OPED By Shay Gal
The Bayraktar TB2 has been sold as independence in a box. In reality, it is dependence wrapped in wings.
Turkey did not start from scratch. In the 1990s and 2000s, its air force flew Israeli Searcher and Heron drones against the PKK, and sought Predator and Reaper from the U.S. – denied, but exposed through Iraq.
The TB2 rose to fame in Karabakh (2020) and Ukraine (2022), filming strikes until the Russian adaptation narrowed its role.
Even sympathetic studies rated it average – quantity compensated. In June 2025, after months of silence, TB2 footage again surfaced over Kherson, striking a Russian boat – a reminder that the system still finds gaps when defenses thin.
Baykar, founded in the 1980s by Özdemir Bayraktar and now run by his son Selçuk – Erdoğan’s son-in-law – has become not just an industrial success but a foreign-policy instrument.
Strip away the branding, and the supply chain was global: early versions ran on Austrian Rotax engines and Canadian WESCAM optics, with Hensoldt ARGOS-II.
Ottawa’s 2020 halt and 2024 partial reversal of WESCAM exports showed availability is political. By mid-2025, Canadian data confirmed over $120 million in resumed WESCAM deliveries, underscoring that “indigenous” Bayraktars remain hostage to Western licensing.
Despite copying claims, Baykar built on Western subsystems – Israeli, then American – before moving to Turkish parts. ASELSAN’s ASELFLIR-500 now equips frontline TB2s, while the newer ASELFLIR-600 pushes range and automation – a hedge against sanctions, though still maturing.
Ankara exports a service model: Poland’s 24 TB2s are covered by a multi-year NSPA contract for training, logistics, and service support.
In the Balkans (Albania, Kosovo, Bosnia), opaque deals expand leverage under Greek and Serbian pressure. This year, Croatia received six TB2s, trained crews, and formally introduced them into service, making it one of the first NATO members to operate them in a combat-proven capacity.
For regimes tempted by the sticker price, the TB2 undercuts the MQ-9 Reaper by an order of magnitude and comes in below Israeli Hermes-900/Heron-TP and Chinese Wing Loong/CH-4 packages.
It is “good enough” for border wars and deterrent theater. Supporters argue that this affordability and combat record outweigh the risks – but once sanctions choke supply chains, dependence on Ankara narrows sovereignty to its timetable.
In Asia, Azerbaijan’s 2020 campaign showed TB2 value, while Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan showed reliance on vendor software and spares.
For India, the lesson is sharper. Pakistan already fields Turkish UAV capability alongside Chinese CH-4 and Wing Loong fleets, creating a dual supply line resilient to sanctions.
Ankara’s transfer of advanced drones, coupled with Chinese support, means “cheap airpower” can be directed against New Delhi on two fronts – Kashmir and the Indian Ocean.
What is often left unsaid is that Turkey, Pakistan, and China are not just parallel suppliers but converging into a single ecosystem of Pakistani dependence – a double-edged sword.
In the Middle East, Turkey normalized cross-border drone strikes in Iraq and Syria; the 2023 U.S. shootdown over Hasakah showed how easily these systems crowd into alliance redlines.
In Africa, TB2s became the affordable airpower of contested regimes: decisive in Ethiopia’s Tigray war, then spreading to Mali and Niger.
In Libya, UN panels documented Turkish UAVs breaching embargoes, showing the drone economy fuels war by proxy. In 2025, UN reporting also flagged TB2 deliveries into Sudan despite embargoes, with Baykar personnel observed on the ground – patronage masquerading as commerce.
Global Pattern
In Africa, pipelines coincided with basing, repression, procurement bundles, and diplomatic alignment; in Eurasia, spares shape ceasefires; in the Middle East, routine strikes pressure neighbors; and in the Indian Ocean, deliveries with training and pacts cement reliance. Concessional loans or staged donations buy narratives and lock in obedience.
The Western Hemisphere and Oceania have seen no major use, but the politics still ripple: Canada’s halt and reversal of MX-15D exports show how one decision in Ottawa ripples through Ankara’s supply chain and customers.
The TB2 is no wonder weapon. As Russia adapted, Ukraine shifted its CONOPS to reconnaissance and became more cautious.
Meanwhile, Baykar pushes new variants: a TB2T-AI climbed to 40,000 feet in August 2025, and the carrier-capable TB3 proved deck operations from TCG Anadolu – yet the same dependency chains and sanction risks remain.
A reminder: slow, line-of-sight drones work only as expendable enablers – massed where defenses are thin and withheld where EW is thick.
Sanctions are the real trap. Precedents are clear: EU licensing freezes after 2019, U.S. CAATSA sanctions in 2020, Canada’s halt in 2020, and partial reversal in 2024.
In practice, engines halt, transit chokes, and software stalls. In a Greek, Cypriot, or Israeli crisis, the TB2’s service network would seize up just when Ankara has other priorities.
Turkey knows this and is hedging: a Baykar plant in Kyiv, a partnership with Leonardo in Italy, ASELSAN’s ASELFLIR-500, and validation of the ARGOS-II path by Turkmenistan. That mosaic can be turned to the buyers’ advantage – if planned upfront.
Budgets must reflect the total cost of ownership, stress-tested for sanctions. Those insisting on the TB2 must plan exit ramps: escrowed software, non-Turkish MRO, alternative optics, and parallel fleets.
Build “sovereign service” from day one to avoid lock-in. For Israel, Greece, and Cyprus, the counter is symmetrical: treat the TB2/MAM as a massed nuisance – neutralized by layered detection, agile C-UAS, decoys, and strikes on ground stations.
This also matters for buyers already tied in: states that once supplied engines and optics – Israel, the U.S., Canada, Austria, Germany – can still provide alternative service chains. Ankara’s “independence” rests on those Western roots.
Drones may be cheap. Dependence is not.
- Shay Gal is a strategic analyst and advisor specializing in international security, diplomatic strategy, and crisis management at the intersection of defense and geopolitics. He advises senior government and defense leaders. Previously, Gal served as vice president of external relations at Israel Aerospace Industries (IAI).
- This is an Opinion Article. Views Personal of the Author
