Russia’s Options for Naval Basing in the Mediterranean After Syria’s Tartus

The fall of the Assad regime in Syria has led to speculation over the implications for Russia and particularly the long-term fate of its military footprint in the country. The Russian naval base at Tartus has been a particular focus due to its strategic significance in affording access to the Mediterranean. It is a key hub for accessing Libya and the Red Sea and providing logistical support to Russian – specifically Africa Corps – activity in Sudan and West Africa. What are the options for Moscow in the event that its apparent understanding with Hayat Tahrir al-Sham (HTS) regarding the Russian presence at Tartus proves transient?

Initial Western hopes that Russia would immediately lose its access appear to have been unfounded. Putting the fleet to sea to avoid the possibility of being seized or denied future freedom to depart was, however, a sound military precaution. Its subsequent return indicates that the status quo has some stability. The Kremlin effectively acknowledged that avoiding loss of access was, and is, a priority. Russia was quick to engage with the new leadership, and the fate of its air and naval bases was high on the agenda. Indeed, an eye on relations with the new regime may well have informed Vladimir Putin’s decision to give sanctuary to ousted President Bashar al-Assad. A quick departure of Assad, with minimal bloodshed, was likely a tactical manoeuvre. Indeed, shortly after the fall of Assad, the new regime was keen to stress that Russian (and Chinese) diplomatic missions would be respected, as the struggle was only with Assad and the regime. 

Some reports indicate that a drawdown of Russian presence from some areas does not indicate imminent closure of the Tartus port or Khmeimim airbase, another key strategic asset for Russia. 

However, multiple interests are at play; even though the US has appeared to allow much of Russian activity in the area to go uncontested to date, this is not a state of affairs on which Russia is likely to rely. 

Turkey, as another key player, maintains warmer relations with Russia than most NATO member states, but it is the reason Russia has lost direct access to the Black Sea through the Bosporus. This is a key driver for why Russia needs a foothold in the Mediterranean – to provide the necessary logistical and maintenance support for a Mediterranean fleet, including the ability for munitions resupply.

In the light of these uncertainties, Putin may well be keen to avoid having all his proverbial eggs in a single basket at Tartus, even if HTS and its leader Ahmed al-Sharaa – the new de facto Syrian government – allow access for the time being. The illegal Russian invasion of Ukraine, the resultant sanctions and inevitable frictions with NATO member states mean Russia’s options in the Mediterranean are limited, even for establishing a semi-permanent naval base that allows power projection in the area. 

Geopolitical relationships are rarely straightforward. While Turkey remains a key interlocutor with NATO, Black Sea access nonetheless remains denied. Turkey was further antagonised during Russia’s December 2024 test-firing of a Zirkon hypersonic missile in the Eastern Mediterranean. However, its ire was directed more at Greece, which had granted access rights for the Russian exercise, due to the longstanding dispute over the waters in question. As such, an arrangement brokered by Turkey that leaves Russia in possession of Tartus remains possible. However, at the time of writing this is far from assured, and even if Russia remains at Tartus in the short term, it faces the long-term risk of eviction by a future Syrian government.

Russia’s Options if it Loses Tartus

Tartus itself was something of a consolation prize for the Soviet navy in its day, with the USSR becoming increasingly reliant on the facility after its alliance with Egypt (and access to its bigger harbours and better facilities) was lost in the 1970s following Anwar Sadat’s realignment. With its relatively small harbour and initially restrictive rules regarding Soviet access, Tartus was considered a poor substitute. This has proven unproblematic for post-Soviet Russia as it has no aspirations to maintain a force capable of fighting a high-intensity war in the Mediterranean. At best it could perhaps aspire to a harassing role. Rather, the Russian naval squadron in the Mediterranean, typically numbering no more than 11 vessels including 3–5 auxiliaries in recent years, has served as a tool for deterrent signalling, intelligence gathering, interventions in smaller-scale conflicts and posturing in support of Russia’s allies. For example, the fleet has convoyed Iranian oil to Syria (making interdiction more risky, irrespective of the military balance) and conducted Kalibr strikes in support of the Assad regime. In effect, Russia does not need a major naval hub to replace Tartus and retain its presence in the region given that this presence was always likely to be a limited one.

However, the loss of Tartus would not be devoid of consequences for the Russian navy. Access to the base gives Russia the ability to refuel and resupply vessels and critically provides a maintenance centre in the region. This latter facility likely accounts for the considerable amounts of time that Russian vessels such as the Admiral Grigorevich have been able to spend in the region without rotating to their home ports. The closure of the Turkish straits, as a consequence of the conflict in Ukraine, has severed the link between the Mediterranean squadron and the Black Sea Fleet. This has forced vessels to be deployed from even further afield than was previously the case. For a Russian navy built around green water vessels with limited endurance, losing access to these facilities would significantly limit the navy’s staying power. Even port access arrangements in states such as Libya or Algeria would only partially compensate for this, given both geographical factors and the need for maintenance. As a consequence, one would expect Mediterranean deployments to impose considerable burdens on a limited fleet of auxiliaries such as the Project 160 oiler, with the ratio of combatants to auxiliaries likely to shift in favour of the latter. Moreover, the requirement to rotate vessels for maintenance would mean that more vessels would need to be deployed to the Mediterranean to maintain a standing regional presence, with consequences for Russia’s force structure and posture elsewhere. As such, Russia would require a base to offset losing Tartus if it is to remain a regional player.

A traditional ally to Russia, with a stable and well-established maritime tradition, would be Algeria. It receives approximately 85% of its military equipment and training from Russia. However, there have been recent political difficulties relating to Russian activities in Mali and how these conflict with Algerian interests. Some reports suggest that the US may hope that this will translate into a greater divergence between the two, indicating that Algeria could prove an uncertain host for any Russian basing. Algeria has 13 major commercial ports, as well as ship repair facilities. However, as one of the region’s most successful economic centres with commercially viable shipping infrastructure, it is not clear that the strategic calculus would favour hosting a permanent Russian presence without a clear imperative in Algiers’ favour. This having been said, Russia might seek to perform some maintenance activities in Algeria, given that this is less contentious than basing. The Algerian navy currently operates Kilo-class submarines, and facilities built to support these could also service Russian assets. Any maintenance facility would be only a partial substitute for the Russian-owned facility in Tartus, since access would be dependent on the policies of the Algerian government and might possibly require negotiation on a case-by-case basis.

Russian decision-makers may also consider maritime projection from the Red Sea, particularly leveraging relations with Sudan. Port Sudan offers facilities that could support a modest Russian presence, and this is already a line of effort for establishing a Red Sea presence. Russia has switched allegiance from the Rapid Support Forces to the Sudan Armed Forces, arguably specifically to improve maritime access. However, negotiations over establishing a military maritime foothold, despite being several years in, are still floundering. This in itself would likely make Port Sudan a poor option as an immediate Tartus alternative. 

However, even should the proposed base – capable of supporting four ships – become a reality, this would still be a poor substitute for Tartus. The logistical constraints of negotiating the Suez Canal, particularly in cases of requiring emergency maintenance, are significant. Operationally, canal transits also clearly signpost ship movements to adversaries. 

A third option would be Eastern Libya, dominated by Russian-backed General Khalifa Haftar. There are an estimated 2,000 Russian mercenary troops in Eastern Libya, and there is a well-established precedent for supporting wider Russian activity in Africa through Libya. With the spectre of a total – or gradual – loss of free use of Tartus, looking to establish a more permanent footing in Libya could be a consideration, especially as Russia already operates the Al Kadim airbase in this region. With a concentration of effort in eastern Libya, Tobruk and potentially also Benghazi could offer safe haven to a homeless Russian Mediterranean Fleet. There is at present some evidence of a Russian effort to move military equipment from Syria to Libya, though whether this is a temporary measure is unknown.

Supply lines through Tobruk are already established. However, with limited repair facilities and no dry dock, few berths of sufficient size, and limited opportunities for expansion, long-term investment in a permanent presence would likely present technical challenges. Tobruk was never a primary naval facility for the Libyan Navy and thus has limited dedicated military infrastructure. A port in the area would also share a harbour with a commercial port which is busier than Tartus (Latakia was more central to Syrian commerce). Since Tartus itself was made viable despite being a port with limited capacity, this might be deemed acceptable, and these are not insurmountable constraints. However, building maintenance facilities, munitions storage sites and berths will still prove time-consuming. While sharing a harbour with civilian vessels thus poses challenges, there are also some advantages. The commercial facilities of Tobruk and Benghazi could also provide Russia with an opportunity to replace its planned hub for agricultural exports in Tartus, a project into which it had planned to invest $500 million and which was meant to expand its footprint as an agricultural exporter in the Middle East and North Africa.

Benghazi port, also within Haftar’s influence and potentially more welcoming of a Russian presence, has a greater capacity that Tobruk. It is a key port for bringing in humanitarian aid and boasts more comprehensive maintenance facilities which have serviced vessels from the nearby Benghazi naval facility, although much of its infrastructure remains unusable due to conflict damage. Moreover, the area around Benghazi within the Gulf of Sidra provides more usable space for dedicated military facilities, which might limit the need to operate in close proximity to civilian traffic. For example, Haftar’s Libyan National Army appears to be intent on building both air and naval facilities in the vicinity of Benghazi. Arguably, this could present opportunities to invest and establish a presence in the medium term, but Russia will be either building or supporting the construction of infrastructure from a low baseline in terms of existing facilities.

Then there is the question of political risk. Any Russian presence in Libya would at a minimum be dependent on Turkish goodwill, given Turkey’s naval advantages in the region and its capacity to further support the Libyan Government of National Accord. This might be tolerable for Russia, since this was arguably true in Syria as well. However, unlike Assad, Haftar is not altogether an international pariah and maintains a working relationship with France, for example. Russia may find negotiating additional access more challenging than was the case in Syria. Pressure from Haftar’s other partners might not lead to a denial of access given that Russia remains his most important backer, but might condition the nature of the access provided. For example, the terms of access might come to resemble those offered to the Russians by Hafez al-Assad, with the  navy prevented from maintaining many shore-based facilities and compelled to use harbour-based auxiliary vessels to support maintenance. Moreover, should Haftar come to see other alignments as being more beneficial than the Russian relationship, the eviction of Russian assets cannot be ruled out, much as occurred in Sadat’s Egypt. Admittedly, these remain very distant prospects, and it should not be presumed that Russia could not secure an additional base in Libya. However, dependence on a partner which is not an international pariah – and which is therefore subject to more complex demands and influences – is more fraught with political risk for Russia. 

Conclusions

It may be the case that Russia retains access to Tartus as a function of an arrangement with Syria’s new rulers. However, if the Russian navy loses this access, it will not cease to be a regional player, but its presence will be far more diluted. Access arrangements would be a poor substitute for the presence at Tartus, and even basing rights in Libya (the most likely substitute for Syria) would not initially provide a substitute for the in-region maintenance that Tartus allowed. Moreover, any partners upon whom Russia might rely are not as wholly dependent on it as Assad was, posing long-term political risks. Russia’s days as a regional player in the Mediterranean may not be numbered per se, but its access and capacity to maintain a meaningful presence could become far less assured.

© RUSI, 2025

The views expressed in this Commentary are the authors', and do not represent those of RUSI or any other institution.

For terms of use, see Website Ts&Cs of Use.

Have an idea for a Commentary you’d like to write for us? Send a short pitch to commentaries@rusi.org and we’ll get back to you if it fits into our research interests. Full guidelines for contributors can be found here.