Turkey and the EU’s defence dilemma: a partner too far?

Europe’s security mechanism is not at its best. As the war in Ukraine rumbles on and the Eastern Mediterranean bristles with tension, the EU’s military cupboard looks embarrassingly bare. In an urge to rearm and shore up defences, some in Brussels turn their eyes to Turkey, a NATO ally with a muscular army and a strategic foothold between continents.

The debate is sharp, for the thought is seductive. Here is a NATO ally with a formidable army, a strategic position between Europe and Asia, and an interest in regional stability. Can Ankara be the missing piece in Europe’s security puzzle, or is it a mirage that distracts from the bloc’s need to stand on its own? The answer may not be simple, but it is clear. Turkey’s track record makes it a shaky bet at best.

Start with Cyprus, that festering wound on Europe’s southern flank. For over half a century, Turkey has occupied 37 per cent of an EU member state’s territory, a fact that should make any talk of “partnership” uneasy. But the Cyprus issue isn’t some dusty historical footnote. It is a live wire, a daily reminder of Ankara’s willingness to defy international law when it suits its interests.

The EU, for all its resolutions, has done little as Turkey militarises the north, colonises it with settlers and ignores UN Security Council mandates. To imagine that this country could be a reliable cog in Europe’s security machine is to confuse wishful thinking with strategy. Does a true partner violate your own borders?

Then there is Syria, where Turkey’s fingerprints are all over the chaos. Ankara’s involvement began with noble rhetoric about toppling Assad, but it quickly devolved into a murky game of proxy wars and border games. Today, Turkey backs the new jihadist-leaning government in Damascus.

This is not the behaviour of a state seeking to align with EU values. It is the playbook of a regional power flexing its muscles, consequences be damned. The EU, which prides itself on human rights and secular governance, cannot afford to tie its defence ambitions to a player so comfortable with extremism.

The Eastern Mediterranean offers another reason for caution. Turkey’s disputes with Greece and Cyprus over maritime rights are a calculated challenge to the EU’s sovereignty and resource claims. Ankara’s gunboat diplomacy, from surveys in contested waters to airspace violations and maximalist declarations, reveals a nation more interested in dominance than dialogue. Is this an actor to invite into a rearmament pact?

And let us not forget the immigration mess. Turkey has long played gatekeeper to Europe’s borders, holding millions of migrants as a bargaining chip. The 2016 EU-Turkey deal was meant to fix this, but Ankara’s selective enforcement – opening the floodgates for leverage – has fuelled Europe’s illegal immigration woes. A security partner shouldn’t wield your weaknesses as a weapon, yet here we are.

What about Ukraine then? Turkey’s stance is a masterclass in ambivalence. While it sells drones to Kyiv, Ankara refuses to join the EU’s sanctions on Russia. This isn’t principled neutrality, but opportunism. Contrast this with the EU’s firm stand against Russian aggression, and you see a gap very difficult to bridge. A security partner must share your enemies, not flirt with them.

Consider, too, the latest crackdown shaking Turkey’s façade of democracy. Turkish police have just arrested Istanbul Mayor Ekrem Imamoglu, Erdogan’s most formidable rival, on charges of corruption and alleged terrorist ties, effectively barring him from the presidential race. The rule of law in Turkey is a hollow shell, hardly the mark of a stable ally the EU can lean on in times of crisis.

None of this is to say Turkey lacks strengths. Its military is powerful, its location unmatched, its diplomacy outstanding and its industrial capabilities robust. But strengths don’t make a partner – trust does. And trust is precisely what Ankara has spent decades eroding, from Cyprus to Syria, from the Mediterranean to the migrant routes and beyond.

The EU’s defence shortcomings, its underfunded armies, its fragmented priorities, its reliance on American largesse, are of course real and pressing. But the solution lies within, not across the Bosporus. Europe must muster the will to rearm itself, to forge a unified security vision, and to stop outsourcing its backbone to dubious allies.

History teaches us this: when empires lean on unsteady pillars, they crumble. The EU is not an empire, but it fancies itself a power. If it wants to act like one, it should look to its own house – Germany’s mothballed tanks, France’s overstretched forces, the ceremonial contingents most member states call armies – before knocking on Turkey’s door.

Ankara may not be the devil, but it is also not the saviour. And the EU, for once, should decide to save itself.