The Kingdom of Saudi Arabia (KSA) is reportedly exploring an extensive defence pact with Turkey and Pakistan, building on the Saudi-Pakistani mutual defence agreement (SDMA) signed in September 2025.
The trilateral pact would not simply add capabilities; it would shift the KSA’s security centre of gravity away from the Gulf and into the volatile hands of non-Gulf powers.
Riyadh seems to be treating the GCC (Gulf Cooperation Council) less like the hub for its regional strategy and more like a mere mailing address – a place it’s tied to by geography and habit, but no longer the real engine of its ambitions.
The temptation is valid as external guarantors come with vetoes, and American commitment to the region is wavering and episodic.
Turkey offers a fast-moving defence industry and expeditionary know-how. Pakistan offers manpower, operational experience, and nukes. Diversifying suppliers can be prudent. Diversifying veto players is not.
Saudi Arabia’s Vision 2030 can’t be outsourced. The entire plan depends on one thing that cannot be delegated: predictability.
Vision 2030 has turned stability into real money, luring overseas investors, improving credit ratings, boosting tourism, and giving private businesses the confidence to take risks. All of this depends on the belief that Saudi Arabia is reliable and predictable.
However, a defense pact with Turkey and Pakistan, which could involve their own crises and conflicts, does the opposite. It brings uncertainty and risk, which markets dislike. For markets, a treaty is not an umbrella. It is a contingent liability.
Ankara and Islamabad walk away with real leverage and a lot more room to maneuver. Riyadh, on the other hand, ends up shouldering new obligations and taking on extra risks it didn’t have before.
Pakistan is negotiating to roll nearly $2 billion in Saudi loans straight into a deal for JF-17 aircraft, co-developed with China. And as you add in the weapons packages, pilot training, long-term maintenance, and all the rest, the final price tag keeps rising. This isn’t just a simple arms purchase; it’s debt relief disguised as a defense partnership.
Once security is formalised, routine support becomes an expectation. Rollovers, deposit extensions, and deferred oil facilities grow harder to refuse, not through coercion, but through reputation. Saudi credibility becomes tied to Pakistan’s capacity. Pakistan’s capacity becomes tied to Saudi liquidity.
Turkey’s upside is equally clear. A formal security role in the Gulf would give Ankara real legitimacy in the region, a much larger market for its booming defense industry, and direct access to Gulf militaries.
“Fearing” U.S. Invasion, Canada Develops War Models to Repel Attack, Eyes Massive 400K Reserve Force
The real influence doesn’t stay at the diplomatic table; it quietly shifts down to the majors, colonels, and brigadiers who run the day-to-day stuff. And that’s exactly how military doctrines spread, not through big speeches, but through the officers who train together, share tactics, and start thinking the same way.
Meanwhile, India is now one of Saudi Arabia’s most important economic counterparts. Projects such as the India-Middle East-Europe Economic Corridor (IMEC) aim to link Indian manufacturing with Europe via Gulf infrastructure.
However, India-Pakistan tensions can seriously derail the pact.
A Saudi-Pakistan mutual defense pact shrinks the gap between nice-sounding words of solidarity and real, enforced alignment. The moment India and Pakistan have a flare-up, Islamabad could immediately test whether the pact actually means something.
They’ll expect Riyadh to step up, show support, or at least not stay neutral, testing its strategic alliance with India.
New Delhi, meanwhile, won’t buy Saudi claims of “we’re staying out of it.” They’ll look at whether Riyadh has quietly started putting Pakistani security concerns ahead of its own interests. The real damage isn’t from one single crisis. It’s the slow, steady erosion.
Turkey adds a different drag. As a NATO member with a record of alliance friction, Ankara is proficient in converting defence relationships into leverage. When cornered by sanctions pressure, maritime disputes, Syrian escalation, or domestic shock, it externalises urgency. Treaty partners become instruments. Saudi attention turns into Turkish leverage.
Such an entanglement strengthens the one Gulf actor Riyadh can least afford to subsidise: Qatar.
Doha’s security relationship with Ankara is institutional. Turkey rarely compartmentalises Gulf relationships. Bringing Turkey into Saudi Arabia’s security architecture imports into Riyadh’s decision space a state whose closest Gulf ally has repeatedly used Ankara as a strategic backstop. Every Saudi-Qatari tension now carries an Ankara-shaped shadow.
The GCC bargain has always been simple: Gulf responsibility for Gulf security, supplemented but not replaced by external partnerships. A trilateral defence pact with Turkey and Pakistan signals the opposite. Cohesion becomes optional. Smaller GCC states hedge accordingly. The centre weakens because it is no longer treated as the centre.
Yemen is where this logic becomes visible. Not because it is unique, but because it is exposed.
For years, the Emirati posture in southern Yemen functioned as a Gulf-built security asset. It provided maritime control, enforceable local partners, and a southern buffer that reduced Saudi exposure while quietly serving Saudi interests. This was never a rival strategy. It was the operational layer Saudi Arabia chose not to supply.
By dismantling that framework rather than absorbing it, Riyadh swapped a partner-built ecosystem for direct administrative exposure to provinces shaped by collapsed economies and contested authority. Sovereignty did not expand. The burden did.
The result is not only a Saudi-UAE rift. It is the loss of a Gulf division of labour that, for a time, worked. External reassurance then appears necessary not because the region deteriorated, but because a functioning regional platform was set aside.
Once a Gulf-built platform is dismantled, external patrons stop acting as hedges. They begin to function as substitutes.
This matters beyond Yemen, even if Yemen is where the cost first appears. IMEC is not only infrastructure. It is a wager on Gulf coherence, already strained by regional politics around Gaza and the Palestinian issue. Saudi-Emirati tensions add another brake.
At the same time, Turkey is selling alternatives: its Middle Corridor and the Iraq Development Road. Corridors do not just move containers; they move political gravity.
If Riyadh weakens a Gulf-built platform while elevating Turkey within its security architecture, investors will treat Turkey’s routes as the safer bet.
Saudi Arabia then loses twice: it slows the corridor meant to make the Kingdom a hub, while accelerating the one designed to make Turkey indispensable.
A defence pact with Turkey and Pakistan would re-price Saudi Arabia as a risk rather than a security. It would bind the Kingdom to obligations it does not control, while others monetise permanence without surrendering autonomy.
Iran benefits not through force but through Gulf fragmentation.
Vision 2030 is sovereignty through control. Trading that control for reassurance is a losing bargain. Saudi Arabia needs no patrons, only fewer obligations, and a Gulf order decided in the Gulf.
- Shay Gal is a strategic analyst specialising in international security, foreign policy, and geopolitical crisis management. He advises senior government and defence leaders, with a focus on public diplomacy and strategic communications. His work examines power dynamics, hybrid competition, and the institutional and identity forces shaping state decision-making.
- THIS IS AN OPINION ARTICLE.
- VIEWS PERSONAL OF THE AUTHOR
