A potential U.S. decision to sell F-35 fighter jets to Türkiye is running into a familiar obstacle, Israel. Public comments from senior Israeli officials this week made it clear that Tel Aviv intends to block any transfer of Israeli-developed technology tied to the aircraft, even if Washington gives Ankara the green light.
The dispute highlights how politics, industrial ownership, and regional security anxieties can collide inside a single weapons program.
Israel draws a firm line on embedded technology
The message from Israel was unusually direct.
Speaking publicly, Israeli Deputy Foreign Minister Sharren Haskel said Israel would not permit Israeli-developed systems inside the F-35 to be transferred to Türkiye, regardless of U.S. approval. Her remarks were framed around strategic mistrust and fears that sensitive military know-how could end up exposed in an unstable regional environment.
The comments followed statements by U.S. President Donald Trump, who said he was “very seriously considering” a renewed agreement with Ankara involving the advanced fighter jet. That alone was enough to trigger alarm bells in Jerusalem.
Israel’s position is carefully worded but firm. Even if Türkiye were to receive F-35s configured without Israeli-origin components, Israeli officials want it known that their technology is off-limits. In practice, that stance complicates any deal before remind, because Israeli systems are woven deeply into the aircraft.
One Israeli defense analyst put it bluntly: you can sell the plane, but not the parts that matter most.
Why Israel’s objections carry real weight
On paper, Israel does not hold a formal veto over U.S. arms exports.
But reality works differently.
Israeli firms manufacture and integrate key subsystems used in the F-35, including elements tied to avionics and pilot interface systems. Those contributions are protected by export controls, intellectual property rules, and bilateral defense agreements with Washington.
That gives Israel leverage.
If the U.S. attempted to move forward with a Türkiye sale, it would still need to decide how to configure the aircraft, which systems to include or exclude, and whether any workaround would satisfy both security requirements and alliance politics. Israeli opposition would factor heavily into those decisions, especially given Washington’s long-standing commitment to preserving Israel’s qualitative military edge in the Middle East.
In other words, Israel may not hold the pen, but it has a strong hand on the paper.
Türkiye’s long road back to the F-35
For Ankara, this moment brings back unfinished business.
Türkiye was originally a full partner in the F-35 Joint Strike Fighter program, joining as an industrial participant and confirming plans to acquire dozens of aircraft. Turkish companies were embedded in the supply chain, producing components and contributing to manufacturing.
That all unraveled in 2019.
After Türkiye purchased the Russian-made S-400 air defense system, the United States argued the move posed unacceptable risks to allied military technology. Washington expelled Türkiye from the F-35 program, froze deliveries of jets already built for the Turkish Air Force, and cut Turkish firms out of production work.
Ankara has never accepted that decision.
Turkish officials have repeatedly called the expulsion unfair and politically motivated, and they have pushed for reinstatement or compensation. Recent signals from Washington about renewed talks on fighter cooperation reopened the debate, raising hopes in Ankara and concerns elsewhere.
Israel’s intervention now adds another layer of resistance to an already complex path.
A multinational jet with national red lines
The F-35 is often described as a shared project, but that label hides a lot of friction.
Developed with participation from nine countries, the aircraft depends on a web of suppliers spread across North America, Europe, and the Middle East. Each partner brings expertise. Each also protects its own interests.
Israel, which operates its customized F-35 “Adir” variant, has invested heavily in adapting the jet to its specific defense needs. That includes unique modifications and domestically developed systems that Israeli officials consider untouchable.
From Israel’s perspective, allowing any of that technology to reach Türkiye carries risks. Diplomatic relations between the two countries have swung between cooperation and tension for years, and trust remains thin.
One former Israeli defense official summed it up quietly: “This isn’t personal. It’s strategic.”
Washington caught between allies
For the United States, the situation is awkward.
On one side sits Türkiye, a NATO ally with a large military and strategic geography. On the other sits Israel, a close regional partner whose security concerns carry bipartisan weight in Washington.
Approving an F-35 sale to Türkiye without Israeli-origin systems might be technically possible. But such a version of the aircraft could raise questions about performance, interoperability, and cost. It could also set a precedent that other partners would watch closely.
At the same time, ignoring Israeli objections risks political backlash in Congress, where support for Israel remains strong and where arms sales already face scrutiny.
Basically, any move forward would come with trade-offs, and none of them are small.
What this means for the program itself
Beyond diplomacy, the dispute exposes a deeper reality about modern weapons development.
The F-35 was built as a shared platform, but shared does not mean simple. Industrial participation creates influence. Export controls create friction. Security guarantees create expectations that can clash.
Israel’s stance shows how a partner nation can shape outcomes without formally blocking them. By drawing a line around technology, it narrows the options available to policymakers in Washington.
For Türkiye, the signal is sobering. Even if political winds shift in its favor in the U.S., other stakeholders still hold keys to the door.
And for the F-35 program, the episode is a reminder that global cooperation works best when trust holds. When it frays, even the most advanced aircraft can become a diplomatic headache.
