by Derya Vogel
When the Saudi-Emirati rift over Yemen erupted into open conflict in late December 2025, Turkish pro-government voices could scarcely contain their delight. Commentators gleefully branded the UAE a reckless destabilizer, hurling accusations of covert Israeli collusion to fragment Arab states. They portrayed Abu Dhabi as isolated and humiliated, while touting Turkiye's "strategic depth" as ideally positioned to capitalize on the chaos. This was the classic Erdoğan media playbook: converting rivals' crises into Ankara's supposed victories.
Official Ankara, however, played a cooler hand. The Foreign Ministry's measured December 26 statement praised both sides' "initiatives" for stability, pointedly highlighting Saudi "prudence" while sidestepping direct criticism of the UAE. This restraint preserved the fragile post-2021 economic thaw with Abu Dhabi—booming trade, high-level visits—despite the vitriol from aligned pundits.
Then came the stunning reversal. In early 2026, Saudi Arabia delivered a crushing response to the Southern Transitional Council's (STC) late-2025 land grabs in Hadramaut and Al-Mahra, seen in Riyadh as an existential border threat. Airstrikes targeted alleged UAE arms shipments, ultimatums forced withdrawals, and a swift Saudi-backed Yemeni government counteroffensive reclaimed Aden, the south, and eastern provinces in days. The UAE, facing untenable escalation, announced full military withdrawal by December 30, 2025, ending a decade of involvement in swift retreat.
Ankara's Yemen policy has long been a masterclass in cynicism. Turkiye quietly supported the Saudi-led coalition in 2015 with logistics and intelligence against Iran-backed Houthis. Ties soured over Qatar and Khashoggi, prompting Erdoğan to denounce the very intervention he once abetted. By late 2025, as STC gains mounted, Turkish diplomacy hedged masterfully—courting Saudi unity rhetoric while keeping UAE channels open, with Foreign Minister Hakan Fidan juggling calls to both capitals in a bid to pose as mediator.
Post-collapse, Turkiye pounced on the spoils. A January 10 Foreign Ministry statement hailed Saudi "decisive steps" for Yemen's unity, aligning neatly with Ankara's anti-fragmentation stance (conveniently ignoring Turkiye's own proxy entanglements elsewhere). Pro-government outlets crowed vindication, with commentators like Ibrahim Karagul declaring the demise of "divisive proxies" and the dawn of Turkish-Saudi partnership.
Erdoğan followed with a January 20 call to Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman, offering deeper Red Sea cooperation—Bayraktar drones for Houthi monitoring, Turkish firms chasing reconstruction deals. This builds on existing arms ties, with recent drone sales to Riyadh surpassing $200 million.
Yet Ankara refuses to burn bridges with the UAE. Bilateral trade hit $8 billion in 2025 and rolls on smoothly, with joint forums planned. Official rhetoric has softened to vague nods at "shared interests" in Sudan and Somalia—despite Turkiye arming Sudanese forces while the UAE backs rivals, and fierce competition over Somalia's government versus Somaliland.
This is pure pragmatism cloaked in principle. Under the AKP, Turkiye blends ideological backing for favored movements with ruthless adaptation to protect core interests—economic ties, defense exports, influence without heavy frontline costs. In Yemen, Ankara avoids direct entanglement, nurtures Gulf defense and trade links, and voices opposition to fragmentation while hedging bets.
The limits are clear. With domestic inflation raging at 65% and economic pressures mounting, overambitious foreign ventures risk backlash. Gulf partners remain suspicious of lingering Islamist leanings. Yemen's outcome exposes Ankara's true playbook: muted cheerleading from the sidelines, retroactive credit-claiming, and relentless double-dealing to extract maximum leverage at minimal risk.
As Saudi dominance solidifies in Yemen, Turkiye's "calculated opportunity" looks less like strategic mastery and more like opportunistic scavenging—profiting from others' defeats while advancing its neo-Ottoman ambitions. Whether this yields lasting gains or invites Gulf resentment will test Erdoğan's high-stakes foreign policy gamble in 2026.



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