How Türkiye went from problem child to power broker in NATO

Ankara used the summit to prove it can deliver what others cannot: access, leverage, and channels to Trump, Damascus and Moscow When NATO’s 36th summit opened at the Bestepe Presidential Complex on July 7, the official agenda read like every other alliance gathering of the past few years: defense spending targets, support for Ukraine, industrial capacity, adaptation to new threats. But for the host nation, the meeting was never only about the communiqué. It was a stage, and Türkiye had spent months building the set. The guest list alone signaled the stakes. Alongside the leaders of all 32 member states, Ankara welcomed US President Donald Trump, South Korea’s Lee Jae-myung, European Council President Antonio Costa and European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen. On the sidelines, ministers met with partners from the Gulf and from Australia, Japan and New Zealand. The final declaration reaffirmed what NATO calls its ironclad commitment to collective defense under Article 5, and allies pledged roughly €70 billion – about $80 billion – in military equipment, assistance and training for Ukraine in 2026. None of that, however, was the story that dominated coverage coming out of Ankara. The story was Türkiye itself – a NATO member that has spent years being treated as the alliance’s most complicated partner, suddenly recast as the country without which the summit might not have happened at all. The man who kept Trump in the room Trump arrived in Türkiye fresh from weeks of public friction with European allies. He had already dismissed Madrid as a “terrible partner in NATO,” called Germany’s defense budget “ridiculous,” and told reporters that when Europeans declined to join the war on Iran, he didn’t want their money – he wanted their “loyalty.” Chancellor Friedrich Merz pushed back, insisting Germany was making the greatest defense effort in its history, but the mood going into Ankara was combative.

And then there was the line that reframed the entire summit. Trump told reporters he might not have shown up at all had the meeting not been hosted by his “friend” Erdogan – a leader he described as very strong. It was a remarkable thing for a sitting US president to say about a NATO gathering: that his attendance hinged not on the alliance as a whole, but on the man running the host country. Securing Trump’s actual presence at the annual gathering of 32 leaders had reportedly become, for many diplomats, the summit’s central task – and Ankara delivered it. Read more Scott Ritter: NATO is spending itself into oblivion Türkiye did not leave that dynamic to chance. Erdogan personally greeted Trump on the tarmac; Turkish television showed a welcome with a cavalry escort, an honor guard, and a flypast trailing red, white and blue smoke. A military band played traditional marches as Erdogan and the first lady greeted each arriving leader by name. Trump, watching the Mehter band perform, gave a thumbs-up. As he sat beside Erdogan at the presidential palace, Trump put it simply: “Sometimes you get along with the toughest people, like him.” In a moment when Washington’s relations with several European capitals were strained, Türkiye offered something most allies could not: a red-carpet welcome, a personal rapport, and a venue where the American president felt, by his own account, genuinely wanted. A bridge to Damascus, built through Ankara Türkiye’s role as connective tissue extended beyond the Trump-Erdogan relationship into the Middle East. On the sidelines of the summit, Trump held a widely covered meeting with Syria’s President Ahmed al-Sharaa – a former Nusra Front commander who once had a bounty on his head – and told reporters he expected to remove Syria from Washington’s li