Greece, Israel and the politics of buying security from a state accused of destroying it elsewhere

On 31 August 2026, Greece and Israel signed a €3 billion defence agreement that the two governments have presented as a momentous step towards protecting Greece against the warfare of the future. Named, with a rather unfortunate degree of self-confidence, “Achilles Shield”, the agreement will create a multi-layered Israeli-designed air-defence system incorporating David’s Sling, BARAK MX, SPYDER, radars, counter-drone technology and a national command-and-control system. It is Israel’s largest defence-export agreement with Greece and one of the larger in the history of the Israeli defence industry. 

The Greek government calls it modernisation. Israel calls it strategic partnership. NATO can reasonably see it as an improvement to the defence of its south-eastern flank.

I see something else.

I see two governments responding to an increasingly militarised world by deciding that the answer is to buy more weapons, deepen military alliances and normalise the defence industry as the primary language of international relations.

And I think the left should be prepared to say that this is not necessarily security.

Sometimes it is simply the business of insecurity.

€3 billion for defence, but whose security?

There is an obvious argument in favour of Achilles Shield.

Greece lives in a difficult neighbourhood. Turkey possesses a growing indigenous defence industry, large drone and missile capabilities and one of NATO’s largest armed forces. Russia’s invasion of Ukraine has demonstrated how devastating missile and drone warfare can become. The wars involving Israel and Iran have demonstrated the same thing at an even greater scale.

Greece therefore has a legitimate interest in protecting its population and territory.

Nobody on the left should be expected to pretend otherwise.

The problem begins when legitimate security concerns become a blank cheque for permanent militarisation.

Greece is already pursuing a military modernisation programme estimated at around €28 billion through 2036, including American F-35 aircraft and major naval acquisitions. Achilles Shield adds another €3 billion to that transformation. 

The question should therefore not simply be:

“Can Greece afford to defend itself?”

It should be:

“What kind of society are we building when billions of euros increasingly flow towards weapons, surveillance and military infrastructure?”

€3 billion is not an abstract number. It is public money.

It could fund hospitals, schools, housing, public transport, climate adaptation, universities and social infrastructure. Of course, defence is also a legitimate public responsibility. But governments cannot invoke “national security” whenever citizens ask what other priorities have been sacrificed.

Security is not merely the ability to intercept a missile.

Security is also having a home, a functioning hospital, a decent education and the ability to live without fear.

The uncomfortable question: why Israel?

This is where the deal becomes politically difficult to defend from a progressive perspective.

Israel’s defence industry is not simply an ordinary European arms manufacturer. Its technological reputation has been built partly through decades of military operations and, in recent years, through the deployment of its systems in some of the most controversial conflicts of the modern era.

Israel’s defence exports reached a record $19 billion in 2025, with missile and air-defence systems accounting for more than half of its exports. The international market is increasingly attracted to Israeli technology precisely because it is considered “battle-tested”. 

That phrase should make us uncomfortable.

Battle-tested by whom?

Weapons are not tested in a laboratory when civilians are living underneath them.

The international debate surrounding Israel’s conduct in Gaza has produced allegations of serious violations of international humanitarian law, while international courts and institutions continue to examine different aspects of the conflict. UN experts have previously warned that arms transfers to Israel could violate international humanitarian law where there is a substantial risk of serious violations. 

That does not automatically make every Israeli weapon illegal.

It does, however, make the political decision to deepen military dependence on Israel considerably more difficult to dismiss as ordinary procurement.

Greece is not merely buying technology.

It is helping sustain the international market for an industry whose products are marketed partly on the credibility acquired through actual warfare.

That is the uncomfortable reality behind the phrase “combat proven.”

International law is not a footnote

This is where the discussion needs to move beyond morality.

There is a tendency in foreign-policy debates to treat international law as something governments remember when it is convenient and forget when it is not.

That cannot be the standard.

Greece is a party to the Arms Trade Treaty (ATT). The treaty establishes international standards for the transfer of conventional arms and requires states to assess the potential consequences of transfers, including the risk of serious violations of international humanitarian and human-rights law.

That does not mean that Greece’s purchase of an Israeli air-defence system is automatically unlawful.

That distinction matters.

The ATT’s most obvious export-control obligations apply to the state exporting weapons, whereas Greece is the importing state in this transaction. Nevertheless, Greece’s participation in the global arms trade still sits within an international legal framework, and the political and legal consequences of acquiring military technology from a state facing allegations of serious violations cannot simply be ignored.

The broader question is one of state responsibility and consistency.

International law is supposed to establish standards that apply regardless of which ally is involved.

If European governments argue that weapons transfers must be assessed against the risk of violations of international humanitarian law when dealing with one conflict, they cannot suddenly abandon that principle when the supplier becomes strategically useful.

The controversy surrounding European arms transfers to Israel has already demonstrated how serious this question is. Legal organisations have argued that states must consider obligations arising under the Arms Trade Treaty, the Geneva Conventions, the Genocide Convention and human-rights law when authorising transfers where there is a serious risk of unlawful use. 

The direction of the transaction is different here.

But the principle is the same:

Weapons are not politically neutral objects.

Their production, transfer and use exist within international law.

Gaza cannot simply disappear from the contract

This is perhaps the most uncomfortable question for Athens.

How can Greece publicly participate in the international legal order, support the rules-based system and repeatedly invoke international law when discussing Turkey, Cyprus, maritime disputes and national sovereignty, while simultaneously deepening its military relationship with Israel during one of the most legally controversial conflicts of our generation?

The answer cannot simply be:

“This is defence cooperation, not foreign policy.”

It plainly is foreign policy.

A €3 billion government-to-government defence agreement is one of the clearest possible forms of strategic alignment.

And the Israeli government itself presents it that way. Israeli officials have described Greece and Israel as sharing strategic interests and regional challenges. The agreement comes after years of expanding defence cooperation, including joint exercises and other major Israeli defence projects in Greece.

So Athens cannot reasonably claim that this is merely a technical procurement decision.

It is a geopolitical choice.

And then there is Turkey

There is another layer that makes the agreement even more significant.

Nobody seriously believes the Eastern Mediterranean is absent from the calculations behind Achilles Shield.

The system is officially designed to defend Greece against aircraft, drones, cruise missiles and ballistic missiles. But Greece’s principal conventional military concern is obviously its relationship with Turkey.

At the same time, Israel’s relationship with Turkey has deteriorated dramatically.

That creates a fascinating and potentially dangerous strategic triangle:

Greece and Israel deepen their military partnership while both increasingly view Turkey as a strategic challenge.

International reporting has already linked the deal to tensions with Ankara. 

From the Greek government’s perspective, this is deterrence.

From Ankara’s perspective, it can look like encirclement.

And from a left-wing perspective, there should be a very simple question:

Does adding another layer of military alliances to an already tense region actually make war less likely, or does it make escalation more sophisticated?

Deterrence can prevent war.

It can also produce arms races.

Both things can be true.

Greece is becoming part of a wider military architecture

This is why Achilles Shield matters internationally.

Greece is not buying one missile battery.

It is constructing an integrated defence architecture while simultaneously purchasing American F-35s and French and Italian naval systems. 

Israel, meanwhile, is transforming itself into an increasingly important global arms exporter.

The result is a new security architecture in the Eastern Mediterranean in which:

Greece provides strategic geography.

Israel provides military technology.

The United States provides NATO and wider strategic support.

The European Union provides the political and economic framework.

And Turkey is left watching this architecture develop around it.

That is why describing Achilles Shield as simply a “defensive system” is inadequate.

Weapons can be defensive in their immediate purpose while being offensive in their geopolitical consequences.

The hypocrisy of European security

There is a broader European contradiction here.

Europe spent decades presenting itself as a project built around diplomacy, economic integration, human rights and the rule of law.

Then Russia invaded Ukraine.

The security paradigm changed.

Suddenly, defence budgets became politically untouchable. Military expenditure became a measure of responsibility. Weapons production became industrial policy.

And now Europe is increasingly looking towards Israel, a country whose military technology has gained international prestige precisely because it has been used in real wars.

This is not necessarily hypocrisy because Israel alone is responsible for its actions.

It is hypocrisy when European governments invoke international law selectively.

If international humanitarian law matters, it has to matter when it is politically inconvenient.

If civilian protection matters, it has to matter when the victims are not Europeans.

And if the rules-based international order matters, it cannot become merely a rhetorical weapon against geopolitical opponents.

The left should not choose between pacifism and naïveté

There is a trap here.

Criticising Achilles Shield does not require pretending that Greece has no security threats.

Turkey exists.

Russia exists.

Missiles exist.

Drones exist.

War exists.

A government has a responsibility to protect its population.

But there is a huge difference between accepting that responsibility and accepting the idea that militarisation is the only credible form of security policy.

A serious left-wing security policy would ask different questions.

Why are Greece and Turkey still trapped in a cycle of military competition?

Why is diplomacy so often treated as secondary to deterrence?

Why does European security policy increasingly depend on defence contractors?

Why should the success of a weapons system be measured by how many wars it has survived?

And perhaps most importantly:

Why is “security” so often discussed without discussing the conditions that produce insecurity in the first place?

Achilles Shield is more than a weapons purchase

There is a temptation to see this deal as a Greek-Israeli success story.

Israel sells sophisticated technology.

Greece gets sophisticated protection.

Jobs are created.

Industry benefits.

NATO gets a stronger southern flank.

Everyone wins.

But international politics is rarely that simple.

The deal strengthens Greece militarily.

It strengthens Israel’s defence industry economically.

It deepens the strategic relationship between the two governments.

It potentially contributes to the militarisation of the Eastern Mediterranean.

It sends a message to Turkey.

And it raises uncomfortable questions about how European states reconcile their commitment to international humanitarian law with their willingness to deepen military relations with Israel while the legal and political consequences of the Gaza war remain unresolved.

The €3 billion price tag is therefore not the most important number.

The more important number is zero.

Zero is the number of guarantees that military spending alone can provide against war.

Zero is the number of missiles that can solve the political disputes between Greece and Turkey.

Zero is the number of weapons systems capable of creating a just peace.

And zero should be the tolerance for applying international law selectively.

Greece has every right to defend itself.

But defence cannot become an excuse to stop asking what kind of international order we are defending.

If the answer is an order in which states condemn war while making billions from it, invoke international law when convenient, and treat human security as synonymous with military power, then perhaps the shield we should be questioning is not the one being built over Greece.

It is the political shield protecting governments from having to answer for the choices they make.

Achilles Shield may protect Greek airspace.

It does not protect us from the political consequences of militarising our future.