ELIAMEP

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

Soylu Ragip, 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

Soylu Ragip, 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

Turkey-Israeli Free Trade Agreement: https://investmentpolicy.unctad.org/international-investment-agreements/treaty-files/2455/download

Ghariani Jonathan, Turkish-Israeli relations: ‘the golden years’, 1991–2000, Israel Affairs, 30(1), 5–24’: https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/epdf/10.1080/13537121.2023.2295602?needAccess=true

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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Borell, Josep, ‘When member states are divided, how do we ensure Europe is able to act?’, European Union External Action Service, 2/10/2020.
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Elgendy, Karim, ‘Here’s how and why the Mediterranean could lead in the global clean energy revolution’, Climate Champions, 4/4/2025.
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Fukuyama, Francis, ‘The End of History?’, The National Interest, Vol. 16 (Summer, 1989), pp. 3-18.

Ghafar, Adel Abdel and Jacobs, Anna L., ‘China in the Mediterranean: Implications of Expanding Sino-North Africa Relations’, Brookings, July 2020.
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Gruarin, Valentina, ‘EU Policy in North Africa and Eastern Mediterranean: Balancing Differentiated Integration for Conflict Resolution and Democracy Support’, EUROMESCO Policy Brief No. 140, February 2024.
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Hammond, Joseph, ‘Freeing Libya’s Locked-Up Oil Reserves’, Washington Institute for Near East Policy, 14/9/2025.
https://www.washingtoninstitute.org/policy-analysis/freeing-libyas-locked-oil-reserves

Helmy, Dyaa, ‘Egypt’s Relations with BRICS: One Year After Joining the Group – Future Perspectives’, The Egyptian Cabinet Information and Decision Support Center, 16/1/2025.
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

Hokayem, E., & Momtaz, R., Turbulence in the Eastern Mediterranean: Geopolitical, Security, and Energy Dynamics (London, Routledge, 2024).

Karacsony, Eszter, ‘Integrating the EU’s hinterland through IMEC’, Observer Research Foundation, 26/8/2025.
https://www.orfonline.org/research/integrating-the-eu-s-hinterland-through-imec

Martins, Bruno Oliveira; Pinar Tank & Beste İşleyen, ‘Turkish drones as a foreign policy tool: A technology-mediated search for autonomy’, Peace Research Institute Oslo, 2023.
https://www.prio.org/publications/13435

Pastori, Gianluca, ‘Who Controls the Rimland: Competition and Rivalry in the Mediterranean’, Italian Institute for International Political Studies, 16/7/2020.
https://www.ispionline.it/en/publication/who-controls-rimland-competition-and-rivalry-mediterranean-26983

Sacks, David, ‘Will the U.S. Plan to Counter China’s Belt and Road Initiative Work?’, Council on Foreign Relations, 14/9/2023.
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Zubel, Karolina, ‘The contribution of the Mediterranean cities and regions to building water resilience’, European Committee of the Regions, 2024.
https://op.europa.eu/en/publication-detail/-/publication/21361dc9-26dc-11ef-a195-01aa75ed71a1

News

Argiri, Lena, ‘Greece emerging as critical energy hub in Eastern Mediterranean’, Kathimerini English Edition, 21/9/2025.
https://www.ekathimerini.com/economy/energy/1281386/diplomatic-engagement-is-key-for-chevrons-energy-project/

Barigazzi, Jacopo, Stamouli, Nektaria, and Leali, Giorgio, ‘Italy and Greece sound the alarm over Libya. But allies aren’t rushing to help.’, Politico, 14/7/2025.
https://www.politico.eu/article/italy-greece-sound-alarm-over-libya-allies-arent-rushing-to-help/

Cavcic, Melisa, ‘TotalEnergies and Eni sign on dotted line for Cyprus gas exports through Egypt’, Offshore Energy, 18/2/2025.
https://www.offshore-energy.biz/totalenergies-and-eni-sign-on-dotted-line-for-cyprus-gas-exports-through-egypt/

“Egypt: Repression, Rising Poverty in Sisi’s Second Decade”, Humans Right Watch, 16/1/2025.
https://www.hrw.org/news/2025/01/16/egypt-repression-rising-poverty-sisis-second-decade

“EU: Frontex Complicit in Abuse in Libya”, Humans Right Watch, 12/12/2022.
https://www.hrw.org/news/2022/12/12/eu-frontex-complicit-abuse-libya

“Greece to cancel Alexandroupoli port tender as its importance increases”, Kathimerini English Edition, 7/11/2025.
https://www.ekathimerini.com/economy/1197356/greece-to-cancel-alexandroupolis-port-tender-as-its-importance-increases/

“Italy-Libya migration pact under scrutiny as bullets fly”, France24 News, 3/10/2025.
https://www.france24.com/en/live-news/20251003-italy-libya-migration-pact-under-scrutiny-as-bullets-fly

Melly, Paul, ‘Chad exploits Russian-Western rivalry to its advantage’, BBC News, 5/10/2024
https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/cx2kr40nlkpo

Nedos, Vassilis, ‘Ankara blocks research on cable route’, Kathimerini English Edition, 8/8/2025.
https://www.ekathimerini.com/politics/foreign-policy/1277492/ankara-blocks-research-on-cable-route/

“PM Mitsotakis announces EEZ delimitation talks with Libya”, Kathimerini English Edition, 21/09/2025.
https://www.ekathimerini.com/politics/foreign-policy/1281553/mitsotakis-announces-eez-delimitation-talks-with-libya/

Scicluna, Chris and Emmott, Robin, ‘Malta pulls out of new EU Libya sea patrols in migration row’, Reuters, 8/5/2020.
https://www.reuters.com/article/us-europe-migrants-libya-idUSKBN22K1UT/

Stamouli, Nektaria and Röhn, Tim, ‘Greece must face punishment over abuses against migrants, Frontex official says’, Politico, 24/4/2025.
https://www.politico.eu/article/frontex-greece-punishment-migration-abuse-jonas-grimheden/

 

[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.

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

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

Introduction

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Concluding Remarks

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[36] Ibid.

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

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

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

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

[41] Wikipedia, Coalition casualties in Afghanistan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[50]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Introduction

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

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

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

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

Historical Context of Turkey’s Defence Industry

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Leveraging NATO membership

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

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

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

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

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

The SAFE Regulation in Context

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

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

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

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

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

SAFE and Turkey: can they go together?

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

Opportunities offered by Turkey’s Participation

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

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

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

Challenges posed by Turkey’s Participation

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

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

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

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

Recommendations to the EU

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

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

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

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

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

Conclusion

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

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

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

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

 

References

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This report (Vlassis, A., Psychogiopoulou, E, Kandyla, A. and Sarikakis, K. (Eds) (2025)) examines EU film promotion by states and EU policies. It highlights the need for stronger gender equality support in the audiovisual sector.

Part B, authored by Evangelia Psychogiopoulou (ELIAMEP), Anna Kandyla (ELIAMEP), Pelin Turan (SSSA), Apostolos Samaras (ELIAMEP), Laia Comerma (ELIAMEP), and Caterina Sganga (SSSA), forms part of T3.5 (EU law and governance and the promotion of the EFI on the international scene). It examines and assesses whether—and, if so, how—EU law and policies promote European audiovisual works and film beyond the borders of the EU. It does so by mapping the policies and instruments in place, identifying their characteristics, complementarities, enablers and limitations in enhancing the internationalisation of the European audiovisual industry. The analysis focuses in particular on agreements the EU has negotiated with third countries and regions concerning trade facilitation and cooperation in the audiovisual and film sectors. It also  considers EU funding instruments supporting the audiovisual sector and external action in this field. Methodologically, the study draws on extensive desk research and the analysis of a range of primary and secondary sources, complemented by insights gathered through semi-structured interviews with EU officials and film stakeholders. Overall, the findings indicate that EU agreements with third countries, along with audiovisual cooperation and external funding tools, include various elements that can boost the positioning of European films worldwide, although the scope of these instruments varies. The analysis also suggests that considerable untapped potential remains and calls for a comprehensive internationalisation strategy that promotes the competitiveness of the European audiovisual sector while supporting cultural diversity.

The report is available here.

As Cyprus assumes its second Presidency of the European Union, it steps into a role defined by crisis and change. The contrast with its first Presidency (2012) could not be sharper. Then, multilateralism prevailed; collaboration was possible, and conflict manageable. Today, multilateralism is under siege, conflicts dominate, and Europe faces existential challenges: its Union and Security, its Internal and Capital Markets, its Competitiveness, its Freedom and Values.

Every Presidency has one duty: to carry the Union’s business forward. For Cyprus, the central test will be guiding the negotiations on the EU’s Multiannual Financial Framework (MFF). This is an exercise in listening, negotiation, and compromise. More than anything, it will demand that Cyprus acts as an honest broker — a role where smaller member states often succeed more than larger ones.

Three Tests of Success

Like all Presidencies, Cyprus will be judged on three fronts:

• Institutional: Can it leave a footprint by steering the MFF to conclusion?
• Representational: Can it represent a policy theme, bigger than its national interest that endures? Water, as a scarce resource and driver of conflict and migration –with impact across continents -, could anchor a “Nicosia Declaration on Water.”
• Reputational: Can it use neutrality to build a legacy as a convener of peace and compromise?

It is commendable that Cyprus wants to include regional neighbors as observers in EU deliberations. The EuroMediterranean region — 500 million people, 10% of global GDP — is paradoxically the least interconnected in the world. Intra-regional trade is just one quarter of total trade. For a decade, progress has been negligible.

Cyprus, as the EU’s southeastern border, can help change this. By bringing neighbors into the European conversation, it can foster trade, collaboration, and peace. But this must be pursued with neutrality and as part of a long-term strategy and within EU’s governance model— not as a one-off gesture.

The Presidency is about Europe’s collective good, not national gain. Yet Cyprus’ reality cannot be ignored. It remains divided, with EU law barred from 30% of its territory. And, it is Europe’s only isolated island Member State.

This Presidency can remind Cypriots of the benefits of EU membership. It can remind Europeans of the reality that part of EU territory remains occupied by Turkey — an EU trade partner and NATO member. That contradiction must never be normalized, and it must never be replicated elsewhere.

Cyprus should not instrumentalize its occupation and division but deploy it as a precedent and the learnings which point to European security risks, given the current world order, prevailing Russia threats across the EU’s borders and continuing conflict between Israel, Palestine and regional actors.

Cyprus’ Presidency comes at a moment when Europe needs resilience and vision. It is an opportunity for a small state to leave a large footprint. To prove that neutrality can be strength. To show that Cyprus is not an island on the margins, but a player at the heart of Europe’s frontier.

Photo: Flickr

This deliverable of the project REBOOT (Kandyla, A., Turan P. and Vlassis, A. (Eds). (2025)) offers an overview and description of the structure and contents of the public database on ‘European Union (EU) laws and cross-national frameworks relevant to the European Film Industry (EFI)’. Developed within the framework of Work Package 3 (WP3) of the REBOOT project, the database is organised into three distinct sub-databases, each addressing key dimensions on the laws and policies governing the promotion of the EFI at the international level: the regulatory framework for filmmaking at the EU level and across EU member states; institutional and policy models across the EU Member States, and EU legal and policy instruments relevant to the internationalisation of the EFI. D3.6 is meant to act as a guide to these resources. It outlines the main types of information and data included in each sub-database and details the methodology employed in their compilation, including documentary sources, data collection structures, and other relevant information. The full sub-databases will be released as part of the ‘Film industry competitiveness dashboard’ (Task 6.2), which is scheduled to be submitted in November 2025. The dashboard will offer an online platform providing public access to both original data collected within the REBOOT project and existing statistics. It will enable visualisations and support future analysis of the evolving competitiveness of the European film industry.

The deliverable is structured in three parts as follows:

(1) Part 1 introduces the sub-database on ‘Multi-level mapping of the legal norms informing and regulating filmmaking in the European Union’. This sub-database reflects the scientific output of the research conducted under Task 3.1, led by Scuola Superiore Sant’Anna (hereinafter referred to as ‘SSSA’). It offers a detailed mapping of legal and policy instruments across multiple governance levels (international, supranational, regional, and national) that influence filmmaking in the EU. It covers an array of areas critical to the sector’s competitiveness, including cultural diversity, copyright, media law, and the protection of minors. Norms have been extracted from legal instruments issued by organisations such as UNESCO, WIPO, WTO, the Council of Europe, the EU, and selected Member States.

(2) Part 2 presents the sub-database on the ‘Promotion of the EFI at the international level: Institutional and policy models across the EU Member States’. This sub-database reflects the output of Task 3.4, led by the University of Liège (ULIEGE), which explored how public institutions and practices contribute to the international promotion of their national film industries and, by extension, of the broader EFI. The sub-data includes quantitative data and materials, offering a structured, accessible, and comparative resource. Drawing on extensive documentary research, interviews, and market data, it provides a comparative mapping of public support strategies, funding mechanisms, and the actors involved in promoting the EFI across EU Member States and abroad.

(3) Part 3 presents the sub-database on ‘EU legal and policy measures on the promotion of the EFI on the international scene’. Developed as part of research conducted by the Hellenic Foundation for European and Foreign Policy (ELIAMEP) under Task 3.5, it catalogues a range of agreements concerning trade facilitation and cooperation negotiated by the EU with third countries and regions, covering agreements that are currently in force, as well as agreements pending signature and ratification. It also covers selected EU funding instruments with relevance to the international promotion of European audiovisual works and audiovisual cooperation with third countries.

 

The deliverable is available here.

This policy brief is authored by Dr. Isabelle Ioannides (Senior Research Fellow, South-East Europe Programme – ELIAMEP) and published in the context of the project EMBRACing changE – Overcoming Obstacles and Advancing Democracy in the European Neighbourhood (EMBRACE). EMBRACE is a multi-country research initiative (2022–2025) that seeks to strengthen the capacity of EU policymakers and pro-democracy actors to develop effective strategies for democracy promotion across five regions: the Western Balkans, Eastern Europe, the Southern Caucasus, the Middle East, and North Africa. It combines comparative analysis, stakeholder engagement, and new data collection to identify the obstacles and enablers of democratisation and to design practical policy tools for European democracy promotion.

Focusing on Work Package 7 – The Geopolitics of EUDP, this policy brief addresses the turbulent geopolitical landscape in which EU democracy promotion must operate. Russia’s and China’s assertive roles, including disinformation campaigns, combine with heightened regional instability, conflicts in Ukraine and the Middle East, and the spread of polarisation and populism within and beyond Europe. These developments create a volatile environment that constrains democratic progress in the EU’s neighbourhood and, in some cases, drives democratic backsliding. The brief stresses that the EU’s democracy promotion cannot be viewed in isolation from these broader geopolitical dynamics.

Against this backdrop, the EMBRACE project organised scenario-building workshops in North Macedonia, Serbia, Ukraine, and Georgia, and conducted stakeholder interviews in Algeria. These consultations had a twofold aim: to assess the democratic trajectories and risks facing each country by 2030, and to evaluate how the EU can mitigate challenges while reinforcing democratic enablers. The locally led approach ensured that country-specific insights and informal power dynamics were captured, helping to refine projections for how external and internal pressures may shape democracy in the coming years.

The brief concludes by offering recommendations for the EU to recalibrate its democracy promotion strategies under conditions of geopolitical competition and uncertainty. It underlines that effectiveness depends on tailoring approaches to local realities, anticipating risks through foresight and scenario planning, and reinforcing the EU’s credibility as a consistent and strategic actor. By integrating evidence-based insights and locally grounded perspectives, the policy brief contributes to EMBRACE’s broader mission of equipping the EU with more adaptive and resilient tools for advancing democracy in its neighbourhood.

Read the paper here in pdf.

The housing problem in Europe is linked to the trajectory from post-war de-commodification to the recent re-commodification and financialization of housing, which has made it increasingly unaffordable for the economically vulnerable. The European Union has launched numerous and diverse initiatives for affordable housing, which may have a significant impact despite their subsidiary role and the challenges they face.

In Greece, the housing question has followed a different path from that of the major countries of Western and Northern Europe. The post-war trajectory began with protective conditions for small market actors and, indirectly, for the wider public. These conditions gradually weakened, along with the housing systems they had supported (self-building and antiparochi), and were replaced by a major shift toward the market—most notably the entry of commercial banks into mortgage lending. Subsequently, the fiscal crisis, the gradual exit from it, the expansion of tourism, the influx of corporate and foreign capital into real estate, and the growth of short-term rentals created increasingly problematic conditions for those in need of affordable housing, particularly rental housing.

Measures introduced so far to address the housing crisis have been inadequate and ineffective, while the issue has now taken a central place in social and political debate in Greece for the first time.

Read here (in Greek) the policy paper by Thomas Maloutas, Researcher Emeritus, National Centre for Social Research (NCSR); Professor Emeritus of Geography, Harokopio University and Dimitra Siatitsa, PhD in Urban Planning, Postdoctoral Researcher National Technical University of Athens/National Centre for Social Research (NCSR).

This paper by Dr. Isabelle Ioannides, Senior Research Fellow, South-East Europe Programme, ELIAMEP, is published in the context of the project EMBRACing changE – Overcoming Blockages and Advancing Democracy in the European Neighbourhood. EMBRACE is a multi-country research initiative that aims to enhance democracy promotion efforts in the EU’s neighbourhood by identifying key obstacles to democratisation and formulating evidence-based strategies to overcome them. The project draws on locally led research and stakeholder engagement across twelve case studies in five regions: the Western Balkans, Eastern Europe, the Southern Caucasus, the Middle East, and North Africa.

Focusing on Work Package 8 of the project, the report “Toolkit for EU decision-makers on the geopolitics of EU Democracy Promotion (EUDP)” outlines a conceptual design for a novel approach aimed at strengthening the EU’s ability to respond to democratic backsliding in its neighbourhood. Building on the EMBRACE project’s analysis of factors conducive to democratic opening, such as political structures, historical legacies, and the role of critical junctures, the paper proposes a shift from static and fragmented democracy promotion tools to a dynamic, adaptive, and context-specific system.

The report develops its blueprint based on findings from scenario-building workshops in North Macedonia, Serbia, Georgia, and Ukraine, as well as interviews with stakeholders in Algeria. These consultations interrogated the EU’s existing conceptual framework for democracy promotion and highlighted the need for locally grounded, evidence-based approaches. Central to the proposed Toolkit is a co-design process with local stakeholders, ensuring that EU policy instruments are informed by country-specific realities and informal power structures.

The paper underscores that the Toolkit’s added value lies in its integration of democracy measurement frameworks, data collection and management tools, foresight and forecasting methods, and alert and rapid response systems. These elements are conceived as part of a feedback loop where measurement informs foresight, foresight guides policy design, and outcomes feed back into continuous learning. In this way, the Toolkit leverages local expertise and EU instruments to achieve smarter and more resilient democratisation outcomes.

The report concludes that the EU’s democracy promotion efforts must evolve into a living, continuously adaptive system capable of moving from reactive responses to proactive strategies. By fostering country-specific customisation, local co-creation, and synergies across EU external action instruments, the proposed Toolkit offers a pathway to more effective and resilient democracy promotion both in the five case study countries and beyond.

Read the report here.

Spyros Blavoukos, Professor at the Athens University of Economics & Business; Head of ELIAMEP’s EU Institutions & Policies Programme and Panos Politis Lamprou, Junior Research Fellow, ELIAMEP outline the broader framework of the EU defence cooperation, seeking to provide a concise overview of the Union’s key initiatives that shape its actions in the fields of defence (industrial) policy.

Read the ELIAMEP Explainer here (in Greek).

• The creation of additional fiscal space (NEC) and the provision of low cost lending (SAFE) of ReArm Europe will enhance Greece’s defence expenditures as well as demand for weapon systems throughout the EU.
• The Greek defence industry will exploit these growing opportunities due to its integration in pan-European supply chains, an outcome of the offset agreements of the 1990s and 2000s.
• With three additional policies the Greek defence industry can position itself with even greater effectiveness in this new environment.
• First, build further on the government’s ongoing energetic management of defence-related assets under state ownership, primarily with the exit of the Hellenic Aerospace Company from tight state control.
• Second, reform defence procurement so that the need for speed is addressed which is necessary for realizing Civil-Military Fusion (CMF), including through the transition of the Hellenic Court of Audit from ex ante to ex post review of defence procurement contracts.
• Third, strengthen the Hellenic Center for Defence Innovation (HCDI) with additional financial resources and appointment to its Board of distinguished Greek diaspora scientists so that HCDI can catalyse the participation of diaspora start-ups and diaspora scientific talent in the generation, by the Greek defence industry, of asymmetric force to counter the Turkish threat.

Read here (in Greek) the Policy paper by Antonis Kamaras, Research Associate, ELIAMEP.