Opinion
The Tragedy of a Nation: Bashar’s Glory Days and the Road to Ruin
On December 9th, Russia officially announced that it had granted asylum to Syria’s former president Bashar al-Assad and his family. On the same day, the Syrian embassy in Russia lowered the tricolor two-star flag of the “Arab Republic of Syria,” which had flown for over half a century, and raised the opposition’s tricolor three-star flag. Thus, Russia became the first major power to seamlessly transition its allegiance to the Syrian opposition government. Simultaneously, another long-time Syrian ally, Iran, also publicly announced its recognition of the new Damascus regime. The “strategic allies” Russia and Iran, who had been supporting Bashar in his campaigns, pivoted overnight to embrace their former adversaries. Such cold pragmatism—turning a blind eye to old allies’ tears while joining the smiles of new ones—is both baffling and unsettling.
However, reality is as cruel as it is straightforward. Politics is heartless, and the pursuit and defense of national interests are naked and unrelenting. When Bashar’s regime became a liability and an unreliable partner, its abandonment became inevitable. With Russia and Iran increasingly preoccupied with their own troubles, dropping Bashar and switching sides amounted to damage control and a last-minute effort to stop their losses.
The sudden collapse of Bashar’s regime surprised all parties, even those with the most advanced intelligence and information networks. Otherwise, how can one explain Israel’s sweeping bombardment of Syrian military targets and its occupation of more territory, or the United States’ large-scale bombing campaigns against remaining ISIS strongholds in Syria? These actions indicate that neither Israel nor the West anticipated such a swift and thorough collapse of Bashar’s regime. Moreover, they did not expect the opposition forces, particularly the “Liberation of Syria” alliance, which pose an even greater threat to Israel and the West, to seize Syria’s heartland so easily and control all the country’s war machinery.
Deeply analyzing the rapid and disastrous defeat of Bashar’s regime holds significant value. It offers lessons for authoritarian governments regarding governance and decision-making, and it provides insights for all nations on how to maintain diplomatic alliances and ensure their viability under certain conditions.
The primary reason for this historic upheaval in Syria lies within Bashar’s regime itself—or, more broadly, the Assad family, which controlled Syria for over 50 years, and the elite circles surrounding it. The key conclusion is that, despite being trapped in the vortex of war, the regime failed to adapt to the circumstances, make decisions about war and peace, or reconcile national integration efforts. Instead, it relied excessively on external forces to safeguard its sovereignty and regime. Ultimately, this dependence turned the regime into a mere cog in foreign war machines. Once it became dysfunctional, abandonment and replacement were inevitable.
The rise and fall of Syria reflect the broader modern history of war and peace in the Middle East, serving as a microcosm and a living museum of this turbulent process. Since 1948, driven by the ideals of Arab nationalism, Syria actively joined efforts to oppose the partition of Palestine, setting itself on a long-term collision course with Israel and enduring hostility with the West. This path ultimately led Syria to align with the Soviet Union, later binding itself tightly to Russia and Iran in its struggle for survival and development.
The Assad family, belonging to the Alawite sect—a minority within the Shia branch of Islam—long faced suppression, discrimination, and marginalization. During the French colonial period, Alawite men had little choice but to join the military to make a living. This adversity inadvertently enabled the Alawite sect to grow into a dominant force in the Syrian military. It played a central role in overthrowing the Faisal monarchy and became a pillar of the Arab Socialist Ba’ath Party. In the end, the Alawites turned the tide and emerged as the ruling family holding Syria’s destiny in their hands.
In 1967, Syria, whose intelligence chief had been turned by Moscow, was misled by the Soviet Union and false intelligence suggesting that “Israel would launch an attack.” Alongside Egypt, Syria eagerly prepared for war, which prompted Israel, under immense pressure, to launch a preemptive strike. With its singular strength, Israel defeated Syria, Egypt, and Jordan, capturing Palestine’s Gaza Strip (occupied by Egypt), the West Bank and East Jerusalem (controlled by Jordan’s Hashemite Kingdom), as well as the Sinai Peninsula from Egypt and the Golan Heights from Syria. This war reinforced Syria’s image as a victim of aggression and occupation, solidified its role as a frontline state, and strengthened the Assad family’s legitimacy in ruling over a majority Sunni Muslim population.
On October 6, 1973, Syria and Egypt coordinated a large-scale surprise attack known as the “Ramadan War,” the largest blitzkrieg since World War II. Syria nearly recaptured the Golan Heights and put Israel on the brink of collapse. However, with U.S. support, Israel ultimately turned the tide, reclaiming the Golan Heights. Yet, this war shattered the myth of Israel’s invincibility, elevating Syrian President Hafez al-Assad as a contemporary Arab hero alongside Egyptian President Sadat, both becoming new icons of Arab nationalism.
However, on October 7, 2023, Hamas (the Palestinian Islamic Resistance Movement) launched a surprise attack on Israel on the fiftieth anniversary of the Ramadan War. Ironically, this event ultimately led to the collapse of the Syrian government and the total downfall of the Assad family’s rule, as though history was playing a massive joke. Yet Syria’s current tragedy can be traced back to the misguided path it took after the Ramadan War.
The “victory” of the Ramadan War gave Sadat the political capital and historical opportunity to change course and withdraw from the Palestinian conflict. Egypt had already paid a devastating price—100,000 casualties, hundreds of billions of dollars in losses, and nearly 40 years of lost focus on peace and development. Sadat proactively sought reconciliation with Israel and, through the Camp David Accords, recovered the entire Sinai Peninsula at the cost of abandoning its Arab allies Syria, Jordan, and Palestine.
Feeling “betrayed” by Egypt, Syria aligned itself with Libya and Iraq, raising the banner of Arab nationalism and becoming a stronghold of the Arab resistance movement. Assad, Gaddafi, and Saddam Hussein naturally emerged as the “three strongmen” of the Arab world. They supported and cultivated anti-Israel resistance forces while simultaneously competing for leadership within the Arab world.
However, Assad’s Syria had inherent weaknesses, which made achieving peace through war or independent resistance unattainable—a tragic role that continues into Bashar’s era today. Syria’s limited territory, small population, and complex ethnic dynamics left the majority Sunni Muslim population under the rule of Alawite elites pursuing secularization. Meanwhile, Israel held onto the Golan Heights, a critical strategic area just 60 kilometers from Damascus, which further exacerbated Assad’s precarious position.
This left the Assad regime in a difficult and divided state: internally, it relied on the Arab Socialist Ba’ath Party’s “one nation, one party, one leader” ideology, maintaining authoritarian rule under the banner of resisting Israeli occupation; externally, it avoided military confrontation with Israel to prevent further devastation, sustaining a “cold peace” for half a century that allowed for slow national development under relative stability.
Driven by competition with Iraq’s Ba’ath Party for legitimacy and leadership of Arab nationalism—and by the Alawite elites’ fear of the Sunni majority—Assad decisively sided with Iran during the Iran-Iraq War (1979-1988), turning his back on the broader Arab community. In February 1982, inspired by the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan and the Islamic revival triggered by Iran’s Islamic Revolution, the Syrian Muslim Brotherhood staged an armed uprising in Hama, seeking to overthrow Syria’s “infidel regime.” The rebellion was brutally crushed. This historical event laid the groundwork for Hama’s support during the 2011 Arab Spring and the Syrian war, where local populations either cooperated with or passively watched rebel forces launch massive offensives against the government.
After the 1982 Lebanon War, the Assad regime, which had already lost the Golan Heights and viewed Lebanon as part of its sphere of influence, was unable to directly confront Israel. Instead, it entrusted the national responsibility of reclaiming lost territory to Hezbollah, which had been recently cultivated and armed by Iran. This opened the door for Iran’s westward expansion into the Arab heartland and gradually integrated Syria into the so-called “Shia Crescent.” To some extent, this represented the Assad regime betting Syria’s national destiny and its own rule on a third party rather than following Egypt’s example by courageously seeking peace with Israel to focus on development and improving democracy, livelihoods, and civil rights.
After the 1991 Gulf War, the Middle East entered a promising decade of peace. Saddam Hussein’s army—consisting of over a million elite troops—was crushed by a United Nations-authorized, U.S.-led coalition after attempting to use the occupation and annexation of Kuwait to force Israel’s withdrawal. U.S. President George H.W. Bush launched “Ramadan War” and subsequently worked with Russia (as the successor to the Soviet Union), the United Nations, the European Union, and Spain to initiate the Madrid Peace Process. For the first time, Israel—accustomed to tackling its enemies one by one—was brought under the same roof with its Arab adversaries, including Syria, Lebanon, Jordan (along with Palestinian representatives), to negotiate “land for peace.”
Unexpectedly, Assad faced a second and third Arab betrayal. The Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO) and Jordan—who had originally pledged to confront Israel alongside Syria—separately negotiated agreements with Israel. The PLO secretly signed the Oslo Accords in 1993, establishing transitional Palestinian autonomy, while Jordan normalized relations with Israel in 1994. From that point on, Assad viewed the Palestinian and Jordanian leadership as strangers, even enemies, cutting off all relations.
Assad’s original heir was not Bashar but his eldest son Basil, born in 1962. However, at a time when Assad was growing old and Basil’s personal reputation was on the rise, Basil, who was destined to inherit the regime, died in a mysterious car accident in 1994—an event that rewrote Syrian history. Bashar, who had originally planned to become an ophthalmologist, was immediately recalled to Syria. He swiftly joined the military, rose through the ranks, and was groomed as the successor, ensuring the continuation of the Assad dynasty.
Had Assad lived longer, Bashar might have inherited a legacy of peace and chosen a different path. If his elder brother Basil had not died, Bashar might have become a highly respected international doctor, perhaps even a Nobel laureate in medicine. Unfortunately, while members of royal families can sometimes choose their own future, others cannot—a stark contrast between Eastern and Western cultural traditions.
At the end of 1999, negotiations over the Golan Heights were close to an agreement but collapsed entirely due to an unintended turn of events that rewrote Middle Eastern history and Syria’s fate. In late 1999, Jordan’s King Hussein II passed away. Known for his remarkable emotional intelligence and extensive diplomatic ties, his funeral in Amman attracted an overwhelming number of world leaders and dignitaries.
Perhaps due to a softening heart as he approached the end of his life, pressure from the situation, or simply an inexplicable lapse in judgment, Assad, despite his frail health, broke tradition and personally attended the funeral of King Hussein. Following the Amman funeral, Israel suddenly announced the suspension of Golan Heights negotiations. The Israeli parliament passed a resolution requiring any policy concerning the future of the Golan Heights to receive two-thirds approval from the Knesset, followed by a national referendum.
Years later, reports emerged that Mossad—the formidable Israeli intelligence agency—had secretly swapped a temporary toilet Assad used at the Amman funeral. Subsequent analysis of Assad’s urine confirmed he was in the late stages of cancer and had little time left. Israel’s Security Cabinet feared that Bashar, then only in his early 30s, would be unable to secure his hold on power. If the Golan Heights were returned and Damascus fell into the hands of Arab nationalists or pro-Iranian forces, Israel would effectively be placing a noose around its own neck. Thus, the near-complete peace talks were permanently frozen.
Six months later, Assad passed away. The Israeli government, despite being an adversarial and warring nation, publicly expressed condolences to the Syrian people, government, and Assad’s family, describing him as a keeper of peace who honored his commitments. Bashar al-Assad assumed power as expected and consolidated his regime. However, he permanently lost the best opportunity to peacefully reclaim the Golan Heights. Instead, he found himself forced to bind Syria to the dual vehicles of the “Shia Crescent” and the “frontline state,” eventually becoming the hub of the “Axis of Resistance,” suffering exploitation from all sides. In this sense, Bashar’s Syria resembles the Western Roman Empire in its dying days, collapsing under the final onslaught of northern barbarians, or the Eastern Roman Empire, which, after a thousand years of survival amid wars and sieges, was finally sent to its grave by the Ottoman Empire following its occupation and division during the Fourth Crusade.
Bashar never aspired to be Syria’s angel or reform hero. After assuming power in 2000, he immediately sought reform, relaxed restrictions, and temporarily ushered in a vibrant and praiseworthy “Damascus Spring.” However, as the trends of liberalization and democratization began to threaten political transformation, Bashar, under immense pressure from powerful conservative forces and entrenched elites—and lacking the strength and political wisdom to persevere—abruptly shut the door to reform after just two years. This marked a lost opportunity to sever ties with history, with Iran, and the Shia Crescent, while reclaiming the Golan Heights through separate negotiations. Bashar dared not take such risks, fearing the same fate as Sadat, who pursued peace for land but paid with his life.
In 2005, the assassination of Saudi-backed Lebanese Sunni Prime Minister Rafik Hariri implicated Syrian intelligence and Hezbollah, highlighting the brutal sectarian conflicts in the Islamic Middle East and the struggle over Lebanon. This event triggered the “Beirut Spring” or “Cedar Revolution,” forcing Syria to end its 30-year military presence in Lebanon and further affirming Lebanon’s independence.
The 2011 Arab Spring erupted following Tunisia’s “Jasmine Revolution,” which brought down several authoritarian Arab governments across the Mediterranean’s northwest coast. Its ripple effect eventually reached Syria on the eastern coast. The brutal handling of student protests in the southern town of Daraa sparked a broader uprising, with unrest spreading to traditional anti-Alawite strongholds like Hama. Bashar, facing his first major test after a decade in power, responded poorly. Instead of apologizing and addressing corruption and mismanagement, he blamed the West for orchestrating a “color revolution” and shut the door to dialogue. This fueled widespread dissatisfaction, plunging the country into chaos.
At a critical moment, Saudi King Abdullah called Bashar, offering $20 billion to create jobs, stabilize the economy, and maintain regime stability—on the condition that Damascus sever its strategic ties with Iran and the Shia Crescent. However, Bashar viewed Saudi Arabia’s proposed antidote as a poison pill, recognizing that his Alawite minority regime depended on the Shia family for survival. Additionally, reclaiming the Golan Heights required the support of Iran and Hezbollah. Saudi Arabia’s outstretched olive branch was rejected, leading it to mobilize the Arab League and align with Western nations to intervene in Syria under the pretext of protecting civilians and human rights. This opened the curtain on the Syrian Civil War, with external funding and support for opposition forces.
At the brink of regime collapse, Russia—engaged in a geopolitical contest with the U.S. and NATO over Ukraine—intervened. To divert pressure and protect its last remaining Soviet-era sphere of influence in the Middle East, especially its Mediterranean naval base in Syria, Russia coordinated with China to veto Arab League and Western-sponsored resolutions in the UN Security Council, thwarting attempts to replicate Libya’s regime-change scenario. Under the guise of counter-terrorism, with tens of thousands of Shia militia and Hezbollah fighters crossing borders to support the regime, Bashar’s government regained most of its lost territory and major population centers. A ceasefire agreement was signed with the opposition in March 2020, stabilizing the situation for the first time in a decade. However, this left the country divided, with lingering roots of civil war and fragmentation.
Bashar understood the importance of eliminating opposition, yet Syria lacks the strength to uproot rebels protected by Turkey in the northwest and Kurdish forces supported by the U.S. in the northeast and east. Russia and Iran are also unwilling to bear the massive costs of direct confrontation with Turkey or the U.S. to fulfill Bashar’s ambitions for reunification. They have repeatedly urged Bashar to settle for stability and form a coalition government through negotiations—an offer he has rejected. Fundamentally, Syria remains a bargaining chip for Russia and Iran’s geopolitical interests. What matters to them is securing their core national interests, not who controls Damascus. Otherwise, how can one explain why Russia, Iran, Hezbollah, and Iraqi militias abandoned Bashar in his final hour?
Bashar was originally a “laissez-faire” figure. Despite not being religious, his visit to the Lingyin Temple during the Asian Games in Hangzhou turned him into an internet sensation, sparking controversy and unfounded speculation. Perhaps now, as an exiled leader, Bashar can finally let go of the burdens he has carried for 24 years—burdens too heavy for him to bear. He may return to being an ordinary person or even resume his old career in medicine. But Syria, having been placed on the operating table for half a century, remains carved up and bleeding. Who will save it from this torment?
Overthrowing Bashar’s regime and dismantling the remnants of the Ba’ath Party might not end Syria’s decades of bloodshed but could instead mark the beginning of new conflicts and suffering—much like the downfall of Saddam Hussein’s regime 20 years ago.
Opinion
Chaos and reckoning on the streets of France
The streets of France have turned into a stage not merely for anger against the government, but for a deep-seated mistrust of the state’s approach to security. The blurring of the line between peaceful demonstrators and looters, lingering questions over police conduct, and the media’s refocusing on the immigration debate are bringing the country to the brink of a political reckoning far deeper than a routine public-order crisis.
In France, a government does not have to wait for an electoral defeat to lose its legitimacy. Sometimes, slogans chanted in a public square, tear gas fired down a boulevard, crowds penned in at the exit of a cordoned-off street, and testimonies of unhindered looting in shops only hundreds of metres away suffice to expose just how fragile the bond of trust between state and society has become.
Events in Paris on Saturday, 17 October point to precisely such a political fracture. Planned demonstrations with the participation of student unions, trade unions, and the Yellow Vests were marked throughout the day by police crackdowns, disputes over march routes, looting in the city centre, and widespread criticism of the government’s perceived inadequacy. The scene that emerged by evening suggested that France was grappling not merely with an issue of public order, but with a burgeoning crisis of confidence regarding the state’s impartiality and political motives.
Whom does the state permit to take to the streets, whom does it obstruct, and which forms of violence does it intervene against, and to what degree? The answer to this question may prove decisive in understanding France’s current political impasse.
The shadow of 17 October 1961
It is impossible to view the date of these demonstrations as a mere coincidence on the calendar. On 17 October 1961, a peaceful demonstration in Paris supporting Algerian independence was brutally crushed by the French police. Scores of people were killed, with some demonstrators drowned after being thrown into the River Seine. The event remains etched in memory as one of the darkest chapters in France’s colonial history and state-sponsored violence.
Sixty-five years later, as police interventions, youth rage, and the state’s stance on the right to protest are debated once again on the streets of Paris on 17 October, the resurgence of this historical memory was inevitable.
This memory may hold a distinct meaning, especially for French citizens of North African descent. Yet it would also be a mistake to reduce all the young people taking part in the demonstrations to a single identity, immigrant origin, or political motivation.
To what extent has the French Republic truly reckoned with the legacy of its colonial past and the relationship its security apparatus maintains with diverse segments of society?
Looters on the streets, where are the police?
Individuals dressed in black and associated in the public eye with the Black Bloc broke into shops at various locations, damaged businesses, and engaged in looting.
While peaceful demonstrators marched under a heavy police presence, fierce criticism arose that looting in certain areas had been allowed to unfold unchecked.
It is striking that while 14,000 police officers were deployed across the capital during the Pope’s visit to Paris, only 10,000 officers in total were assigned across the whole of France for the demonstrations of 17 October.
To which areas were police resources allocated? Had intelligence services assessed the risk of looting beforehand? While a robust security presence flanked the routes of peaceful marches, why was the same effectiveness not demonstrated in safeguarding commercial districts?
The deployment of elite units trained to quell urban unrest, such as CRS 8, does not resolve these questions. On the contrary, the failure to contain the incidents despite the presence of specialized units calls the quality of planning and coordination into question.
A political reckoning extending from Marseille to Limoges
The debate in Paris soon reverberated across the country’s other cities. In a televised address, the socialist mayor of Marseille stated that he had requested police reinforcements from the government, yet the units dispatched fell short given the scale and requirements of the city.
The mayor’s most striking allegation was that while looters stormed Marseille City Hall, the Hôtel de Ville, police officers stood roughly 200 metres away and failed to intervene. Stating that he possessed security camera footage, the mayor affirmed that he would await the scrutiny of a Parliamentary Commission of Inquiry and demand an explanation from the government.
The mayor of Limoges likewise issued what amounted to an ultimatum to the government, demanding the reconstruction of the torched town hall and the full reimbursement of costs. According to the mayor, the government had failed to protect a public building and neglected to provide the police with the necessary resources and backing.
These statements emerging from two distinct cities demonstrate that a new confrontation over security policy has arisen between local authorities and the central government. How security resources are allocated, which risks are prioritized, and whether the warnings of local administrations are heeded must all be brought to light.
The deepening scrutiny over the administration’s stance was compounded by President Emmanuel Macron’s refusal to accept the resignation tendered by Interior Minister Laurent Nuñez. The rejection of the resignation raises the question of whether the executive aims to preserve the chain of accountability, or fears that a political reshuffle would only exacerbate the crisis.
In either case, the government faces a crisis of trust.
An eight-minute speech and unanswered demands
Macron’s roughly eight-minute televised address failed to meet expectations regarding the political dimensions of the crisis. The president announced that he would meet with student unions and that the prime minister would engage with political parties, yet he presented neither tangible decisions nor a comprehensive political roadmap.
Education spending, police violence, the Palestinian cause, anti-fascism, and backlash against the Macron administration appear to have ceased being disparate issues in the eyes of the youth.
To be sure, the true strength of a state lies not in silencing its people and streets, but in addressing legitimate demands. It must not be forgotten that institutions unable to adapt and change are destined to break.
Opinion
What is scale in foreign policy? How is success measured in foreign policy?
By its very nature, foreign policy feeds into and draws nourishment from numerous, disparate, and varied fields. It is a domain with manifold and diverse inputs. For foreign policy is examined alongside a broad array of subjects, ranging from geography to history, economics to intelligence, and military might to public diplomacy, commonly termed soft power elements.
The capacity of the state, that is, the scale of the state, or in other words the aggregate of its elements of power (namely political, economic, military, and soft power components), is decisive in foreign policy. Geography is decisive in foreign policy. Commercial relations are decisive in foreign policy. Energy dependence on another country or countries, if present, is decisive in foreign policy. Foreign policy cannot be conducted in spite of these four factors.
There is more. A country’s capacity, its scale, does not increase overnight, from one day to the next. It requires planning. It requires national consensus. It requires time. It requires preparation. Nor are these enough. The regional and global environment, the conjuncture, and the international plane must also allow for it. The stance of allies and adversaries is, of course, also important.
For the international environment is, by its nature, complex. It is an environment rife with contradiction, turmoil, conflict, and tension. To draw an analogy, the person in the driver’s seat of foreign policy is not a motorist speeding along the road as they please. There are things they must not forget, rules they must obey, red lights, vehicles speeding up from behind, a truck moving ahead, and a heavy vehicle hurtling toward them from the opposite direction.
Success in foreign policy does not arrive simply because a politician we like has become foreign minister. For a foreign minister is only as effective as the power, capacity, and weight of their country. One must accept this plain truth.
Moreover, there are simple, straightforward questions that reveal whether foreign policy, which some find deeply complex and inscrutable, is successful or not.
There are undoubtedly ways to measure the effectiveness, prestige, influence, and success of foreign policy.
For instance, the number of countries that respect a passport, how many countries can be visited visa-free, and how many countries impose visa requirements and grant those visas only with great difficulty are important indicators of a country’s standing.
Let us take ourselves as an example. Which countries require a visa for the Turkish passport? Which ones do not? Is it easy for our citizens to obtain visas for the countries they primarily wish to visit?
Let us give another example from the Turkic world.
On the Cyprus issue, which we regard as a national cause across government and opposition, right and left, Kemalist and Milli Görüş adherents alike, how many countries have we succeeded in having recognize the TRNC? Why do the Turkic states (Azerbaijan, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan) not recognize the TRNC? Far from recognizing the TRNC, how do the Turkic states in Central Asia (Turkistan) explain to Ankara their developing relations with the Greek Cypriot Administration of Southern Cyprus, which Türkiye does not recognize, their appointment of ambassadors, and their recognition of Southern Cyprus as the island’s sole legitimate government?
We must also ask this question, of course: What is the state of Türkiye’s bilateral trade with the Turkic states?
Let us give an example of the relationship between foreign policy and big capital.
In which countries are big capital circles, among the greatest supporters of the ruling bloc, winning major tenders?
In our country, across both ruling and opposition ranks, there is a political party order that supports Türkiye’s EU membership. Yet how much progress has been made on EU membership?
Why is US President Trump not keeping the promises he made to Türkiye at the NATO summit held in Ankara a few months ago?
How many contracts has the new regime in Syria, the al-Sharaa administration, awarded to Turkish companies for the reconstruction of its country?
Has the government in Libya that Türkiye supports paid the money owed to Turkish construction firms, outstanding for years?
How does Qatar, with whom our relations are very good, explain its developing ties, energy agreements, and joint military drills with Greece and the Greek Cypriot Administration, disregarding our sensitivities?
Who is the addressee of the harsh statements used in recent weeks by Azerbaijan, which we view as “two states, one nation”? To what extent does Azerbaijan share Türkiye’s policy on Israel? What does Türkiye think about the scale, depth, and intimacy of Azerbaijan-Israel relations?
These questions can certainly be multiplied.
Yet without taking into account the scale of the state and observing the criteria for measuring foreign policy, no sound assessment can be made.
Opinion
The era of corridor alliances in the Middle East
In the Middle East, war is no longer waged merely to seize territory. The true contest turns on who will control the energy pipelines, trade routes, ports, and railways of tomorrow. Missiles may strike cities today, but the maps of the future are being drawn through transport and energy corridors.
In this context, interpreting Türkiye’s presence in the Mecca Alliance solely as military support for Saudi Arabian security remains incomplete; it fails to explain why two states that viewed each other with mutual suspicion until recently would take steps toward a cooperation close enough to constitute a shared destiny.
Alongside Saudi Arabia’s existential motives, Ankara’s participation in this alliance is anchored in a profound geopolitical foundation: to position itself within, and if possible at the very centre of, the Middle East’s reconfigured energy and transport corridors.
Today, it cannot be said that Riyadh and Ankara see eye to eye on every regional issue. The threat perceptions and priorities of the two countries do not, quite naturally, entirely coincide. On the geopolitical chessboard, partnerships do not always arise from identical agendas. When reasons are sufficiently compelling, particularly existential ones, they can override political differences and enable common ground along the same strategic path.
A new war of corridors unfolds in the Middle East
On one side lies IMEC (India-Middle East-Europe Economic Corridor), planned to extend from India through the United Arab Emirates, Saudi Arabia, Jordan, and Israel to Europe. On the other stands the Development Road, which aims to link the Persian Gulf across Iraq to Türkiye, and onward to Europe.
These two undertakings are, of course, far more than mere transport projects. They represent two divergent geopolitical answers to where the future flow of trade and energy between Asia and Europe will traverse; for Türkiye, this issue is of vital importance.
If a corridor system taking shape to Türkiye’s south, beyond Ankara’s orbit, becomes permanent, Türkiye could forfeit not only an economic opportunity but also a substantial portion of its strategic centrality in the Middle East. It is through this prism that the Mecca Alliance must be evaluated.
Türkiye’s seat at the same table with Saudi Arabia signifies more than military solidarity. Riyadh and Ankara must sit together to avoid exclusion from the region’s emergent security and economic architecture, for the security of a corridor and the corridor itself are no longer separate matters.
The Strait of Hormuz, the Red Sea, the Bab al-Mandab, and the Suez Canal are links in the very same chain. A security crisis in one directly impacts the others. While the vulnerability of Hormuz makes alternative export routes for Gulf oil indispensable, instability across the Red Sea heightens the strategic cost of Suez.
Saudi Arabia’s alternative pipelines connecting its eastern oil fields to Red Sea terminals are therefore not merely energy infrastructure; they are strategic bypasses mitigating dependence on Hormuz.
For Türkiye, the Development Road fulfills the same function across a broader geography. Stretching from the Persian Gulf through Iraq to Türkiye, and from Türkiye into Europe, this artery possesses the potential to forge a new overland backbone connecting the Gulf to the Mediterranean and Europe. As security concerns in the Red Sea mount and the vulnerability of Suez deepens, the value of this route rises accordingly.
The Hejaz Railway: Revived once again
The return of the Hejaz Railway to the regional agenda signifies far more than mere nostalgia. Once linking Istanbul to Damascus, Amman, and the Hejaz, the railway served as one of the primary transport and logistical arteries of the Ottoman geography.
Reviving the idea of the Hejaz Railway could become the emblem of Türkiye’s drive to reimagine its historical transport connections between the Gulf, the Hejaz, and the Levant through modern rail, energy, and logistics networks.
The objective here is not to restore the past, but to transpose the strategic logic of that historical geographical linkage into the twenty-first century. For this reason, Türkiye’s role in the Mecca Alliance and the resurgence of the Hejaz Railway project must be viewed as components of the same overarching picture.
Corridors do not consist solely of energy pipelines. Railways, ports, highways, electrical interconnectors, logistical hubs, and security architectures are all facets of the same geopolitical grid, and safeguarding these networks requires political alliances.
Herein lies the strategic significance of Saudi Arabia and Türkiye sitting at the same table in Mecca, even at a juncture when their views on Syria diverge.
Ankara and Riyadh do not need to agree on every subject. Yet neither wishes to see the new map of the Middle East drawn to its detriment. Türkiye’s aim is not to build an anti-bloc against any specific country alongside Saudi Arabia; rather, the goal is to avoid exclusion from the future energy and trade systems of the Middle East, while securing a decisive voice in establishing their security architecture.
Hence, for Türkiye, the Mecca Alliance is far more than a simple defence pact. Securing the Development Road, shielding Gulf energy corridors, stabilising the Red Sea, rethinking connections across the Hejaz and the Levant, and bolstering trade corridors reaching Europe all intersect within this single strategic equation.
In this equation, Türkiye’s foremost advantage remains its geography. Ankara sits at the northern terminus of the overland routes linking the Gulf to Europe; within NATO; and at the crossroads connecting the Black Sea, the Caucasus, the Eastern Mediterranean, and the Middle East.
Will Türkiye become one of the powers shaping the Middle East’s energy and trade architecture over the coming decades, or will it be reduced to a mere transit state traversed by routes designed by others? That question defines the true strategic significance of the Mecca Alliance for Ankara.
In the Middle East of tomorrow, it will be impossible to separate the corridor carrying energy, the security framework protecting that corridor, and the alliance constructing that security framework.
Whoever controls the corridor shapes commerce. Whoever guarantees the routes through which trade flows holds sway over the regional balance of power. This is the true dimension of the contest currently underway in the Middle East.
A succession of distinct and largely mutually exclusive ambitions are competing for dominance in the current climate: India’s linkage to Europe, the Gulf’s new economic horizons, Saudi Arabia’s alternative energy routes, the security crisis in the Red Sea, the strategic weight of Hormuz, and Türkiye’s aspiration to open outward to Europe via the Development Road. Ironically, perhaps, the conflict that will decide which corridor underpins global stability has already begun, and it will likely continue spreading to new fronts. Regrettably, the fires in our region appear poised to intensify long before they abate.
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