Depuis que Berlin a accusé Moscou d’être à l’origine de la tentative d’attaque à l'aéroport de Leipzig en Allemagne, les incidents se multiplient : drone abattu au-dessus de la Lituanie, locomotive reliant Kiev à Varsovie frappée par un drone russe, tirs de fusées éclairantes contre un hélicoptère danois. Ursula von der Leyen a, elle, estimé que la paix était menacée et appelé à "une nouvelle stratégie de sécurité européenne" lors de son discours annuel devant le Parlement européen.

La présidente ⁠de la Commission européenne ​Ursula von der Leyen a émis mercredi l'hypothèse que le Canada devienne le premier "membre associé" de l'UE, ​dans un contexte de détérioration marquée des relations entre Ottawa et Washington. En réaction, Donald Trump a menacé de rompre les échanges commerciaux avec l'UE.

Trade Commissioner Maroš Šefčovič and MEP Dirk Gotink (EPP, Netherlands) Photographer: Mathieu Cugnot © European Union

The European Parliament has approved a major overhaul of the EU’s customs system, tightening requirements on e-commerce platforms, introducing a new handling fee for goods ordered from outside the bloc and creating a central EU customs authority.

“This is the biggest reform of European customs since 1968, supporting trade and the enforcement of EU rules,” said MEP Dirk Gotink, (EPP, Netherlands) who steered the legislation through Parliament. Gotink said European customs authorities had been overwhelmed by a “tsunami of Chinese parcels” and that the reform would give customs officers stronger tools to enforce EU standards.

Under the new rules, e-commerce platforms and sellers shipping goods directly from non-EU countries to European consumers will be treated as importers. That will make them responsible for providing customs data, handling applicable charges and ensuring products comply with EU law.

The reform also introduces an EU-wide handling fee on goods ordered directly from non-EU countries, with member states required to begin collecting it no later than 1 November, 2026. The European Commission will determine the amount and review it every two years.

Companies that repeatedly breach EU customs rules could face fines ranging from at least 1% to as much as 6% of the value of goods they imported into the EU during the previous 12 months.

The overhaul will also establish an EU Customs Data Hub, designed to replace at least 111 existing customs IT systems. A new EU Customs Authority, based in Lille, France, will manage the hub and coordinate customs cooperation and risk management across the EU.

The Council has already given the reform its final formal approval, making Parliament’s vote the final step in the legislative procedure.

European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen at the podium Photographer: Dati Bendo © European Union

European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen used her State of the Union address on Wednesday (16 September) to make the case for a more independent Europe, confronting war, economic competition, AI disruption and climate change — while proposing Canada become the EU’s first associate member.

Opening her #SOTEU speech with Charles Dickens’ “best of times, worst of times”, von der Leyen described a Union stronger but also more exposed to external threats.

“The state of our Union is the strongest it has ever been,” she said, while acknowledging it could feel “as precarious as it has ever been”. “Europe has chosen to forge its own path. And a stronger, independent Europe is now emerging.”

Competitiveness and energy

Von der Leyen called kickstarting Europe’s economy her “number one priority”, promising faster permitting, less red tape and further integration of the Single Market.

The Commission will propose a new Banking Package and create a European Corporation on Critical Raw Materials to secure supplies needed for chips, batteries, clean technology and defence.

With high energy costs weighing on European industry, von der Leyen called for faster electrification and investment in grids, renewables and nuclear power to reduce dependence on imported fossil fuels.

Climate after a 'summer of truth'

After a summer of fires, drought and extreme heat, von der Leyen promised a climate resilience framework focused on 100 of Europe’s most vulnerable territories, alongside a Climate Insurance Alliance, European Heatwave Plan and Water Initiative.

She also floated a future European Firefighting Fleet, declaring that Europe “can, must and will stay the course” on its climate targets.

AI: Opportunity and threat

AI was presented as both an economic opportunity and an emerging security threat. Von der Leyen warned that advanced models could enable hacking “on a level we never thought possible” and pledged closer cooperation with Canada, the UK and others on AI security.

At the same time, Europe will expand computing capacity and push AI into health, transport, agriculture, manufacturing, defence and space. “Above all, we want AI with human agency,” she said.

Jobs, housing and social rights

The Commission plans a Quality Jobs Act before the end of the year and a European Care Deal, alongside measures tackling housing pressures.

Von der Leyen said technological change must benefit workers, while strongly defending women’s rights and Europe’s social model.

PHOTO  European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen and Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney at the podium Photographer: Dati Bendo © European Union

Canada moves closer

One of the biggest surprises came with Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney in the chamber.

Von der Leyen proposed an “Alliance for the Future” spanning technology, defence, energy, critical minerals, AI and the Arctic — before going further.

“I would like to work with you on opening the door for Canada to be the first associate member of the EU,” she told Carney. “We share one ocean, one set of values, one way of seeing the world.”

Security, defence and Ukraine

With drone incursions, cyberattacks and sabotage raising security concerns inside the EU, von der Leyen proposed a new European security strategy and an Emergency Security Protocol for incidents falling below the threshold of armed aggression.

She also wants to establish a European Security Council and strengthen joint European defence capabilities.

Ukraine faces what von der Leyen called the “toughest winter of the war”. She promised humanitarian and energy support, stronger air defences and deeper defence-industrial cooperation with Kyiv.

Borders, democracy and children online

The Commission will propose an Emergency Response Framework for exceptional migration crises and strengthen Frontex, while launching a Mediterranean Youth Skills and Jobs initiative.

Von der Leyen also announced an EU KIDS ACT, including no social media for under-13s and restrictions for children under 15, followed by a broader Digital Fairness Act.

Political groups draw battle lines

EPP leader Manfred Weber backed the focus on AI, defence and competitiveness but pushed against restrictive climate policies. “Climate change is a reality,” he said, arguing Europe needed “innovation and not bans.”

S&D leader Iratxe García Pérez demanded that von der Leyen turn “words into action”, backing climate investment, housing and worker protections while warning that simplification must not become deregulation.

Renew Europe leader Valérie Hayer made a pointed appeal for the Parliament’s pro-European majority, as the EPP has increasingly worked with parties further to the right on some legislation. “There’s only one possible majority. It’s our pro-European majority,” she said. “We need to do more. We need more Europe, and we need it more quickly.”

Greens/EFA co-chair Terry Reintke accused EU leaders of failing to respond urgently enough to extreme heat and wildfires. “We are in the middle of a climate emergency,” she said, demanding stronger Green Deal implementation while insisting: “We are not powerless. Europe is strong, and Europe can be even stronger.”

ECR co-chair Patryk Jaki struck a sharply different note, attacking the Commission over bureaucracy, energy costs and industrial competitiveness. Europe, he argued, was “as weak as it’s ever been.”

Von der Leyen closed on the central theme running through the speech: European sovereignty in an increasingly hostile world.

“The fate of Europe,” she said, “must remain in the hands of Europeans.”

Pendant plus d'une heure, la présidente de la Commission européenne a prononcé ce mercredi 16 au matin, son discours annuel sur l’état de l’Union Européenne. Une Europe faite d'une contradiction, selon elle : "l'union n’a jamais été aussi forte". Les explications de Christian Lequesne, professeur au Centre de Recherches Internationale de Sciences Po.

MEPs give overwhelming backing to a new EU cardiovascular strategy, placing alcohol, food and tobacco policy at the heart of a wider drive to tackle Europe’s biggest killer

The European Parliament has given overwhelming backing to a new EU cardiovascular diseases strategy, with 545 MEPs voting in favour of a report that places prevention at the centre of Europe’s response to its biggest cause of death.

The vote marks a significant political endorsement of a broader approach to cardiovascular health, addressing not only diagnosis and treatment but also the major lifestyle and consumer-related risk factors associated with cardiovascular disease.

Three sectors feature prominently in that debate: alcohol, food and tobacco and nicotine products.

Rather than relying on a single regulatory approach, Parliament’s position points towards a combination of education, consumer information, prevention, proportionate regulation and measures targeted at clearly identified health risks.

Cardiovascular diseases remain the leading cause of mortality in the European Union, accounting for around 1.7 million deaths every year. Around 62 million people are living with cardiovascular disease in the EU, while close to 13 million new cases occur annually.

An estimated 80% of cardiovascular disease, including many cases of heart disease and stroke, is considered preventable.

Those figures have transformed cardiovascular disease from primarily a healthcare issue into a much broader European policy challenge.

The adopted report therefore addresses prevention alongside screening, early detection, treatment and care.

Alcohol: focusing on harmful consumption

Alcohol is one of the major modifiable risk factors identified in cardiovascular prevention.

A central issue in the European debate is how to distinguish between policies aimed at harmful alcohol consumption and measures that treat all drinking patterns in essentially the same way.

That distinction matters in a European Union where national traditions, consumption patterns and regulatory approaches vary considerably.

Measures under discussion include greater public awareness of alcohol-related health risks and better consumer information.

The cardiovascular debate consequently reinforces a wider movement towards giving consumers clearer information about the possible health consequences associated with excessive alcohol consumption.

At the same time, Parliament’s approach leaves room for the principle of proportionality.

The policy challenge is not simply whether alcohol consumption can contribute to cardiovascular risk — the scientific relationship is well established — but which regulatory measures are most effective in reducing harmful consumption without imposing measures that are disproportionate to the objective.

That distinction is likely to remain important as the EU develops its wider strategy on non-communicable diseases.

Food: healthier choices rather than simplistic classifications

Food and nutrition represent another major strand of cardiovascular prevention.

Obesity, excessive salt intake, poor diet and high consumption of certain highly processed foods can all contribute to cardiovascular risk.

That has inevitably placed the food industry at the centre of the debate.

But regulating food is fundamentally different from regulating products whose consumption is inherently associated with health risk.

Individual foods form part of much broader diets, while quantity, frequency of consumption, nutritional composition and lifestyle all influence health outcomes.

The Parliament report therefore places considerable emphasis on enabling Europeans to make better-informed choices.

Public-health education and clearer nutritional information are among the principal tools available.

Front-of-pack food labelling is also part of the wider European discussion over how consumers can be given easily understandable nutritional information.

However, that issue remains politically sensitive.

Any European system must operate across very different national diets and food traditions while avoiding labels that oversimplify nutritional science or inadvertently discourage otherwise balanced eating patterns.

The economic implications are equally significant.

Europe’s food and agricultural sectors are major employers and central components of the Single Market.

Future cardiovascular policy therefore has to reconcile public health, consumer information, agricultural interests, competitiveness and Europe’s diverse food cultures.

Tobacco and nicotine: prevention alongside risk differentiation

The third major area covered by the cardiovascular debate is tobacco and nicotine.

Smoking is a significant preventable contributor to cardiovascular disease, and Parliament’s report supports measures aimed at reducing smoking and preventing young people from beginning to use tobacco and nicotine products.

There is particularly strong emphasis on protecting minors.

The report supports effective enforcement of minimum-age-of-sale requirements and appropriate identification checks whether products are purchased in physical shops or online.

At the same time, Parliament has introduced an important element of differentiation into the debate.

The adopted approach recognises that different nicotine products may have differentiated risk profiles, rather than automatically treating every tobacco and nicotine product as presenting an identical risk.

The supplied policy material also records Parliament’s support for appropriate and differentiated excise taxation between different product categories.  It combines calls for tighter rules with an explicit nod to the idea that regulation need not be one-size-fits-all across the nicotine market.

That distinction could have consequences beyond cardiovascular policy.

The European Commission is already examining the future of the Tobacco Products Directive (TPD) and Tobacco Advertising Directive (TAD), meaning EP’s approach to differentiated risks is likely to be closely watched as the EU considers regulation of cigarettes, heated tobacco products, electronic cigarettes, nicotine pouches and other products.

But the cardiovascular report simultaneously makes clear that protecting children and young people remains an overarching objective irrespective of the particular product involved.

The question of consistency

The debate will not end with the cardiovascular vote.

Parliament is simultaneously considering other major health-policy files, particularly those associated with Europe’s Beating Cancer Plan (BECA).

That creates an important question of policy consistency.

Alcohol, food and tobacco appear repeatedly in European strategies dealing with non-communicable disease.

Positions adopted in one parliamentary report will inevitably therefore be compared with those adopted in another.

The briefing accompanying the cardiovascular debate already highlights this issue, arguing that potentially contradictory approaches between the cardiovascular and cancer files could create uncertainty about Parliament’s wider regulatory direction.

That discussion is likely to intensify as Parliament and the Commission move from broad public-health strategies towards individual regulatory measures.

For the alcohol, food and tobacco sectors alike, the key question will be whether Europe develops policies that are evidence-based, proportionate and tailored to the particular risks involved, rather than attempting to impose identical regulatory solutions across fundamentally different industries.

After two clear defeats, the TED opinion and the CVD Report, the EC is seeking a comeback through BECA, despite the EP's opposition to extreme prohibitionist measures. With EP’S SANT Committee vote due on 28 September, BECA is rapidly becoming the next political battleground.

Prevention becomes mainstream EU policy

Cardiovascular disease imposes immense human and economic costs on Europe through premature deaths, long-term illness, disability, hospital treatment and lost productivity.

Reducing that burden will require healthcare systems to diagnose and treat disease earlier.

But Parliament’s vote also sends a wider message.

Improving cardiovascular health will require action long before people reach hospitals or doctors’ surgeries.

The debate over alcohol, food and tobacco is therefore part of a much larger European question: how public authorities can help citizens reduce preventable health risks while preserving proportionality, informed consumer choice and regulatory coherence.

La présidente ⁠de la Commission européenne, ​Ursula von der Leyen a évoqué mercredi 16 septembre l'hypothèse que le Canada devienne le premier "membre associé" de l'Union européenne, un statut qui n'est initialement pas prévu par les traités de ​l'UE. Les précisions de Jeanette Süß , analyste politique au Comité d'études des relations franco-allemandes à l'Ifri.

Summary

• Europe still expects Turkey to pick a side. It has refused, and a post-Erdogan government would refuse too.
• Turkey has become an embedded outsider: a middle power that builds strategic autonomy from inside the Western system—because that is where its leverage comes from.
• Ankara has now tools of its own: troops abroad, a $10bn arms industry, partners in the global south, a geography everyone needs and channels to actors Europeans cannot reach.
• Yet it still needs NATO for its security, Europe to buy its exports and fund its factories, and Western technology to power its best weapons.
• Europe should stop trying to resolve the contradiction and learn to capitalise on it. It should deepen cooperation where interests converge, tie benefits to reciprocal obligations and withhold access when Ankara acts against fundamental European interests.

At the NATO summit he hosted in Ankara this July, Recep Tayyip Erdogan, the Turkish president, gifted visiting heads of state a peculiar souvenir: a Turkish-made revolver, loaded with live ammunition. Several delegations were left wondering how one declares an unregistered firearm at customs.

It was a fitting emblem: a gift no one could quite accept, from an ally no one can quite place. At the summit itself, Turkey had never looked more central to the alliance. The Ankara Summit Declaration called for “a stronger Europe in a stronger NATO”, reaffirmed Article 5 and placed European support for Ukraine at the heart of the alliance’s future. With NATO’s second-largest armed forces, an expanding defence industry and control of the Black Sea’s southern gateway, Turkey looked indispensable.

Look closer though and the picture is less tidy. This is still the NATO ally that bought Russia’s S-400 air-defence system, the EU candidate country whose membership negotiations have effectively collapsed, and the Black Sea power that arms Ukraine while maintaining extensive ties with Moscow. It is also, thanks to Erdogan’s close relationship with US president Donald Trump, an ally with unusual leverage over Washington at a time of strained transatlantic relations.

Turkey is neither drifting away from the West nor it is coming home. It has become an embedded outsider: a middle power that has learned to build strategic autonomy from inside the Western system rather than by leaving it. NATO still guarantees its security, Europe still buys its exports and funds its factories, and Western technology still powers its best weapons. But none of that buys alignment with Western preferences any more.

European policymakers have often treated this contradiction as a problem to solve. Their debate has revolved around whether Turkey can be “anchored” in the West or prevented from “drifting” towards Russia, China or the Middle East. Both approaches assume that Ankara must eventually pick a geopolitical home. It has chosen not to. Nor is this likely to change after Erdogan. A post-Erdogan government could be more democratic and predictable, but it would still be unlikely to abandon defence autonomy, regional activism or Turkey’s desire to balance among larger powers.

This paper argues that Europe should stop trying to resolve this contradiction and instead learn to capitalise on it. Turkey’s autonomy can frustrate Europeans, but it has also produced capabilities and relationships that Europe itself lacks. Its ability to maintain channels to Moscow helped it broker the Black Sea Grain Initiative and prisoner exchanges while continuing to arm Ukraine. Its military presence and political networks in Syria give it influence that few European states can match. Its growing defence industry could also make it an important partner in Europe’s rearmament.

It is true that the same autonomy sometimes works against European interests. In the eastern Mediterranean, Turkey’s assertiveness has brought it into direct conflict with EU member states Greece and Cyprus. Elsewhere, its balancing between Russia and the West has sometimes undermined European objectives.

The more useful question for Europe therefore is not whether Turkey can ever be a reliable ally, but when its autonomy serves Europe and when it cuts against it. The answer is managed interdependence: deepen cooperation where interests converge, tie the benefits of cooperation to clear and reciprocal obligations and withhold these benefits when Ankara acts against fundamental European interests. The aim is not obedience. It is to make Turkey’s autonomy pay for Europe more often than it costs.

Under Erdogan: An old instinct transformed

Turkey’s pursuit of greater foreign-policy autonomy did not start with Erdogan. Since the early republic, Turkey’s Western alignment has coexisted with suspicion of Western intentions.

The young republic pursued Westernisation after fighting a war of independence against European powers. It developed close ties with Soviet Russia after the war, but Soviet pressure later helped justify Turkey’s integration into the US-led Western bloc, culminating in NATO membership in 1952. But alliance membership did not end tensions with the West. The Cyprus crisis, the 1974 military intervention and the subsequent US arms embargo reinforced Turkey’s conviction that it could not always rely on its allies.

Erdogan inherited this impulse, but he also transformed it. Over more than two decades, his governments have expanded Turkey’s geographical ambitions and given them a neo-Ottomanist flavour at home. Turkey has become more willing to use force abroad and built the institutions needed to sustain a more autonomous foreign policy. Erdogan has also added a personal style of decision-making and an ideological vocabulary. His slogan “the world is bigger than five” calls for reform of the UN Security Council. The term “precious loneliness”, coined in 2013 by his then foreign policy adviser Ibrahim Kalim, casts Turkey’s regional isolation as the price of moral consistency.

This transformation unfolded in four broad phases:

European integration

In the Justice and Development Party’s (AKP) first years in power, from 2002 to roughly the end of that decade, Erdogan and his government were celebrated in the West as reformists. They used the EU accession process to modernise the economy, pursue political reforms and curb the military’s influence over civilian politics. Ankara also expanded trade and diplomacy across its neighbourhood, presenting this activism as complementary to its Western orientation.

Closer ties with Europe accompanied an economic boom. Turkey’s GDP rose from roughly $241bn in 2002 to $775bn in 2008, while GDP per capita tripled. Foreign investment surged after accession talks opened in 2005, from about $900m in 2002-04 to nearly $12bn a year in 2005-08. EU member states accounted for roughly three-quarters of inflows by 2008.

Regional ambitions and civilisational mission

From the late 2000s through the Arab uprisings, Ankara became more ambitious in its neighbourhood. Foreign minister Ahmet Davutoglu’s “zero problems with neighbours” doctrine reflected a growing belief that Turkey’s history, location and political model gave it a distinctive regional role. Economic growth and mediation underpinned this confidence, while construction companies, television dramas, Turkish Airlines, diplomats, religious institutions and development agencies extended the country’s soft power.

However, the Syrian civil war, Egypt’s military coup and the regional backlash against the Arab uprisings upended this strategy. Soft power gave way increasingly to hard power and regional rivalry.

“Precious loneliness”

The decisive turn came between 2015 and 2020. The collapse of the peace process with the Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK) and a failed coup attempt of July 2016 fed a sense of geopolitical isolation and a more combative foreign policy. As Turkey grew more authoritarian, with executive power consolidated in the presidency, the country launched several external military operations in Syria, Iraq and Libya, and expanded its overseas military presence across the Middle East. It also cultivated closer economic and defence ties with Russia to reduce dependence on the US and Europe, both of which were becoming increasingly concerned about Turkey’s democratic backsliding and regional activism.

Turkey’s purchase of Russia’s S-400 systems in 2017 became the clearest symbol of this rupture. It led to Turkey’s removal from the F-35 programme—the US-led fighter-jet project for which Turkish firms were supplying components—in 2019 and to American sanctions in 2020. This purchase showed that Ankara was prepared to defy its allies when it believed core security interests were at stake.

Anti-Western sentiment rose significantly during this period. Many Turks blamed the US for the failed coup attempt and for supporting Kurdish forces in Syria affiliated with the PKK. The post-coup crackdown, along with the 2017 constitutional referendum, helped create a national security state and concentrated decision-making even more in the presidency.

Military interventions in Syria and elsewhere during this period also created their own momentum. The armed forces, intelligence services, defence companies and the state bureaucracy acquired the skills and experience to sustain overseas operations, cooperate with non-state partners and convert military involvement into diplomatic leverage.

Transactional re-embedding

By the end of 2020, Ankara concluded that its assertive posture had become counterproductive—it had alienated Western allies and Middle Eastern governments alike, thereby helping create an anti-Turkey alignment across multiple fronts. Intensifying great power rivalry and the fragmentation of the West also made Turkish leaders more anxious about being left out in the cold in a tumultuous world. The recalibration was also economic: a currency crisis at the end of 2020 left Ankara in acute need of external capital—Western and Gulf alike—and de-escalation on both fronts was the price of access to it.

From 2021, Ankara therefore sought to repair ties with former regional rivals, from Saudi Arabia to Greece, and pursued a pragmatic reset with Europe and America—while preserving its autonomy.

Turkey’s response to Russia’s invasion of Ukraine captured this shift. Ankara condemned the invasion, supplied Kyiv with drones that proved highly effective early on, refused to recognise Moscow’s annexations, and invoked Montreux’s wartime provisions to close the Straits to belligerents’ warships, which mainly constrained Russia’s Black Sea fleet. It saved its neutrality for the economic sphere, declining to join Western sanctions and casting itself as mediator, keeping Moscow close.

Donald Trump’s return to the White House created another opportunity to reboot ties with the Western system. Erdogan and Trump share a disdain for liberal Europe and a preference for flexible, transactional and personalised diplomacy. Close ties between the two presidents and their inner circles also facilitated dialogue on Gaza, Caucasus, Ukraine and Syria, with a surprising degree of alignment on many of these files.

Ankara increasingly saw its military leverage and geography as the basis for strategic autonomy—a foreign policy built on cultivating ties across rival centres of power so that no single relationship became indispensable and none foreclosed another. It sought closer defence-industrial ties with European states without abandoning its domestic production. It normalised relations with Gulf monarchies while retaining military or political networks in Libya, Syria, Palestine and Somalia. It renewed dialogue with the EU while prioritising bilateral ties with individual member states. Even as a NATO member, it flirted with membership of BRICS and the Shanghai Cooperation Organisation.

In August 2026, Turkey joined Saudi Arabia and Pakistan in the Mecca Joint Defence Agreement—a trilateral mutual-defence pact dubbed in the media as a “Muslim NATO” that commits the three states to Article 5-like security guarantees. Building on a 2025 Saudi-Pakistani accord, the pact signals Turkey’s ambition to make regional security arrangements of its own, even as it remains in NATO. However, the new pact so far lacks the integrated command, joint planning and shared threat perception that would make it a functioning alliance rather than a political declaration.

The Mecca agreement aligns with Turkey’s ambition to keep a foot in several camps. Many in the country’s ruling elite see a larger role in the Middle East and on the world stage as Ankara’s natural destiny. Meanwhile, where previous US presidents saw Turkey’s regional ambitions as disruptive, the Trump administration came to view Ankara as a useful and capable regional partner.

Turkish foreign policy under Erdogan has not travelled a simple path from pro-Westernism to anti-Westernism and back again. Ankara has rebuilt its foreign policy repeatedly around the needs of the ruling far-right nationalist coalition at home and what a changing international order permits abroad. The re-embedding since 2021 is no exception: it did not reverse Turkey’s pursuit of strategic autonomy, but relocated it. Ankara now seeks that autonomy from inside Western structures, because that is where the leverage lies.

Beyond Erdogan: Different versions of autonomy

Although Erdogan’s dominance at home is a reality, in 2024, the opposition alliance led by the Republican People’s Party swept local elections, taking Istanbul, Ankara and most major cities—its best showing since 1979. The following March, Istanbul’s mayor Ekrem İmamoglu, the opposition’s presidential candidate and the man most likely to beat Erdogan, was arrested on corruption charges widely seen as politically motivated. Two decades of Erdogan rule have narrowed political space, but they have not closed it.

So what would change in foreign policy in a post-Erdogan Turkey? A successor could reset relations with the West and rebuild institutions. But a new government would not rethink the fundamentals—that Turkey must keep its freedom of action, arm itself and depend on no single power. Those assumptions no longer rest on one man’s decisions. They rest on an elite consensus, underpinned by a domestic defence industry, bases across three continents and Turkey’s own geography—and reinforced by a fragmenting international order that makes autonomy look like a necessity.

Public sentiment also seems to embrace an independent foreign policy. Turks might be split over Erdogan and domestic governance, but they largely agree on autonomy and avoiding unconditional alignment with any single outside power. Ukraine makes this point clearly. In a 2022 Kadir Has University survey, 52% of respondents wanted Turkey to remain impartial and 50.7% wanted it to mediate. Only 21.5% backed sanctioning Russia and 20.8% backed supporting it. In spring 2024 polling by Pew Research Center, a plurality of Turks (46%) said Turkey was providing the right amount of support to Ukraine.

The Iran war reveals a similar picture. A MetroPoll survey in March 2026 found that 68.1% wanted Turkey to remain neutral between Iran and the US, compared with 22.6% favouring support for Iran and 2.1% for the US and Israel. Neutrality won among the voters of every major party. This was no affection for the mullahs; rather, Turks fear a collapsing Iran would send refugees across the border, give the Kurdish insurgency new momentum, disrupt the Turkish economy and embolden Israel.

The argument at home is therefore about the methods, not autonomy itself. The opposition parties criticise the AKP-MHP government’s rhetoric and self-inflicted isolation, yet they treat maritime jurisdiction, the Aegean and Cyprus as national issues. In the 2022 Kadir Has survey, half or more of every major party’s supporters named maritime jurisdiction and the militarisation of Aegean islands among Turkey’s main problems with Greece.

A 2022 Carnegie study that interviewed opposition foreign-policy figures found the same. Most favoured repairing relations with the US and EU, restoring the foreign ministry’s authority, reducing personal diplomacy, and resolving the S-400 dispute to reopen the path to the F-35 programme. They also wanted no confrontation with Russia, no concessions on Turkey’s maritime claims, and no American weapons for Syria’s Kurds.

A post-Erdogan Turkey would therefore be a different kind of embedded outsider, not a former one. Democratisation and a return to institutional decision-making would make Turkey more predictable. But Ankara would still likely pursue diversified partnerships, its own arms industry, regional influence and the ability to say no to allies.

Turkey no longer treats the West as a complete strategic home or a reliable guarantor of its interests. Yet Russia, China, Iran and the Gulf cannot replace the security, markets, technology and institutional ties it draws from NATO, Europe and America. Turkey thus hedges from the inside. Europe cannot end that, and no Turkish government would tolerate the attempt. Its only realistic aim is to keep the hedge bending westward.

What Turkey is embedded in

Turkey today is rarely described as a European power. Yet it is still a NATO member and, technically, an EU candidate. It is also a partner for Europe and the US on critical regional issues ranging from containment of Iran to counter-terrorism and support for Ukraine.

But Turkey’s Western embeddedness goes much deeper than institutions. Its economy, private sector, defence industry and society are tightly integrated with the West, particularly Europe. These connections constrain Turkish autonomy, but they also enable it: the markets, technology, capital and security relationships Turkey draws on to project power remain disproportionately Western.

Economic embeddedness: Europe as market and regulatory ecosystem

The EU remains the centre of gravity of the Turkish economy. The customs union, in force since 1996, goes far beyond an ordinary free-trade agreement. It removed tariffs and quantitative restrictions on industrial goods and required Turkey to align with important parts of EU customs, commercial, competition, intellectual-property and technical legislation.

The numbers remain striking despite political tensions. The EU accounts for 42.7% of Turkey’s goods exports and 35.3% of its imports, with volume reaching €217.6bn in 2025. Services trade added €42.1bn in 2024.

Trade volumes understate the depth of integration. Turkish factories are embedded in European production networks, supplying the automotive, appliance, machinery, textile and electronics industries while relying on European capital goods, technology, standards and intermediate inputs. By mid-2025, Turkey reported that it had aligned 24,597 national standards with European standards, a harmonisation rate of 99.5% with the European Committee for Standardisation and the European Committee for Electrotechnical Standardisation systems.

European capital has been equally important. Turkey received roughly $200bn in foreign-equity inflows between 2003 and 2025, with around 60% originating in the EU. The West as a whole, including the US, UK and Canada, supplies roughly 70% of Turkey’s foreign direct investment.

Ankara has tried to diversify, towards Russia, the Gulf and, above all, China. It joined the Belt and Road Initiative in 2015, applied to BRICS in 2024 and courted Chinese manufacturing, including electric vehicle manufacturer BYD, whose $1bn plant in Turkey will benefit from access to the EU market. But China has not emerged as an alternative to the EU. Chinese firms treat Turkey as high-risk and stayed out of the top 20 sources of foreign investment in 2024. Turkey runs a large trade deficit with Beijing and competes with it for influence in Africa and Central Asia, while Beijing’s treatment of its Uyghur population remains a source of tension.

No partner has been able to match Europe’s market, investment stock and dense supply chains. Ankara’s economic autonomy therefore has limits. It can diversify eastwards, but the capital, technology and markets on which much of its industry depends remain Western. That dependence is sharpened by chronic macroeconomic fragility—high inflation, a weak lira and reliance on external financing—which has repeatedly forced Ankara to seek Gulf and Western capital, setting a hard ceiling on its autonomy.

This dependence also comes with a political irritation. Through the customs union, Turkey aligns with relevant EU regulations but has no say in making them. The agreement is also outdated, excluding services, digital commerce, public procurement, agriculture and climate regulation. The European Commission proposed negotiations to modernise it in 2016, but the European Council has yet to approve a mandate.

This captures a contradiction in Turkish foreign policy. Ankara seeks privileged access to the EU economy while demanding political distance from Brussels. Yet much of its industrial power, export capacity and ability to attract investment still depends on its position at the edge of Europe.

Security embeddedness: Inside NATO’s architecture

Turkey’s security ties with the West are deep. A NATO member since 1952, Turkey has the alliance’s second-largest military after the US and critical infrastructure including the Incirlik air base, where US nuclear weapons are widely believed to be stored; the Kurecik early-warning radar system that covers the Middle East; the Allied Land Command headquarters in Izmir; and forward bases at Konya and Istanbul. Turkey and its territory are therefore woven into a NATO security architecture that stretches from the Middle East to Europe’s eastern flank.

Despite the on-and-off crises with America and a more ambivalent policy towards Russia than most European allies, Turkey’s relationship with NATO is not dormant. Not only has Ankara recently hosted the NATO summit, it has also continued to support NATO’s collective defence missions, including participating in the Baltic Air Policing in 2006 and 2021. After the summit, Turkey agreed to do so again in 2026, even as it maintains cordial relations with Moscow. And while Turkey has worked hard to reduce its military dependence on its allies, many of its high-end programmes still depend on Western engines, components, certification, financing and export access.

Yet embeddedness has not meant deference or loyalty. For example, when Sweden and Finland sought to join NATO, Ankara used its veto in the alliance as leverage—delaying ratification until it had extracted commitments on the PKK and, from the US, approval of a major F-16 sale. Turkey capitalises on its position in NATO as much as it upholds the alliance.

Social and political embeddedness: A diaspora and a stalled accession

Turkey’s political relationship with Europe is weakest precisely where its institutional ties are deepest. Ankara applied to the European Economic Community in 1959, signed the Ankara Agreement in 1963, became an EU candidate in 1999 and opened accession talks in 2005. Those negotiations have now effectively collapsed: only 16 of 35 chapters were opened and just one closed before the process froze. In 2018, the EU General Affairs Council noted that accession talks had come to a standstill, stopping short of formal suspension, but freezing the opening or closing of any new chapters. In 2025, the European Parliament reaffirmed this, on the grounds that Turkey’s strategic importance cannot offset its democratic backsliding and divergence from European norms.

Yet neither side has formally ended the process. Turkey remains a candidate, receives pre-accession funding and participates in EU programmes like Erasmus and Horizon Europe. It is also in the European Political Community and has expressed a desire to be part of a future European security architecture.

Turkey’s European embeddedness is also demographic. Since the 1960s, migration has created communities whose lives span Turkey and Europe. At the end of 2024, around two million Turkish citizens held valid residence permits in the EU, excluding naturalised citizens and second generation Turks born in Europe. Germany alone is home to about 2.6 million people of Turkish background, the country’s largest single-origin immigrant community. Belgium, Britain, France, the Netherlands and Sweden also have sizeable Turkish communities.

Turkey’s European diaspora connects Turkish cities and regions to European labour markets, schools, businesses, media and political parties. They also make Europe an arena of Turkish domestic politics: governments and opposition parties campaign among overseas voters, while disputes about nationalism, religion, Kurdish identity and democratic rights spill into European public life. Europe is therefore not just an external actor but an extension of the political debate in Ankara.

Turkey’s political estrangement from the EU can also obscure the continued attraction Europe holds for many Turks. In a spring 2025 survey commissioned by the EU delegation to Turkey, 58% said they would support EU membership in a referendum and 66% said membership would bring more advantages than disadvantages. Visa-free travel, higher living standards and employment opportunities were the most frequently cited benefits. Similarly, Pew found in 2024 that 56% supported EU membership, rising to 66% among those under 35. Polls show mixed motivations for supporting Turkey’s accession to the EU, with younger, urban and educated Turks consistently aspiring to European legal and political standards even as faith in accession has eroded.

Migration creates another form of interdependence between Turkey and Europe. Turkey hosts a large refugee population and sits on major migration routes from the Middle East and Asia into Europe. European governments have relied on Turkey as a buffer, most explicitly through the 2016 EU-Turkey migration deal. Meanwhile, Ankara has periodically used refugee flows as political leverage, but it has also come to rely on EU funds to manage migration. Neither side can manage migration sustainably without the other.

The instruments of autonomy

Turkey’s distinctive position among middle powers lies not only in its aspiration to act independently but in the tools it has built to do so. It is one of the few middle powers that treats military force as a routine instrument rather than an exception, and the only one that has turned the resulting hardware into a diplomatic currency.

Five tools carry Turkish influence abroad: an expeditionary military, a strong arms industry, a geography that charges rent, an apparatus for soft power and a habit of brokering other people’s wars. Each has widened Ankara’s room for manoeuvre, but each also reveals the limits of Turkish autonomy.

An expeditionary military

What changed under the AKP was less Turkey’s appetite for military activism abroad than how it used force. Before the Arab uprisings, Turkish deployments took place largely within NATO and UN frameworks. But over the past decade, Ankara has increasingly acted unilaterally to advance its own security interests, using forward bases, long-term deployments and partnership with local armed actors. Syria, Libya, Iraq and the Caucasus region each show a version of the method.

In Syria, four cross-border operations between 2016 and 2020 created a belt of Turkish-controlled territory in the north, governed through the Turkey-backed Syrian National Army. Ankara’s presence also helped preserve an opposition-controlled enclave in Idlib, from which Hayat Tahrir al-Sham (HTS) emerged and eventually overthrew Bashar al-Assad, in December 2024. Turkey has since become the most important external backer of Syria’s new government, signing a defence accord in August 2025 to train, equip and advise the army Damascus is rebuilding out of former rebel factions. Ankara’s leverage nonetheless has limits: it has not yet converted this partnership into permanent bases beyond the north, constrained by Israeli red lines and Damascus’s own wariness of overdependence.

Turkey has similarly intervened militarily in Libya since 2020, when it helped prevent warlord Khalifa Haftar’s forces overrunning the internationally recognised government in Tripoli. The intervention has shifted the military balance and entrenched a Turkish security presence, which Ankara subsequently converted into economic and political leverage—against the will of competitors like Cyprus, Egypt, Greece and the UAE. However, Turkey has recently repaired relations with Egypt and opened channels to actors in eastern Libya.

In Iraq, Ankara’s footprint has proved more durable, driven primarily by its campaign against the PKK. A network of forward operating bases across the north has hardened into a de-facto security belt along the border. And despite renewed efforts to resolve the Kurdish question—such as PKK founder Abdullah Ocalan’s 2025 call to disarm and the party’s subsequent dissolution—Ankara is unlikely to dismantle that presence in the near future.

Beyond those, Turkey maintains bases in northern Cyprus, facilities in Qatar, and a training base in Mogadishu. Turkey’s regional footprint today is far larger than it was two decades ago.

Defence

Turkey’s expanding defence industry provides the material foundation for this more assertive foreign policy. Once a buyer of US weapons systems, Turkey has spent the last three decades building its capacity to produce a range of high- and low-end systems, from armed drones and navy vessels to armoured vehicles, missiles, tanks and artillery shells.

Defence and aerospace exports reached $10.05bn in 2025, a dramatic hike from $248m in 2002. The Stockholm International Peace Research Institute ranked Turkey the 11th-largest exporter of major arms for 2021-25, with five Turkish firms—MKE, ASELSAN, Turkish Aerospace, Baykar and Roketsan—entering its global top 100 in 2025. Many of their systems have been battle-tested in Karabakh, Libya, Syria and Ukraine. In the early phase of the Ukraine war, Baykar’s TB2 “Bayraktar” drones gained particular prominence and have since become a symbol of Turkey’s defence-industrial rise. This transformation in the defence industrial base has given Ankara capabilities and relationships in Africa, Central Asia and Europe it did not possess two decades ago.

Greater autonomy, however, is not self-sufficiency. Turkish officials boast that the domestic share of defence production has risen from about 20% in the early 2000s to roughly 80%. But that figure conceals continued dependency on imported technology in propulsion, power transmission, advanced materials and aviation components. For example, Turkey’s flagship fifth-generation fighter-jet, the KAAN, relies on imported engines, as its indigenous turbofan is still in development. Altay tanks entered production with a South Korean power pack, pending integration of the domestic BATU engine and transmission. Imported engines and export licences have also complicated both production and sales of systems such as the Firtina howitzer.

One way Turkey has sought to overcome these constraints has been by embedding itself into the European defence base. In 2025, Baykar and Italy’s Leonardo formed LBA Systems, a fifty-fifty joint venture headquartered in Italy to build unmanned systems, while Baykar outright bought Italian aerospace company Piaggio Aerospace, with its production lines inside the EU. Also in 2025, Turkish Aerospace agreed to supply Spain with Hürjet trainer jets in a €2.6bn deal, which includes substantial production in Spain. These are co-production arrangements inside European supply chains.

Turkey’s defence-industrial autonomy is therefore uneven. It is strongest where companies have accumulated design experience and domestic supply chains, and weakest where production depends on complex propulsion or externally controlled components. And while the industry’s rise has reduced the ability of any single country or supplier to block Turkish military action, its most ambitious programmes still depend on Western technology, certification, finance and markets. This captures the logic of the embedded outsider. Turkey has built greater autonomy not by leaving Western industrial networks, but by using domestic production, offset agreements and selective partnerships to improve its bargaining position within them.

Connectivity

Ankara has not created its own geography, but it has learned to monetise it. Turkey sits between Central Asia, Europe, the Middle East and Russia, astride important trade and energy routes. It is crisscrossed by several energy pipelines despite producing little energy itself. And regional disorder only makes Turkey’s location more valuable.

Azerbaijani oil and gas cross Anatolia through the Baku-Tbilisi-Ceyhan pipeline and the Southern Gas Corridor. Russian gas reaches Turkey and south-eastern Europe through Blue Stream and TurkStream, while Iranian gas enters from the east. Expanding liquefied natural gas terminals give Ankara access to seaborne supplies from America, Qatar and elsewhere.

Turkey has also invested in logistics and connectivity. The Baku-Tbilisi-Kars railway connects Turkey to the trans-Caspian Middle Corridor, linking Central Asia and China westwards. Ankara regards the India-Middle East-Europe Economic Corridor, which bypasses Turkey, as a geopolitical challenge. It has instead backed the $17bn Development Road, linking Iraq’s al-Faw Grand Port through Turkey to Europe. Instability in the Strait of Hormuz has given a boost to this project. This eastward reach also has an institutional home: Turkey leads the Organization of Turkic States, a bloc spanning Azerbaijan and Central Asia that hopes to turn the corridor’s unique geography and ethnic ties into standing political influence.

Soft power

Turkey’s ambitions are also supported by an extensive cultural and diplomatic network. It now operates 255 diplomatic missions, up from 163 in 2002, with the number of African embassies rising from 12 to 44 in this period.

In addition to its diplomatic corps, there is the Turkish Cooperation and Coordination Agency, the Turkish Maarif Foundation, the Presidency of Religious Affairs, the Yunus Emre Institute and the state broadcaster TRT World. All of those are active in Africa, Asia and Latin America. Turkish Airlines has also become an unusually effective instrument for connectivity and visibility. The Antalya Diplomacy Forum now serves as a flagship venue to showcase Turkey’s ambition to convene international actors, modelled after the Munich Security Conference, India’s Raisina Dialogue and Russia’s Valdai Discussion Club.

Perhaps Turkey’s most effective soft power, however, is one the state neither built nor controls. In 2024, Turkish producers exported more than 300 television dramas to over 150 countries, earning over $500m a year and reaching close to a billion viewers. They have made Turkey’s language, cities and lifestyle familiar across the Balkans, Middle East, Latin America and parts of Africa. The state has since moved to harness this success: TRT’s own historical epics carry a more explicit neo-Ottoman message abroad, while per–episode export subsidies introduced in 2026 aim to bend the commercial sector toward promoting Turkey’s image.

Meanwhile, humanitarian aid, education, religion, media, commerce and defence partnerships reinforce the conservative government’s “civilisational” narrative, placing Turkey at the centre of a wider historical and cultural world. Turkey’s overseas network promotes Palestinian rights and positions Turkey as a natural leader of Muslim nations. Erdogan’s slogan that “the world is bigger than five”, referring to the UN Security Council, captures this ambition.

Yet Turkey’s economic fragility sets a hard limit on its ambitions. Inflation peaked at 85.5% in October 2022 and, despite the return to orthodox monetary policy after the 2023 election, remained above 32% in mid-2026. A volatile lira and persistent inflation make it harder to finance reconstruction in Syria, sustain long-term influence in Africa and compete with other powers. Technological dependence, weak institutions and personalised decision-making reinforce these constraints.

Mediation

Mediation became a signature of Turkish foreign policy in the mid-2000s. Under the Davutoglu doctrine of “zero problems with neighbours”, Ankara presented itself as a country able to speak simultaneously to the West, the West’s regional adversaries and the Muslim world. Ankara facilitated indirect talks between Syria and Israel in 2008, engaged in Balkan diplomacy and, alongside Brazil, negotiated a nuclear fuel-swap with Iran in 2010. Also that year, Turkey and Finland launched a UN Friends of Mediation group.

That premise collapsed with the Arab uprisings. Ankara’s support for Syrian opposition and the Muslim Brotherhood, along with its feuds with the Arab Gulf monarchies, Egypt and Israel, made Turkey increasingly party to the region’s conflicts rather than a neutral mediator. As it expanded its regional entanglements, the nature of its mediation efforts changed. From 2017, Ankara worked with Russia and Iran through the Astana process on ceasefires and de-escalation deals in Syria even while backing the opposition on the ground. In Libya in 2020, Turkey participated in the Berlin process as a stakeholder while its troops were deployed in Tripoli. Ankara was not mediating because it stood outside these conflicts, but because it was embedded in them.

From the 2020s, Turkey’s mediation rested on a different foundation. Its leverage came from its higher international profile and its unique access to regional conflicts, such as in Gaza and Ukraine.

Since the start of the war in Ukraine, Turkey has hosted several rounds of negotiations between Russian and Ukrainian officials, facilitated prisoner exchanges and, with the UN, brokered the Black Sea grain deal in 2022. None ended the war, but the grain agreement kept a critical maritime trade route open for almost a year and demonstrated the value of Ankara’s working relationships with both Moscow and Kyiv.

In the final round of negotiations leading to the Gaza ceasefire, Turkey used its relationship with Hamas to convince the armed group to sign the US-brokered agreement with a specific clause for disarmament. Ankara provided political guarantees that helped bring Hamas to the table, but its involvement also led Israel to veto a greater Turkish role in a multinational peacekeeping force in Gaza.

Turkey’s comparative advantage in mediation therefore does not come from neutrality but access. Its willingness to maintain relationships across geopolitical divides can make Ankara frustrating for its Western allies. But it is also precisely what allows Turkey to reach actors that Europeans and Americans sometimes cannot.

What it means for Europe

For Europe, the instruments described above could be assets or liabilities, depending on where and how Turkey uses them. The three case studies that follow trace that variation. In Ukraine and Syria, autonomy generates outcomes Europe wants—grain corridors, prisoner exchanges, a check on Russian and Iranian influence—that a more compliant ally could not have delivered. In the eastern Mediterranean, the same autonomy cuts the other way, pitting Turkey directly against two member states. Together, the three cases leave Europe with a question: how to channel an autonomy it can influence but cannot switch off.

Ukraine: Pro-Kyiv, but not anti-Moscow

Ankara’s position is often summarised as “pro-Ukraine without being anti-Russia”—a formulation that frustrates European allies but has proved durable. Turkey recognises Ukraine’s territorial integrity, including Crimea, and built a substantial defence relationship with Kyiv before the full-scale invasion, selling it Bayraktar TB2 drones and agreeing joint production. It was also among the few NATO states willing to provide strategically significant military technology before February 2022.

At the same time, Ankara refused to join Western sanctions, kept extensive ties with Moscow and described Russia’s aggression in cautious language. After the invasion, it invoked the wartime provisions of the Montreux Convention, closing the Straits to belligerent warships—a move that limited escalation while also constraining NATO’s naval access.

Ankara’s access to both capitals produced results, though not a ceasefire. In 2022, Turkey brokered the Black Sea grain deal with the UN and has facilitated several prisoner exchanges. But it has also been a key conduit for trade with Russia, the flipside of its balancing act.

Ukraine shows the embedded outsider at work: Turkey supports the principles and institutions that protect its own security while reserving the right to diverge from the broader Western strategy. While this balancing is self-interested, it has at times served Ukrainian or European interests.

Syria: Access without capital

Syria offers the clearest demonstration of Turkey’s embedded-outsider role in practice. After more than a decade of cross-border operations, troop deployments, intelligence work and local patronage, Ankara entered the post-Assad period with leverage few external powers could match: close access to President Ahmed al-Sharaa’s government, influence over armed groups in the north, control of border routes, a substantial military presence, and a strong hand in debates about reconstruction and refugee returns. Assad’s fall also weakened Turkey’s rivals, Iran and Russia, and opened up space for Ankara to expand its political and economic influence.

Yet Syria remains a work in progress. Turkey met its core security objective—blocking a PKK-linked autonomous zone along its border—and deepened its leverage in Damascus, but it has neither established a new order nor reaped the economic benefits of its patronage.

Syria’s battered economy is one constraint. Ankara can reopen trade routes, repair energy links and position its companies for reconstruction, but it cannot finance Syria’s recovery alone; that will depend on external capital, European and Gulf support and governance reforms.

Israel is another problem. It remains deeply suspicious of an enlarged Turkish role and has attacked sites earmarked for Turkish military installations. Turkey, in turn, views Israeli support for Syria’s Druze and Kurdish minorities as an obstacle to state consolidation. The Turkish-Israeli rivalry, sharpened since 2024 by Gaza and in the contest for Syria’s new government, increasingly structures the regional order into rival camps: Ankara’s Sunni grouping on one side and an Israel-Greece-Cyprus bloc on the other.

Syria is therefore where Turkey’s embedded-outsider status could pay off most—and where its limits show most clearly. Ankara has access, military leverage and relationships Europe cannot easily reproduce, but not the financial resources and institutional capacity to rebuild Syria on its own. Its ability to shepherd the transition depends, paradoxically, on the very Western relationships it has sought to loosen.

The eastern Mediterranean: Autonomy that backfires

The eastern Mediterranean shows the other side of bounded autonomy. Turkish hydrocarbon exploration in waters claimed by Greece and Cyprus triggered EU sanctions in 2020, and contested maritime claims between the three countries remain. This is potentially the most dangerous flashpoint in Turkey’s relations with the EU.

The dispute predates Erdogan. It is rooted in the unresolved conflict in Cyprus and competing interpretations of maritime jurisdiction in the Aegean and eastern Mediterranean. Ankara rejects Greek claims that islands close to the Anatolian coast should generate extensive maritime zones, and resists any arrangement it sees as restricting Turkey’s access to the open sea. Successive rounds of UN-led negotiations—including a 2004 referendum and the 2017 talks at Crans-Montana—have failed to produce a settlement.

These longstanding trilateral disagreements have sprawled into a regional confrontation. Offshore gas exploration around Cyprus has repeatedly stoked tensions over the past decade, while closer defence and energy ties between Cyprus, Greece and Israel have reinforced Ankara’s sense of encirclement.

Tensions peaked in 2020, when Turkish and Greek vessels came close to direct conflict. The EU subsequently imposed targeted sanctions linked to Turkish drilling activities. At that time, the German former chancellor Angela Merkel became personally involved in shuttle diplomacy between Ankara and Athens and helped avert a military confrontation. But since Merkel left office, no European leader has had the same standing with Erdogan or mounted a comparable sustained effort to address the underlying political dispute.

As long as Cyprus remains divided, Ankara is unlikely to abandon its insistence that Nicosia cannot unilaterally develop the island’s hydrocarbon resources without agreement on how Turkish Cypriots will share in them. Ankara is also unlikely to accept any Greek extension of territorial waters from six to twelve nautical miles in the Aegean—a step the Turkish parliament declared a casus belli in 1995—on grounds that it would sharply curtail its own access to the open sea. That suggests a limit to punitive conditionality by the EU. Targeted sanctions may raise the price of Turkish actions, but by themselves they are unlikely to change Ankara’s position on an issue it regards as a core national interest.

But Europe has not yet seriously tested sustained diplomacy aimed at the source of the dispute. The EU should invest political capital in a renewed Cyprus settlement process, working alongside the UN and encouraging a negotiated arrangement between the island’s two communities. It should not approach the conflict simply as a dispute between a member state and an outside power. The EU cannot easily present itself as a neutral actor when Cyprus is itself a member state, but it can provide incentives, pressure Nicosia into talks, and use diplomatic weight and the prospect of deeper Turkey-EU integration, with security guarantees for Cyprus, to support a settlement. Without progress on Cyprus, the island will remain a perennial obstacle to a more functional relationship between Turkey and Europe.

***

The three case studies show the uses and limits of Turkish autonomy. In Ukraine, Ankara worked both sides without breaking with either, creating access Europe could use. In Syria, Turkish power created leverage but not the resources to consolidate it. In the eastern Mediterranean, autonomy produced confrontation, while European sanctions contained some of the immediate costs without resolving the political dispute that generated them.

A European strategy for the embedded outsider

Europe’s Turkey policy swings between two illusions: that Ankara can be brought back to the Western alignment of the 1990s, or that it is lost and can only be contained. A country this entangled with Europe yet so determined to act alone fits neither.

The alternative is managed interdependence. It begins from two facts: first, Turkish autonomy is here to stay—no future government will return to unquestioned Western alignment; second, autonomy stops well short of independence—Turkey still relies on NATO for ultimate security, Europe for markets, capital, technology and regulation, and America for advanced defence cooperation and regional deterrence.

Europe should use that dependence without trying to eliminate Turkish autonomy. It should make Western cooperation valuable enough that Ankara keeps its forces interoperable, honours common rules and avoids partnerships that damage allied security.

There are limits to this policy. Ankara is unlikely to agree to Greek or Cypriot maritime claims, but it could be open to a UN-led settlement or a deal dividing hydrocarbon resources. Europe should push for that instead of settling for the status quo, even at the cost of having to pressure Cyprus into a new framework or resumption of UN-led talks.

The reality is that European leverage on the eastern Mediterranean is limited, and punitive measures will not change the Turkish calculus. In order to build leverage, Europe first has to define a credible endgame in the conflict and try something new: positive engagement with Ankara aimed at a durable settlement to the frozen conflict. A good place to start would be a pan-Mediterranean conference, inviting Turkey, to set out the disputes and the case for diplomacy. Following that, the EU could work with the UN to push Cyprus and Turkey back to the table, either for a final settlement on Cyprus or a resource-sharing deal on hydrocarbons. 

On the broader agenda with Turkey, the EU should pursue separate, self-contained deals across defence, trade, regional security, migration and mobility. Cyprus can block some of these deals, but in the end can be persuaded by other member states to agree to a more pragmatic approach in return for security guarantees. Each deal should exchange concrete benefits for defined obligations with clear monitoring so that cooperation no longer rests on personal ties between leaders.

The return of Donald Trump somewhat complicates this strategy. Erdogan’s direct relationship with Washington can reduce the immediate cost of ignoring Brussels by giving Ankara another route into the Western system. But transatlantic uncertainty also cuts the other way. Turkey likes to hedge and understands that Trump’s America is a risky player—and that Europe is a good hedge against US volatility. As Europe assumes more responsibility for its own defence and Washington becomes less predictable, Turkey’s military capacity, geography and defence industry become more valuable to Europeans. The result is mutual leverage rather than European dependence alone. Ankara has alternatives to Brussels, but Europe also has assets—market access, industrial integration, finance and regulation—that Washington cannot replace.

Integrate Turkey into European defence

This is where Turkish and European interests overlap most obviously. Europe is rearming; Turkey has factories, a fast-growing arms industry and capabilities relevant to Europe’s eastern and southern flanks. Excluding Turkey entirely from emerging defence-industrial arrangements would be self-defeating.

Yet that is roughly what has happened. In 2025, the EU launched its most ambitious defence effort to date—ReArm Europe, including SAFE, a €150bn joint-procurement instrument. SAFE is open in principle to candidate countries such as Turkey, but deeper participation requires a separate bilateral agreement with the EU, and Turkey has yet to conclude one. Cyprus and Greece have made clear that they view such access through the prism of their own security disputes with Ankara, and this is another way unresolved conflicts in the eastern Mediterranean constrain Europe’s ability to draw Turkey more deeply into its emerging defence architecture.

Turkey should be let in. Europe should use the linkage constructively: greater Turkish access to European defence programmes should accompany sustained de-escalation with Greece and progress on Cyprus, rather than being treated either as an unconditional entitlement or as a permanent exclusion.

EU institutions and member states should pursue this at different levels. The Commission and Council should create pathways for Turkish participation in EU-level defence instruments where political and security conditions are met. Meanwhile, individual member states should expand bilateral procurement, co-production and supply-chain partnerships with Turkish firms on a project-specific basis. Access should be conditional: tied to end-use guarantees, IP protection, sanctions compliance and limits on transferring jointly developed technology to third countries. Kept modular and reversible, such projects give Ankara a stake in interoperability and give Europe access to Turkish capacity without waving away its political and security concerns.

Modernise the customs union

Economic interdependence is Europe’s strongest lever and Turkey’s main reason to stay close. Yet the existing customs union is outdated and ill-suited to a world of supply chain fragmentation, US tariffs, Chinese overcapacity, digital trade and climate regulation. It covers goods and little else—no services, no digital trade, no public procurement and almost no agriculture—besides having weak dispute mechanisms.

Modernisation of the customs union should be at the centre of the Turkey-EU relationship. An expanded agreement would deepen supply-chain integration, attract investment, support green and digital transitions, and pull Turkish regulation closer to that of the EU. And by helping the EU’s industrial competitiveness, it would strengthen its hand against both China and America.

Modernisation should proceed in stages, with access to new sectors tied to measurable compliance and stronger dispute settlement. The objective is not more trade for its own sake. It is to make the dependence run in both directions.

Build coalitions in the neighbourhood

Turkey is now central to many crises in the Middle East, and there is room for Ankara and Brussels to work together more closely. But this does not have to be a single regional bargain. A more realistic model is a portfolio of issue-based coalitions.

In Iraq, both want stronger state institutions, better energy and transport links, reduced dependence on the Strait of Hormuz and Iranian-backed militias out of the military and politics. In Lebanon, both want functioning state institutions and reconstruction while containing escalation with Israel. In Libya and Somalia, maritime security, migration, energy and political stabilisation all provide areas for cooperation.

In the South Caucasus, Europe should continue to support Turkish-Armenian normalisation, the Armenia-Azerbaijan peace process and the east-west transit corridor. On Iran, Ankara’s rivalry with Tehran and diplomatic access to it are useful: both Europe and Turkey want neither an Iranian hegemon nor an Iranian collapse.

Cooperate on migration

The 2016 migration deal reduced a complicated relationship to cash for border control, punctuated by political threats. Europe treats Turkey as a wall; Turkey periodically opens a door in it to make a point. This has delivered no more than short-term containment.

A more durable framework should distribute responsibilities more evenly between Turkey and Europe. It should combine joint border management with sustained refugee protection, greater EU financial support for Turkish municipalities and host communities and expanded resettlement from Turkey to EU member states. Any large-scale return to Syria should be voluntary and depend on improvements in security, housing, documentation, ability to earn a living and protection from persecution. Achieving that will require the EU to do more than simply leave returns for Turkey to manage: it should jointly monitor conditions on the ground, while helping finance reconstruction of civilian infrastructure Syria needs to improve those conditions.

The EU should also make legal travel easier for Turkish citizens: faster visa processing for students, academics, businesspeople, and families, alongside expanded educational and professional exchanges. The point is to replace money-for-containment with better mobility, giving Turkish citizens a reason to care about Europe while reducing Ankara’s ability to weaponise migration.

Make conditionality targeted, not existential

Managed interdependence cannot ignore Turkey’s authoritarian turn. Politicised courts, jailed political opponents and hollowed-out institutions render commercial deals less reliable and foreign policy less predictable.

But Europe’s response has often produced the opposite of what it intended. Keeping Turkey at political distance has not reversed democratic backsliding. It has instead weakened constituencies invested in European integration, reduced the EU’s influence over domestic reform and recast the relationship as an increasingly transactional exchange between governments. The lesson is not to abandon conditionality, but to use it more precisely and consistently.

Europe’s experience with Viktor Orban’s Hungary offers a partial lesson. It demonstrates the value of linking material benefits to specific institutional and rule-of-law conditions, and that different policy areas can be treated separately. But Turkey is not an EU member. It has an independent, regional presence, relationships beyond Europe and no obligation to submit to European courts. The EU’s leverage therefore is much narrower.

Conditionality should therefore be specific, proportionate and tied to the area of cooperation concerned. Instead of making the broader relationship contingent on an open-ended judgment about Turkey’s political trajectory, the EU should tie access to particular benefits to transparent and measurable commitments. Serious rule-of-law violations might affect access to EU financing or progress in areas requiring high levels of regulatory and judicial trust. Coercive actions abroad might trigger restrictions on particular defence-industrial partnerships or targeted measures against the individuals and entities responsible. Measures should have clearly defined triggers and, equally importantly, a clear route to reversal when the triggering behaviour stops.

This approach also requires distinguishing between the Turkish government and Turkish society. Measures intended to constrain the government should not unnecessarily restrict students, researchers, businesses, municipalities or civil society organisations whose interaction with Europe sustains the social foundations of the relationship. Visa access, academic cooperation, municipal partnerships and civil society programmes should therefore be insulated, as far as possible, from political disputes between Ankara and European governments.

Conditionality also has limits when disputes concern interests that Ankara defines as fundamental to sovereignty or national security. In such cases, increasing the cost of Turkish behaviour may signal European resolve without producing a change in policy. Conditionality works best when it creates incentives for a negotiated adjustment, not when it becomes a substitute for diplomacy. Europe therefore needs to pair credible costs with equally credible benefits and a political route back to cooperation.

Keep the accession question open

Managed interdependence is not a substitute for democracy, nor does it require pretending that Turkish accession is imminent. It is a framework for organising relations in the space between joining and walking away. But that raises the question of what should happen to Turkey’s candidate status. Three options are on the table.

Re-opening accession negotiations is unrealistic: the talks have been at a standstill since 2018 and there is neither consensus for a fresh start nor much value in pretending membership is approaching. Formally closing the process would be worse. It would remove one of the last institutional links between the two, weaken pro-European constituencies inside Turkey and make cooperation harder without resolving a single underlying dispute.

The better course is to leave candidate status legally intact but politically dormant and build the cooperation around it. However, the relationship should not be called a “privileged partnership”. This term, floated in some European capitals in the past, remains toxic in Turkey as Ankara sees it as a demotion that in practice would close the accession door forever. The substance is more important: a deep and differentiated partnership of managed interdependence that both sides have reason to maintain, with the formal question left open.

Turkey would remain outside the EU’s political core but get closer where interests align: NATO planning, Ukraine and Black Sea security, defence production, trade, energy, migration, mobility and Syria. In return, Europe would demand greater predictability, sanctions compliance, institutional accountability and adherence to agreed rules.

Disagreement would persist over Cyprus, the eastern Mediterranean, Israel, aspects of the regional order, and Turkey’s continued relations with Russia and China. Managed interdependence is not designed to erase those differences, but to prevent them from bringing down the wider structure of cooperation.

Europe’s choice is not between restoring the Turkey of the past and accepting permanent divergence. It is between an interdependence left hostage to crises and personal bargains, or one organised around common projects, reciprocal obligations and enforceable conditions. A successful strategy would give Turkey room to act as a middle power while making Western cooperation more valuable than the alternatives.

Neither home nor away

Over the past two decades, Turkey has gone from aspiring to regional influence to building the capabilities to exercise it—military deployments, overseas bases, defence exports, economic networks and diplomatic channels. The paradox is that much of this autonomy rests on continued integration with the West. Turkish embeddedness is the platform Turkish autonomy runs on. Ankara has learned to operate in the space between alliance and independence, sufficiently autonomous to shape regional crises, yet sufficiently embedded that the West cannot easily exclude it.

There are limits to this model. Turkey might be able to disrupt arrangements it opposes, but it has been less successful at building durable regional arrangements of its own. That asymmetry is the opening for Europe. A Turkey that can obstruct but not construct needs partners for what it wants to achieve—reconstruction money in Syria, advanced technology for its defence programmes and markets for its exports. Europe has been slow to use this leverage because it keeps looking for a different kind of relationship: an ally that agrees, or an adversary it can hold at arm’s length. Turkey is neither.

Europe needs to stop waiting. It should start using the interdependence that already exists around common projects and enforceable terms. This will not eliminate the contradictions at the heart of the relationship. It will instead turn those contradictions into a framework for bargaining, making cooperation possible without requiring alignment and disagreement manageable without producing rupture.

Acknowledgments 

We are grateful to Jana Puglierin and the Re:Order team at ECFR for encouraging us to take on this project and for helping shape the original idea, and to Angela Mehrer for her coordination throughout. Thanks also to Jeremy Cliffe and the ECFR publications team for their guidance on the initial proposal and outline, and to Nastassia Zenovich whose work on the maps was essential. We would also like to thank the many officials, experts and practitioners who shared their insights with us on an off-the-record basis; their perspectives informed the argument in important ways. Finally, we are especially grateful to Taisa Sganzerla for her thoughtful and incisive editing, which sharpened both the structure and the argument of the paper. 

About the authors

Aslı Aydıntaşbaş is an associate senior policy fellow at the European Council on Foreign Relations (ECFR) and a fellow in the Center on the United States and Europe at the Brookings Institution in Washington, DC, where she also directs the Turkey Project. Before joining the foreign policy community, Aydintasbas had a long career in journalism, including writing a Global Opinions column for the Washington Post. She has covered wars in the Middle East and lived in New York and Istanbul, holding positions at Milliyet, Cumhuriyet, and CNN Turk. She is a regular commentator on the Middle East and Turkey and her work has appeared in the New York Times, the Wall Street Journal, Foreign Affairs, among others. Her recent publications include “Turkey’s search for a new Middle East order” and “Turkey’s post-American hesitation” on the impact of the Iran war. She has also recently written “Here is how one country may have solved a violent uprising” and “Trump, don’t repeat Churchill’s mistake” for the New York Times. 

Evren Balta is a professor of international relations at Özyeğin University in Istanbul. She is also academic coordinator of the TÜSİAD Global Politics Forum, co-director of the Democracy Lab at Özyeğin University, a permanent member of the North South Futures Forum and a member of the Global Scholars Network on Identity and Conflict at Harvard University’s Weatherhead Center for International Affairs. She is also affiliated with the Middle East Institute in Washington, DC. She is the author or co-author of several books, including “The American Passport in Turkey: National Citizenship in the Age of Transnationalism”, which received a Best Book Award from the American Sociological Association. She holds a PhD in political science from The Graduate Center, City University of New York, an MIA from Columbia University’s School of International and Public Affairs and an MA in sociology from Middle East Technical University.

This paper is part of the Re:Order project and was made possible with support from Stiftung Mercator, but does not necessarily represent its view.

Source

La présidente de la Commission européenne, Ursula von der Leyen, a promis mercredi 16 septembre de "présenter prochainement un plan européen de lutte contre les vagues de chaleur", après les canicules records de l'été. Les explications d'Antoine Mariotti, chroniqueur international à France 24, Caroline De Camaret, cheffe du service Europe à France 24 et Jeanette Süß , analyste politique au Comité d'études des relations franco-allemandes à l'Ifri.

Lors de son discours annuel devant le Parlement européen à Strasbourg, Ursula von der Leyen a dévoilé, mercredi 16 septembre, les priorités de l'Union européenne pour l'année à venir. Celles-ci incluent une position ferme sur la régulation de l'intelligence artificielle, l'instauration d'un "plan européen de lutte contre les vagues de chaleur" ainsi que l'ambition d'associer le Canada à l'UE. Les explications de Caroline de Camaret, cheffe du service Europe de France 24.

Lors de son discours annuel devant le Parlement européen à Strasbourg, Ursula von der Leyen a dévoilé, mercredi 16 septembre, les priorités de l'Union européenne pour l'année à venir. Celles-ci incluent une position ferme sur la régulation de l'intelligence artificielle, l'instauration d'un "plan européen de lutte contre les vagues de chaleur" ainsi que l'ambition d'associer le Canada à l'UE. Les explications de Caroline de Camaret, cheffe du service Europe de France 24.

Ursula von der Leyen a prononcé mercredi matin son discours annuel sur l’état de l’UE devant le Parlement de Strasbourg. La présidente de la Commission européenne a balayé pendant une heure une multitude de sujets, dont les menaces sécuritaires qui pèsent sur l'Europe, le réchauffement climatique, l'IA ou encore les dangers des réseaux sociaux pour les mineurs.

Kazakhstan is developing Alatau City near Almaty as a new regional centre for manufacturing, logistics, technology and finance. Its investment pipeline has expanded to 67 projects worth nearly $6.9 billion, with the potential to create around 55,000 jobs. Projects involving PepsiCo, Sunny Paper, Mars Petcare KZ and several logistics companies are already at different stages of implementation. The project is supported by a special legal regime, but experts say its long-term success will depend on sustained investment, effective governance and the development of a competitive economic ecosystem.

https://astanatimes.com/2026/09/alatau-city-can-kazakhstan-build-regional-economic-hub-from-scratch

Between the first and the second quarter of 2026, 3.1 million unemployed persons aged 15-74 in the EU moved into employment, representing 23.2% of all unemployed in the first quarter of 2026. During this period, 7.0 million (52.8%) remained unemployed and 3.2 million (24.0%) moved out of the labour force.

These figures are taken from recently published data on labour market flows in the second quarter of 2026. The article presents a handful of findings from the more detailed Statistics Explained article on labour market flows.

Click to enlarge

Source dataset: lfsi_long_q

The visual and the table give an overview of all changes in labour market status. In the visual, the figures for employment, unemployment and out of the labour force refer to the number of people remaining in each status between the 2 quarters, while the arrows indicate the number of people moving from one status to another.

Click to enlarge

Source dataset: lfsi_long_q

Of all people in employment in the first quarter of 2026, 2.5 million (1.2%) became unemployed in the second quarter of 2026, and 4.8 million (2.3%) moved out of the labour force.

Of all people recorded as out of the labour force in the first quarter of 2026, 4.2 million (3.7%) entered employment in the second quarter of 2026 and 3.9 million (3.4%) became unemployed.

For more information

• Statistics Explained article on labour market flow statistics in the EU
• Thematic section on employment and unemployment (LFS)
• Database on the employment and unemployment (LFS)
• Metadata on labour market transitions

Methodological notes

• The labour market flows published from 2021 onwards are based on the EU Labour force survey (EU-LFS) carried out under Regulation (EU) 2019/1700 on European statistics relating to persons and households, using individual-level data collected from samples. Further information on the Regulation is available in the Statistics Explained article.
• The figures are based on seasonally adjusted data.

13.7% of the people in the EU aged 25 to 64 state having received formal or non-formal education and training in the last 4 weeks in 2025, rising from 10.1% in 2015. This growth has been steady, except for a temporary decline in 2020, likely due to the COVID-19 pandemic and related contingency measures.

Among EU countries, Sweden (38.2%), Denmark (31.0%) and Finland (28.1%) had the highest shares of adult learning in 2025. In contrast, Greece (5.2%), Bulgaria (6.1%) and Croatia (6.5%) recorded the lowest shares. 

Compared with 2015, adult learning grew in almost all EU countries, most notably in Malta (+12.3 percentage points (pp)), Estonia (+11.9 pp), Belgium (+11.1 pp), and Slovenia (10.9 pp). The only exceptions were France (-3.1 pp), Luxembourg (-0.6 pp), and Denmark (-0.5 pp). 

Click to enlarge

Source dataset: sdg_04_60

In 2025, the share of adults participating in education and training was 2.5 pp higher among women than among men (14.9% compared with 12.4%, respectively). Women’s participation rate also increased faster, rising by 4.0 pp between 2015 and 2025, compared with 3.2 pp for men.

Participation in adult learning also differs by degree of urbanization. Adults living in cities were more likely to participate in learning (16.8%) than those living in towns and suburbs (12.3%) or rural areas (10.3%).

SDG 4 – quality education

Tertiary educational attainment is one of the indicators used to monitor the Sustainable development goal (SDG) 4 – quality education. SDG 4 seeks to ensure access to quality education for all at all stages of life, as well as to increase the number of young people and adults who have the relevant skills for employment, decent jobs and entrepreneurship. Monitoring SDG 4 in an EU context focuses on basic education, tertiary education, adult learning and digital skills.

For more information

• Publications on the sustainable development goals
• Database on sustainable development goals
• Visualization tool SDG EU progress tracker
• Visualization tool SDGs & me
• Visualization tool SDG country overview
• UN’s 2030 Agenda for Sustainable Development

Methodological note

Adult participation in learning measures the share of people aged 25 to 64 who stated they received formal or non-formal education and training in the 4 weeks before the survey, which was carried out to monitor it. For definitions of formal and non-formal education and training, see the reference metadata. Data stem from the EU Labour Force Survey (EU-LFS).

In 2025, the EU rail freight transport performance fell by 1.8%, declining from 375.1 billion tonne-kilometres (tkm) in 2024 to 368.2 tkm, and marking the fourth consecutive year of decline. 

Germany remained by far the largest contributor to rail freight transport performance in the EU, with one third of the EU total (33.5%; 123.5 billion tkm). Poland was the second-largest contributor (14.7% of the EU total; 54.3 billion tkm), followed by France (9.3%; 34.4 billion tkm).

This information comes from data on railway freight transport published by Eurostat on 14 September. The article presents a handful of findings from the more detailed Statistics Explained article on railway freight transport. 

Compared with 2024, rail freight transport performance measured in tonne-kilometres decreased in 16 EU countries, while 8 countries recorded an increase. The largest decreases were recorded in Ireland (-35.2%), Latvia (-18.8%) and Estonia (-17.3%). By contrast, the highest increases were recorded in Greece (+9.3%), Portugal (+8.4%) and France (+6.6%). 

Click to enlarge

 Source dataset: rail_go_typepas

Freight per capita: from 0.03 tonnes in Ireland to 10.7 in Luxembourg

Relative to the country’s population, the volume of rail freight transported per capita was highest in Luxembourg (10.7 tonnes), Austria (10.5) and Lithuania (8.5). The lowest rates were observed for Ireland (0.03 tonnes per capita), Greece (0.06) and Spain (0.5).

Click to enlarge

 Source datasets: rail_go_typepas and demo_gind

For more information

• Statistics Explained article on railway freight transport
• Thematic section on transport
• Database on transport 
• Webinar on transport statistics
• Podcast episode on glossary for transport statistics
• Key figures on European transport – 2025 edition

Methodological notes

• The data presented in this article include only main railway undertakings. In order to meet the main undertaking threshold, the railway undertaking must achieve a total volume of goods of at least 200 million tonne-kilometres or at least 500 000 tonnes of total weight.
• There are no railways in Cyprus and Malta. 

In 2025, young people in the EU left their parents’ home at an average age of 26.3 years, up slightly from 26.2 years in 2024. 

Since 2002, this average age stayed close to 26 years.

The highest average ages for leaving the parental home, at 30 years or above, were recorded in Croatia (31.5 years), Greece and Slovakia (both 30.9), and Spain and Italy (both 30.2). By contrast, the lowest average ages were registered in Finland (21.4 years), Denmark (21.8) and Estonia and Lithuania (both 22.7). 

https://ec.europa.eu/eurostat/documents/d/products-eurostat-news/age

Source dataset: yth_demo_030

In 2025, the employment rate in the EU among young people aged 20-29 years was 65.5%. 

In most countries where the age at which young people leave the parental home is below the EU average, the employment rate for 20-29-year-olds is above EU average.

For example, in countries where young people tend to leave the parental home sooner, such as the Netherlands, Denmark, Germany and Sweden the employment rate for young people tends to be higher.

In countries where young people leave the parental home later, such as Greece, Croatia, Spain and Italy, the employment rate was lower than the EU average.

Click to enlarge

Source dataset: lfsa_ergaed

For more information

• Thematic section on children and youth
• Database on children and youth
• Thematic section on employment and unemployment
• Visualization tool on young Europeans

Methodological notes

The average age at which young people leave the parental home is an approximate measure based on whether respondents of the European Union Labour Force Survey (EU-LFS) and their parents live in the same household. The calculation covers each single year of age from 15 to 34. It takes into account, separately for male and female categories, the share of respondents living in households without their parents in the total population. An ‘exit probability’ for each single year of age from 15 to 34 is calculated for the total, male and female populations. The indicator shows the age at which 50% of the population no longer live in a household with their parent(s). 

Centre right MEPs say they want the EU to give itself the tools and resources to protect European democracies from foreign interference, disinformation and hybrid threats.

The assertion comes just ahead of a parliamentary vote on the EU Parliament’s recommendations on the issue.

EPP MEP Tomas Tobé, speaking on Tuesday, has called for a Democracy Shield “with the power to act.”

The deputy, the Parliament’s negotiator on the European Democracy Shield dossier, stated, "Protecting democracy from foreign interference must be a European priority.

“We must respond with greater determination and reinforce the European Democracy Shield. 

"Russia remains the most serious threat to the integrity of our democracies. 

"Its continued attempts to influence elections and manipulate the information space show that the Kremlin sees democratic resilience as a threat to its own interests," says Tobé MEP, EPP Group Vice-Chair.

The EPP Group said it wants the Democracy Shield “to be more than just a name.”

A spokesman said, “Europe needs stronger coordination and real operational capacity to protect elections, defend democratic institutions and counter foreign interference.

“The European Centre for Democratic Resilience must have the powers and resources to respond effectively to threats.”

Tobé added, "With this report, the European Parliament sends a clear message: we will not be passive while our democracies are under threat.

“We must now turn the European Democracy Shield into effective action to protect our elections, defend our institutions and counter foreign interference," said Tobé. 

Meanwhile, the European Parliament will this week also debate the devastating impact of this summer’s extreme weather.

The focus will be on the human and economic cost which MEPs say “is impossible to ignore.”

Extreme heat has resulted in at least 35,000 excess deaths across Europe and up to €180 billion in lost GDP.

The Socialist group, in a statement on Tuesday, said, “Europe has a choice.

“We can continue to react to each disaster separately, send firefighters when the flames are already spreading, repair the damage afterwards and hope that next summer will be less severe. Or we can prepare for the Europe we know is coming. This summer has made clear that the climate crisis is no longer a future risk.”

Further comment comes from Christophe Clergeau, S&D vice-president, who said he will call for a “healthy planet, healthy people and a sustainable food ecosystem.”

He said: "Europe is paying a devastating price for extreme heat.

“Tens of thousands of people have lost their lives, while extreme weather has caused enormous economic damage. We cannot treat this as the new normal.

“Every fraction of a degree of additional warming means more frequent and severe heatwaves, wildfires, floods and droughts. That is why mitigation, adaptation and protection must be treated as the same fight. 

"We need to phase out fossil fuels, which are driving the climate crisis, while investing much more in identifying and reducing vulnerabilities, adapting our cities and regions, and protecting people from extreme heat and drought.”

The MEP went on, “Our first priority must be protecting those most vulnerable. Cities and regions are on the front line and need stronger support to prepare for and manage crises, while populations must also be better informed and prepared. We must ensure that firefighters and civil protection services have the equipment and resources they need, and support the recovery and repair of territories devastated by fires and other disasters. Civic engagement and volunteers also have a vital role to play in prevention, preparedness and response.

"Europe must also build the industrial capacity needed to protect its citizens. We should produce Canadairs and other firefighting aircraft in Europe, develop a European plan to support the equipment needs of firefighters, and establish a clear R&D roadmap for civil protection technologies. And we need to do much more to prevent wildfires in the first place. When our forests are increasingly exposed to heat, drought and fires, the rejection of a European forest monitoring law by the right and the far right last year was a serious mistake. We need better information and better prevention, not fewer tools to protect our forests and citizens.

"This vote on the forest monitoring law is part of a wider pattern. While the climate crisis is becoming more dangerous, the right and far right keep attacking the Green Deal and downplaying the need for climate action.”

The deputy continued, “Yet there is no fair society if people are left exposed to devastating heat, no competitive economy without decarbonisation, and no energy sovereignty while we remain dependent on imported fossil fuels.”

"The Union Civil Protection Mechanism alone is not enough: its budget is insufficient given the scale of the risks we face. We need an ambitious European adaptation and resilience package focused on anticipation, preparedness and protection. Europe must strengthen the Green Deal and invest in prevention and recovery, rather than give in to climate denial and political obstruction,” added Clergeau.

Ursula von der Leyen a prononcé mercredi matin son discours annuel sur l’état de l’UE devant le Parlement de Strasbourg. La présidente de la Commission européenne a balayé pendant une heure une multitude de sujets, dont les menaces sécuritaires qui pèsent sur l'Europe, le réchauffement climatique, l'IA ou encore les dangers des réseaux sociaux pour les mineurs.

Ahead of National Curry Week in the UK (5-11 October) MPs are being urged to revive the Parliamentary Tiffin Cup. 

The Tiffin Cup was an annual competition where MPs (advised by their constituents) nominated the Best South Asian Restaurant in their area.

One restaurant from every region was then shortlisted and invited to participate in the Grand Final cook-off event held in the House of Commons in London, and judged by MPs and guest celebrities, with the proceeds going to charity.

The Tiffin Cup was last won in 2019 by Kuti’s Restaurant in Southampton, where former Prime Minister Rishi Sunak says he worked shifts “just for fun” as a student.

The competition was created by a group of MPs with Keith Vaz as its chairman to celebrate quality South Asian food. The trophy was usually presented by the Speaker of the House of Commons.

Demands for its return are led by George Shaw, editor of the respected Good Curry Guide.

He told this site “These are challenging times for the hospitality sector, with both restaurants and customers being hard hit by rising costs.  The Tiffin Cup will help to promote what is a vital part of our economy. 

“Most curry houses are small independent businesses – not a ubiquitous chain which sucks cash away from the local area, funnelling profits to a corporate headquarters many miles away, or to an offshore bank account.

“Curry is a firmly established part of British history and culture. 

“Queen Elizabeth I granted the first charter in 1600 allowing London merchants to trade with the “East Indies”, hoping to break the Dutch monopoly on the spice trade.”

The earliest surviving curry recipe in English was published in 1747.

The first Indian restaurant in London, the Hindoostane Coffee House, was opened in 1810 by Sake Dean Mahomed, a former captain in the British East India Company.

He went on to become ‘personal shampooing surgeon’ to George IV and William IV.

British appetites for spice became entrenched during the British colonial era in India, from 1600 to 1947.

Queen Victoria, ‘Empress of India’ was introduced to Indian cuisine by her ‘Munshi’, Abdul Karim. 

Thereafter she ate curry every day, with great relish and in considerable quantities, until the end of her life, 25 years later.

The ritual of enjoying a refreshing lager with Indian food was introduced by Prince Axel of Denmark. 

The Prince attended the British Empire Exhibition in 1924. 

During his visit he discovered the cuisine of Veeraswamy (London’s first high end Indian restaurant and still in existence), which ran a “pop-up” at the Exhibition.  

The Prince brought a barrel of Carlsberg with him and continued to send one each Christmas.

Shaw is urging restaurant curry fans to write to their MPs asking them to reestablish the Tiffin Cup competition as an annual fixture in Parliament, with their own nominations.

Spice lovers can find the email address of their MP via https://www.mysociety.org/wehelpyou/who-is-your-mp