Syria and NATO Talking Turkey
GENERALS and politicians who debate the pros and cons of military intervention in Syria, where president Bashar Assad continues to preside over a bloody campaign that has left at least 12,000 dead, have often cast a wary eye at Syria’s state-of-the-art air-defence system. On June 22nd that system was put on display for all to see when Syria shot down a Turkish fighter jet flying off its north-west coast.
Turkish government officials, who say the plane was conducting a routine training mission rather than carrying out surveillance, say the plane was in international airspace at the time, a good mile outside the 12-mile coastal zone that belongs to Syria. (The officials admit however that the aeroplane briefly—and they add, inadvertently—passed into Syrian airspace.) Their Syrian counterparts, who were quick to describe the downing of the plane as an accident, dispute that. They claim that the plane, which they did not realise at the time was Turkish, was fully inside Syrian territory at the time of the shooting.
In either case, shooting a plane down without first establishing radio contact or scrambling jets is unusual protocol to say the least. Hurriyet Daily News, a Turkish newspaper, cites officials who claim that a Turkish rescue plane that came looking for the fallen crew was also fired upon. In the past incursions of Syrian airspace have incurred little more than condemnations, most notably in 2007, when an Israeli jet bombed a suspected nuclear site at al-Kibar on the Euphrates; and in late 2008, when an American helicopter landed close to the border with Iraq and gunned down several people on the ground. American officials claimed the dead were linked to foreign fighters who were entering Iraq from Syria.
Many questions about Friday’s shooting remain unanswered. Chief among them is why Mr Assad, who is already internationally isolated over his regime’s brutal reaction to internal strife, would shoot down any plane. Some observers suggest that his regime, in its anxiety that the international community might yet intervene, overreacted to a report that its airspace had been violated by an unidentified object. This came only two days after a Syrian air-force pilot defected—with his plane—to claim asylum in Jordan. Some have seen it as a warning to other Syrian pilots who might be thinking of doing the same. Or it may be that Syria was seizing an opportunity to demonstrate its defence capabilities to its international critics, including Turkey. They might mean to test their will to intervene.
If that is the case, Syria seems not to have too much cause for worry. Turkish, American and British officials have fulminated against the plane’s downing, and promised to act decisively, but the response so far has been entirely diplomatic. At Turkey’s request the 28 members of NATO are meeting on Tuesday under their treaty’s Article 4, which allows any member to call a meeting if it feels its security has been threatened. (This is rare. The last time the article was invoked, also by Turkey, was in 2003). Turkey’s prime minister, Recep Tayyip Erdogan (pictured above, with advisers and opposition members), is then expected to make an announcement before parliament shortly afterwards.
In the 15 months since the uprising began, Syria has become a neighbour from hell for the government in Ankara. Until recently it was regarded as a friend, with whom Turkey shared a free-trade zone and a visa-free border. But now Turkey hosts some 33,000 refugees from Syria as well as members of the political opposition and the Free Syrian Army, a loose assembly of Mr Assad’s armed opponents. Like other countries in the region, Turkey is frightened by the prospect of Syria’s crisis spilling over its borders. But with their diplomatic ties to Syria already cut and economic sanctions in place, it is unclear how Turkey or its allies in NATO can respond. Even after the downing of the Turkish plane, there little appetite for any kind of military action.
GENERALS and politicians who debate the pros and cons of military intervention in Syria, where president Bashar Assad continues to preside over a bloody campaign that has left at least 12,000 dead, have often cast a wary eye at Syria’s state-of-the-art air-defence system. On June 22nd that system was put on display for all to see when Syria shot down a Turkish fighter jet flying off its north-west coast.
Turkish government officials, who say the plane was conducting a routine training mission rather than carrying out surveillance, say the plane was in international airspace at the time, a good mile outside the 12-mile coastal zone that belongs to Syria. (The officials admit however that the aeroplane briefly—and they add, inadvertently—passed into Syrian airspace.) Their Syrian counterparts, who were quick to describe the downing of the plane as an accident, dispute that. They claim that the plane, which they did not realise at the time was Turkish, was fully inside Syrian territory at the time of the shooting.
In either case, shooting a plane down without first establishing radio contact or scrambling jets is unusual protocol to say the least. Hurriyet Daily News, a Turkish newspaper, cites officials who claim that a Turkish rescue plane that came looking for the fallen crew was also fired upon. In the past incursions of Syrian airspace have incurred little more than condemnations, most notably in 2007, when an Israeli jet bombed a suspected nuclear site at al-Kibar on the Euphrates; and in late 2008, when an American helicopter landed close to the border with Iraq and gunned down several people on the ground. American officials claimed the dead were linked to foreign fighters who were entering Iraq from Syria.
Many questions about Friday’s shooting remain unanswered. Chief among them is why Mr Assad, who is already internationally isolated over his regime’s brutal reaction to internal strife, would shoot down any plane. Some observers suggest that his regime, in its anxiety that the international community might yet intervene, overreacted to a report that its airspace had been violated by an unidentified object. This came only two days after a Syrian air-force pilot defected—with his plane—to claim asylum in Jordan. Some have seen it as a warning to other Syrian pilots who might be thinking of doing the same. Or it may be that Syria was seizing an opportunity to demonstrate its defence capabilities to its international critics, including Turkey. They might mean to test their will to intervene.
If that is the case, Syria seems not to have too much cause for worry. Turkish, American and British officials have fulminated against the plane’s downing, and promised to act decisively, but the response so far has been entirely diplomatic. At Turkey’s request the 28 members of NATO are meeting on Tuesday under their treaty’s Article 4, which allows any member to call a meeting if it feels its security has been threatened. (This is rare. The last time the article was invoked, also by Turkey, was in 2003). Turkey’s prime minister, Recep Tayyip Erdogan (pictured above, with advisers and opposition members), is then expected to make an announcement before parliament shortly afterwards.
In the 15 months since the uprising began, Syria has become a neighbour from hell for the government in Ankara. Until recently it was regarded as a friend, with whom Turkey shared a free-trade zone and a visa-free border. But now Turkey hosts some 33,000 refugees from Syria as well as members of the political opposition and the Free Syrian Army, a loose assembly of Mr Assad’s armed opponents. Like other countries in the region, Turkey is frightened by the prospect of Syria’s crisis spilling over its borders. But with their diplomatic ties to Syria already cut and economic sanctions in place, it is unclear how Turkey or its allies in NATO can respond. Even after the downing of the Turkish plane, there little appetite for any kind of military action.
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