Inside NATO, Outside the New Europe? Türkiye and the Risk of Strategic Exclusion

The North Atlantic Treaty Organisation (hereinafter: the NATO) Summit held in Ankara on 7-8 July 2026 projected institutional confidence. Allied leaders reaffirmed their commitment to Article 5, announced more than $50 billion in new defence procurements and presented greater European and Canadian responsibility as the foundation of a modernised Alliance. Formally, therefore, NATO did not appear to be approaching dissolution. The summit instead promoted a stronger European pillar operating alongside the United States of America (hereinafter: the USA). Yet this display of unity leaves a more difficult question unresolved: whether the transatlantic security system is being strengthened collectively or reorganised around increasingly selective forms of North American commitment. The survival of NATO as an institution does not necessarily guarantee that its most valuable security functions will remain equally accessible to every member.

A formal North American withdrawal would be legally and politically difficult. Existing legislation of the USA prevents a President from leaving the North Atlantic Treaty without either the consent of two-thirds of the members of the parliament present or statutory authorisation from the lower chamber. Washington, however, does not need to withdraw formally to transform the Alliance materially. It can reduce deployments, redirect strategic resources towards the Indo-Pacific and transfer advanced intelligence, technology, procurement and operational cooperation into smaller mini-lateral coalitions. NATO could consequently survive as a collective-defence framework while its highest-value capabilities migrate towards a more exclusive security core.

For Türkiye, this distinction is critical. Its principal risk is not expulsion from NATO but strategic exclusion: remaining legally inside the Alliance while being progressively separated from the networks that determine technological access, operational interoperability and political trust. The F-35 fighter jet dispute illustrates that allied status does not automatically provide admission to the most advanced warfighting ecosystem of Europe and Neo-Europe. The expansion of North American military infrastructure in Greece suggests that Türkiye’s geography, although still valuable, is no longer entirely irreplaceable. Meanwhile, the Cyprus dispute and resistance to Turkish participation in European defence instruments demonstrate that military utility does not necessarily translate into institutional acceptance. None of these developments alone proves the existence of a coordinated policy to contain Türkiye. Together, however, they reveal how an ally can remain strategically useful while becoming institutionally peripheral.

This possibility is commonly presented as a choice of geopolitical axes. Türkiye may seek renewed dependence on Washington, transform Turkic cooperation into an alternative security bloc or align more closely with Russia and China. Each option, however, mistakes dependence for strategy. Renewed North American dependence would leave Türkiye vulnerable to changes in domestic politics of the USA; a Turkic bloc lacks a common threat perception and binding defence commitment; and alignment with Moscow and Beijing could replace one asymmetric dependency with another.

This article, therefore, argues that Türkiye should pursue the de-Americanisation of critical dependencies without the de-Europeanisation of its strategic alignment. It should preserve NATO membership, deepen its position within European security, develop the Turkic world as a complementary capability network and engage Russia and China without entering their strategic orbit. The relevant objective is not to select a new civilisational camp, but to ensure that exclusion from a future European and Neo-European security core does not become a national security crisis.

From American Withdrawal to Strategic Bypass

The possibility of the USA withdrawing from NATO attracts attention because it presents a visible and historically consequential rupture. Yet formal withdrawal is neither the only nor the most plausible means through which Washington could reduce its commitment to European security. An alliance can lose operational substance without losing its founding treaty, headquarters or membership structure. The more relevant question is therefore not whether the USA will leave NATO, but whether it will continue to locate its most credible military commitments inside NATO’s common institutional framework.

Formal withdrawal would encounter substantial domestic constraints. Section 1250A of the National Defence Authorisation Act for Fiscal Year 2024 prevents the USA’s President from suspending, terminating or withdrawing from the North Atlantic Treaty without either the consent of two-thirds of the senators present or statutory authorisation from the lower chamber of the parliament. The constitutional boundary between presidential and congressional authority over treaty withdrawal has not been conclusively settled by the Supreme Court, meaning that a unilateral attempt could produce an extended institutional conflict. Formal exit is consequently possible, particularly if supported by the Parliament’s lower chamber, but it is considerably more difficult than presidential rhetoric may suggest.

These constraints do not, however, prevent the USA’s government from changing the practical value of NATO membership. Washington retains extensive discretion over troop deployments, military assistance, intelligence sharing, procurement priorities, technology transfers and participation in particular operations. It can redirect forces towards the Indo-Pacific, narrow the conditions under which allies receive support or concentrate advanced cooperation among states considered more strategically aligned. None of these actions requires the formal termination of the North Atlantic Treaty. They would instead produce a strategic bypass: the redirection of essential security functions around, rather than through, NATO’s inclusive multilateral framework.

Strategic bypass would not necessarily destroy NATO. The Alliance could continue to coordinate defence planning, exercises, standardisation and political consultation while its most valuable capabilities were increasingly delivered through smaller coalitions. Intelligence networks, advanced airpower, nuclear planning, artificial intelligence, cyber operations and precision-strike systems could be organised according to differentiated levels of trust. NATO membership would then remain common, but the practical benefits associated with membership would become variable. Formal equality among allies would coexist with an increasingly visible hierarchy of operational access.

The Ankara Summit Declaration does not indicate that such fragmentation has already occurred. It reaffirmed Article 5, the transatlantic bond and cooperation between the USA, European allies and Canada. Nevertheless, its emphasis on Europeans and Canadians assuming greater responsibility also reflects an evolving distribution of security burdens. This rebalancing may strengthen NATO if it produces greater European capacity within a common structure. It may weaken cohesion if North American capabilities are transferred selectively to narrower arrangements outside that structure.

For Türkiye, strategic bypass is the process through which strategic exclusion could become possible. The decisive issue is not whether the Turkish flag remains outside NATO headquarters, but whether Türkiye retains access to the intelligence, technology, supply chains and operational planning that make membership militarily credible. A future USA government may never formally leave NATO. It could nevertheless construct the most consequential parts of its security system elsewhere.

The Architecture of Strategic Exclusion: F-35s, Greece and Cyprus

Strategic exclusion rarely results from a single decision announcing that an ally no longer belongs to the inner circle. It develops cumulatively as access to weapons, technology, infrastructure and institutions becomes conditional. In Türkiye’s case, this emerging architecture can be observed across four connected fields: the F-35 and Countering America’s Adversaries Through Sanctions Act (hereinafter: the CAATSA) disputes, the expansion of the USA’s military access in Greece, the political consequences of the Cyprus conflict and restrictions on Turkish participation in European defence initiatives. These files do not constitute proof of a coordinated European and Neo-European strategy to contain Türkiye. They do, however, demonstrate how Türkiye’s military utility can be separated from its technological and institutional integration.

The F-35 dispute is the clearest expression of this separation. Türkiye entered the programme as a consortium partner, invested in its development, planned to acquire the aircraft and integrated Turkish companies into its supply chain. Its acquisition of the Russian S-400 air-defence system subsequently produced two distinct responses: sanctions under the CAATSA and removal from the F-35 programme. Although the President of the USA announced during the Ankara Summit that he intended to lift sanctions, Türkiye’s return to the aircraft programme remains subject to a separate statutory barrier connected to its possession of the S-400 system. Executive willingness may therefore improve bilateral relations without automatically restoring technological access. Reuters reported after the summit that Ankara and Washington were working on both files, but that a final decision on the F-35 had not yet been made.

This distinction matters because the F-35 is not merely a combat aircraft. It is an entry point into an integrated warfighting ecosystem built around sensor fusion, mission data, software updates, intelligence exchange, maintenance networks and interoperability with other advanced platforms. Exclusion from the programme, therefore, affects more than Türkiye’s ability to procure a particular fighter. It influences Türkiye’s prospective position within the technological hierarchy of airpower. An ally may possess a large military and retain access to NATO exercises while remaining outside the systems through which the Alliance’s most advanced members generate and share combat information.

The expansion of the USA’s military access in Greece reflects a different dimension of the same structural change. Investments and rotational access involving Souda Bay, Larissa, Stefanovikio and Alexandroupolis support a range of USA and NATO objectives, including operations in the Eastern Mediterranean, reinforcement of the Alliance’s eastern flank and logistical access to Southeastern and Eastern Europe. They should not automatically be interpreted as preparations for military action against Türkiye. Their more significant implication is that they provide Washington with geographical redundancy. The USA can distribute regional functions across several locations instead of depending disproportionately on Turkish territory. Türkiye’s geography remains highly valuable, particularly because of the Straits, the Black Sea and its proximity to the Caucasus and Sub-Anatolia, but its operational role becomes less irreplaceable.

Cyprus introduces a political and institutional barrier that military geography alone cannot overcome. Türkiye’s NATO membership and military capacity do not guarantee access to the European Union’s (hereinafter: the EU) developing defence instruments. Greece has linked Turkish participation in initiatives such as Security Action for Europe (hereinafter: the SAFE) to disputes over the Aegean and Ankara’s casus belli position, while the Republic of Cyprus has treated progress on the Cyprus conflict as relevant to Türkiye’s wider European integration. The dispute over access to SAFE reveals a fundamental institutional mismatch: Türkiye can be indispensable to NATO planning while remaining politically contestable within an EU-centred security architecture.

Defence-industry restrictions connect these three domains. Export licences, parliamentary prohibitions, national vetoes and eligibility rules can limit cooperation even where strategic interests overlap. President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan’s call at the Ankara Summit for the removal of defence restrictions among allies recognised this problem directly. His parallel demand that non-EU NATO members should not be excluded from European defence projects also demonstrated that the emerging divide is not simply between NATO members and non-members. It increasingly separates states with access to the inner procurement and technology system from those whose participation remains politically conditional. The Ankara discussions confirmed both Türkiye’s expanding defence-industrial capacity and its incomplete institutional access.

Taken together, the F-35, Greece, Cyprus and defence restrictions form an architecture of differentiated inclusion. The F-35 measures technological trust; military infrastructure in Greece reduces geographical dependence on Türkiye; Cyprus affects access to European institutions; and export restrictions convert political disagreements into capability constraints. None necessarily signals Türkiye’s departure from the European security system. Their cumulative effect, however, is more consequential: Türkiye may remain too important to exclude from regional security yet insufficiently trusted to enter its most advanced institutional core.

Inside the Alliance, Outside the Core: What Would Exclusion Mean?

Strategic exclusion would not immediately deprive Türkiye of its NATO membership or invalidate the formal protections of the North Atlantic Treaty. It would instead widen the distance between legal membership and operational credibility. Article 5 establishes that an attack against one ally is considered an attack against all, but it allows each member to determine the action it considers necessary. The practical value of collective defence, therefore, depends not only on treaty language but also on prior planning, political confidence, available capabilities and the expectation that allies will act rapidly. Türkiye could consequently remain covered by Article 5 while facing increasing uncertainty over the quality, timing and technological depth of the assistance it would receive.

The first consequence would be a potential deterrence gap. Türkiye possesses one of NATO’s largest armed forces and has developed significant capabilities in drones, naval construction, electronic warfare and precision-guided munitions. Nevertheless, contemporary deterrence depends on more than force size. Satellite and signals intelligence, strategic airlift, integrated missile defence, fifth-generation airpower, secure communications, nuclear planning and sustained access to advanced components remain disproportionately concentrated among the USA and a limited number of allies. Exclusion from this enabling architecture would not make Türkiye defenceless, but it would increase the cost of responding to simultaneous crises across the Black Sea, Eastern Mediterranean, Caucasus and Sub-Anatolia.

The second consequence would concern the military balance with Greece. A future imbalance would not be measured simply by comparing numbers of aircraft, ships or personnel. If Greece gained deeper access to North American intelligence, F-35 networks, mission data and integrated planning while Türkiye remained outside the same systems, the relevant asymmetry would develop at the level of information and connectivity. The state able to detect, interpret and distribute information more rapidly can gain an operational advantage before numerical strength becomes decisive. Such a divergence would not necessarily cause conflict, but it could reduce crisis stability by encouraging both sides to question the reliability of deterrence and the intentions of external powers.

Third, strategic exclusion would expose Türkiye’s remaining supply-chain vulnerabilities. The expansion of the Turkish defence industry has reduced dependence in several areas, but national production does not amount to complete technological self-sufficiency. Aircraft engines, advanced sensors, semiconductors, specialised materials, software and selected air-defence components continue to rely on international cooperation. Export licences or sanctions imposed at critical stages can delay projects even when most of a platform is produced domestically. Strategic autonomy should therefore not be confused with autarky. Its more realistic measure is whether a state can replace a blocked supplier without losing unacceptable time, capability or political freedom.

A fourth effect would be the normalisation of conditional defence access. Arms sales and technology transfers could increasingly become instruments for influencing Türkiye’s policies towards Russia, the Eastern Mediterranean, Cyprus or regional conflicts. Ankara might respond by acquiring more systems from non-European suppliers. Yet purchases designed to escape one restriction can create new interoperability problems and dependencies, as the S-400 dispute demonstrated. Diversification strengthens autonomy only when alternative suppliers remain compatible with Türkiye’s wider defence architecture, and none acquires monopolistic leverage.

Paradoxically, the USA’s retrenchment could also increase Türkiye’s bargaining power in Europe. A Europe required to assume greater responsibility for its own security would need military mass, defence-industrial production, access to the Black Sea and operational reach towards the Caucasus and Sub-Anatolia. Türkiye possesses all four. Its geography, control of the Straits, armed forces and expanding defence industry would become more valuable as the USA’s capabilities became less readily available. However, greater strategic demand would not automatically remove political opposition arising from Greece, Cyprus or wider disputes over Türkiye’s relationship with the European Union.

Strategic exclusion would therefore produce two competing trajectories. It could become self-reinforcing: reduced trust would generate restrictions, restrictions would encourage non-European procurement, and such procurement would justify further exclusion. Alternatively, Türkiye could convert its growing importance to European security into deeper institutional and technological inclusion. The outcome would depend not only on how the Western security system changes, but on whether Ankara responds to uncertainty through reactive alignment or disciplined diversification.

The False Choice of Axes

Debates on Türkiye’s geopolitical future frequently assume that declining confidence in one alliance must be resolved by joining another. If the USA becomes less reliable, Türkiye is expected either to restore its position within their security system, transform the Turkic world into an alternative bloc or move towards Sino-Russian cooperation. This framing treats foreign policy as a choice between fixed civilisational camps. It overlooks the fact that Türkiye’s security requirements are multidirectional and cannot be satisfied by any single geopolitical centre. The relevant distinction is therefore not simply between two sides, but between strategies that reproduce dependency and those that distribute risk.

Renewed North American anchoring would offer substantial benefits. Türkiye’s armed forces were modernised within the NATO; their doctrines, command practices and communications remain closely connected to the European and Neo-European system. Restored access to the F-35 programme, integrated missile defence, intelligence networks and reliable supply chains would strengthen Turkish deterrence without requiring a costly institutional transition. Yet returning to exclusive dependence on Washington would leave the structural problem unresolved. Arms transfers, export licences and technological access would remain vulnerable to changes in presidential administrations, congressional majorities and bilateral disputes. Reconciliation with the USA may be desirable, but reconciliation is not the same as autonomy. A strategy centred on recovering the USA’s approval would continue to allow domestic political shifts in another state to determine the operational readiness of Türkiye’s armed forces.

The Turkic world appears to offer a culturally, geopolitically and, most importantly, normatively more compatible alternative. Türkiye’s relationship with Azerbaijan has already demonstrated the potential of joint training, defence-industrial cooperation and operational learning. The Organisation of Turkic States (hereinafter: the OTS) can support military education, common technical standards, logistical corridors, drone cooperation and shared maintenance networks. These are meaningful foundations for strategic depth. They do not, however, constitute a collective-defence alliance, yet. The Central Asian republics pursue multi-vector foreign policies, maintain different relationships with Russia and China and do not share an identical threat perception. They are unlikely to accept an institutional design requiring automatic military alignment with Ankara, yet. A “Turan bloc” constructed rhetorically before these practical foundations mature would therefore promise more protection than its members could credibly deliver currently.

The limitations of Turkic cooperation do not make a Sino-Russian alignment more viable. The phrase itself conceals important differences between Moscow and Beijing, which cooperate strategically but offer distinct forms of power and dependency. Russia can provide energy, selected military technologies and diplomatic coordination, but it is simultaneously Türkiye’s partner and competitor. Their interests intersect without fully converging in the Black Sea, Syria, Libya and the South Caucasus. A deeper Turkish military dependency on Russia would give Moscow leverage precisely in regions where Ankara seeks autonomous influence. It would also intensify incompatibility with NATO systems and provide further justification for Türkiye’s exclusion from European technology networks.

China presents a different opportunity. Its financial capacity, industrial scale and position in global supply chains make cooperation attractive in transport, energy, telecommunications and selected technologies. Nevertheless, Beijing does not offer Türkiye a mutual-defence commitment comparable to NATO. Nor would a deeper Chinese alignment necessarily support Turkish leadership in Central Asia, where China has its own economic and security interests. Dependence on Chinese finance, digital infrastructure or critical components could constrain Türkiye’s choices even without producing a formal alliance. Replacing European and Neo-European conditionality with Chinese technological leverage would alter the source of dependency rather than resolve it.

Rejecting these three exclusive frameworks does not require Türkiye to remain equidistant from all powers. Equidistance would be neither realistic nor desirable because Türkiye’s institutions, military standards and economic networks remain more deeply connected to Europe and NATO than to any alternative system. The objective should instead be functional allocation. NATO and European partnerships should continue to provide the principal deterrence and interoperability framework; Turkic cooperation should generate complementary capacity, strategic depth and the normative ideal goal to achieve in the coming decades; and relations with Russia and China should remain selective, transactional and protected against monopolistic dependence.

Türkiye’s choice is therefore not between permanent loyalty to Washington, a premature Turan alliance and absorption into a Sino-Russian orbit. It is between allowing one external centre to retain veto power over its security and constructing a diversified system in which no single partner can do so. This is not geopolitical indecision. It is the foundation of a layered strategy.

A Layered Strategy for Türkiye

Türkiye’s response to strategic exclusion should not begin with the search for a replacement alliance. It should begin by determining which security function each relationship can credibly perform. Collective defence, technological development, regional access, industrial resilience and diplomatic flexibility do not have to be supplied by the same partner. A layered strategy would therefore preserve a clear hierarchy of commitments while distributing critical dependencies across several institutional and geographical channels. Its purpose would not be equidistance among competing powers, but protection against the ability of any single external actor to exercise veto power over Türkiye’s security.

The first layer should remain a member of NATO. Despite political disagreements and unequal access to technology, NATO continues to provide Türkiye with collective-defence planning, common standards, military exercises, established command structures and a wider deterrence framework that no available alternative can reproduce. Leaving or deliberately weakening this position before an equivalent system exists would exchange conditional protection for strategic uncertainty. Türkiye should instead seek to make its contribution more difficult to bypass by assuming visible responsibilities in Black Sea security, the southern flank, integrated air defence, military mobility and defence-industrial production. NATO membership should function as an active platform through which Türkiye shapes security provision, not merely as a formal guarantee that Ankara expects others to honour.

The second layer should embed Türkiye more deeply in European security independently of fluctuations in its relationship with the USA. De-Americanising critical dependencies does not require de-Europeanising Türkiye’s strategic orientation. Ankara can expand defence cooperation with the United Kingdom, Italy, Spain, France, Germany, Poland and Romania in areas where interests overlap. Air and missile defence, combat aviation, naval construction, ammunition, military transport and Black Sea surveillance offer particularly suitable fields. The renewed Franco-Italian-Turkish technical discussions concerning the SAMP/T air-defence system demonstrate how bilateral and mini-lateral cooperation may reopen channels that broader political disputes had previously obstructed. Türkiye should simultaneously pursue access to European financing and procurement mechanisms while addressing the political objections that Greece and the Republic of Cyprus can mobilise against its participation. This does not require conceding every dispute, but it does require preventing unresolved bilateral conflicts from determining Türkiye’s position in the entire European security architecture.

The third layer should convert Turkic cooperation into a measurable defence capacity. The OTS should not be burdened prematurely with declarations of collective defence that its members are neither institutionally prepared nor politically willing to implement. Cooperation should instead advance through common military education, officer exchanges, compatible communications, ammunition standards, shared maintenance facilities, drone training and logistical planning across the Trans-Caspian corridor. Joint production projects could distribute components across participating states, reducing vulnerability to external embargoes while creating durable industrial interests. Further economic integration would also have socio-political advantages that would accelerate future military cooperation, as well as resilience-boosting dimensions. Success should be measured not by the frequency of references to Turkic unity, but by whether forces can train together, repair each other’s equipment, exchange operational information and sustain transport routes during a crisis.

The fourth layer should consist of bounded engagement with Russia and China. Türkiye cannot and should not isolate itself from two major powers operating across its immediate and extended neighbourhood. Cooperation with Russia may remain necessary in energy, the Black Sea, the South Caucasus and regional crisis management. Relations with China can support trade, transport infrastructure and selected industrial investments. Yet engagement should be organised around explicit dependency limits. No single Russian or Chinese supplier should dominate a critical defence function, and cooperation should not compromise Türkiye’s access to NATO systems. Ankara should distinguish between transactions that expand its options and relationships that allow the supplier to impose political costs by withholding energy, finance, software, components or maintenance.

The fifth layer must be domestic capacity. Strategic autonomy does not mean producing every system nationally regardless of cost. It means possessing sufficient technological knowledge, industrial depth and alternative suppliers to continue operating when one external channel is interrupted. Priority should therefore be given to aircraft engines, integrated air and missile defence, radar, electronic warfare, satellites, secure communications, semiconductors, cyber capabilities and ammunition stocks. Domestic platforms will remain vulnerable if their critical components depend on a single foreign licence. Türkiye’s procurement policy should consequently evaluate not only price and immediate performance, but also source-code access, maintenance sovereignty, replacement times, export restrictions and the availability of secondary suppliers.

This strategy also requires an institutional mechanism for managing dependency. Ankara could maintain a regularly updated map of critical foreign inputs, identify components for which a single supplier controls an unacceptable share and subject major defence programmes to sanctions and supply-interruption stress tests. Co-production and technology transfer should become central criteria rather than optional additions to procurement agreements. Diversification should be judged by the ability to substitute capabilities under pressure, not simply by the number of countries from which Türkiye purchases equipment.

A layered strategy is therefore not geopolitical hesitation. It is an ordered portfolio in which different relationships perform different functions. NATO would remain the principal deterrence and interoperability anchor; European partnerships would reduce the American monopoly over advanced capabilities; Turkic cooperation would provide complementary industrial and logistical depth; engagement with Russia and China would remain selective; and domestic capacity would insure the entire structure against political disruption. Türkiye should diversify the sources of its security without fragmenting the direction of its strategy.

Scenarios and Monitoring Indicators

The future of Türkiye’s position in the NATO security system should not be assessed through a single prediction. Four scenarios identify the principal directions in which the current rebalancing may develop. They are not mutually exclusive: different elements may coexist, while movement from one pathway to another may occur gradually rather than through a formal institutional rupture.

In the first scenario, a rebalanced NATO emerges. The USA remain fully committed to collective defence, while European allies and Canada assume a greater share of expenditure, production and conventional capabilities. Türkiye retains access to common planning and gradually enters European procurement and air-defence initiatives. In this pathway, burden-sharing strengthens the Alliance without dividing it into competing circles of membership.

The second scenario is the selective retrenchment of the USA. Washington remains inside NATO and continues to support Article 5, but reduces deployments, concentrates resources in the Indo-Pacific and applies more demanding conditions to military assistance. European allies acquire greater responsibility without immediately replacing all North American enabling capabilities. Türkiye remains an important regional power but must absorb more of the costs of intelligence, missile defence, logistics and sustained military readiness.

The third scenario produces a new European and Neo-European security core. The USA transfers advanced technology, intelligence sharing and operational integration into smaller arrangements involving selected European and Indo-Pacific partners. NATO continues to exist, but access to its highest-value capabilities becomes differentiated. Türkiye’s exclusion from such a core, particularly if Greece gains access, would transform existing political disagreements into a more durable technological and operational hierarchy. This is the central strategic-exclusion scenario examined in this article.

The fourth scenario is the formal withdrawal of the USA. Although legally and politically difficult, it would have the greatest systemic impact. NATO could survive as a European and Canadian alliance, but would need to reconstruct nuclear deterrence, strategic transport, intelligence, command and missile-defence functions. Türkiye’s military and geographical value would increase considerably, yet it would operate within a more uncertain and potentially unstable security environment.

Movement among these pathways can be monitored through a compact set of indicators:

• Changes in American force levels, command responsibilities and critical infrastructure across Europe;
• The creation of intelligence, technology or procurement coalitions outside NATO’s common structures;
• The resolution or continued obstruction of the F-35, CAATSA and S-400 disputes;
• Türkiye’s access to European defence financing, SAMP/T cooperation and integrated air-defence projects;
• The changing functions of the USA’s military infrastructure in Greece relative to facilities and operations in Türkiye;
• Measurable progress in Turkic defence cooperation, including standards, exercises, maintenance and joint production;
• Türkiye’s dependence on single foreign suppliers for engines, sensors, semiconductors, software and missile defence.

No individual indicator would prove that strategic exclusion had occurred. The relevant signal would be cumulative: whether Türkiye’s formal alliance status continues to generate operational access, or whether the institutions delivering the most credible security guarantees are progressively moving elsewhere.

Conclusion: De-Americanisation without De-Europeanisation

The Ankara Summit reaffirmed the NATO unity, collective defence and transatlantic purpose. Yet the future of an alliance is determined not only by the survival of its treaty commitments, but also by the distribution of technology, intelligence and operational access among its members. Türkiye’s principal risk is therefore not formal abandonment. It is the emergence of a European and Neo-European security system in which Türkiye remains inside NATO while the capabilities that make membership strategically valuable are transferred to a more exclusive core.

The F-35 dispute, the expansion of the USA’s military access in Greece, the Cyprus problem and Türkiye’s contested position within European defence initiatives do not prove the existence of a coordinated policy of containment. They demonstrate something more structural: military utility, political trust and institutional inclusion no longer advance automatically together. Türkiye may remain indispensable to regional security while being treated as conditionally eligible for the technological and industrial networks shaping its future.

Ankara should not answer this uncertainty by moving abruptly between geopolitical camps. Renewed dependence on the USA would preserve existing vulnerabilities; a premature Turkic alliance could not yet provide collective defence; and alignment with Russia and China would substitute new asymmetries for old ones. Strategic autonomy cannot be achieved by replacing one external centre of leverage with another.

The appropriate response is a layered strategy: NATO membership without NATO dependency; European anchoring without an American monopoly; Turkic depth without bloc fantasy; and Eurasian engagement without Sino-Russian alignment. NATO should remain Türkiye’s principal deterrence and interoperability framework. European partnerships should widen access to advanced capabilities. Turkic cooperation should build industrial and logistical resilience, while relations with Moscow and Beijing should remain selective and protected against critical dependency. Domestic technological and production capacity must insure each layer against political interruption.

De-Americanisation in this context does not mean anti-Americanism. It means ensuring that a change in the USA’s policy cannot disable essential Turkish capabilities. De-Europeanisation, by contrast, would separate Türkiye from the institutional and technological system with which its armed forces remain most deeply integrated. Türkiye’s strategic objective should therefore not be to escape Europe yet, but to prevent its place within the framework from being defined by conditional access until the Turan unity is strong enough for a grand strategy change. The true measure of autonomy will not be how far Türkiye moves away from its existing allies, but whether it can remain among them without allowing exclusion to become coercion.