In recent times, Erdogan’s inner circle has amplified their rhetoric against Israel. How should Israel respond?
By Rachel Avraham
From Tel Aviv, the view of Ankara today is a puzzle of contradictions. On one hand, President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan has thrust himself back into regional diplomacy, helping midwife a new Gaza ceasefire framework and positioning Turkey as an indispensable broker with leverage over Hamas. On the other, his circle’s rhetoric toward Israel has sharpened to the point where “intervention” and outright hostility are openly entertained by senior voices and pro-government outlets.
The result is a dual-track strategy that keeps diplomatic doors ajar while brandishing threats that play well with domestic audiences and parts of the wider Muslim world. For Israel, parsing signal from noise is no longer academic; it is a question of risk management. Recent weeks brought a vivid illustration. Even as reporting credited Ankara with pushing Hamas toward a U.S.-backed plan, Erdoğan’s ecosystem showcased messaging that veered far beyond criticism of Israel’s conduct and into language normalizing the idea of attacking a NATO partner’s security.
The pattern predates this month. Since the Gaza war began, Turkish officials have edged from denunciations into escalatory talk, including hints that Ankara could “enter” the conflict—comments that spiked during 2024 amid trade freezes and diplomatic spats. Analysts tracked how those statements were amplified by pro-government media, fusing moral outrage with strategic posturing. To Israel, the escalation mattered less for its literal feasibility than for how it shifted the discourse: ideas once considered fringe—military action, incursions, or direct confrontation—moved into mainstream discussion across Turkish politics and media.
In October 2025, that convergence became explicit in a new compilation of official statements and coverage by pro-government outlets, arguing that Erdoğan, senior officials, and state-aligned media are “talking about attacking Israel.” The dossier catalogues lines from political leaders, presidential advisers, and television hosts about punishing or striking Israel—clips and quotes that, regardless of Ankara’s actual intentions, condition the public to view military action as legitimate. For Israeli planners, such narratives are not dismissed as bluster; they are treated as potential precursors to policy in a crisis.
The rhetorical escalation has also included religiously framed invocations aimed at Israel’s destruction—language that crosses from political critique into existential delegitimization. Those words—documented by policy monitors and widely reported, then echoed in Israeli media—carry strategic weight. They signal to local audiences that confrontation is both morally warranted and politically sellable, while telling foreign partners that Turkey’s leadership is prepared to instrumentalize faith and identity in pursuit of leverage. For a country seeking to mediate ceasefires and rebuild Gaza, such messaging imposes a credibility tax with Western allies and complicates Israel’s threat calculus.
At the same time, Ankara has invested in the image of indispensable mediator. Turkey named a high-profile coordinator for Gaza aid and floated participation in ceasefire monitoring—moves designed to entrench its role in post-war arrangements. State-adjacent and sympathetic international outlets have emphasized Ankara’s diplomatic “centrality,” presenting Erdoğan as the only leader with enough sway over Hamas to deliver results. The message abroad is clear: Turkey is a bridge; the message at home is different: Turkey is a power that can force outcomes—including, if “necessary,” by threat of force. This two-level game is not new in Turkish statecraft, but the gap between mediator brand and militant rhetoric has rarely been so stark.
Why does the threatening talk persist if the costs of war would be prohibitive? Three reasons stand out. First, domestic politics: with inflation pain and opposition pressure, foreign-policy maximalism offers a unifying narrative. Casting Israel as a foil allows pro-government media to rally a base that responds to moral-religious framing. Second, regional competition: Ankara is vying with Egypt, Qatar, Iran, and Saudi Arabia for post-war influence. Signaling a willingness to confront Israel—even rhetorically—distinguishes Turkey in a crowded field of would-be guarantors and patrons. Third, deterrence signaling: by flirting with the idea of force, Turkey seeks to raise the political price for Israeli actions it opposes (covert operations or strikes tied to Hamas leadership abroad). Whether the signal is credible is less important than whether it complicates Israel’s decision-making loop.
For Israel, prudence requires treating words as capabilities multipliers. The IDF does not plan for televised monologues; it plans for force mobilization, proximate assets, and coalition behavior in a crisis. On that score, Turkey’s hardware, navy, drones, and geography matter far more than studio rants. Yet rhetoric can shift baselines. A stray clash at sea, a misidentified drone, or a covert action gone public could collide with weeks of incendiary talk and tip political leaders into escalation they did not originally intend. The recent record shows how fast Ankara can pivot—suspending trade, recalling ambassadors, and threatening steps that once seemed unthinkable.
There is also a legal-political front. Turkish officials have framed Israel’s operations as “war crimes” or “genocide,” language that both resonates domestically and places Ankara at odds with key Western partners. State broadcasters and communications chiefs have amplified this lexicon, often alongside calls for sanctions and boycotts. For Israel, this is not only reputational warfare; it is a way to legitimize pressure campaigns and justify the possibility—however remote—of “protective action.” When such terms migrate from activist circles to official podiums, the policy space for de-escalation narrows.
Still, none of this makes a Turkish attack likely. Ankara’s NATO commitments, economic constraints, and exposure to secondary crises (Syria, the Aegean, domestic security) are powerful brakes. The Turkish military establishment understands the risks of direct confrontation with Israel, particularly without allied cover. And Erdoğan’s own diplomacy underscores that leverage over Hamas is more valuable used at the table than on a battlefield. In fact, recent reporting credits Turkey with helping deliver a deal that freed hostages—evidence that when incentives align, Ankara chooses transaction over confrontation. The contradiction is the point: intimidation for the cameras, mediation in the backrooms.
What should Israel do? First, separate theater from thresholds. Track rhetoric, but prioritize indicators of intent: unusual force movements, naval posture in the Eastern Mediterranean, air-defense configurations, and political steps within NATO. Second, keep allied channels active. European concerns about Turkey’s maximalism are real; so are American desires in keeping a NATO member engaged on the ceasefire track. Third, pursue quiet crisis-proofing with Egypt and Greece, whose coordination can blunt escalation risks at sea and along air corridors. Finally, message resilience without mirroring the theatrics. The stronger Israel appears against provocation—detached, focused, and aligned with partners—the less oxygen there is for talk of attack to become policy.
In the end, Erdoğan’s two-level game thrives on ambiguity. If the ceasefire holds and Gaza’s reconstruction proceeds under a framework Turkey helps shape, Ankara will claim the mediator’s prize while keeping the option of menace for domestic consumption. If the deal falters, the talking-about-attack track will resurface as political leverage. Either way, Israel should read the words for what they are: not a war plan, but a pressure instrument that only works if Jerusalem reacts to it. The task is to deny that reaction—calmly, methodically, with allies—while never ignoring that in the Middle East, talk can harden into intent in a single bad week.
Photo from Rory Arnold: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Recep_Tayyip_Erdo%C4%9Fan#/media/File:Turkish_President_Recep_Tayyip_Erdo%C4%9Fan_in_January_2024_(cropped).jpg
