In the early hours of 18 August, Israeli warplanes carried out eight air strikes against the Abu al-Duhur Military Airbase in the Idlib countryside of Syria. The runway and hangars of the facility, located approximately 75 kilometres from the Turkish border, were targeted. There were no casualties; the airbase had, in any event, remained out of operation for a considerable period.

The purpose of the attack, therefore, was not to destroy an existing military capability, but to prevent the establishment of one that did not yet exist.

Israel stated that Turkey was preparing to establish a presence at Abu al-Duhur, that such a development would be unacceptable from the standpoint of Israeli security, and that it would not permit an expansion of the Turkish military presence in Syria. It then went beyond communicating this position to Ankara through diplomatic channels: it inscribed its decision directly upon the ground with eight air strikes.

Ankara responded by stating that no Turkish military personnel were present at the airbase. That statement may be factually correct, but it does not address the political meaning of the attack. The issue is not whether Turkish troops happened to be at Abu al-Duhur at the time. The real issue is that Israel considers itself entitled to determine where Turkey may or may not establish a military presence in Syria.

Israel has intervened not merely against Turkey’s existing military presence, but against the possibility of its future movement. In other words, it judged a plan that Ankara had not yet implemented to be prejudicial to Israeli security and used military force to prevent that plan from being carried out.

This cannot be dismissed as a routine pre-emptive strike. It constitutes an explicit military warning directed at Turkey.

Syrian sovereignty, meanwhile, has been reduced to a detail that scarcely anyone any longer considers worthy of serious mention. Israel strikes a Syrian airbase on the assumption that Turkey may use it; Turkey justifies its military presence on Syrian territory by reference to its own security requirements; and other states pursue comparable calculations in various parts of the country. The right of the Syrian government to determine who may use its own airfields has been disregarded amid the prevailing contest for power.

Israel has long treated Syria as an extension of its own security perimeter. Under this doctrine, no military formation in Syria that Israel considers potentially threatening may be permitted to exist. A policy applied for years against Iran, Hezbollah and other armed organisations has now, with the attack on Abu al-Duhur, been extended to Turkey.

This is a significant change. Iran and Israel are already avowed adversaries. Turkey and Israel, by contrast, are two states that maintain diplomatic relations, conduct trade and have previously engaged in military cooperation. Nevertheless, Israel has defined a potential Turkish military initiative as a threat to itself and has resorted to force in order to prevent it.

The dispute between the two countries has consequently moved beyond political declarations, diplomatic protests and reciprocal accusations. Israel is no longer merely telling Turkey where it believes Ankara should stop in Syria. It is conveying that message through bombs.

Nor is the issue confined to the Abu al-Duhur airbase. When one state is able to prevent another state’s military plans by such means, it effectively establishes a zone of control for itself. Today, an airbase in the Idlib countryside has been targeted. Tomorrow, another base, a radar installation, an air-defence system or a military formation may be struck on precisely the same grounds.

The point at which Israel’s self-declared boundary begins and ends is equally unclear. If this conception of Israeli security is accepted, every Turkish military move in Syria becomes subject to the approval of the Israeli government. Israel would thereby claim the authority to decide who may establish a presence not only in southern Syria, but also in an area only 75 kilometres from the Turkish border.

This confronts Ankara with a problem to which there are no easy answers. If Turkey responds militarily, the tension between the two countries may develop into a direct confrontation. If it does not, it risks creating the impression that it has tacitly accepted the limit imposed by Israel. The damaged runway may be repaired and diplomatic protests may be lodged, but neither will, by itself, alter the balance of power that this attack has exposed.

It cannot reasonably be argued that Turkey must answer every attack with military force. States are obliged to act not out of anger, but on the basis of calculated consequences. Yet declining to respond militarily is not the same as accepting a boundary imposed by another state. Ankara must define, with clarity, what it intends to achieve in Syria, what political and military costs it is prepared to bear, and where it will ultimately stand when confronted with Israeli intervention.

Ambiguity serves only Israel. The Israeli government has stated its objective plainly: it will not permit Turkey to establish an airbase or expand its military presence in Syria. Ankara’s assertion that “our troops were not there” leaves unanswered the far more consequential question of whether Turkey will be there tomorrow.

The attack on Abu al-Duhur cannot therefore be regarded as merely another Israeli military operation in Syria. It represents direct interference with Turkey’s freedom of military action in the region and marks the beginning of a new phase in the contest for power between the two countries.

Israel did not merely bomb an airbase in Syria. It told Turkey where it was expected to stop—and drew the line with its own warplanes.

If Turkey accepts that line, Israel will draw it again tomorrow, somewhere else and closer to the Turkish border