobel Peace Prize.

The opposition, meanwhile, still holds the moral mandate. That legitimacy now carries even more weight after María Corina Machado was awarded the 2025 Nobel Peace Prize. It is a powerful endorsement at home and abroad, yet the opposition has not been able to translate its moral authority into decisive action. With prominent leaders jailed, exiled or underground, Machado is the only widely recognised voice, operating from the shadows yet carrying a broad popular mandate. Her ally Edmundo González, widely regarded as the true winner of the 2024 election, speaks from abroad; together they embody a legitimacy that the regime lacks, though they cannot convert it into power while the armed forces remain fragmented and society is exhausted by poverty and persecution. That credibility matters in a post‑Maduro scenario: there is a leader to hand the reins to, even if the day‑to‑day structures of the state are in disarray. But the longer the standoff drags on, the more the opposition risks becoming symbolic rather than operational. The stalemate endures partly because everyone is too weak to break it.

Scenarios Beyond the Headlines

In Washington, the priority is a win that plays at home. The administration shows little interest in adjudicating who governs in Caracas; all signals suggest Mr. Trump’s instinct is to avoid classic “regime change” so much so that the President failed to mention Maduro or Machado by name when he talked about his phone call with the Nobel Peace Prize winner. Is this enough to hypothesize that the US administration could land on a middle course, declare victory over “the cartels” for a domestic audience while steering clear of Venezuela’s internal power struggle. Against that backdrop, four trajectories remain on the table for the crisis itself:

1. Ruling‑party managed transition: The president may be replaced by senior figures within the ruling socialist party (for example Vice President Delcy Rodríguez). This would keep the regime’s structures intact but remove its most toxic symbol. International actors might accept this as progress; the democratic opposition would reject this option and would look to access power through a rebellion.
2. Negotiated exit: Mr. Maduro, under intense international pressure and perhaps fearing arrest or death, could bargain for safe passage abroad, trading his exit for guarantees on his life and property. Such a deal would leave a power vacuum and require a caretaker government with some form of support from the military until fresh elections, which would likely be won by Mrs. Machado.
3. Forced removal – An internal coup, mass uprising or foreign‑backed intervention could topple Mr Maduro. A new leadership, most likely stemming from the current opposition or unexpected military leaders would need rapid international support to prevent chaos and respond to the collapse of public services. Without a plan, local militias could fracture into insurgent groups with a very weak government on the ground.
4. Regime endurance – Mr. Maduro could survive the pressure as he did before, thanks to repression, inertia and a paralyzed opposition. The government would become more repressive and insular; hopes for a negotiated transition would fade, and the world would look away.

Will Optics Trump Outcomes? 

If the United States genuinely wants systemic change, it will need more than sinking boats and slogans, it will need a strategy that endures beyond the next news cycle.

Venezuela’s impasse is fast becoming a proving ground for Washington’s “America first” doctrine and a primary focus on the Western Hemisphere in their foreign policy in decades. To some in this administration, reviving Monroe‑era language, sinking a few boats, slap the label of “narco‑terrorism” on an adversary, and declaring a mission accomplished to voters in Florida will be a win. To others, victory is only possible if the US collects Maduro’s bounty, but there we will be entering into unknown territory, territory which could make President Trump uncomfortable. In addition, the backdrop is a country with its people exhausted, and its institutions hollowed out so internally in Venezuela very little should be expected. A purely theatrical strike may consolidate the status quo rather than topple it. If the United States genuinely wants systemic change, it will need more than sinking boats and slogans, it will need a strategy that endures beyond the next news cycle. Whether that is what President Trump actually seeks remains an open question.

 

The thematic report “Raw Materials for a Resilient Europe: The EU’s Strategic Partnership with the Western Balkans” is a result of ELIAMEP’s initiative think nea – New Narratives of EU Integration, supported by the Open Society Foundations – Western Balkans. 

The initiative contributes to reimagining the EU’s engagement with the Western Balkans, as well as the region’s attractiveness for the EU in order to ensure a resilient EU integration strategy and ever-closer integration with a full membership perspective in mind.

This thematic report authored by Dr. Ana Krstinovska (Research Fellow, South-East Europe Programme, ELIAMEP & Senior Researcher, think nea – New Narratives of EU Integration) and Dr. André Wolf (Non-Resident Reseach Associate, think nea – New Narratives of EU Integration & Head of Division, CEP Berlin) examines the strategic potential of the Western Balkans in the context of the EU’s efforts to secure critical and strategic raw materials essential for its competitiveness, green transition, and defence readiness. It argues that the region which is geographically proximate, economically interlinked with the EU, and engaged in the accession process, represents a crucial yet underutilized partner in strengthening Europe’s strategic autonomy and industrial resilience.

EXECUTIVE SUMMARY

The EU’s Critical Raw Materials Act (CRMA), adopted in 2024, highlights the strategic importance of securing reliable and diversified access to critical and strategic raw materials

(CRMs/SRMs) essential for Europe’s competitiveness, green transition, and defence capabilities. As global supply chains are increasingly subject to geopolitical pressures, the Western Balkans offer a unique opportunity for the EU. The region is geographically close, economically intertwined with the EU, formally engaged in the accession process, and endowed with significant reserves of copper, aluminium (bauxite), nickel, antimony, lithium, and rare earth elements.

Despite this potential, the Western Balkan’s contribution to European raw materials security remains underdeveloped. A recurring pattern emerges across countries: raw ores and concentrates flow mostly to China, while processed or semi-processed goods are exported to the EU. Serbia exports most of its copper ores to China, while processed copper is split between the EU and Chinese buyers. Montenegro ships bauxite largely to China, but aluminium articles to the EU. Albania exports raw copper to China but processed copper to the EU. In North Macedonia, domestic processing of bauxite has relied heavily on Chinese inputs. This structure secures greater value for China in the global supply chain, while constraining the EU’s strategic autonomy. 

At the same time, the Western Balkans capture limited economic value from their resources. Processing, recycling, and advanced technology investments remain underdeveloped. Outdated geological data, obsolete technologies, weak governance frameworks, and fragile investment climates further constrain efforts to move up the value chain. The lack of regional integration compounds these problems: national strategies often duplicate efforts rather than complement them, leading to inefficiency and missed economies of scale. 

Mining and extraction are politically sensitive and socially contested across the region. The legacy of polluting industries, opaque privatization, and unresolved environmental “hotspots” has fuelled public distrust and citizen mobilization. Serbia’s Jadar lithium project, suspended in 2022 following widespread protests but recently revived, is emblematic of the risks of pursuing extractive partnerships without transparent governance and robust safeguards. 

In Bosnia and Herzegovina, local opposition has slowed or blocked several projects in lithium and magnesium. In North Macedonia, civic mobilization successfully halted the Ilovica-Štuka gold-copper project. These cases underscore that raw material development is not only a technical or economic challenge; it also requires political legitimacy and social trust.

Weak rule of law and institutional capacity further aggravates these risks. Geological data often dates back to the 1970s–1980s, permitting processes are fragmented and slow, inspection services lack resources, and corruption remains pervasive. Governance deficiencies drive up costs for investors, fuel social opposition, and undermine the credibility of governments. Without visible guarantees that mining will meet the highest environmental, social, and governance (ESG) standards, even economically viable projects risk becoming politically toxic and socially unsustainable. 

The Western Balkans’ raw materials potential should not be treated as isolated national resources, but instead as part of Europe’s broader industrial ecosystem. The EU has already launched instruments such as the Single Market Highway and the Reform and Growth Facility, and Western Balkan partners have access to Horizon Europe. These can serve as platforms for joint projects, standards alignment, and technology transfer. Embedding raw materials cooperation into the enlargement framework, including through Chapter 20 (Industrial Policy), Chapter 27 (Environment), and the Fundamentals cluster, can reinforce EU credibility while incentivizing reforms. 

Regional cooperation is equally critical. Restoring value chains that once spanned the former Yugoslavia, covering exploration, smelting, refining, and processing, would generate economies of scale and reduce inefficiencies. EU-led processes such as the Berlin Process can serve as vehicles for fostering such cross-border integration. This report proposes five overarching policy priorities:

1. Value-chain upgrading: Invest in processing, recycling, and innovation capacities so the region exports higher-value goods to the EU instead of raw ores to China. Prioritize aluminium and copper as pilot sectors.

2. Embed partnerships in accession conditionality: Link EU financial support and market access to verifiable implementation of EU environmental, labour, and governance standards, ensuring public trust and the participation of affected communities.

3. Strengthen governance capacity: Modernize geological surveys, streamline permitting systems, consolidate fragmented concessions, and enhance inspection and enforcement to guarantee compliance with ESG safeguards.

4. Promote regional integration: Use the Single Market Highway and the Berlin Process to coordinate standards, infrastructure, and joint investments across the Western Balkans, restoring regional supply chains.

5. Mobilize the European private sector: Deploy EU financial instruments and risk-sharing mechanisms to encourage the greater involvement of European firms, fostering joint ventures that combine EU technology and capital with local resources.

By pursuing this agenda, the EU can simultaneously strengthen its strategic autonomy and support sustainable economic development in the Western Balkans. For the region, the path forward lies not in exporting raw ores but in developing modern, EU-aligned value chains that create jobs, generate revenues, and build public trust. For the EU, engaging early and systematically is the best way to prevent critical assets from reinforcing the influence of rival powers, while accelerating the accession process and securing the raw materials needed for

Europe’s future. By aligning raw materials cooperation with the EU’s enlargement policy, the Union and the Western Balkans can transform shared resources into shared prosperity—building a sustainable, competitive, and strategically autonomous Europe that includes the Western Balkans as equal partners.

You can read the full report here.

This paper presents the dynamically evolving web of military agreements among EU member-states concluded by EU member-states outside the EU framework, identifying two distinct categories of such agreements: a) defence partnerships/agreements, which contain explicit mutual defence clauses, and b) defence industrial or operational cooperation schemes, focusing primarily on capability development, joint military structures or operational readiness. After briefly outlining why such agreements remain relevant and necessary in today’s security environment, the paper develops four future scenarios for EU defence cooperation:

• Scenario 1: An archipelago of alliances, characterised by fragmentation and the presence of ad-hoc alliances between EU member-states (and possibly like-minded third countries), where national governments take the lead.
• Scenario 2: A pragmatic adaptation to diversity, with the emergence of defence clusters, within the EU political and institutional framework, based on existing bilateral and plurilateral agreements, where national governments retain control.
• Scenario 3: A Brussels nexus, where Europe progresses towards defence integration through layering and developing a defence mosaic, which gradually unites under an EU umbrella, fostering a more coordinated network of partnerships led by both the European Commission and national governments.
• Scenario 4: An EU common defence, entailing full operationalisation of Article 42.7 TEU and the EU upgrade as a security provider.

The paper concludes with a set of policy recommendations, tailored to each potential trajectory.

To move from Scenario 1 to Scenario 2:

• Foster regional defence clusters for niche capabilities

To transition from Scenarios 1 and 2 to Scenario 3:

• Create a European Defence Agreements Register
• Invest in Defence Projects of Common Interest
• Render bilateral/plurilateral agreements compatible with Article 42.7 TEU

To advance toward Scenario 4:

• Operationalise Article 42.7 TEU

Read here in pdf the Policy paper by Spyros Blavoukos, Professor at the Athens University of Economics & Business; Head of ELIAMEP’s EU Institutions & Policies Programme and Panos Politis Lamprou, Research Fellow, ELIAMEP.

Introduction 

Military agreements represent the most tangible expression of security and defence cooperation. They translate (or transform) shared intent and objectives into structured and potentially legally binding commitments. In simpler terms, they embody trust, mutual benefit, and common concerns or threats. The coalitions of the willing on Ukraine indicate such common perceptions and stance, demonstrating some EU member-states’ willingness to mobilise beyond the existing Union’s cooperation schemes (e.g., the Common Security and Defence Policy missions and operations). They reveal that security and defence cooperation (even on the ground) is no longer optional, showing Europe’s strategic commitments as well as the political geography of European security. Nonetheless, the expanding landscape of treaties, pacts and memoranda also carries a paradox: the more these agreements multiply, the more complex and challenging coordination becomes. Thus, security and defence cooperation outside the EU framework consists of a dense web of interconnected elements, which are indirectly linked but lack a single central command and well-defined objectives. 

This paper analyses the dense and complex landscape of military agreements concluded by EU member-states outside the EU framework. Hence, it deliberately excludes EU-level instruments, tools, and policies, such as the CSDP military missions and operations[1], the Permanent Structured Cooperation on Defence (PESCO)[2], the European Defence Fund (EDF)[3], the European Peace Facility (EPF)[4], or Military Mobility-related initiatives[5], as these are either treaty-based or closely linked to EU foreign policy actions. We also consciously leave aside schemes of cooperation established within or in the context of regional security organisations, like NATO and the OSCE.[6] Our focus remains on intergovernmental, bilateral or plurilateral, agreements in which national governments retain ownership of their (binding) commitments and political decisions, outside such institutional frameworks.

Our objective is to evaluate whether and how these agreements can contribute to a more coherent and credible EU defence. Drawing on our previous related work, this updated and expanded version posits that the proliferation of different types of agreements reflects both the EU’s cooperative instinct and its fragmentation. In particular, EU member-states have signed a multitude of military agreements, each reflecting specific political imperatives or regional security logics. The result is a dense web of cooperation frameworks that coexist, overlap and sometimes compete. To make sense of this complex reality, our analytical approach distinguishes between two kinds of military agreements, which differ in the level and depth of commitments undertaken by the signatories. In that respect, we identify:

1. Defence partnerships/agreements, which contain explicit mutual assistance and/or defence clauses, and
2. Defence industrial or operational cooperation schemes, which focus primarily on capability development, joint military structures or operational readiness.

The paper is organised into five chapters. The first introduces the conceptual and theoretical background, explaining why the EU’s liberal foundations and the member-states’ willingness to retain national sovereignty make such agreements possible and desirable. The second outlines the various types of agreements, categorised into two main groups. The third chapter explains why military agreements concluded by EU member-states outside the EU framework are necessary, considering the existing multifaceted constraints. The fourth chapter develops scenarios for the future of EU defence cooperation, based on the dense network of existing agreements. The fifth chapter offers policy recommendations aimed at improving the Union’s defence, coherence, and strategic autonomy. 

Liberalism and the persisting need for military agreements

For over seven decades, the European integration process has been guided by the liberal conviction that cooperation is both rational and necessary. Based on the liberal understanding, democracy and (economic) interdependence diminish the incentive for conflict. Understanding why EU member-states choose to cooperate, even in sensitive areas such as defence and outside the official framework of the Union, requires grounding this behaviour in the liberal school of thought of international relations, which emphasises interdependence, international law and shared values as foundations of peace.

Modern liberal theory mainly stems from three principal strands. The first, associated with John Locke, lies in the belief that individuals possess inalienable rights to life, liberty and property, and that states, as collective persons, inherit these rights in the form of political interdependence and territorial integrity. The second, developed by Adam Smith, Baron de Montesquieu and Joseph Schumpeter, articulates commercial liberalism, leading to liberal pacifism. The third, promoted by Immanuel Kant and Giuseppe Mazzini, advances a republican liberalism, which links democratic governance to international peace.

Doyle (1997) reformulated Kant’s ideas into the theory of a “separate peace” among liberal democracies: liberal states, constrained by representative institutions and guided by respect for rights, are peaceful with each other, though they may be in tension with non-liberal regimes. This assumption was first tested by Babst (1972), who evaluated Wright’s (1965) list of all major wars fought since 1500. His study indicated that “the existence of independent nations with elective governments greatly increases the chances for the maintenance of peace”. As classical liberals (e.g., Kant, Mazzini and Jeremy Bentham) anticipated, democratic institutions and greater interdependence would reduce uncertainty and increase predictability, thereby encouraging cooperation and international peace. Furthermore, based on Kant’s book “Perpetual Peace” and his definitive articles, Doyle (2006) explains that Kant “appears to have in mind a mutual nonaggression pact, perhaps a collective security agreement”.

When Kant’s triangle of peace is applied to the European project, one may understand why the Union’s evolution from an economic community to a political and security actor has been gradual yet persistent. Ikenberry (2001) underlines that in its most advanced manifestation, the international order includes an exercise of state power that is constrained and regulated by a framework of rules and institutions, and that states choose to participate in it motivated by self-interest, willingly exercising self-restraint. The EU epitomises this dynamic as it constitutes both a product and a guarantor of liberal internationalism. However, liberals often exhibit realist-like scepticism about the feasibility of fully surrendering national sovereignty, thus recognising the limitations of cooperation.

Considering the aforementioned, alongside the deteriorating geopolitical environment and the fragility of the international order, the proliferation of military agreements can be understood as a pragmatic expression of Europe’s liberal logic of cooperation, reconciled with the reality of state sovereignty. The EU’s defence architecture and its Treaties reveal a persistent reluctance among member-states to transfer full authority over defence policy to supranational institutions. The field of defence, which is deeply integrated into national identity, remains the ultimate bastion of sovereignty. Military agreements concluded by EU member-states outside the EU framework act as bridging instruments between the liberal aspiration for collective security and the member-states’ imperative to retain authority over the use of their armed forces.

This bridging is ever more relevant, considering the fragility of today’s international order becomes evident. The current strategic environment is characterised by aggression, hybridity, and great-power competition. Specifically, although Russia’s illegal annexation of Crimea in 2014 did not challenge the long-held assumption of enduring peace in Europe, the Russian invasion of Ukraine in 2022 did. It brought war and hostility back as methods of statecraft, exposing Europe’s vulnerabilities. Moreover, hybrid threats (including, but not limited to, cyber-attacks, threats and sabotage against critical infrastructure and disinformation campaigns) have blurred the lines between peace and war. As German Chancellor Friedrich Merz stated in September 2025, “we are not at war, but we are no longer at peace either”. On the international stage, the EU finds itself navigating a shifting geopolitical landscape. This is exemplified by the United States’ (US) shift of focus towards the homeland and the Western Hemisphere, prompting Europe to reassess its long-held reliance on the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation (NATO).

In this context, the warning expressed in August 2025 by the former Chief of the Defence Staff of France, General Thierry Burkhard, that “a weakened Europe may find itself tomorrow as a hunted animal” captures the sense of urgency. A united Europe that fails to coordinate its defence risks becoming a prey to its predators. To avoid such a devastating fate, Europe must confront the structural weaknesses that have long undermined its capacity for collective action. The EU continues to face persistent defence (capabilities) gaps, given the years-long military underspending and intra-EU legal and political constraints. Concerning readiness, the European (national) armed forces remain unevenly equipped and trained with disparities in deployable capabilities. At the same time, they continue to rely heavily on the US and NATO for specific high-end strategic enablers, further perplexing the complex EU-NATO relationship. Interoperability also remains limited, with different weapon systems and military doctrines often making joint action cumbersome at best.

These challenges in delivering the public good of security at the EU level are not technical. They are, in principle, political. They reflect divergent threat perceptions and strategic cultures across the Union. For some member-states, defence means strengthening (or sustaining in life) NATO. For others, it also includes deepening EU defence integration. This divergence has led to a proliferation of security and defence agreements, all reflecting different understandings of what European security (should) looks like. We are discussing these agreements in the following section.

Typology of military agreements: methodology and characteristics

Methodological approach and visualisation

Our categorisation of bilateral and plurilateral agreements concluded by EU member-states outside the EU framework in this paper is based solely on publicly available sources, including official treaty texts, national government press releases and other relevant documents. The visualisation of these agreements depicts the density of interactions and interconnections between member-states. For reasons of readability, when a stronger link already exists (e.g., a treaty with a mutual assistance or defence clause, which is shown in red), secondary agreements (e.g., defence industrial agreements) between the same states are excluded. The list is non-exhaustive and constitutes the product of a dynamic classification process, constantly monitored and updated.[7]

Figure I: Map of military agreements concluded by EU member-states outside the EU framework (interactive version)

Created with flourish.studio.

 

Figure II: Network graph with military agreements concluded by EU member-states outside the EU framework  (interactive version)

Created with flourish.studio.

Partnerships with defence/mutual assistance clause

 

Table I: Partnerships/agreements with defence/mutual assistance clause Treaty Name Party A Party B Year Mutual defence
clause Reference to EU mutual assistance clause – 42.7 TEU Reference to NATO collective defence clause – Article 5 Washington Treaty Treaty of Aachen France Germany 2019 Article 4.1 Article 4.1 Article 4.1 Strategic Partnership Agreement France Greece 2021 Article 2 Preamble Preamble Quirinal Treaty France Italy 2021 Article 2.1 Article 2.1 Article 2.1 Friendship Treaty France Spain 2023 Article 9 Article 9.2 Article 9.2 Treaty of Nancy France Poland 2025 Article 4.2 Article 4.2 Article 4.2

 

The first category includes the most formalised and politically significant layer of military cooperation in Europe. These are bilateral treaties that contain explicit references to mutual defence, assistance or solidarity clauses, usually framed around deterrence and shared threat perception. The dataset identifies five such key partnerships/agreements currently in force among EU member-states. These include the Franco-German Treaty of Aachen (2019), the Franco-Greek Defence Agreement (2021), the Franco-Italian Quirinal Treaty (2021), the Franco-Spanish Friendship Treaty (2023), and the Franco-Polish Treaty of Nancy (2025). Each contains clauses referring to mutual assistance in the event of an armed attack by a third country.

Defence industrial cooperation and operational cooperation schemes

Table II: Defence industrial cooperation and operational cooperation schemes Scheme Name Party A Party B Other Parties Year EUROCORPS France Germany Belgium, Luxembourg, Poland, Spain 1992 EUROMARFOR France Italy Portugal, Spain 1995 German/Netherlands Corps (1GNC) Germany Netherlands 1995 BeNeSam Belgium Netherlands 1996 Organisation for Joint Armament Co-operation Belgium France Germany, Italy, Spain, Finland, Lithuania, Netherlands, Poland, Sweden, Luxembourg, Greece 1998 Baltic Defence College (BALTDEFCOL) Estonia Latvia Lithuania 1999 Multinational Engineer Battalion “Tisa” Hungary Romania Slovakia, Ukraine 2002 5+5 Defense Initiative France Italy Spain, Malta, Portugal + Algeria, Libya, Mauritania, Morocco and Tunisia 2004 Movement Coordination Centre Europe (MCCE) Austria Belgium, Canada, Croatia, the Czech Republic, Denmark, Estonia, Finland, France, Germany, Hungary, Italy, Latvia, Lithuania, Luxembourg, Netherlands, Norway, Poland, Portugal, Romania, Slovakia, Slovenia, Spain, Sweden, Turkey, United States, United Kingdom 2007 NORDFECO Finland Sweden Denmark, Norway, Iceland 2009 Central European Defence Cooperation Austria Czech Republic Croatia, Hungary, Slovakia, Slovenia 2010 European Air Transport Command (EATC) France Germany Belgium, Italy, Luxembourg, Netherlands, Spain 2010 BeNeLux Air Defence Belgium Netherlands Luxembourg 2015 Dutch–German Air and Missile Defence Task Force (D/GE A&MD TF) Germany Netherlands 2016 European Intervention Initiative (EII) France Belgium Estonia, Denmark, Finland, Germany, Italy, Netherlands, Norway, Portugal, Spain, UK, Sweden 2018 Motorized Capacity (CaMo) Belgium France 2018 Belgium-Luxembourg Binational Air Transport Unit Belgium Luxembourg 2020 Lublin Triangle Lithuania Ukraine Poland 2020 Quadripartite Initiative — QUAD France Cyprus Greece, Italy 2020 European Sky Shield Initiative (ESSI) Germany UK Austria, Belgium, Bulgaria, Czechia, Denmark, Estonia, Finland, Greece, Hungary, Latvia, Lithuania, Netherlands, Poland Romania, Slovakia, Slovenia, Sweden, Portugal 2022 Nordic Air Force Cooperation Denmark Finland Norway, Sweden 2023 Belgian-Luxembourg
reconnaissance
battalion Belgium Luxembourg 2023 Weimar+ France Germany Poland, Italy, Spain, United Kingdom, Ukraine 2025

 

If collective defence treaties represent Europe’s political spine, industrial and operational cooperation schemes form its muscle and nervous system. These frameworks focus less on legal guarantees and more on capability development, joint military and command structures and interoperability. They bring substance to political commitments without, however, going the extra mile of providing explicit security guarantees. This category encompasses a wide variety of initiatives, some of which have multinational command structures and pools of shared personnel and/or resources. Others are more narrowly defined, focusing on specific capability domains, operational functions or vague commitments.

Key insights

France clearly stands out and naturally emerges as the central node of the bilateral military agreements with a defence clause, functioning as a strategic anchor. Its bilateral treaties combine political symbolism with operational cooperation, reaffirming Paris’ long-standing role as the EU’s key defence player.

These bilateral defence treaties are more than mere legal agreements; they often serve for the EU defence as strategic multipliers, enhancing the credibility and operational capabilities of the EU’s collective mutual assistance clause under Article 42.7 of the Treaty on European Union (TEU). In reality, they embody political will in action. The Franco-Greek agreement, for instance, is a clear expression of solidarity, complementing and supporting Article 42.7. The same principle applies to NATO’s Article 5, whose activation is not automatic, as it requires a unanimous political decision within the North Atlantic Council. In the case of Greece, the defence agreement also provides an additional layer of protection against Türkiye.

Box I: A French nuclear umbrella for European states? As doubts grow about the reliability of the US commitment to the security of the Old Continent, the idea of the French President, Emmanuel Macron, to extend France’s nuclear deterrent to other European states has gained attention. Nevertheless, serious obstacles remain. In the aforementioned agreements, France has not committed to expanding its nuclear deterrence to any of its partners. There are two main reasons for this. First, expanding the nuclear umbrella would strain France’s budget, which is already under pressure. Any decision to extend coverage to multiple member-states would require substantial additional investments (e.g., in delivery systems or in C2 platforms), even if a cost-sharing mechanism was in place, which is not. Second, French strategic culture is deeply rooted in nuclear independence. Extending the nuclear deterrent umbrella could imply either delegation or shared competence over nuclear use, and this constitutes a red line for the overwhelming majority of political forces in France.

The second category of agreements concerns operational cooperation and defence industrial collaboration, encompassing a wide range of institutional, bilateral, minilateral and plurilateral arrangements that enhance Europe’s military interoperability, capability development and readiness. In contrast to collective defence treaties, which focus on security commitments, these frameworks primarily aim to develop and partially manage quasi-shared capabilities, coordinate operations and strengthen transnational defence-industrial cooperation.

A key example of operational cooperation is EUROCORPS, a multinational headquarters established in 1992. It provides a standing multinational command structure capable of planning and leading EU and NATO operations. Until present, EUROCORPS’ structures have been used for 8 missions abroad and 5 alert duties. It often serves as the Force Headquarters for EU Battlegroups. It does not constitute a permanent combat unit but a deployable high-readiness headquarters capable of commanding forces up to corps level.

Industrial cooperation mechanisms also form an integral part of this category. For instance, the Organisation Conjointe de Coopération en matière d’Armement (OCCAR), which was signed in 1998 and entered into force in 2001, aims to increase armaments cooperation, improve efficiency and reduce costs. As stated in its convention, OCCAR “shall coordinate, control and implement those armament programmes that are assigned to it by Member States and coordinate and promote joint activities for the future, thereby improving the effectiveness of project management in collaborative projects, in terms of cost, schedule and performance”. It manages major European projects, such as the A400M transport aircraft, the BOXER armoured vehicle and the FSAF surface-to-air anti-missile systems.

The category also entails a strong regional dimension. For example, the Central European Defence Cooperation (CEDC) exemplifies the growing importance of minilateral initiatives among like-minded and geographically close EU member-states. It serves as a security and defence platform, allowing participants to tackle “common regional challenges and threats” and initiate “projects among armed forces and capacity-building”. It has a clear focus on the civil-military dimension, as highlighted by the international military exercise “Cooperative Security”, which centred on managing the migration crisis and explored the role of armed forces in supporting civilian authorities during such contingencies.

Alongside structured initiatives, looser and more flexible forms of quasi-geopolitical cooperation also emerge. They function primarily as political consultation and coordination platforms rather than binding frameworks. A prominent example is the Weimar+ format, which constitutes an expansion of the Weimar Triangle between France, Germany and Poland. It reflects European states’ preference for flexible and issue-specific (i.e., Russia’s war of aggression against Ukraine) cooperation.

All in all, the second category illustrates the scope of this network, a dense and decentralised system linking smaller and medium-sized member-states across the EU. Unlike agreements with a defence clause, where France dominates, this operational network is polycentric. It demonstrates that even smaller member states participate and can play a role in European military cooperation. Cross-regional ties are evident, indicating that cooperation often may extend beyond simple geographic blocs. Nonetheless, cooperation usually follows geographical (e.g., BeNeSam, CEDC) or functional logic (e.g., EII, which brings together politically ambitious, willing and capable states under a French framework for expeditionary readiness).

The added value of bilateral/plurilateral agreements for EU member-states

In today’s evolving security architecture, the space within which European defence cooperation can develop is not unlimited. It is conditioned on three key constraints that delimit the extent of EU cooperation and enhance the added value of bilateral and plurilateral schemes of cooperation: a) political and strategic constraints, rooted in the contradiction between national sovereignty and European integration, b) national constitutional and legal limitations, stemming from national laws and neutrality commitments, and c) institutional inefficiencies and ambiguities within the EU treaties. These constraints explain why EU member-states conclude military agreements outside the EU framework: they are not acts of defiance against the Union, but rather indicators of flexibility and adaptability. Hence, these agreements serve a dual purpose. First, they allow willing groups of member-states to act together more quickly and flexibly, avoiding the institutional bureaucratic procedures that often characterise EU-level processes. Second, they accommodate functional differentiation as not all member-states share the same threat perceptions or strategic priorities, allowing each state to collaborate without requiring a one-size-fits-all policy.

The enduring contradiction between sovereignty and integration

The most persistent cleavage shaping EU defence arises from the competing imperatives of national sovereignty and integration. National governments continue to consider security and defence as the hard core of statehood, which cannot be transferred to a supranational government. The deployment of armed forces, the use of force and nuclear deterrence are still perceived as sovereign prerogatives, often tied to national parliaments and domestic public opinion.

This deeply rooted attachment to national sovereignty contrasts with the integration logic of the European project that is built upon the premise that pooled sovereignty can yield positive collective outcomes (e.g., trade). However, defence remains a field where integration is politically and emotionally charged, and it usually collides with national political realities, such as divergent threat perceptions, strategic cultures, and domestic political and economic incentives. For instance, Warsaw may perceive Russia as an existential threat, whereas Madrid or Rome may view instability in the Sahel as their primary concern. A more extreme example would be the case in which member-states transfer the ultimate decision to go to war to Brussels. In addition, national leaders naturally tend to privilege formats that maintain visible national control, as one of their objectives is their reelection.

It is precisely because of these divergences that the treaties themselves reflect a cautious approach. Article 42.2 TEU explicitly states that “[t]he common security and defence policy shall include the progressive framing of a common Union defence policy. This will lead to a common defence, when the European Council, acting unanimously, so decides”. The wording of “progressive framing” and the requirement of unanimity are deliberate, as they acknowledge that the member-states do not yet share the same strategic culture (or levels of ambition). In essence, the treaties codify the political reality. As a result, defence cooperation in Europe tends to proceed horizontally, through intergovernmental agreements, rather than vertically through supranational mechanisms. These flexible formats preserve autonomy while enabling coordination.

Constitutional and legal constraints

Beyond politics, legal and constitutional constraints further narrow the scope for a common EU defence. Some member-states, notably Austria, Ireland and Malta, are bound by constitutional and/or policy commitments to neutrality. These obligations limit their participation in EU defence structures. For instance, Malta is hesitant to participate even in EU defence industrial initiatives. In fact, it does not participate in PESCO, nor do Maltese entities benefit from EDF funding. The neutrality of these countries illustrates how constitutional politics and national identity perceptions act as a brake on integration, insulating national decision-making from supranational influence. While differentiated integration has been advanced as a second-best pragmatic solution, allowing groups of member-states to deepen cooperation and coordinate their actions without requiring universal participation, this approach inevitably results in a fragmented EU defence landscape, according to which multiple security logics exist rather than one unified defence posture.

This tension becomes particularly evident when examining Article 42.7 TEU. While it constitutes (at least in theory) the EU’s mutual assistance clause, committing member-states to assist one another subject to armed aggression by a third state, legal constraints exist and have even been integrated into the text. In particular, the article explicitly refers to the fact that its implementation “shall not prejudice the specific character of the security and defence policy of certain Member States”. This constitutes a safeguard in the protection of the neutrality or non-alignment of certain member-states, granting them an exemption from any collective (quasi-)military obligation. In practice, this clause formalises the existence of institutional coexistence of solidarity and differentiation within the EU’s architecture, proving that a fully-fledged common defence remains incremental and politically sensitive.

Furthermore, fiscal frameworks can create another layer of constraint. Germany’s constitutional ‘debt brake’, in force until its reform in March 2025, exemplified how economic governance can indirectly shape defence policy. The rule limited Berlin’s ability to mobilise funds and prepare for the era in which we are currently living. This highlights that the domestic legal basis can paralyse strategic ambition and impede or delay collective EU defence efforts.

The ambiguity and inefficiency of the treaties

The EU treaties encourage the development of a common defence. However, in practice, this wording remains vague. It acknowledges the possibility of common defence but makes it conditional on unanimity (e.g., Article 42 TEU). The EU’s mutual assistance clause also carries legal ambiguity, particularly because of its unspecified scope and the lack of effective, clearly defined mechanisms for implementation. In other words, the clause’s pledge of solidarity lacks the institutional strength and concrete obligations needed to turn it into real action. The Niinistö report suggests further operationalising this clause, but it does not include a specific roadmap. Similarly, the Strategic Compass, while reaffirming the significance of the clause, fails to translate this commitment into actionable measures or concrete and specific examples.

The EU Battlegroups further illustrate this institutional paralysis. Although fully operational since 2007, they have never been deployed, mainly due to political hesitation and financial obstacles. In fact, unanimity and cost-sharing disputes repeatedly blocked their activation and their deployment on the ground.

At the same time, Article 41.2 TEU explicitly prohibits using the EU budget to fund “operations having military or defence implications”. This provision does not allow the Union to finance (from its budget) the activities that could render its defence credible, nor does it incentivise intra-EU cooperation. The Commission’s main defence-related initiatives have focused primarily on strengthening the European defence industry and supporting the development of dual-use infrastructure.

In a nutshell, this set of constraints infuses bilateral/plurilateral schemes of cooperation between EU member-states and constitutes the basis for alternative future scenarios regarding the future of EU defence collaboration.

Future Scenarios

Figure III: Four future scenarios

The EU and its member-states stand at a strategic crossroads. The dense network of existing defence and military agreements demonstrates both the potential and the limits of the Union’s collective effort. Yet, as the security environment grows increasingly volatile, they must confront a fundamental question: what form should European defence take in the coming decade and what role should we envisage for the existing bilateral or plurilateral schemes of collaboration?

Four distinct, yet interconnected, scenarios can be envisaged for the evolution of Europe’s defence landscape. Each reflects a particular balance between sovereignty and integration, political ambition and institutional constraint and between regional pragmatism and supranational coherence. A combination of the four is also possible.

Scenario 1: Fragmentation and ad-hoc alliances

Codename: Archipelago of Alliances

Key players: National governments

In this scenario, the EU security architecture continues to evolve through bilateral and ad-hoc arrangements, without an overarching framework of coordination. EU member-states respond to threats in a decentralised manner, guided primarily by national threat perceptions, political preferences and historical ties. The absence of a unifying strategic centre leads to a proliferation of overlapping treaties, memoranda of understanding and initiatives. This fragmented model fosters a form of cooperation in which smaller or militarily weaker member-states align themselves with stronger partners for security guarantees. In this context, the EU serves as a platform for discussion and consultation, rather than for actual decision-making. Its institutional mechanisms (e.g., Article 42.7 TEU or the Rapid Deployment Capacity) remain underutilised or symbolically invoked.

As national governments become the key players, the Union’s strategic posture loses coherence. Europe moves towards a system reminiscent of the pre-integration era, notably an archipelago of alliances rather than a continent of collective defence.

Scenario 2: Regionalisation and the rise of defence clusters within the EU

Codename: Pragmatic adaptation to diversity

Key players: National governments

A second, more structured outcome would be the regionalisation of EU defence through the regional clustering of these bilateral/plurilateral agreements. In this scenario, geopolitical geography and shared security concerns drive the creation of sub-regional clusters with robust defence cooperation. Instead of a single European defence identity, the continent is witnessing the emergence of multiple, partially overlapping regional coalitions, led by EU member-states with the possible participation of like-minded third countries. France, as the EU’s biggest conventional military power and only nuclear power, would likely act as a cross-regional anchor, participating in multiple clusters to expand its strategic reach. In the Mediterranean, for example, the EuroMed-9, excluding Malta, could form the nucleus of a southern defence cluster, prioritising issues such as maritime security, migration-related instability and counterterrorism. This regional cluster will significantly contribute to the development of a more robust NATO strategy for the southern neighbourhood.

Regionalisation could enhance the EU’s responsiveness to local security dynamics and promote specialisation and pooling of resources. However, it risks fragmenting strategic coherence, as regional agendas diverge. Coordination across clusters would remain weak, and Brussels’ role would primarily be consultative. This scenario thus represents a pragmatic adaptation to diversity, which may be effective regionally but limited in forging a unified EU defence posture.

Key players in this model remain national governments, which could even establish region-based multinational commands to ensure interoperability and efficiency, without surrendering national control to supranational institutions.

Scenario 3: Nested integration and the EU’s defence mosaic

Codename: The Brussels nexus

Key players: European Commission and national governments

The third scenario envisions an EU that achieves defence integration through layering rather than centralisation. Here, existing bilateral/plurilateral military agreements are gradually clustered under an EU umbrella, creating a dense but more coordinated network of partnerships. In this institutional nesting, Brussels becomes a hub for connectivity not by commanding armies but by harmonising industrial, technological and operational cooperation. Under this scenario, the European Commission, working closely with the European Defence Agency (EDA), leads efforts to standardise procurement, strengthen the defence-industrial base, and foster interoperability among national forces, taking further the existing collaboration between member-states in the context of these agreements. Member-states retain control over operational decisions and deployments, but they recognise that industrial and technological sovereignty can only be achieved collectively. The EU framework would act as an integrative layer connecting national and regional initiatives.

Key actors in this scenario are the European Commission and national governments, which operate through the Council and the EDA. This model is institutionally feasible under current treaties, but its success would depend on sustained political will and financial commitment.

Scenario 4: Full operationalisation of Article 42.7 – Towards common defence

Codename: EU common defence

Key players: EU

The most ambitious scenario includes the full operationalisation of Article 42.7 TEU and the transformation of the EU into a quasi-defence alliance, relying on the acquis militaire created through these bilateral/plurilateral agreements. In this scenario, EU member-states agree binding mutual defence commitments at the EU level and establish a common protection umbrella guaranteeing the security of all member-states, building on the content of the most ambitious bilateral/plurilateral agreements. This scenario entails a unified command structure, shared funding mechanisms and common strategic culture. The EU effectively evolves into a European pillar within NATO. Regional clusters may persist, serving as platforms for niche capabilities (e.g., Arctic warfare, maritime surveillance). National sensitivities regarding command structures and budget would need to be reconciled. In this future, the EU will finally embody a common defence in substance, not only on paper, marking the end of fragmented security.

Scenario-based policy recommendations

At this moment, Scenario 1 is what we experience in reality. There is an archipelago of alliances, where European ad-hoc alliances of diverse scope and depth multiply and fragmentation persists. The Defence Readiness Roadmap announced by the Commission and the High Representative on 16 October 2025 may pave the way for moving closer to Scenarios 2 and 3. In particular, forming capability coalitions between member-states to foster capability development and to broaden burden-sharing is the right way to go. In addition to these proposals, the following scenario-based policy recommendations aim to strengthen the EU’s defence collaboration and rationalise its cooperation frameworks.

From Scenario 1 to Scenario 2:

Foster regional defence clusters for niche capabilities: Recognising strategic diversity among EU member-states, the EU could encourage regionally focused defence clusters that complement the Union’s collective framework. For instance, the Nordic and Baltic member-states could specialise in Arctic and hybrid security, while the southern member-states could focus on maritime security. Such clusters should remain open and interoperable, functioning as pilot structures that can later be integrated into a broader EU framework. This resembles the logic underpinning PESCO projects, which should be further enhanced and utilised to create a conducive environment for Scenario 2.

From Scenarios 1 and 2 to Scenario 3:

Create a European Defence Agreements Register: A comprehensive mapping of existing bilateral/plurilateral agreements should be undertaken to identify overlaps, inefficiencies and redundancies. The main objective would be to understand the number and depth of existing schemes of cooperation, compare them, and attempt to consolidate and harmonise them. A single, regularly updated European Defence Agreements Register, coordinated by the European External Action Service and the respective national ministries, could serve as a monitoring tool that would facilitate closer coordination and prevent duplication. For example, if a plurilateral initiative already exists in a specific domain, two states could join it instead of establishing a bilateral agreement.

Invest in Defence Projects of Common Interest: These projects shall be universal and open to all EU member-states, with a 360-degree geographical coverage, meeting the most significant EU defence needs. In addition to the already announced projects (i.e., ANTIDRONE ETC), the creation of a “maritime shield” will signal the EU’s move to the Brussels nexus scenario.

Render bilateral/plurilateral agreements compatible with Article 42.7 TEU: Member-states shall prioritise the signing of new or the revision of existing bilateral/plurilateral military agreements, ensuring the inclusion of explicit defence clauses compatible with Article 42.7 TEU. Such clauses will entail clear legal obligations and well-defined procedures for invocation. 

Moving to Scenario 4:

Operationalise Article 42.7 TEU: The EU should translate its mutual assistance clause and its principle of solidarity into practice. This requires strengthening the Military Planning and Conduct Capability (MPCC) and ensuring that the EU Rapid Deployment Capacity becomes a genuinely deployable tool. A clear roadmap of what happens after the invocation of the clause, an effective burden-sharing mechanism and command arrangements are indispensable. Formal links with NATO structures are vital, provided that they can only be established and function well if all NATO Allies recognise each and every EU member-state.  Notably, the European Parliament, through a recent resolution, explicitly called on member-states to “activate Article 42(7) TEU where such gross aggressive actions amount to an armed attack or contribute to preparing an imminent attack” and urged both the EU and the member-states to establish “operational procedures and mechanisms” in case a country triggers this clause. In simple words, the resolution underscores the urgent need for clear and well-defined procedures. It is noteworthy that a first draft of this resolution went even further in its ambition, proposing that military support for member-states invoking Article 42.7 should be financed through the EPF and that any member-state opposing such use of the EPF would contravene “its duty of loyalty and solidarity”.

The four scenarios outlined in this paper illustrate the strategic crossroads at which the EU now stands. Whether it continues as an archipelago of ad hoc alliances, evolves into regional clusters, consolidates a Brussels-centred nexus, or advances towards a true common defence, each path reflects a distinct balance between current needs and the aforementioned existing constraints. In all four scenarios, the problem is not the absence of cooperation, but the failure to achieve implementing coherence. Fragmentation, as envisaged in Scenarios 1 and 2, may offer flexibility, but without a centre of gravity, the EU’s collective power diffuses. Pragmatically, Scenario 3 is the most feasible one to pursue at this moment, but its main challenge is to strike the right balance between the two levels (i.e., EU and bilateral/plurilateral) for providing the public good of security. Scenario 4 is the most ambitious one, paving the way for an EU army.

[1] EU military missions and operations allow member-states to deploy troops abroad for a wide range of tasks, as set out in the Petersberg Declaration adopted at the Ministerial Council of the Western European Union in June 1992.

[2] PESCO is a treaty-based framework for all member-states, excluding Malta, “to jointly plan, develop and invest in collaborative capability development and to enhance the operational readiness and contribution of armed forces”.

[3] The EDF constitutes the Commission’s main tool to support research and development in defence. It has a budget of approximately 7.3 billion EUR for the current Multiannual Financial Framework 2021-2027, with 2.7 billion EUR allocated for research and 5.3 billion EUR for capability development.

[4] The EPF is an off-budget tool aimed at enhancing the EU’s ability to promote peace and stability worldwide. It is structured in two pillars: a) operations, which finances the common costs of CSDP missions and operations with military or defence implications, and b) assistance measures, aiming to finance non-EU countries and international organisations to strengthen their military and defence capacity.

[5] The facilitation of the movement of military troops and assets has become a top priority for the EU, which has launched several strategic documents and initiatives related to military mobility, including but not limited to the Military Mobility Action Plan 2.0 or the Military Mobility PESCO project.

[6] For example, we do not take into consideration Air Policing missions in the framework of NATO.

[7] The authors would like to thank Mr. Fivos Badekas, undergraduate student at Athens University of Economics and Business (AUEB), and Mr. Christos Pagonidis, Intern at ELIAMEP, for their research assistance.

 

Ioannis N. Grigoriadis, Senior Research Fellow and Head, Turkey Programme, ELIAMEP; Associate Professor at the Department of Political Science and Public Administration, Bilkent University

The Greek 5×5 initiative aims to upgrade Greece’s regional role in the Eastern Mediterranean and extend a hand of friendship to Libya and Turkey. Until recently, Greece undertaking trilateral initiatives in the Eastern Mediterranean with Egypt and Cyprus, or Israel and Cyprus, allowed Turkey to claim that the purpose of such initiatives was to “encircle” Turkey, and that they took place without taking Turkey’s own vital interests in the Eastern Mediterranean into account. Nonetheless, it is considered unlikely that Turkey will participate without the issue of Turkish Cypriot representation in the talks being settled first. And since it is given that the occupied territories will not be represented, and as Turkey does not recognise the Republic of Cyprus, the success of the initiative will depend on finding a way for the Turkish Cypriots to be represented via bi-communal committees within the structures of the Republic of Cyprus. This effort may be the first sign that the parties intend to resume inter-communal talks for the resolution of the Cyprus Issue following Erhürman’s election.

Constantine Kapsaskis, Research Fellow, ELIAMEP

The answer depends on the goal of the initiative. If it is a bone fide attempt to delimit the maritime zones of the countries involved, the difficulties in solving this equation continue to seem insurmountable. Convergence between the participants seems no more likely within the structure of a forum than without, as even with boundless optimism it is unlikely to expect that Turkey and Libya will move away significantly from the Turkish-Libyan Memorandum of Understanding and their claims in the Eastern Mediterranean. Additionally, before the difficult negotiations have even begun, Greece’s proposal has met a roadblock in the form of Turkish resistance to the participation of the Republic of Cyprus in the forum without an equivalent representative of the Turkish Cypriot community leadership.

If Greece’s goal, however, is to set the terms of a future discussion, before they are imposed by others, then initiative’s dynamic may be appraised under different terms. The approach of the current United States administration to critical international problems is at the same time fluid, as it often fluctuates, but also decisive. Thus, if the decision to resolve the issue is a fait accompli, against a backdrop of increased interest by US energy giants of operating in the region, the crucial question is how can the Greek proposal persuade the administration in Washington DC, and primarily President Trump himself, that delimitation can and must take place within the framework of a multilateral forum and international law, and not as a business deal governed by complementary economic and geopolitical gains.

Triantafyllos Karatrantos, Research Associate, ELIAMEP

Maritime zones, migration, energy, managing the environment, and civil protection—the issues around which the five-party initiative announced by the Greek Prime Minister is being planned—are matters that require multilateral cooperation, understanding and dialogue. Without them, all we get are parallel monologues and unilateral moves which reproduce disagreements and fail to create a climate of trust—and, through trust, cooperation. Greece is, in any case, a country that invests in multilateral cooperation and dialogue-based processes, primarily in the context of respect for international law and national sovereignty.

The regional coordination initiative is therefore a logical and ambitious endeavour aimed at fostering conditions favourable to stability.

However, it is clear both from the countries that seem likely to participate (Greece, Cyprus, Turkey, Egypt, Libya) and those that have not been announced as participants (Israel and Syria), that the undertaking will be a difficult one, and that multiple challenges will have to be faced which could, in a worst-case scenario, evolve into problems.

Consequently, if the momentum the initiative has built up is to be transformed into a positive impact, a clear framework is required, along with sincerity on the part of all the countries participating and faith in the logic of multilateral cooperation. The latter, in particular, cannot be taken for granted.

Finally, the role played by the EU and the US is another aspect that will have to be factored in.

Panayotis Tsakonas, Senior Research Fellow and Head, Foreign Policy & Security Programme, ELIAMEP; Professor, University of Athens

Greece has rightly taken the initiative to advance a proposal concerning the Eastern Mediterranean—effectively reviving an earlier initiative (September 2020) originally put forward by the President of the European Council, which Athens had opposed at the time, arguably as a knee-jerk reaction to President Erdoğan’s endorsement of it. There remain, however, a number of obstacles to overcome and several contentious issues to resolve if the Forum on the Eastern Mediterranean is to materialize—among them, the participation of the Turkish Cypriot community, which Turkey will advocate for, and the question of Libya’s representation. From this perspective, the prospects of the initiative being realized in the near term appear limited.

Greece’s—albeit not yet fully developed—decision to reintroduce this proposal comes at a time of heightened activity in the Eastern Mediterranean: the recent ceasefire agreement in Gaza following a decisive intervention by the U.S. President; Turkey’s geopolitical upgrading; and Tufan Erhürman’s victory in the elections of the Turkish Cypriot community. These developments coincide with a shift in Greek–Turkish relations away from the “calm waters” of recent years toward stagnation or relative turbulence.

Against this backdrop, and given the possibility of President Trump becoming involved in Greek–Turkish relations and the Cyprus question, Greece has a vested interest in promoting initiatives that address key shared challenges—such as environmental protection, civil protection, and migration—facing the coastal states of the Eastern Mediterranean. Chief among these challenges is, of course, the delimitation of maritime zones. Such issues should be tackled within a regulatory framework capable of coordinating and supporting bilateral engagement through the timely notification of all parties and in full compliance with the provisions of UNCLOS (the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea). Within this framework, projects such as the Cyprus–Crete electricity interconnector could proceed more smoothly and with reduced risk of tension.

As for the next steps, it would be useful—indeed, perhaps essential—for the proposed five-state format to be expanded to include the European Union itself (the originator of the initial idea and a principal party to UNCLOS). The Forum could be also linked to certain institutional initiatives recently announced by the EU for the region, such as the “Pact for the Mediterranean”.

This study explores the dynamics of Israeli–Turkish relations amidst two pivotal conflicts: the war in Gaza, where Turkey has vocally supported the Palestinian side, and the Syrian crisis, where both countries maintain significant territorial and strategic stakes. While Turkey and Israel operate from distinct ideological and strategic positions, their interactions are neither those of allies nor outright adversaries, but rather of two regional powers navigating overlapping challenges. The analysis highlights how these conflicts reveal a duality in their relationship characterized by ideological divergence in Gaza and pragmatic considerations in Syria, offering insights into their complex coexistence within the rapidly shifting Middle Eastern landscape.

• Turkey was among the first Muslim-majority countries to recognize Israel in 1949, establishing early diplomatic ties grounded in Turkey’s pro-Western orientation and NATO ambitions.
• The rise of the AKP and Recep Tayyip Erdoğan in the 2000s gradually transformed Turkish foreign policy, emphasizing solidarity with the Muslim world and a more vocal defence of the Palestinian cause.
• Divergences over Gaza, Syria, and energy politics in the Eastern Mediterranean further strained relations, while shared economic interests and US mediation prevented a complete breakdown.
• The 2023–2025 Gaza war became a defining moment, with Turkey’s strong condemnation of Israel paired with pragmatic economic continuity and, later, participation in the peace process.
• For the first time, many Israelis and Turks saw Turkey and Israel respectively as one of their country’s key security threats.
• The likelihood of direct conflict between Israel and Turkey has substantially decreased, as both states prioritize stability, reconstruction, and regional influence over open rivalry.
• While ideological and rhetorical tensions persist, Israeli–Turkish relations are entering a new phase characterized by pragmatic coexistence, mutual recognition, and shared regional responsibilities.

Read here in pdf the Policy Paper by Ioannis N. Grigoriadis, Senior Research Fellow, Head, ELIAMEP Turkey Programme and Electra Nisidou, Junior Research Fellow, ELIAMEP Turkey Programme.

Introduction

Turkey was one of the first Muslim-majority states to formally recognize Israel, in 1949, establishing diplomatic ties just a year after Israel’s foundation. This recognition stemmed from Turkey’s desire to align more closely with Western powers as it sought NATO membership and a place in the broader Western alliance, ultimately joining NATO in 1952. Turkey’s relationship with Israel remained steady during the early Cold War decades, supported by shared strategic interests in the Middle East. However, Turkey made sure that its relationship with Israel would not ruin its ties with the Arab world.

During the various Arab-Israeli conflicts, Turkey maintained a policy of neutrality to avoid alienating either side. In the 1956 Suez Crisis, Turkey refrained from openly supporting Israel, the United Kingdom, or France in their military operation against Egypt. This approach reflected Turkey’s alignment with NATO, yet it also aimed to avoid direct involvement that could jeopardize crucial relations with Arab states. During the 1967 Six-Day War, Turkey again adopted a non-interventionist stance, preserving diplomatic ties with Israel without openly endorsing its actions. The 1973 Yom Kippur War heightened pressure on Turkey to align with its Arab neighbours, especially as anti-American and anti-Western rhetoric was on the rise in Turkey, and targeted Israel’s supporters. In response, Turkey reduced its diplomatic mission in Tel Aviv, a gesture meant to appease Arab states without severing ties with Israel. Throughout these conflicts, Turkey’s stance was shaped by a need to balance its Western and NATO alignment with regional considerations.[1] The 1970s and 1980s were marked by further fluctuations as Turkey recalibrated its regional stance, especially amidst growing Muslim solidarity on Palestinian self-determination and the rising influence of Turkish political Islam. Economic and commercial relations, however, continued to develop: Turkey exported textiles, food products, and raw materials to Israel, while Israel provided technological and agricultural innovations. This economic collaboration laid the foundation for a more robust partnership that would flourish in the 1990s.[2]

The end of the Cold War opened new avenues for Israeli–Turkish collaboration; both states recognized the benefits of strengthening their alliance. The 1990s represented the high-water mark of Israeli–Turkish cooperation, which developed into a strategic partnership with military cooperation at its core. Joint air and naval exercises, intelligence sharing, and arms modernization programmes reflected a deep level of strategic alignment. Importantly, this deepening cooperation benefited from the regional environment of the Oslo peace process: while Israel was engaged in negotiations with the Palestinians, its security cooperation with Turkey could develop without qualms or concerns.

Israeli–Turkish relations in the 1990s even survived the premiership of Necmettin Erbakan, Turkey’s first Islamist politician to rise to that post. As leader of the Islamist Welfare Party, Erbakan promised to promote closer ties with Muslim states and criticized close relations with Israel as incompatible with Turkey’s Islamic identity.[3] As prime minister, however, he avoided anything that could harm bilateral relations. In February 1996, a military cooperation agreement was signed, marking a milestone that allowed for joint training exercises, intelligence sharing, and defence collaboration. The agreement bolstered the position of both Israel and Turkey as regional powers and cemented a strategic partnership that aligned them with US interests in the region. Economic ties also flourished, with Israeli and Turkish businesses forming partnerships across sectors including technology, tourism, agriculture, and trade. The signing of a bilateral free trade agreement[4] meant that by the late 1990s, Turkey had become one of Israel’s most important trade partners.[5]

A Relationship in Flux

The rise of Recep Tayyip Erdoğan and the Justice and Development Party (AKP) to power in the 2000s gradually shifted the course of Turkish foreign policy towards closer alignment with the broader Muslim world. Erdoğan’s growing emphasis on the Palestinian issue and criticism of Israeli policies, particularly regarding Gaza, diverged sharply from the cooperative approach of his own first term in government. The deterioration in relations after the 2008–2009 Gaza War reached a symbolic climax at the 2009 World Economic Forum in Davos, where Erdoğan confronted Israeli President Shimon Peres in the “One Minute incident”. This marked a turning point in the public perception of bilateral relations, framing Turkey as a defender of the Palestinian cause. This trajectory culminated in the 2010 Mavi Marmara crisis, which brought relations to their lowest point in decades. Both episodes demonstrated Erdoğan’s propensity to instrumentalize high-profile confrontations with Israel to galvanize domestic and regional audiences, while also pushing the relationship toward long-term estrangement.

As Turkey pursued a more assertive regional role in the 2010s, often challenging Western positions on issues like Palestine, Syria, and Libya, Israel moved closer to other regional players, including Greece and Cyprus.

As Turkey pursued a more assertive regional role in the 2010s, often challenging Western positions on issues like Palestine, Syria, and Libya, Israel moved closer to other regional players, including Greece and Cyprus. The discovery of natural gas reserves in the Eastern Mediterranean added further fuel to this realignment. Israel’s prospective collaboration with Greece and Cyprus in energy exploration and transport provoked Turkey, which felt isolated and treated as a regional outsider, despite its geographical proximity and significant energy demands. But while energy dynamics in the Eastern Mediterranean have highlighted the strategic divergence between Israel and Turkey, they have also underscored the potential for future realignment. Natural gas reserves and energy transport corridors in the region could serve as both a source of tension and an opportunity for cooperation. However, the political rift between the two states, exacerbated by disputes over maritime boundaries and Turkey’s exclusion from the EastMed Gas Forum, has stalled any meaningful collaboration.

Within this dynamic, the Kurdish question has emerged as a persistent source of mistrust. Israel’s growing ties with Kurdish groups across the Middle East, and especially in Iraq, were perceived in Ankara as a potential tool to challenge Turkey’s security interests. This perception reinforced Turkish suspicions that Israel could use Kurdish aspirations as leverage in times of political tension. The United States has added yet another layer to this equation, acting as both a stabilizer and a complicating factor. Washington has historically encouraged Israeli–Turkish cooperation, particularly in the 1990s. However, divergences between Ankara and Washington—ranging from the Iraq War to US support for Kurdish forces in Syria—have strained the triangle, with Israel’s close alignment with the United States amplifying Turkey’s sense of marginalization. At the same time, both Israel and Turkey remain indispensable—if difficult—allies for Washington. The US role therefore remains pivotal in determining whether Israeli–Turkish relations evolve toward renewed cooperation or slip irreversibly into strategic competition.

The Palestinian Issue and the War in Gaza

The Palestinian issue has historically played a catalytic role in shaping the regional dynamics of the Middle East, influencing both bilateral and multilateral relations. Before the rise of Recep Tayyip Erdoğan and the Justice and Development Party (AKP) to power, Turkey’s stance on the Palestinian issue was marked by cautious pragmatism. 

The Palestinian issue has historically played a catalytic role in shaping the regional dynamics of the Middle East, influencing both bilateral and multilateral relations. Before the rise of Recep Tayyip Erdoğan and the Justice and Development Party (AKP) to power, Turkey’s stance on the Palestinian issue was marked by cautious pragmatism. During much of the Cold War, Turkey sought to balance its relations with Israel and the broader Arab world, reflecting its desire to maintain strategic neutrality in a polarized region. While Turkey recognized Israel in 1949 and maintained diplomatic ties, it also supported Palestinian self-determination as a fundamental principle. Turkish leaders often criticized Israeli actions in the Occupied Territories, particularly after the 1967 Six-Day War, but avoided overt confrontation to preserve bilateral relations. This delicate balancing act was further shaped by Turkey’s alignment with Western powers through NATO, its growing trade relations with Israel, and its need to maintain good standing with the Arab states, which were significant trade and energy partners. While Turkey recognized the Palestinian state in 1988, by the 1990s, during what has been described as the “golden era” in Israeli–Turkish relations, Turkey’s approach to the Palestinian issue remained measured, focusing on multilateral dialogue and development initiatives rather than direct ideological opposition to Israeli policies. Since Erdoğan’s rise to power, the Palestinian cause has increasingly attracted Turkish attention; this has often been framed as part of its broader ambition to assert moral leadership in the Muslim world.

Erdoğan’s rhetoric during the Gaza war reflected the complexity of Turkey-Israel relations. While publicly denouncing Israel, Turkey continued to foster its bilateral economic ties, reflecting a pragmatic approach.

The recent war in Gaza, triggered by Hamas’ 7 October 2023 attack on Israel and followed by Israel’s counter-attack, intensified the scrutiny of Israeli–Turkish relations. While taking an initially circumspect position, Erdoğan gradually shifted to powerfully condemning Israel’s military actions, which he framed as disproportionate and accusing Israel of committing war crimes. This rhetoric was consistent with Turkey’s historical position, but was amplified by Erdoğan’s aspirations to position Turkey as a defender of Palestinian rights on the international stage. Erdoğan’s rhetoric during the Gaza war reflected the complexity of Turkey-Israel relations. While publicly denouncing Israel, Turkey continued to foster its bilateral economic ties, reflecting a pragmatic approach. Reports of Turkish goods being shipped to Israel via Greece or Azerbaijan,[6] despite an official trade ban, underscored that fully severing mutually beneficial economic relations was easier said than done.[7]

The war in Gaza unfolded against the backdrop of significant geopolitical shifts in the Middle East. The normalization agreements between Israel and several Arab reshaped the region’s diplomatic landscape and further marginalized the Palestinian issue. These developments presented both challenges and opportunities for Turkey. On the one hand, they isolated Turkey as it sought to position itself as a champion of the Palestinian cause. On the other, they created an opportunity for Turkey to reassert its influence by portraying itself as a mediator and advocate for Palestinian rights—a role that resonated with domestic and regional audiences.

The war in Gaza provided Erdoğan with an opportunity to recalibrate Turkey’s stance, leveraging its criticism of Israel to galvanize domestic and regional support, while seeking to counterbalance the emerging strategic alignments in the Eastern Mediterranean. The conflict further strained Israeli–Turkish relations, which had already been marked by periodic diplomatic freezes in the years preceding the war. Turkey’s decision to coincided with the—albeit discreet—maintenance of economic engagement, reflecting the multifaceted nature of their relationship and the mutual interests that continue to bind them in areas such as trade, tourism, and technology.[8]

The Palestinian issue remains a persistent point of divergence, yet it also has potential as a platform for soft-power diplomacy.

The Palestinian issue remains a persistent point of divergence, yet it also has potential as a platform for soft-power diplomacy. In the broader context of a rapidly shifting Middle East, the trajectory of the Palestinian issue and the fallout from the war in Gaza will be pivotal in shaping the future of Israeli–Turkish relations. Whether these tensions can be mitigated through pragmatic diplomacy, or whether the ideological divide will deepen, remains an open and pressing question.

Israel and Turkey in the Aftermath of the War

As the guns fall silent in Gaza and a ceasefire takes hold after two years of devastation, Israel and Turkey find themselves facing a familiar yet profoundly altered landscape; both countries must navigate a new regional reality shaped by exhaustion, mistrust, and necessity.

The ceasefire agreement, brokered through intense negotiations involving the United States, Egypt, Qatar, and Turkey, marks a significant though fragile turning point. Israel has begun a partial withdrawal of its forces, while the release of hostages and prisoners is underway. For thousands of displaced Palestinians, this moment signals the beginning of an uncertain return to their devastated homes. Humanitarian access is being cautiously restored, and international actors—with Turkey among them— are seeking to ensure that aid can flow into the Gaza Strip and reconstruction begin without a renewed escalation being triggered.

President Erdoğan has confirmed that Turkey will take part in the international task force to be formed as part of the ceasefire deal, alongside contingents from Egypt, Qatar, and the United States. 

Turkey’s involvement in the mediation process has been significant. Ankara’s participation in the US-backed agreement now extends beyond diplomacy: President Erdoğan has confirmed that Turkey will take part in the international task force to be formed as part of the ceasefire deal, alongside contingents from Egypt, Qatar, and the United States. The Turkish Defence Ministry announced on 10 October 2025 that, “with their extensive experience in peacekeeping operations,” its armed forces were ready to take on any assigned mission.[9]

During the two-year war, Turkey escalated its measures against Israel, recalling its ambassador, suspending bilateral trade, restricting airspace access, and leading international criticism of Israeli operations. These moves resonated deeply with Turkish public opinion, strained economic ties, and tested Ankara’s ability to balance moral rhetoric with strategic pragmatism. Now, as the ceasefire takes effect, Turkey’s new role in the task force reflects an attempt to translate political capital into concrete influencethat Ankara can be both principled and indispensable.

For Israel, the post-war challenge lies in transforming battlefield outcomes into lasting security. The war, initially triggered by Hamas’s attacks, has left Israeli society weary and politically divided. More than a thousand Israelis were killed in the initial assault, while the subsequent military campaign in Gaza resulted in tens of thousands of Palestinian deaths and the near-total devastation of the Strip. Entire neighbourhoods have been erased, infrastructure shattered, and hundreds of thousands displaced—many with nowhere to return to. The “day after” brings neither triumph nor stability, but rather a complex mix of humanitarian responsibilities, diplomatic recalibration, and domestic reckoning.

If Ankara’s participation in the task force proceeds smoothly, it could set a precedent for Turkish involvement in humanitarian and reconstruction missions without marking the full normalization of its diplomatic relations with Israel.

Working indirectly with Turkey through a US-brokered mechanism may prove uncomfortable for Israeli policymakers–yet it could also open limited channels of technical cooperation, even amid political estrangement. In parallel, Gaza’s reconstruction looms as the most immediate and contentious test. Turkey, which previously funded key infrastructure in the enclave, including the Turkish–Palestinian Friendship Hospital, is likely to seek a prominent role in rebuilding efforts. Israel, wary of foreign political influence, may prefer such contributions to occur under international coordination. If Ankara’s participation in the task force proceeds smoothly, it could set a precedent for Turkish involvement in humanitarian and reconstruction missions without marking the full normalization of its diplomatic relations with Israel.

Still, old sources of friction persist. In Syria, Israeli and Turkish interests continue to diverge sharply, with Israel targeting Iranian networks and Turkey confronting Kurdish forces and trying to balance Russian and Iranian influence. Both countries remain active in overlapping, volatile theatres where a miscalculation could reignite confrontation. This has led many experts and a sizeable part of the public opinion in both countries to view each other as one of their country’s key security threats. Still, a further remains the least likely scenario.

Internationally, Turkey is likely to continue advocating for Israel to be held account for its wartime conduct, while Israel defends its actions as legitimate self-defence. These competing narratives—humanitarian moralism versus security necessity—will shape both nations’ diplomacy in the months to come.

The role of US policy in the Middle East must also be taken into account in any projections on the future of Israeli–Turkish relations. The fundamental reconfiguration of regional and global politics that the Gaza war has brought about will be strongly nuanced by the degree of US commitment to the Middle East.

Domestic politics is also going to weigh heavily on the future. While the Palestinian problem was used to serve domestic political goals in Turkey and , the two-year Gaza war also gave the Israeli government and Prime Minister Netanyahu the opportunity to paper over domestic failures and silence dissent by declaring a security crisis, forcing all Israeli citizens to rally around their government and deeply polarizing and fragmenting Israeli society in the process.

Ultimately, the “day after” for Gaza is not yet peace; it is a transitional moment, fragile and contested, where political manoeuvring replaces open warfare[10]. For Israel, it is a test of restraint and restoring diplomatic ties; for Turkey, it provides an opportunity to convert words into a tangible regional presence. Whether participation in the international task force becomes a platform for cautious engagement, or another point of friction, will depend on how both sides manage this uneasy coexistence.

Conclusion

Israel and Turkey stand at a crossroads: no longer outright enemies, they are still far from partners. What unfolds now will determine whether this ceasefire becomes a bridge to stability, or merely the pause between two storms.

The fact that the peace agreement in Gaza became possible thanks to the decisive intervention of US President Donald Trump adds a crucial dimension to the debates over the future of Israeli–Turkish relations.

President Trump has claimed a special relationship with both President Erdoğan and Prime Minister Netanyahu, and will probably use both to promote his vision on the Middle East. It would be difficult for either of the two leaders to go against US policy in Gaza and the Middle East as a whole. While Israel’s ability to influence US foreign policy in the Middle East remains substantially larger than Turkey’s, the degree and depth of President Trump’s involvement in the Palestinian problem will likely be influenced by the course of his relations with Gulf states such as Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates, and Qatar. In that respect, Turkey’s role in the reconstruction process will be influenced by the degree of involvement of these states and Egypt.

In the aftermath of the war, Turkey’s active participation in the peace process creates the prospect of greater closeness after a period of intense hostility–at the level of rhetoric and public political discourse, at least. This new phase holds the potential to replace confrontation with cooperation, laying the groundwork for a more stable and pragmatic relationship between the two states.

Ultimately, the trajectory of Israeli–Turkish relations after the Gaza war will depend on the ability of both states to transform pragmatic cooperation into sustained diplomatic engagement. Both countries now face a rare opportunity to move beyond decades of mistrust and redefine their regional roles not through rivalry, but through dialogue and mutual recognition. If managed wisely, Turkey’s involvement in the peace process can serve as a foundation for long-term stability, while Israel’s openness to collaboration may help consolidate a broader environment of peace in the Eastern Mediterranean.

The rhetoric of enmity may be maintained for domestic purposes, but beneath it lies an emerging understanding that coexistence, rather than confrontation, is the only viable path forward. In this sense, the end of the Gaza war could mark not merely the cessation of hostilities, but the beginning of a gradual, enduring reconciliation between two pivotal powers in the Middle East.

 

References

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Altunisik Meliha, “The Turkish-Israeli Rapprochement in the Post-Cold War Era”, Middle Eastern Studies, Vol. 36, No. 2 (Apr, 2000)

Yusuf Can & Seda Güneş, Turkey-Israel Relations After October 7: Layers of Complexity and Posturing, Wilson Center, October 2024: https://www.wilsoncenter.org/article/turkey-israel-relations-after-october-7-layers-complexity-and-posturing

Hale William, Turkey, the US, Russia, and the Syrian Civil War, Insight Turkey, Vol. 21, No. 4

Hale William, “Turkey, the Middle East and the Gulf Crisis”, International Affairs, Vol. 68, No. 4 (Oct 1992)

Akçalı Emel, Görmüş Evrim and Özel Soli, Energy Transitions and Environmental Geopolitics in the Southern Mediterranean (Rome: Istituto Affari Internazionali, 2022)

Muhammed Kafadar, What is Turkey’s role in the Gaza peace plan?, https://www.dw.com/en/from-bystander-to-player-what-is-turkeys-role-in-the-gaza-peace-plan/a-74310735

Omar Shaban, Gaza’s day after: Reconstruction and governance challenges, Brookings, April 2025: https://www.brookings.edu/articles/gazas-day-after-reconstruction-and-governance-challenges/?utm

 

 

[1] William Hale, Turkey, the Middle East and the Gulf Crisis, International Affairs (Royal Institute of International Affairs 1944-), Vol. 68, No. 4 (Oct., 1992), pp. 679-692

[2] Jonathan Ghariani, Turkish-Israeli Relations: ‘The Golden Years’, 1991–2000, Israel Affairs, 2024, Vol. 30, No. 1, pp. 5-24

[3] His rhetoric drew on the earlier Islamist-nationalist ideas of Necip Fazıl Kısakürek, stressing “resistance to Western dominance” and “solidarity with Palestinians”—foreshadowing the tensions that would later deepen under Erdoğan and the AKP. Bülent Ecevit added another layer by adopting a critical stance toward US policy, fueling anti-Americanism and skepticism of the West. While diplomatic relations with Israel were maintained, they were increasingly shaped by Turkey’s broader tensions with Washington and its shifting stance toward the West.

[4] Sectors such as textiles, machinery, chemicals, and agriculture benefitted significantly from this agreement. Additionally, it encouraged the development of joint ventures and investments, with Israel bringing advanced technologies and Turkey providing a cost-effective production base. The FTA’s success exemplified how mutual economic interests could drive cooperation, serving as a model for pragmatic collaboration in an often-fractured region.

[5] Meliha Altunisik, The Turkish-Israeli Rapprochement in the Post-Cold War Era, Middle Eastern Studies, Vol. 36, No. 2 (Apr 2000), pp. 176-178

[6] Ragip Soylu, “Turkish Goods Shipped to Israel via Greece Despite Official Ban,” Middle East Eye, June 2024: https://www.middleeasteye.net/news/turkish-goods-shipped-israel-greece-despite-official-ban

[7] Ragip Soylu, “Turkey severs all relations with Israel, says Erdoğan,” Middle East Eye, November 2024: https://www.middleeasteye.net/news/turkey-severs-all-relations-israel-says-Erdoğan

[8] Yusuf Can & Seda Güneş, Turkey-Israel Relations After October 7: Layers of Complexity and Posturing, Wilson Center, October 2024: https://www.wilsoncenter.org/article/turkey-israel-relations-after-october-7-layers-complexity-and-posturing

[9] Muhammed Kafadar, “What is Turkey’s Role in the Gaza peace plan?”, Deutsche Welle (DW) https://www.dw.com/en/from-bystander-to-player-what-is-turkeys-role-in-the-gaza-peace-plan/a-74310735

[10] Omar Shaban, “Gaza’s Day After: Reconstruction and Governance Challenges”, Brookings Commentary, April 2025: https://www.brookings.edu/articles/gazas-day-after-reconstruction-and-governance-challenges/?utm

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Transatlantic Periscope is an interactive, multimedia tool that brings together expert commentary, high-quality media coverage, official policy documents, quantitative data, social media posts, and gray literature. It will provide on a monthly basis a summary of the most important news concerning the Greek-US relations, as reflected in the media. Below you will find an overview for September 2025.

On September 11, 2025, Greek Prime Minister Kyriakos Mitsotakis met with the United States Secretary of the Interior Doug Burgum, at Maximos Mansion. During the meeting, the two confirmed that Greek-American relations remain at an excellent level. Particular emphasis was given to further strengthening cooperation in the energy sector. Prime Minister Mitsotakis stressed the strategic nature of Greek-American relations and defense and energy cooperation between Greece and the US. He also pointed out that Greece, with the initiatives it has undertaken and the infrastructure it is developing, is becoming an energy hub in the Eastern Mediterranean and Southeast Europe, an energy exporter and a provider of energy security for the entire region. He also emphasized the strategic importance of electrical and digital interconnections, making special reference to the Great Sea Interconnector project (GSI) between Greece, Cyprus, and Israel, as well as Greece-Egypt power interconnection initiative (GREGY). He also expressed to Secretary Burgum the critical importance of a route connecting Alexandroupolis with Odessa, following a proposal he had made during his visit to Odessa in June. During the meeting, the role of Greek shipping in transportation of liquefied natural gas (LNG) was also discussed.

Congresswoman Nicole Malliotakis (NY-11) applauded the inclusion of her bipartisan legislation, H.R. 2510, ‘The American-Hellenic-Israeli Eastern Mediterranean Counterterrorism and Maritime Security Partnership Act of 2025’, in the State Department Reauthorization bill advanced by the House Foreign Affairs Committee on September 18. The measure, introduced with Congressman Thomas Kean (NJ-07), Congressman Josh Gottheimer (NJ-05), and Congressman Dan Goldman (NY-10), establishes a security-focused “3+1” framework among the United States, Israel, Greece, and the Republic of Cyprus to enhance counterterrorism and maritime security. The provisions strengthen this partnership by creating new parliamentary and executive-level cooperation groups; launching two security training programs, CERBERUS, focused on counterterrorism at the Cyprus Center for Land, Open Seas, and Port Security (CYCLOPS), and TRIREME, a maritime security program at the Greek Souda Bay Naval Base; and modernizing the decades-old U.S. arms embargo on Cyprus by temporarily lifting restrictions on defense exports, reexports, and training cooperation, contingent on Cyprus meeting U.S. security and regulatory conditions. This allows for targeted capacity-building that enhances the island’s ability to conduct regional security operations.

On September 18, the United States Senate confirmed Kimberly Guilfoyle as US Ambassador to the Hellenic Republic, marking the culmination of a months-long process that had attracted considerable political attention. In her statement following the vote, Guilfoyle underlined both the professional and symbolic weight of her appointment, stressing the honor of serving as the first female US Ambassador to Greece. On September 29, Guilfoyle was officially sworn in as the next U.S. Ambassador to Greece at the State Department in Washington, D.C. According to diplomatic sources, Guilfoyle is expected to arrive in Athens in late October, where she will officially assume her new duties.

Greek Prime Minister Kyriakos Mitsotakis met with Kimberly Guilfoyle, during a diplomatic event in New York, on September 25. Both Mitsotakis and Guilfoyle were attending an event hosted by the Atlantic Council focused on strengthening ties between the European Union and the Gulf states. On the same day, Greek Minister of Environment and Energy, Stavros Papastavrou, also held a meeting in New York with Guilfoyle.

More at: https://transatlanticperiscope.org/relationship/GR#

Constantinos Capsaskis, Research Fellow, ELIAMEP

The Pact for the Mediterranean is being brought forward at a very difficult juncture for the region, and especially so in the Eastern Mediterranean, and its implementation seems to present even greater challenges. Both international upheavals and regional developments continue to widen the gap between Europe and its Mediterranean partners. The increasingly transactional nature of the Union’s foreign policy on key issues such as energy and migration is also exacerbating the situation, creating an even more challenging backdrop for the development of closer relations.

For Greece, the Pact could prove to be a double-edged sword. On the one hand, it is natural that any European emphasis on a region directly related to Greece’s interests could be seen as a positive development. However, Greek diplomacy must remain vigilant, since any institutional EU engagement with the Mediterranean also threatens the capacity for self-determination which the country’s geographical position provides. Greece’s regional diplomacy with countries like Egypt is founded on Athens’ role as a mediator in Brussels.

If the Cairo-Athens-Brussels link-up becomes a direct Cairo-Brussels one, Greek diplomacy will have to obtain some guarantee, primarily from the EU, that Greece’s vital regional interests will not be adversely affected, and that it will not be deprived of its role in the region. Athens will also have to offer its regional partners alternative motives —in the form of opportunities and gains—for deepening bilateral relations.

Triantafyllos Karatrantos, Research Associate, ELIAMEP

The Pact for the Mediterranean arrives at a time of intense geopolitical change, but also of armed conflicts in the Middle East that have created new factors of instability and insecurity. In this context, it really matters whether the Pact will be able to function as a political institutional arrangement for cooperation, or as a loose agreement in specific sectors with an emphasis on trade and transport. Organized crime and terrorism cannot be, and radicalization prevented, without the cooperation of the countries of the wider Mediterranean region. The same applies to both migration management and maritime security. This is why the EU has been investing for years in externalizing its activities in these areas. However, the results have generally been fragmented and achieved in the context of bilateral cooperation. It is therefore important that the Pact includes actions in its security priority that both ensure sustained cooperation with concrete and measurable milestones, and foster a culture of common threat perception and cooperative responses. The EU-Western Balkans framework for cooperation in the fight against terrorism, for example, could serve as a useful model. Finally, it would be especially useful to extend cooperation beyond environmental policy and establish a framework for jointly managing and responding to natural disasters.

Cleopatra Kitti, Senior Policy Advisor, ELIAMEP

The Mediterranean region is the EU’s frontline to Africa.  

It is a region of 500 million people (as large as the EU’s internal market),  producing 10% of global GDP but only 1/4 of its trade is intra regional.  

It is the least inter connected region in the world.  

In the 10 years we are tracking trade and socio-economic data –  UNCTAD, IMF, national statistics agencies’, Eurostat and World Bank’s 1500 socio-economic indicators, – for each country the Mediterranean region (EU and non EU), – where we aggregate, analyze and compare data – there has been no significant progress to report on interconnectivity and on materially socio-economic collaboration for growth and prosperity.  

To make this a meaningful Pact, it must ensure: 

* Data: Evidence based policy making. 

* Governance: establish benchmarks of success with checks and balances, review mechanisms and authentic projects that ensure socio-economic progress for the citizens and businesses of non EU countries. 

* Leadership: the governance model of the Pact should include organisation and institution leaders with integrity and with governance knowledge not only politicians. These individuals must have the ability to embrace evidence based policy making, travel through the region including to the most challenged areas to understand the situation that they need to remediate, bolster and interconnect.    

Otherwise it is doomed to the same results as those of the last decade, which neither the EU nor Non EU countries can afford. The world order and global financial architecture are changing fast, it is not an option to be left behind.  

George Tzogopoulos, Senior Research Fellow, ELIAMEP

It depends on what the scope of the new Mediterranean deal is. If it encompasses issues the European Union can handle—such as trade, energy transition, education, culture and, possibly, migration—then it will be a positive initiative that can deliver results. However, if its scope includes foreign policy and security issues, it is highly unlikely the new Pact for the Mediterranean will have any impact. Generally speaking, the European Union tends to present plans for the Mediterranean at intervals, and then fail to implement them. In 2020, for example, the idea of a multilateral conference on the Eastern Mediterranean was mooted, but no action was taken towards its realization. The current situation—with the war in the Middle East just one of multiple problems—does not provide much grounds for optimism about the future.

 

The European Union’s Pact for the Mediterranean: Opportunity for a reset in the region?

The European Union’s new Pact for the Mediterranean arrives on the 30th anniversary of the Barcelona Process, representing a renewed impetus to forge a working relationship with the ten countries of its Southern Neighbourhood. To achieve this and allow the EU to full unlock the region’s many opportunities, the Pact is called upon to address a complex set of circumstances, which will require it to confront several key structural challenges.

Challenges

• Internal EU Disunity: The competing interests of member-states in the Mediterranean (e.g., France and Italy in Libya) undermine the EU’s ability to act as a unified bloc.
• Geopolitical Considerations: The EU must either confront or accommodate Turkey’s regional aspirations, including its Mavi Vatan maritime doctrine. Turkey’s demeanour directly obstructs key EU energy and connectivity projects, while challenging the rights of Greece and Cyprus in the Eastern Mediterranean.
• Trust Deficit: The EU faces the conundrum of both overcoming reservations over its values-oriented approach, often perceived as veiled neocolonialism, that hinder cooperation while not appearing as overtly transactional, and thus alienating its partners. It must offer an attractive solution to its leading Southern partners and pre-empt them from seeking new alliances (e.g., Egypt joining BRICS).

However, there are several opportunities that the European Union can pursue in the region across several fields including energy, migration, and increased geopolitical influence in an area that directly impacts its interests.

Opportunities

• Energy Hub: The Mediterranean is critical for the goal of EU energy independence from Russian fossil fuels, both by harnessing the region’s energy reserves and as a point of entry for energy from North Africa, Asia, and the United States. This includes a strategic role for Greece as a key port of entry for American LNG via the Revithoussa LNG Terminal and the Alexandroupolis FSRU.
• Migration Management: The Pact must reform the EU’s externalization model to address migration flows, a process complicated by internal divisions and ethical concerns following incidents like the Pylos shipwreck.
• Agency: The Pact is the EU’s chance to assert its own strategic autonomy in a critical region, in which power has been traditionally wielded by those far from the Mediterranean shore. With the prevalence of competing corridors (e.g., China’s BRI and the proposed IMEC) in a critical waterway, the European Union must (to) ensure it is not a spectator in its own neighbourhood.

Read here in pdf the Policy paper by Constantine Capsaskis, Research Fellow, ELIAMEP and Athina Fatsea, Junior Research Fellow, ELIAMEP.

Introduction

The upcoming Pact for the Mediterranean is a manifestation of renewed impetus by the European Union to once again forge a modus vivendi with the ten countries of the so-called Southern Neighbourhood.

The Pact will arrive on the 30th anniversary of the launch of the Euro-Mediterranean Partnership, commonly known as Barcelona Process, in 1995, which set the goal of transforming the region into an “area of dialogue, exchange and cooperation, guaranteeing peace, stability and prosperity”. This was to be achieved by focusing on enhanced political dialogue, increased economic interdependence, and social and cultural exchanges that would strengthen relations between Europe and its Mediterranean neighbours.[1]

The Barcelona Process can be seen as a product of its time, launched in the post-Cold War certainty of Francis Fukuyama’s “end of history” and the assured “universalization of Western liberal democracy as the final form of human government”.[2] There was little scope or resilience for the developments witnessed in the region, from the spread of terrorism in the early 2000s to the pivotal Arab Spring in 2011 and its aftershocks, including increased political violence and an explosion of refugee and migrant movement via cross-Mediterranean routes. Exacerbated by the spectre of a multipolar world order and a renewed global emphasis on hard power and ‘realist’ diplomatic approaches, evidenced by the deepening division of regional rivalries in the Mediterranean, it is safe to say that little of the optimism enshrined in the Barcelona Process survived the 21st century.

“The Southern Mediterranean region is facing governance, socio-economic, climate, environmental and security challenges, many of which result from global trends and call for joint action by the EU and Southern Neighbourhood partners”, noted the European Union in its 2021 “Renewed Partnership with the Southern Neighbourhood” which sought to address the many difficulties of the region.[3] Yet, almost five years later, little has been achieved in resolving these issues. In fact, the return of large-scale warfare both in Europe and the Middle East, the increase of competition between the global superpowers, and the selective engagement of the United States, have created an even more dangerous set of circumstances for the region. This is the situation that the Union’s new Pact for the Mediterranean is called upon to address.

Despite the many challenges in the region, however, it also offers several opportunities. The Mediterranean in the long run can enable the European Union’s ambitious “Green Deal”, with renewable energy from the African continent helping drive the transition, and in the short run can offer viable alternative non-renewable energy resources to reduce European dependency on Russian fossil fuels. The region will also be pivotal in addressing the issue of migration which continues to be a pressing political issue for many member-states.

It is clear that the Mediterranean is a critical area for both the European Union’s strategic autonomy and its economic independence. A stable, prosperous, and secure, Southern Neighbourhood will greatly benefit the EU at a time of geopolitical flux. However, to this end the Pact for the Mediterranean must also confront several key challenges.

Challenge #1 – Division within the European Union

Despite the goal of a common foreign policy for the European Union, it is commonly accepted that each member state often prioritises its own national interests ahead of the pursuit of any shared goal.[4] And while disagreements over priorities have hamstrung several EU initiatives in the Mediterranean in the past, including the two European Union Naval Force Mediterranean operations,[5] in extreme cases there have even been instances of open competition between member states in the region.

Nowhere have the divergences between member states been felt more acutely than in Libya, both during the final years of the civil war that ended in 2020 and the subsequent continued division of the country between the Tripoli-based Government of National Unity (GNU) and the Tobruk-led Government of National Stability (GNS).

On the one hand, Italy has worked closely with the GNU, both in the fields of migration and energy co-operation, while France and Greece have mostly focused on forging ties with the de facto ruler of Eastern Libya, Field Marshall Khalifa Haftar. Following the end of the civil war in 2020, this stark divide became less obvious, as there were attempts from most parties involved to bridge existing differences and grievances. Greece, for example, has undertaken significant diplomatic efforts to initiate a rapprochement with the GNU, focused on the issue of maritime delimitation, with the two sides even starting talks on the matter in September 2025.[6] However, telltale signs remain of this divergence.

On the one hand, Italy has worked closely with the GNU, both in the fields of migration and energy co-operation, while France and Greece have mostly focused on forging ties with the de facto ruler of Eastern Libya, Field Marshall Khalifa Haftar. Following the end of the civil war in 2020, this stark divide became less obvious, as there were attempts from most parties involved to bridge existing differences and grievances. Greece, for example, has undertaken significant diplomatic efforts to initiate a rapprochement with the GNU, focused on the issue of maritime delimitation, with the two sides even starting talks on the matter in September 2025.[6] However, telltale signs remain of this divergence. While Italian Prime Minister Georgia Meloni has held several meetings with GNU Prime Minister Abdul Hamid Dbeibeh, including a trilateral summit with Turkey in August 2025, both Greece and France continue meeting with representatives of Haftar, as recently as September 2025 in the case of the former.

It is worth noting that, despite the much improved situation today, the divergence at the time. […] Over this period, which, during the Libyan Civil War, geographically mirrored the political support provided by their respective nations to Libya’s domestic players. 

It is worth noting that, despite the much improved situation today, the divergence between Paris and Rome during the conflict led to a very public souring of bilateral relations at the time.[7] Over this period, Italy’s ENI and France’s TotalEnergies have also been involved in fierce competition over Libya’s energy resources, which, during the Libyan Civil War, geographically mirrored the political support provided by their respective nations to Libya’s domestic players. This competitive dynamic complicates the EU’s ability to act as a unified geopolitical or economic bloc in the region.

Tangentially related to Libya, the troubled activity of both Operation Sophia and Operation Irini also emphasize the effect of divergences between member-states in action. Tension between Italy’s government at the time, and in particular the conduct of then Italian Deputy Prime Minister Matteo Salvini, and other members of the mission, primarily Germany, continued to escalate and reached a climax when Germany withdrew from the mission. Ursula Von Der Leyen, then German Federal Minister of Defense, even went so far as to accuse the Italian commanders of Operation Sophia of sabotaging the mission.[8]

Operation Irini, which succeeded Sophia with a mandate to enforce a United Nations arms embargo on Libya until 2027, has also faced its own share of problems. Most notably, in 2020 Malta withdrew from the operation and threatened to veto any European decisions on the operation.[9] The operation also resulted in a series of tense stand-offs with the Turkish Navy, something which will be explored in more depth later.

Libya is just one country out of the ten highlighted by the European Union as its Southern Neighbourhood. Admittedly, its central role in both Europe’s energy endeavours in the Mediterranean and as a major transit point for migrant corridors make it stand out.[10] However, the failure of the European Union to devise a common policy in its approach to the war-torn country is telling.

Divergences also exist on a wide range of other issues, from the recognition of Palestinian statehood to the stance of member states on external actors such as Russia and China. The North-South divide within the EU on the issue of migration also persists, with the Mediterranean EU member states increasingly moving towards more controversial practices to tackle the influx of migrants and refugees (including Italy’s controversial deal with Albania and Greece’s suspension of asylum applications for three months).

The Pact for the Mediterranean must provide a credible path to an accord between European member states in the region, otherwise the Union risks once again being unable to react to developments in the region. This would lead EU countries in the region to revert to the status quo of focusing on regional bilateral and multilateral cooperation schemes and will allow external actors like Russia and Turkey to continue to maintain the initiative.

Challenge #2 – Trust Deficit

Several of the governments of the South Neighbourhood have long harboured a wariness over European Union values-oriented policies for attempting to violate their sovereignty and erode their control, often decrying these measures as veiled neocolonialism in which the European countries seek to secure their own interests (usually in their former colonies) and promote Eurocentric values.[11]

After all, the Barcelona Declaration of 1995 stated that all participants seek to “respect human rights and fundamental freedoms and guarantee the effective legitimate exercise of such rights and freedoms, including freedom of expression, freedom of association for peaceful purposes and freedom of thought, conscience and religion, both individually and together with other members of the same group, without any discrimination on grounds of race, nationality, language, religion or sex”.[12] Thirty years later, not only has this not been achieved, but arguably the environment is less conducive to the safeguarding of these rights. In fact, the Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights notes that: “The Middle East and North Africa faces significant challenges, including situations of armed conflict, the rise of violent extremism and the counter-terrorism narrative affecting civil and political rights as well as deeply rooted discrimination against groups”.[13]

It is clear that today the EU has already adopted a more transactional approach with many of the key actors in the region and has retreated from many of its past stances on the issue. While, for example, the 2024 Joint Declaration on the Strategic and Comprehensive Partnership between the European Union and Egypt reiterates the commitment to “work […] to further promote democracy, fundamental freedoms, and human rights, gender equality and equal opportunities”,[14] there are many (including Humans Right Watch[15]) who argue that there has been little progress on this front. This is not something that has stopped the European Union from acknowledging “Egypt as a reliable partner, as well as Egypt’s unique and vital geo-strategic role as a pillar of security, moderation, and peace in the region of the Mediterranean, the Near East and Africa”.[16]

But there is little evidence that this has achieved much in shifting the widespread perception of EU intentions in the region. There are even those that argue that the European Union’s more pragmatic approach is, in fact, more neocolonial in nature.[17]

In the Sahel, not far from the Mediterranean coast, there are already developments that should be of concern to European policymakers. The French military withdrawal from Mali, Niger, Burkina Faso, and Chad,[18] while undoubtedly rooted in different and complex circumstances, emphatically illustrates the continued dynamism of anti-colonial sentiment, particularly when it is fuelled by hostile actors like Russia.[19]

At the same time, European ambivalence over Israeli actions in Gaza did little to earn the EU any goodwill with the Arab populations of the Mediterranean. While it remains to be seen if the current ceasefire will last, the EU’s unwillingness to act on the matter in the same decisive manner it had displayed following the Russian invasion of Ukraine certainly rankled with several actors in the region.[20] After all, it was not too long ago that the European Union and the United States were calling on these countries to freeze out Russia. “The EU actively urges all countries not to provide material or other support for Russia’s war of aggression” was the Commission’s recommendation when documents leaked that Egypt was secretly planning to produce 40,000 missiles for Russia.[21]

It is clear that the Pact for the Mediterranean must move beyond pious generalities about strengthening the relations of the EU with its Southern Neighbours. Fuelled by the possibility of a new multipolar world order, and the selective engagement of the United States, it is clear that several governments in the region see little reason to engage with the European Union’s exacting list of governance reforms. Egypt has already been admitted as a full member of the BRICS.[22]

The fanning of decolonial sentiment, coupled with the proliferation of rhetoric emphasizing competition between the Global North and Global South, have undeniably exacerbated the situation. It will require a delicate balancing act by the European Union to move beyond these difficulties and to work to materially improve relations in the Mediterranean, while at the same time not compromising on the very values that make the European Union what it is.

Challenge #3 – Turkey

Turkey’s regional aspirations in the Eastern Mediterranean must be considered when developing the European Union’s Pact for the region. The maximalist claims of the Mavi Vatan (Blue Homeland) maritime doctrine not only directly impinge on the rights of two EU member states (Greece and Cyprus) but directly involve countries which are part of the Southern Neighbourhood (namely, Syria, Libya, and Egypt). The EU’s ambivalent stance on Turkey cannot be considered in a vacuum and directly affects its relations with the region.

While the EU has unequivocally condemned the Turkish – Libyan Memorandum of Understanding on the delimitation of Exclusive Economic Zones (EEZ) of 2019,[23] several European Union projects are directly affected by it. Most notably, the Great Sea Interconnector that proposes to link the power grids of Greece, Cyprus, and Israel, faces significant geopolitical hurdles from Ankara’s objection to the project on the grounds that it violates its claimed maritime rights. It is worth noting here that the interconnector is a Project of Common Interest for the European Commission.

In the summer of 2025, Turkish naval vessels stopped research vessel Fugro Gauss from conducting surveys for the East to Med Corridor (EMC), the proposed fiber-optic cable that would link Israel to France via Greece and Cyprus. “We always conduct the necessary monitoring, preventing any unauthorized activity on our continental shelf, and we do not allow activities or projects [such as the Great Sea Interconnector project] that disregard our country”, noted Turkish sources.[24]

This risk can be assumed to hold for other proposed trans-Mediterranean projects, including the GREGY (Greece – Egypt) electrical interconnector, while it certainly acted as a detrimental factor in the feasibility considerations of the EastMed pipeline project. In fact, the EastMed pipeline was effectively shelved in January 2022, following the decision of the United States to publicly withdrew its support, primarily attributed to American concerns that the project would act as a spoiler for rapprochement efforts with Ankara.[25]

While Turkey’s involvement in Libya has solidified over the last five years, it is also becoming an increasingly influential player in the Middle East following the fall of the Assad regime in Syria. The extent of Turkey’s influence with new President Ahmed al-Sharaa remains to be seen, but its military presence in northern Syria and northern Iraq has undeniably shifted the regional balance of power.  This is further compounded by its developing regional security ties, most notably though the diffusion of Turkish-produced military equipment like the Bayraktar TB2 drones, which has transformed the country’s power projection and cemented it as a major regional arms exporter.[26]

The relationship between Turkey and the European Union has been the subject of many research papers and debates and lies quite beyond the scope of this paper. However, it is increasingly clear that some accommodation will have to be reached with a Turkey that seeks to establish itself as the regional power of the Eastern Mediterranean.

With member-states having significantly different views on how to accommodate Turkey in the region’s security architecture, emphasized by the current debate on its membership in the EU’s SAFE joint procurement project on rearmament, the Pact for the Mediterranean will also be called upon to navigate between the existential threat from Turkey felt by two European Union member states, Turkey’s rivalry with France for primacy in the Eastern Mediterranean, as well as Italy’s, Malta’s, and Spain’s more accommodating stance.

Opportunity #1 – Energy

The European Union has staked its independence from Russian fossil fuels on the energy reserves of the Mediterranean and the Southern Neighbourhood. This includes several “tried and tested” options. Libya’s proven oil reserves are the largest on the African continent, even as political factors on the ground continue to complicate its exploitation.[27] Its neighbour, Algeria’s share of natural gas imports to the EU is at 17.8%, making it the second-largest supplier after Norway (50.8%) for the second quarter of 2025.[28] However, there is concern that the country will be unable to ramp up production to meet European demand.[29]

Recent energy developments in the Eastern Mediterranean have also generated strong interest as a potential solution in ensuring the EU’s energy autonomy. The discovery of substantial gas fields in the region, including the Israeli Leviathan, the Cypriot Aphrodite, and the Egyptian Zohr, in the 2010s marked a paradigm shift for the region. The discoveries in the maritime areas of Cyprus and Israel in particular, due to these countries’ smaller population and lower levels of consumption, could make the two countries net global exporters of natural gas.[30] Overall, the region is estimated to have as much as 8 trillion cubic metres in natural gas.

There are important geopolitical and infrastructure challenges that need to be overcome for this to become a reality, however. Firstly, Cyprus’ continued territorial disputes with Turkey, which refuses to recognize its EEZ, means that development in the extraction and exploitation of these resources has yet to materialise. In Egypt, among other issues, onshore liquefaction plants do not have the capacity to meet European demand, with Egypt only currently able to export the equivalent of 5% of the demand.[31] Additionally, the Egyptian government has so far failed to fully liberalise its gas market, which has also stunted investment in the country’s energy sector.

There are the kind of issues that must be addressed by the Pact. If the European Union is serious about its commitment to diversify its energy sources and become independent of Russian fossil fuels by 2027, it must prioritise its efforts in the Mediterranean. As a result, it must take concrete steps to facilitate Cyprus’ ability to capitalise on its gas discoveries while assisting Egypt in further developing its liquefied natural gas (LNG) export facilities.

But it is important to stress that massive infrastructure projects are required to further develop energy connectivity in the region. These include the aforementioned Great Sea and GREGY electricity interconnectors, but shelved projects like the EastMed pipeline should also be considered once more. Indicatively, Cyprus is currently set to export its gas through Egypt with Julien Pouget, Senior Vice President of Middle East & North Africa, Exploration & Production at TotalEnergies, noting that “TotalEnergies is very pleased to be part of the opening of an export route through Egypt for Cyprus gas. This Host Government Agreement represents a major step in valorizing the Cyprus gas through available LNG capacities in Egypt, contributing to Europe energy security by bringing additional LNG volumes”.[32] Clearly, a link to transport gas from the Eastern Mediterranean directly to Europe would be a welcome development.

Aside from its own reserves, the Mediterranean is also a critical point of entry for energy resources from other parts of the world. The Suez Canal has seen an increase in northbound oil and gas flows following Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, with Europe increasingly relying on imports from the Middle East.[33] At the same time, the United States is looking to expand the export of American LNG to the continent. Countries like Greece, which has been developing its regasification capacity, have been singled out in this endeavour, as emphasized in the recent visit of United States Secretary of the Interior Doug Burgum in Athens.[34] This is because the country is strategically positioned to serve as an entry point, notably via the Revithoussa LNG terminal and the new Alexandroupolis Floating Storage and Regasification Unit (FSRU).

The Mediterranean will also likely be important for the European Union’s ‘green transition’, with the region possessing bountiful renewable energy sources in its solar and wind power generation potential.[35] If all solar, wind, and hydropower, projects in the region are completed, combined with current generation capacity, it is estimated that the region could produce a total of 779,2 GW, almost three times the current capacity and 73% of the regional goal of 1 TW.[36] Once again, the Pact must ensure that it creates a proactive and efficient framework in promoting this transition across the Mediterranean, but also ensuring the necessary infrastructure links to import this energy.

Opportunity #2 – Migration

Migration has been one of the primary challenges of the European Union over the last decade, both at the domestic political level and institutionally. At the country level, it has fuelled the rise of far-right parties across the continent, which often accompany their anti-migrant rhetoric with Euroscepticism. There have also been divisions between the member-states on how to best manage the influx of migrants and refugees. These are comprehensive differences, ranging from the very basics of practices when rescuing migrants at sea to questions of refugee and migrant quotas. The practical solution to this issue was the externalisation of the EU’s border control, with primary responsibility for managing migrants flow being delegated to the countries of the Southern Neighbourhood, with assistance packages being agreed with countries like Turkey (a total of €9 billion), Egypt (€7.4 billion), Lebanon, and Tunisia to stem the flow of migrants and refugees.[37]

But it is important to note the scale of the problem. More than a million people have crossed the Mediterranean over the last decade, with Greece registering almost a quarter of a million asylum applications just between 2019 and 2023.[38] Specifically, in 2023, the EU recorded over 380,000 irregular border crossings, the highest number since 2016, with the Central Mediterranean route, from North Africa, mainly Tunisia and Libya, to Italy and Malta, being the most active.[39]

With the failure of the European Union to adopt a comprehensive and shared approach to the issue, the states most affected by migration have established their own policies and methods to tackle the issue. The principle of non-refoulement and the definition of ‘safe countries’ has been at the heart of this debate, both in Italy and Greece. The two countries have also faced legal challenges to their policies with the European Court of Justice ruling against Italy’s controversial deal with Albania, and the European Court of Human Rights challenging Greece’s three-month suspension of the right to asylum.

Allegations of human rights violations have also been levelled against the border enforcement agencies tackling migration on both sides of the Mediterranean, with Libya being once more at the heart of the issue. European Union border agency Frontex has been accused of being complicit in severe violations of human rights by the Libyan coastguard as it provides it with aerial surveillance assistance. This often results in the return of migrants and refugees attempting to cross the Mediterranean to ‘systematic and widespread abuse’ in Libya.[40] Additionally, non-governmental organizations (NGO) operating in the region to rescue migrants and refugees have claimed that the Libyan Coast Guard has begun to shoot at the vessels in an effort to deter their activity. “It’s unacceptable that the Italian government and the EU allows criminal militia to fire on civilians,” said a spokesperson for one of these NGOs.[41] Yet, both Greece and Italy are set to continue their close co-operation with their Libyan partners to tackle the issue of migration.

But it is not only these partners that have been accused of violating the rights of migrants and asylum seekers. The Hellenic Coast Guard has long been accused of conducting pushbacks, and in the aftermath of the Pylos shipwreck and the more than 500 presumed dead, there were even institutional calls for the Frontex agency to leave the country in protest of its handling of migrant vessels.[42] The incident tragically highlighted the lack of effective search-and-rescue (SAR) capabilities and coordination in the Mediterranean, a crucial gap the Pact is set to address.

The issue of migration is a minefield for the European Union, filled with difficult choices and undesirable outcomes. As anti-migration rhetoric continues to proliferate at home, it is unlikely that the European Union will seek to radically change its enforcement model in the region. However, the Pact for the Mediterranean will have to be very careful in how it approaches the issue.

It is important that tackling the issue of migration does not continue to be perceived as being in the self-serving interest of the European Union, solved by offloading the ‘dirty work’ to its partners in the Southern Neighbourhood.[43] This would not only substantially undermine the EU’s credibility, particularly when it comes to issues of promoting good governance and the rule of law, but also leave it indebted to third parties and provide leverage to these actors.

Instead, the Pact for the Mediterranean must act as a starting point for a comprehensive reform of the European Union’s overall approach to migration. If the concerns of the European south are not addressed, then these states will likely once more pursue their own policy on the matter irrespective of whether it breaks from EU strategy or even legal and ethical norms.

Opportunity #3 – Connections and Corridors

The Mediterranean has been one of the most important meeting points of humanity for millennia, with cultural and commercial exchanges flourishing along its coastline since the Bronze Age. The Barcelona Process focused heavily on the importance of civil society for the further development of the ties between the states of the Mediterranean. However, today, the rise of far-right parties in Europe and the resurgence and entrenchment of authoritarian regimes in North Africa and the Middle East following the Arab Spring have left little room for manoeuvre in this regard.[44]

At the same time, the Mediterranean is set to become more interconnected than ever before. Economic corridors and infrastructure connectivity is expected to become a dominant feature of the region, something which must be capitalized upon to increase the cultural and social cohesion between the Mediterranean states. Cooperation on key issues and shared threats, including climate change, water resilience, and global pandemics, should be a key priority for the Pact. Even cooperation on tourism, which is a significant source of income for countries in the region, must be further developed, despite more than two billion euros having been already allocated to a total of 17 Interreg programmes in the region.[45]

Countries around the Mediterranean will face significant water shortages in the future, with millions of people already facing water scarcity.[46] With many of the world’s most water-stressed areas being located in the region, close co-operation will be required to counter the issue as there exist both a serious investment gap and a lack of technical expertise in confronting this problem.[47] Yet, it will be important for the European Union to actively assist its partners in mitigating the impact of climate change and to avoid the further desertification of the region, something that would only exacerbate cross-Mediterranean migratory flows.

Technological innovation and digital connectivity can also have an important role in bridging the divide between the states in the region and further unlock the area’s potential. Undersea fibre optic cables already account for the vast majority of internet traffic, and the EU Global Gateway investment project has already been seen as a valuable instrument in further developing a sustainable digital infrastructure and regulatory framework for the Mediterranean in the future despite difficulties in securing adequate funding.[48] Developing a communications network in line with European values and standards could allow the EU to engage in specific digital economy partnerships, aligning the region to its own economic and development priorities and further underlining its global role as an important digital partner.[49]

Several initiatives have been successful in forging links within the region, and instead of retreat, the Pact for the Mediterranean must double down on these efforts to promote a shared space of peace and prosperity. Soft power has always been one of the most important ways in which the European Union has pursued its goals on the global stage. “The role of culture as a vector for peace, democracy and economic development will continue to be supported to help build a more inclusive Mediterranean. Culture is a field where there is a real added value in working at regional level to reduce social isolation and build connections across the Mediterranean region”, noted the EU’s Regional Multiannual Indicative Programme.[50]

Opportunity #4 – Agency

Since the Napoleonic Era, political control of the Mediterranean has been determined by actors who were far from its shores, from the British Empire in the long nineteenth century to the Cold War struggle between the United States and the Soviet Union in the latter half of the twentieth. However, in the post-Cold War era these traditional rivalries have been steadily retreating, with the termination of Russia’s lease on the military base of Tartus acting as an emphatic capstone. But there is also the high likelihood that the Mediterranean will continue to feature prominently in a renewed era of Great Power competition. Indicatively, the Mediterranean saw one of the most significant concentration of warships in the world during the opening days of the Russian invasion of Ukraine.

China is increasingly becoming a major factor in the region, developing its bilateral relations with the countries of North Africa and West Asia through a focus on soft power and development (best exemplified by the country’s Belt and Road Initiative or BRI) and buoyed by Beijing’s official policy of non-interference in domestic politics.[51] But it has also began developing deeper security and diplomatic relations with actors in the region, including establishing Comprehensive Strategic Partnerships with Algeria and Egypt. In fact, aside from the fact that China has become the leading trade partner for both countries, it also is providing them with military equipment and support (even conducting joint naval exercises with Egypt).[52] Chinese military supplies to northern Africa accounted for almost half (49%) of its total military exports to the continent. China also opened its first overseas military base in Djibouti, not far from the southern entrance to the Red Sea and the Suez Canal. Additionally, China has been attempting to establish itself in the Balkans and Eastern Europe through the 14+1 cooperation scheme, with the COSCO-owned Greek port of Piraeus seen as a key entryway for the BRI into Europe.

While the United States will likely continue its pivot to the Indo-Pacific in an effort to contain Chinese aspirations, a more comprehensive and hawkish US policy could likely see the country re-engaging with the Mediterranean to this effect. With the current administration’s efforts to reinforce American shipbuilding capabilities, both military and commercial, it may also seek to re-establish its presence in one of the world’s most critical waterways. While the United States Sixth Fleet has dwindled in size since the end of the Cold War, usually down to one carrier battle group, it is strongly reinforced in times of crises. In the aftermath of the October 7, 2023, attack by Hamas, the USS Gerald Ford carrier and the amphibious assault ships USS Bataan and USS Wasp were all deployed to join the Sixth Fleet in the Eastern Mediterranean.

There are elements within the US military chain of command who directly view the BRI as a threat to US interests, as it strengthens China’s control over the global logistics system. The establishment of Alexandroupolis as the main port of entry for NATO materiel, a port free of connection to either China or Russia, was not a coincidence, nor was the Greek’s state decision to cancel the tender for the port due to its increased geopolitical and strategic importance spontaneous.[53] “[S]ome OBOR [One Belt One Road] investments could create potential military advantages for China, should China require access to selected foreign ports to pre-position the necessary logistics support to sustain naval deployments in waters as distant as the Indian Ocean, Mediterranean Sea, and Atlantic Ocean to protect its growing interests”, tellingly noted a Pentagon report in 2018.[54]

If the India-Middle East-Europe Corridor (IMEC), supported by elements of the United States administration as a counterweight to the BRI,[55] materialises it would add yet another dimension to a possible renewed global struggle over the Mediterranean, with India and China likely to compete for influence in the region, and likely, the same actors. The IMEC, announced in September 2023, is intended to serve as a strategic and economic bridge between Asia, the Middle East, and Europe, positioning the Mediterranean as a central node in future global trade architecture. This convergence of competing great power-led corridors highlights the region’s increasing strategic value, necessitating a proactive and unified EU response through the new Pact.[56]

Additionally, states from the Gulf region, primarily Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates, have also gradually increased their footprint in the Mediterranean, even if their focus is limited in scope. Initially enmeshing themselves in the region in the aftermath of the Arab Spring to counter the spread of the Turkey- and Qatar-backed Muslim Brotherhood,[57] the two Gulf states have since developed strategic and economic ties with both sides of the Mediterranean coast, particularly Greece and Egypt. These investments often focus on strategic sectors like ports, logistics, and renewable energy, creating an alternative source of capital and influence outside traditional EU and Chinese channels.

This could be a defining moment for the European Union to prove that it can be a serious geopolitical player.

This could be a defining moment for the European Union to prove that it can be a serious geopolitical player. While the threat of a US withdrawal from NATO has subsided, it is clear that the EU must move beyond its dependence on American policy to secure its own security and prosperity. The Mediterranean continues to be a region in flux, with several global and regional powers seeking to assert themselves in this strategically and economically critical area. The Pact for the Mediterranean must facilitate the European Union in its efforts to seize the initiative and muster the agency to chart its own path in a region that directly impacts it, rather than to once more be relegated to the role of a reactive spectator.

Conclusion

The Pact for the Mediterranean will arrive at a challenging time for the region. The divergence between the European Union and its Southern Neighbourhood seems more likely to grow deeper instead of being bridged. There are serious challenges on all fronts, political, economic, and social, that risk its viability entirely. A more holistic approach by the European Union to the region can only benefit its influence and credibility, but it must be careful in acknowledging and addressing the concerns of its member states in the region and be cognisant of the adverse global conditions.

Ultimately, the Pact will be judged by its implementation. Whether it will offer measurable and concrete actions to confront the challenges and grasp the opportunities of the region, or whether it will remain a document defined by good intentions, remains to be seen. To succeed, the Pact must prioritize internal EU cohesion, credibly address the trust deficit with Southern partners by balancing values and transactional interests, and demonstrate a unified strategic stance toward external actors, particularly Turkey. Only through such a consistent action can the EU fully capitalize on the energy, connectivity, and geopolitical agency opportunities the Mediterranean offers.

 

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[1]https://www.eeas.europa.eu/sites/default/files/joint_communication_renewed_partnership_southern_neighbourhood.pdf

[2] Francis Fukuyama, ‘The End of History?’, The National Interest, Vol. 16 (Summer, 1989), p. 4.

[3]https://www.eeas.europa.eu/sites/default/files/joint_communication_renewed_partnership_southern_neighbourhood.pdf

[4] https://www.eeas.europa.eu/eeas/when-member-states-are-divided-how-do-we-ensure-europe-able-act-0_en

[5] E., Hokayem, & R., Momtaz, Turbulence in the Eastern Mediterranean: Geopolitical, Security, and

Energy Dynamics (London, Routledge, 2024), pp. 265-266.

[6] https://www.ekathimerini.com/politics/foreign-policy/1281553/mitsotakis-announces-eez-delimitation-talks-with-libya/

[7] https://www.gisreportsonline.com/r/italy-france/

[8] Hokayem, & Momtaz, Turbulence in the Eastern Mediterranean, pp. 265-266.

[9] https://www.reuters.com/article/us-europe-migrants-libya-idUSKBN22K1UT/

[10] https://www.politico.eu/article/italy-greece-sound-alarm-over-libya-allies-arent-rushing-to-help/

[11] https://www.euromesco.net/wp-content/uploads/2024/02/Policy-Brief-N%C2%BA140.pdf

[12] https://ec.europa.eu/commission/presscorner/detail/en/doc_95_7

[13] https://romena.ohchr.org/en/human-rights-situation-mena-region

[14] https://ec.europa.eu/commission/presscorner/detail/en/STATEMENT_24_1513

[15] https://www.hrw.org/news/2025/01/16/egypt-repression-rising-poverty-sisis-second-decade

[16] https://ec.europa.eu/commission/presscorner/detail/ga/statement_24_1513

[17] https://carnegieendowment.org/research/2025/09/the-eus-dead-on-arrival-pact-for-the-mediterranean?lang=en

[18] https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/cx2kr40nlkpo

[19] https://www.rusi.org/explore-our-research/publications/commentary/frances-strategic-failure-mali-postcolonial-disutility-force

[20] https://carnegieendowment.org/research/2025/09/the-eus-dead-on-arrival-pact-for-the-mediterranean?lang=en

[21] https://www.europarl.europa.eu/doceo/document/P-9-2023-001267-ASW_EN.html

[22]https://idsc.gov.eg/upload/DocumentLibraryIssues/AttachmentA/10166/Egypt%27s%20Relations%20with%20BRICS%20%20One%20year%20after%20joining%20the%20group%20-%20future%20perspectives%20%20.pdf

[23] https://www.eeas.europa.eu/eeas/libyat%C3%BCrkiye-statement-spokesperson-reported-agreement-hydrocarbons_en

[24] https://www.ekathimerini.com/politics/foreign-policy/1277492/ankara-blocks-research-on-cable-route/

[25] Hokayem, & Momtaz, Turbulence in the Eastern Mediterranean, pp. 265-266.

[26] https://www.prio.org/publications/13435

[27] https://www.washingtoninstitute.org/policy-analysis/freeing-libyas-locked-oil-reserves

[28] https://ec.europa.eu/eurostat/statistics-explained/index.php?title=EU_imports_of_energy_products_-_latest_developments#:~:text=Norway%20was%20the%20largest%20supplier,Norway%20increased%20by%207.2%20pp

[29] https://www.realinstitutoelcano.org/en/analyses/another-round-of-algerian-gas-for-europe/

[30] Hokayem, & Momtaz, Turbulence in the Eastern Mediterranean, p. 63.

[31] Ibid., p. 66.

[32] https://www.offshore-energy.biz/totalenergies-and-eni-sign-on-dotted-line-for-cyprus-gas-exports-through-egypt/

[33] https://www.eia.gov/todayinenergy/detail.php?id=61025

[34] https://www.ekathimerini.com/economy/energy/1281386/diplomatic-engagement-is-key-for-chevrons-energy-project/

[35] https://iogpeurope.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/09/The-Mediterranean-an-energy-and-decarbonization-opportunity-for-Europe-UPDATED.pdf

[36] https://www.climatechampions.net/news/mediterranean-in-the-global-clean-energy-revolution/

[37]Hokayem, & Momtaz, Turbulence in the Eastern Mediterranean, p. 263.

[38] https://www.eliamep.gr/wp-content/uploads/2025/05/Policy-brief_Greece.pdf

[39]https://www.frontex.europa.eu/media-centre/news/news-release/significant-rise-in-irregular-border-crossings-in-2023-highest-since-2016-C0gGpm#:~:text=Significant%20rise%20in%20irregular%20border%20crossings%20in%202023%2C%20highest%20since%202016,-2024%2D01%2D26&text=The%20number%20of%20irregular%20border,to%20preliminary%20calculations%20by%20Frontex

[40] https://www.hrw.org/news/2022/12/12/eu-frontex-complicit-abuse-libya

[41] https://www.france24.com/en/live-news/20251003-italy-libya-migration-pact-under-scrutiny-as-bullets-fly

[42] https://www.politico.eu/article/frontex-greece-punishment-migration-abuse-jonas-grimheden/

[43] https://www.ispionline.it/en/publication/eu-north-africa-migration-first-181145

[44] https://carnegieendowment.org/research/2025/09/the-eus-dead-on-arrival-pact-for-the-mediterranean?lang=en

[45] https://ec.europa.eu/regional_policy/whats-new/newsroom/14-08-2025-cohesion-policy-towards-a-more-sustainable-tourism-in-the-mediterranean_en

[46] https://op.europa.eu/en/publication-detail/-/publication/21361dc9-26dc-11ef-a195-01aa75ed71a1

[47] Ibid.

[48] https://ecdpm.org/application/files/6617/1982/5473/Financing-Inclusive-Digital-Transformation-EU-Global-Gateway-ECDPM-Discussion-Paper-370-2024.pdf

[49] Ibid.

[50] https://enlargement.ec.europa.eu/document/download/19e6c4a6-7d6a-4831-8a8c-f4bea98cf5a0_en

[51] https://www.brookings.edu/wp-content/uploads/2020/07/FP_20200720_china_mediterranean_ghafar_jacobs.pdf

[52] https://chinapower.csis.org/china-global-arms-trade/

[53] https://www.ekathimerini.com/economy/1197356/greece-to-cancel-alexandroupolis-port-tender-as-its-importance-increases/

[54] https://www.ispionline.it/en/publication/who-controls-rimland-competition-and-rivalry-mediterranean-26983

[55] https://www.cfr.org/blog/will-us-plan-counter-chinas-belt-and-road-initiative-work

[56] https://www.orfonline.org/research/integrating-the-eu-s-hinterland-through-imec

[57] https://ecfr.eu/special/eastern_med/gcc

Nikos Bakirtzis (Junior Research Fellow, South-East Europe Programme – ELIAMEP & Project Manager, think nea – New Narratives of EU Integration) authored the policy brief titled “Enlargement on the edge: Strategic investment, credibility and resilience” in the framework of ELIAMEP’s initiative think nea – New Narratives of EU Integration.

The memo was part of the first set of Ignita Memos — seven concise, strategic briefs developed within the Ignita Initiative. Each Memo outlines key insights and policy recommendations that define the preconditions for meaningful EU integration in the Western Balkans. Designed to strengthen civil society advocacy and guide institutional dialogue, the Memos distill lessons from the Ignita Forum’s first year and propose actionable priorities for both regional and EU-level stakeholders.

“Ignita 2025: On the Edge” was the inaugural edition of a new regional platform that brought together civil society, researchers, policymakers, the business community, and youth in sustained, strategic dialogue on the Western Balkans’ European future. Held in the repurposed creativity hub of ITP Prizren on October 8–10, 2025, the Forum’s theme, “On the Edge”, invited civil society to reclaim its role in shaping the region’s European trajectory through adaptive advocacy and grounded expertise in advancing EU accession efforts.

ELIAMEP is part of Ignita, a collaboration of regional civil society organizations led by the Open Society Foundations – Western Balkans (OSF-WB). Ignita serves as a cohesive hub for stakeholders engaged in regional cooperation and EU integration, providing a dynamic and flexible platform that adapts to the evolving landscape of enlargement policy. By employing innovative strategies and empowering key regional actors, Ignita enables a more active and informed role in shaping policymaking at both regional and EU levels. As a flagship initiative of OSF-WB, it is dedicated to forging meaningful connections and advancing a shared vision for a region fully integrated into the European Union.

You can read the policy brief here.

You can read the other policy briefs here.