WhatsappThe Turkish president courts the Vatican and Washington while stepping up pressure on Israel and the region.
It is never easy to probe the intentions of a pope, still less to imagine what passes through his mind as, with a single glass of water for comfort, he is required to listen to one of Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan’s interminable monologues. Stability, rapprochement among peoples, a just and lasting peace—these are the values that Pope Leo XIV sincerely seeks in these times of what increasingly resembles a creeping third world war.
The setting chosen for this encounter, Nicea—today’s Iznik—where in 325 Emperor Constantine convened the first council of quarrelsome bishops, evokes ideas of unity, compromise and the strength of a Church that has endured for 1,700 years. Yet in Turkey, Christians numbered nearly four million at the start of the 20th century; today they have been reduced to about 100,000. It is a tragedy seen throughout much of the Islamic world. One can be certain that behind closed doors, the pope raised this with Erdoğan.
In the coming Middle Eastern days, a remark by the great historian Bernard Lewis may once again prove prescient: the day will come, he said, when Iran will become Turkey and Turkey will become Iran. By this, he meant that Ankara would aspire to impose the leadership of the Sunni Muslim Brotherhood, reclaiming an imperial dimension in the Islamic world—the Ottoman one.
For years, Italy and much of Europe dreamed that Turkey—a NATO member, militarily strong, rich in history—would serve as a bridge between West and East. Erdoğan has violently overturned that hope.
He has punished anything and anyone who does not align with his rule, plunged his economy into turmoil, crushed the Kurds, and above all, attacked Israel and the Jews with words and deeds—comparing Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu to Hitler, hosting the Hamas leadership as Qatar does, and organizing lavishly funded flotillas from Turkish ports.
To the pope, Erdoğan again voiced his “astute appreciation” of the Palestinian cause, repeating his familiar themes of Palestinian statehood and Jerusalem’s sovereignty. In eastern Jerusalem and the Old City, Turkish-backed activist hubs proliferate.
Dozens of Turkish diplomats operate out of Tel Aviv and Jerusalem, while Israelis no longer reside in Istanbul. When Ismail Haniyeh, one of Hamas’s most brutal leaders, was eliminated, the Turkish Embassy flag in Tel Aviv was lowered to half-staff.
Donald Trump now wants Erdoğan to play a role in his sweeping 20-point peace plan for the region, beginning with Gaza. Turkey matters: it maintains deep ties with Russia and controls a critical gate for refugees seeking entry into Europe—one that Erdoğan opens and closes at will.
But Israel will not accept a Turkish presence on its border from within Gaza. Trump understands this, just as he understands why it is preferable for Saudi Arabia—not Turkey—to acquire advanced U.S. fighter jets. In Turkish hands, such weaponry could pose an existential danger to far too many actors.
Ankara has now announced its ambition to build an “Iron Dome” of its own—an Israeli-style missile defense system. Against whom, exactly? The Turkish answer is “Israel.” The real answer is different: only a power harboring aggressive intentions, like Iran or Hezbollah, would require such a shield. This raises the real question that now hangs over the region: What does Turkey truly intend to do? Is it pursuing a Middle Eastern program of conquest?
The pope wishes only to make a journey of peace. Yet as Lebanon again hangs in the balance, it is clear that peace will come only when the obsession with setting Israel ablaze is finally abandoned, as it was not two years ago.
If, for example, the Lebanese government at last succeeds in disarming Hezbollah, as existing agreements require, then peace—with a capital P—would draw much closer. The pope knows this. So do many others.
The unanswered question remains Erdoğan.
