On 18 August, Israeli warplanes struck Abu al-Duhur Military Airbase in Syria’s Idlib region in eight separate attacks. The runway and several facilities at the airbase, situated approximately 75 kilometres from the Turkish border, were damaged; no casualties were reported. The purpose of striking an airbase that had long remained unused was not to destroy an existing military force, but to prevent a potential Turkish military presence from being established there in the first place.

Israel’s message is unambiguous: Türkiye may not extend its military presence in Syria beyond the boundaries Israel is prepared to tolerate.

This is not a diplomatic warning. It is a boundary drawn with bombs.

Israel claims that Türkiye was preparing to deploy radar systems, air-defence assets and military personnel at Abu al-Duhur. Ankara, for its part, has stated that no Turkish troops were stationed at the airbase and that no threat whatsoever had been directed against Israel. More significantly, Tom Barrack, the United States Special Envoy for Syria and Ambassador to Ankara, likewise indicated that he had seen insufficient evidence to substantiate Israel’s allegation, describing the attack as an unnecessary and exceedingly dangerous escalation.

What exists, therefore, is a base not yet established, weapons not yet deployed and a threat that never materialised. The attack, however, is real.

The broader message conveyed by this strike is not confined to Syria. Israel is reminding Türkiye that military power cannot be measured solely by counting tanks, aircraft, warships and missiles. Irrespective of how many weapons a country may produce, its productive capacity can rapidly be rendered inoperative if its factories, refineries, power stations, communications centres and transport infrastructure remain vulnerable to attack.

Israel’s principal advantage lies not so much in the destructive yield of its munitions as in the intelligence, electronic-warfare and guidance systems capable of delivering them accurately to their targets. The intended message is this: “What matters is not how much you can produce, but how quickly I can bring your production system to a halt.”

It must not, however, be assumed that this calculation applies to one side alone.

Türkiye, too, possesses air, naval and missile capabilities capable of reaching Israeli territory from several directions. Israel’s industrial, energy, port and military infrastructure is concentrated within a narrow geographical space. Its technological superiority may therefore be considerable, but its geographical vulnerability is no less real. Israel can inflict damage upon Türkiye; it cannot assume that it would emerge from such an encounter unscathed.

There is an important question that must be answered: Why have Israel’s much-discussed Jericho ballistic missiles not so far been used openly against Iran, or even employed in operations against the Houthis?

Various estimates have been published regarding the range of the Jericho family, and these missiles are commonly presented as one of the central pillars of Israel’s strategic deterrent. Yet a weapon whose existence is known or presumed is not necessarily the same as a weapon that can be employed reliably in war. Israel’s preference for air-delivered munitions in Iran and Yemen suggests that the Jericho systems may not have been designed for conventional warfare, that their numbers may be limited, or that their employment is judged likely to precipitate a far more serious escalation.

It would therefore be mistaken to portray the Jericho missiles as an invulnerable, inexhaustible force capable of resolving every military problem. Just as Israel leaves certain capabilities undisclosed, it must also be remembered that Türkiye does not disclose the entirety of its military capacity to the public. Converting unknown capabilities into precise figures and then constructing war scenarios around them is not military analysis. It is dangerous conjecture.

The central issue is not how many missiles either side could launch against the other. The real question is why the political decision-making centres of two countries are increasingly beginning to regard one another as military targets.

As Israel approaches elections, Netanyahu faces an opposition that remains fragmented but is gaining strength, a society exhausted by successive wars, and severe criticism of his management of national security. Under such conditions, an external threat ceases to be merely a military concern and becomes an exceptionally effective instrument of domestic politics. Presenting Türkiye, after Iran, as yet another major strategic threat to Israel serves Netanyahu’s effort to cast himself as the indispensable leader standing between his country and the enemies purportedly encircling it.

Tom Barrack’s suggestion that the attack on Abu al-Duhur may have been intended to draw Türkiye into a confrontation and influence Israel’s electoral environment cannot, for that reason, be dismissed lightly. It cannot be described as a proven plan; nevertheless, given Israel’s domestic political circumstances, it is a possibility that warrants serious consideration.

Netanyahu may wish to manufacture a controlled confrontation in order to win an election. Wars, however, do not invariably remain within the limits drawn by those who initiate them. Had Türkiye responded militarily to the Abu al-Duhur attack, none of the calculations now being advanced about a “controlled conflict” would have remained valid. Within a matter of hours, the two countries could have found themselves engulfed in a war from which retreat would have been extraordinarily difficult.

Israel cannot impose boundaries upon Türkiye with bombs. Nor can Türkiye regard a military response to every Israeli attack as evidence of statecraft. Deterrence does not mean appearing eager for war; it means demonstrating in advance the price that any party initiating one would be compelled to pay.

Yet both countries now possess something more dangerous than deterrence: the capacity for miscalculation.

Netanyahu may portray Türkiye as a new enemy in order to win an election. Ankara, under pressure from domestic public opinion, may answer every threat with an even harsher one. Once missiles have been launched, however, neither Israel’s elections nor Türkiye’s political rhetoric will retain the slightest significance. While the two sides argue over who struck first, factories will fall silent, energy lines will be severed, ports will burn and cities will count their dead.

There will be no victor in such a war. Israel cannot compel Türkiye to surrender; nor can Türkiye eliminate Israel. The two countries can only set fire to one another’s future for decades to come.

The decision now lies before Netanyahu: Will he manufacture a new enemy for use on the campaign trail, or will he value Israel’s security more highly than his electoral calculations?

The decision confronting Ankara is no different: Will it allow itself to be dragged along by every provocation, or can it demonstrate its strength without surrendering its judgement?

The bombs dropped on Abu al-Duhur did more than tear apart the runway of an airbase. They also destroyed the last remaining margin of security between Türkiye and Israel.

From this point onward, the first party to touch the trigger may start the war.

But neither party may possess the power to stop it.