Good morning, friends!
One day. That was all it took to show how far a speech can be from a decision.
On 29 October, Kyriakos Mitsotakis chaired a high-level Security Council debate on maritime security in New York. Greece, after all, held the Council’s presidency. And the prime minister did not mince his words.
He described the Turkish-Libyan memorandum as a flagrant violation of the fundamental principles of international law of the sea, illegal and arbitrary. He even pointed to a map and explained the obvious: Turkey and Libya had drawn maritime boundaries between them as if Crete, Rhodes, Karpathos and Kasos did not exist.
But the next day came the reckoning.
The Security Council was asked to renew the mandate of the UN mission in Libya, UNSMIL. Greece had called for the text to refer to the obligation on the Libyan parties to comply with international law, including the international law of the sea.
In other words, not a condemnation of the Turkish-Libyan memorandum. Nor an endorsement of Greece’s positions. Just a simple and rather basic reference to the need to uphold international law and the law of the sea. Even that did not survive.
China and the Council’s three African members, known as the A3 — Somalia, Liberia and the Democratic Republic of the Congo — opposed the Greek proposal, which was backed by the Council’s other European members.
The wording began to be watered down. The reference to the law of the sea was removed and replaced with a softer reference to “maritime security”. The three African countries stood firm. The wording was weakened again. Greece objected, breaking the so-called silence procedure on the fourth revision of the draft. But the British official responsible for drafting the text (the penholder) did not revise it again.
The resolution was adopted with 13 votes in favour. Greece and Russia abstained.
The issue, then, is not whether Greece had a position. It did. Nor whether it tried. It did. The more important point is that it was unable to turn its position into text adopted by the Security Council, with three states among those opposing it with which Turkey maintains close and, in some cases, military ties. The same Turkey that, together with Libya, is drawing maritime boundaries as if the Greek islands were virtually… invisible.
We do not know whether Ankara asked Somalia, Liberia or Congo to oppose the Greek proposal. At least so far, there is no such evidence.
What we do know is that in Somalia, Turkish companies manage critical infrastructure, including the port and international airport in Mogadishu, while cooperation has expanded into energy and defence. In the DRC, Turkish businesses have taken on major construction projects, and Ankara and Kinshasa are seeking a significant increase in trade between them. In Liberia, where Turkey’s economic presence is smaller, cooperation is expanding into investment, infrastructure and trade.
These are not relationships forged on the eve of the vote. Turkey has been investing political, economic and, in some cases, military capital in Africa for years. It builds relationships, opens markets, takes on projects, forges ties and creates shared interests.
This does not prove that Turkey asked for — or received — any specific quid pro quo on 30 October. But it raises a question that concerns us above all: What does a country’s foreign policy ultimately deliver when the time comes to measure its alliances?
Diplomatic power is not confined to presidencies of international organisations or speeches from their platforms. It is built much earlier, through alliances, interests and relationships that stand the test of time. And it is revealed when the moment of decision arrives.
That is when diplomacy’s ledger is opened. And that is when it becomes clear not only who you are up against.
Above all, it becomes clear who you have beside you.