Israeli Deputy Foreign Minister Sharren Haskel has drawn an explicit and non-negotiable “red line” over the potential sale of F-35 Lightning II stealth fighters to Turkey, declaring that advanced Israeli-developed technologies embedded within the aircraft will not be shared with Ankara under any circumstances—even if the United States ultimately authorises the transfer. The statement underscores Israel’s determination to preserve its qualitative military edge amid shifting alliance dynamics in the Middle East and Eastern Mediterranean.
Speaking as Washington signals renewed openness to Turkey’s re-entry into the F-35 Joint Strike Fighter programme, Haskel made clear that Israel views any exposure of its proprietary systems as an unacceptable strategic risk. “We have our reservations [regarding a possible sale],” she said. “A lot of the technology inside the airplane is technology produced by Israel. And obviously this is not something that we will share with them.” The remarks carry significant implications for alliance politics, defence industrial cooperation, and regional deterrence stability.
Haskel further stressed that Israeli-origin systems would remain excluded “even if they do get those airplanes,” a pointed reference to comments by US President Donald Trump, who recently confirmed he is “very seriously considering” approving an F-35 sale to Turkey. Her remarks signal that Tel Aviv intends to leverage its unique position within the F-35 ecosystem to ring-fence sensitive innovations regardless of Washington’s final decision.
The timing is strategically significant. Haskel’s comments follow renewed high-level engagement between Trump and Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, during which defence industrial cooperation and future arms transfers reportedly featured prominently. The sequence has reinforced perceptions that Israel is actively shaping the parameters of any prospective US–Turkey defence rapprochement before it crystallises into policy.
At a deeper level, Israel’s stance reflects converging threat perceptions shaped by Turkey’s continued acquisition of Russian defence systems, its increasingly confrontational rhetoric towards Israel, and Ankara’s open political support for Hamas. These factors have steadily eroded the residual trust that once underpinned Israeli–Turkish security cooperation in the early 2000s.
The declaration therefore goes beyond export controls or technical restrictions. It signals Israel’s determination to protect its strategic edge at a time when fifth-generation combat aircraft are no longer standalone platforms, but nodes within highly sensitive, data-driven warfare architectures. Any compromise of that ecosystem, Israeli officials argue, could reverberate across multiple theatres of operation.
From Washington’s perspective, Israel’s unambiguous red line complicates efforts to use the F-35 as a diplomatic incentive to re-anchor Turkey firmly within NATO’s Western orbit. Any future sale now appears likely to be politically, operationally, and technologically constrained from the outset—potentially limiting its strategic value as a tool of alliance management.
Israeli officials are acutely aware that the F-35’s true power lies not simply in its stealth airframe, but in its integrated software, electronic warfare libraries, encrypted mission systems, and real-time data-sharing architecture. Even partial exposure of this ecosystem to a state with divergent strategic alignments could, in Israel’s assessment, degrade its long-term operational advantage.
By articulating its position publicly at an early stage, Tel Aviv is also shaping the decision-making environment in Washington. The message is clear: any attempt to bypass Israeli concerns risks downstream friction within the broader US–Israel security relationship, a pillar of American power projection and deterrence credibility in the Middle East.
The dispute has thus become emblematic of a wider structural shift in alliance politics. Access to next-generation military technology is no longer governed solely by formal treaty obligations, but by fluid assessments of political alignment, strategic trust, and the durability of shared threat perceptions in an era of accelerating geopolitical fragmentation.
To grasp the strategic weight of Israel’s intervention, it is necessary to revisit Turkey’s turbulent trajectory within the F-35 programme. Ankara joined the initiative in 2002 as a Level 3 partner, committing roughly US$1.4 billion and signalling plans to acquire up to 100 aircraft. Turkish defence firms were integrated into the global supply chain, producing airframe structures and engine sub-assemblies.
The arrangement initially anchored Turkey’s air power modernisation firmly within NATO’s technological ecosystem. That alignment unravelled in 2019 when Ankara proceeded with the acquisition of the Russian-made S-400 “Triumf” long-range air defence system, despite repeated warnings from Washington and NATO allies.
US defence planners argued that the S-400’s advanced radar and signal-processing capabilities could be exploited to collect sensitive data on the F-35’s radar signature and electronic emissions, undermining the aircraft’s stealth advantages across the alliance. Washington invoked the Countering America’s Adversaries Through Sanctions Act, imposed sanctions on Turkey’s defence procurement agency, and formally expelled Ankara from the F-35 programme.
President Recep Tayyip Erdogan has consistently characterised the decision as unjust, arguing that Turkey turned to Russia only after prolonged delays in securing US Patriot systems. Nevertheless, Turkey lost both its planned F-35 fleet and its sunk investment, while its defence firms were severed from a supply chain worth billions over the programme’s lifetime.
Although Ankara has since accelerated indigenous efforts such as the KAAN fifth-generation fighter, the operational maturity, sensor fusion, and alliance interoperability offered by the F-35 remain unmatched—sustaining Turkish interest in re-entry despite formidable political obstacles.
Israel’s ability to draw a credible red line rests on its uniquely deep integration into the F-35 programme. Since joining in 2003, Israel has invested more than US$4 billion and secured unprecedented permissions to modify both hardware and software. The Israeli Air Force currently operates 39 F-35I “Adir” aircraft and plans to expand the fleet to as many as 75.
Israeli defence firms play critical roles within the programme. Israel Aerospace Industries produces the outer wing sets for every F-35 delivered worldwide, while Elbit Systems supplies the helmet-mounted display that provides pilots with full spherical situational awareness. Beyond these visible components, Israel has embedded proprietary electronic warfare suites and mission software that allow the F-35I to operate independently of US-controlled update cycles—a privilege no other operator enjoys.
These modifications have enabled Israeli F-35s to conduct long-range strike missions across contested airspace while maintaining exceptionally high mission-capable rates. From Israel’s perspective, allowing even diluted access to this ecosystem by Turkey introduces unacceptable risks of leakage or inadvertent exposure, particularly given Ankara’s ongoing defence cooperation with Moscow.
The revival of talks on Turkey’s potential return reflects Washington’s broader strategic dilemma. US officials have described recent discussions with Ankara as the most productive in years, framing re-engagement as a way to reinforce NATO’s southern flank amid instability across the Middle East, Black Sea, and Eastern Mediterranean. Trump has also highlighted the commercial appeal, with each aircraft priced at roughly US$80–90 million before sustainment costs.
Yet US law still requires Turkey to divest itself of the S-400 system, a condition Ankara has rejected. Proposals to mothball or relocate the system remain politically fraught, while congressional resistance—driven by concerns over Turkey’s human rights record and regional assertiveness—continues to loom large.
Israel’s stance adds another constraint, signalling that any sale proceeding without its consent could strain one of Washington’s most critical regional partnerships.
Regionally, the implications are already being felt. In Greece, Israel’s position is viewed as reinforcing Athens’ emerging deterrence posture as it moves ahead with its own F-35 acquisition alongside deepening Israeli–Greek defence cooperation. For Turkey, the episode highlights the long-term costs of strategic divergence from Western defence ecosystems, accelerating its push for indigenous capabilities.
Ultimately, the dispute underscores a hardening reality: in an era of network-centric warfare, advanced military technology is no longer a neutral commodity. It is a trust-dependent instrument whose transfer reshapes alliance hierarchies and geopolitical alignment. Israel’s red line on the F-35 makes clear that, for some allies, strategic trust—not diplomacy alone—now determines access to the most decisive tools of modern warfare.
