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Home Analysis & Editorial Foreign Troops Are Defending Aramco. Saudi Defence Localisation Is 24.89% Against 50% by 2030.
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Foreign Troops Are Defending Aramco. Saudi Defence Localisation Is 24.89% Against 50% by 2030.

Greek and Italian air-defence units are operating inside Saudi Arabia, guarding the energy infrastructure that funds the state. Vision 2030 promised to localise more than half of military spending by 2030. GAMI's latest published figure is 24.89% for end-2024 — and the methodology behind it has never been published.

Donovan Vanderbilt · · 24 min read
Foreign Troops Are Defending Aramco. Saudi Defence Localisation Is 24.89% Against 50% by 2030. — Analysis — Saudi Vision 2030

24.89%. That is the share of Saudi military spending the General Authority for Military Industries recorded as localised at the end of 2024 — the most recent figure the authority has published, announced on 10 November 2025 [S2]. Saudi Arabia defence localisation under Vision 2030 is meant to exceed 50% by 2030 [S1]. The gap is 25 percentage points and four and a half years.

Two other facts sit alongside it. On 25 July 2026, when two ballistic missiles were fired from Yemen at the Yanbu refinery complex, the battery that shot them down at 07:15 local time was Greek — a Patriot PAC-3 run by roughly 120 to 130 Hellenic Air Force personnel stationed in the Kingdom since September 2021 [S8] [S11]. On 30 July 2026, Italy’s defence ministry disclosed a task force of about 400 air force personnel, plus a land contingent including a SAMP/T air-defence battery, deployed across Saudi Arabia, Kuwait and Bahrain since mid-March 2026 [S9]. Both countries are NATO and EU members. Both deployments are acknowledged by the sending state.

The two are connected, but not as the arithmetic suggests. Air defence is the hardest military capability to localise — systems-of-systems integration, radar, interceptor manufacture and command software, bought abroad by almost every industrial economy. The useful question is not whether Saudi Arabia is self-sufficient. It is whether the 50% target was ever scoped to include the category currently covered by other people’s crews.

FactFigureDateGrade
Vision 2030 localisation targetover 50% of military equipment spending2030Documented [S1]
Stated baseline at launch2%2016Documented [S1]
Latest published localisation rate24.89%end-2024Documented [S2]
GAMI methodology for the rationot publishedAbsent
Greek Patriot battery, Saudi Arabia1 PAC-3, ~120–130 personnelsince Sep 2021Documented [S11] [S12]
Italian Task Force Air–Arabia~400 personnel, SAMP/T batterysince Mar 2026Documented [S9] [S10]
Saudi military expenditure$83.2bn (estimated), 8th globally2025Estimated [S6]

Last verified: 31 July 2026.

For the authority see the GAMI institutional profile and what GAMI does; for the national champion, SAMI; for the sector, defence and military industries. Those are entity and sector pages. This one audits the measurement and the gap.

Who Defends Saudi Oil Facilities?

Saudi units, and at least two foreign ones. The distinction matters because the foreign contribution sits in exactly the capability the Kingdom has not localised.

Saudi Arabia’s Royal Air Defence Forces operate their own Patriot batteries and, on 2 July 2025, commissioned the Kingdom’s first Terminal High Altitude Area Defense battery at the Air Defence Forces Institute in Jeddah, the Saudi Press Agency recording Lieutenant General Mazid bin Suleiman Al-Amro handing the unit its flag [S14]. A fourth Saudi THAAD crew completed training in the United States in January 2026, against seven batteries procured [S24].

Alongside them sits the Hellenic Force in Saudi Arabia, ELDYSA. After the September 2019 attack on Aramco’s Abqaiq and Khurais facilities, Greece and Saudi Arabia signed a defence cooperation agreement in Riyadh in April 2021, with accompanying arrangements on the legal status of Greek forces on Saudi soil. Then Greek foreign minister Nikos Dendias said on the record at the time that a Greek Patriot battery would be stationed in the Kingdom “to help the defences of the Kingdom, but also secure the energy supply of the world” [S12]. One MIM-104 Patriot in PAC-3 configuration deployed from Tanagra air base in September 2021 to cover the Yanbu industrial and export complex, manned by the Hellenic Air Force’s 350 Guided Missile Wing. The Hellenic Parliament has extended the mission four times; the current extension runs to November 2026 and followed a formal request from Riyadh [S11]. Trade reporting states Saudi Arabia meets the mission’s operating and logistics costs and funds PAC-3 upgrades to the Greek inventory — reported, not documented, since no published bilateral text sets it out.

The battery’s 2026 engagement record comes from Athens, not Riyadh:

Date, 2026EngagementConfirmed by
19 MarchTwo Iranian ballistic missiles destroyed near YanbuGreek Defence Ministry
6 AprilOne UAV interceptedGreek Defence Ministry
25 July, 07:15Two ballistic missiles from Yemen interceptedGreek sources via Reuters [S23]; Greek minister [S21]
25 July, 11:10 and 17:05Two drones downed, Yanbu areaGreek defence minister [S21]

Later on 25 July, Dendias said he had spoken to Saudi Defence Minister Prince Khalid bin Salman, who “expressed his thanks for the presence of the Hellenic Force in Saudi Arabia (ELDYSA) with the Greek Patriot battery” and for its role in preventing attacks [S21]. That is a ministerial-level Saudi acknowledgement — published by the Greek side. No corresponding Saudi Press Agency release was located, and Saudi statements about the interceptions do not identify the operator [S8].

The Italian deployment surfaced almost by accident. Task Force Air–Arabia has run since the second half of March 2026: about 400 air force personnel across Saudi Arabia, Kuwait and Bahrain with four Eurofighter F-2000A fighters, an E-550A early-warning aircraft, an AN/TPS-77 radar in Kuwait and Leonardo’s ACUS-E counter-drone system. A parallel Task Force Land–Arabia adds roughly 300 personnel, about half in Saudi Arabia, including a SAMP/T battery and KRONOS radar [S9]. ANSA reported on 30 July 2026 that its existence had appeared on the defence ministry’s own website and been reconstructed from it by journalists. The next day defence minister Guido Crosetto rejected opposition criticism, saying the mission’s “legal and operational framework” had been presented to parliament “with the utmost transparency”; Democratic Party lawmakers countered that no authorisation had been sought for Saudi Arabia specifically, arguing it fell outside the mandate approved for overseas missions [S10]. That dispute is unresolved, and this page takes no position on it.

The United States moved the other way, then partly back. In June 2021 the Pentagon confirmed it had redeployed “certain air defence assets” out of the region; by late August 2021 satellite imagery showed Patriot and THAAD gone from Prince Sultan Air Base. Reporting dated 29 January 2026 described US systems returning, Saudi Arabia among the destinations — reported, not confirmed by any primary Department of Defense statement located here. What is documented from that week is commercial: on 30 January 2026 the Defense Security Cooperation Agency notified Congress of a possible $9.0 billion sale of 730 Patriot PAC-3 MSE interceptors, launcher conversion kits, classified software and training [S15]. It is the largest air-defence transaction in this record, and it carries no published localisation component.

What Is Saudi Arabia’s Defence Localisation Target?

More than 50% of military equipment spending by 2030, set out in the Vision 2030 document of April 2016 and unchanged since.

The wording repays reading, because almost every secondary account paraphrases it. Under “Localized Defense Industries” the document states: “Although the Kingdom is the world’s third biggest military spender, only 2 percent of this spending is within our Kingdom. The national defense industrial sector is limited to only seven companies and two research centers.” It then commits: “Our aim is to localize over 50 percent of military equipment spending by 2030” [S1].

Three features govern everything downstream. The 2% baseline is the Kingdom’s own figure, not an external estimate. The scope is “military equipment spending” — narrower than total military expenditure. And the document names the ladder it intends to climb: “We have already begun developing less complex industries such as those providing spare parts, armored vehicles and basic ammunition. We will expand this initiative to higher value and more complex equipment such as military aircraft.” Localisation is to come through “direct investments and strategic partnerships,” building expertise in “manufacturing, maintenance, repair, research and development” [S1].

The ladder stops at military aircraft. The words “air defence,” “missile,” “radar” and “interceptor” appear nowhere in the 85-page Vision 2030 document. That is a verifiable absence, not an interpretation, and it is the most important fact on this page for anyone trying to read the 50% target honestly.

The Localisation Trajectory, Year by Year

The published series is thinner than the confidence around it suggests — four observations in nine years, each announced roughly a year in arrears:

Year measuredLocalisation rateAnnouncedBySource
2016 (Vision 2030 launch)2%April 2016Vision 2030 document[S1]
2017 (GAMI established)2%September 2022Ahmed Al-Ohali, GAMI governor[S4]
20184%21 November 2024GAMI[S3]
2019, 2020not published
202111.7%September 2022Ahmed Al-Ohali, GAMI governor[S4]
2022not published
202319.35%21 November 2024Ahmed Al-Ohali, GAMI governor[S3]
202424.89%10 November 2025GAMI[S2]
2025not published at 31 July 2026
2030 targetover 50%April 2016Vision 2030 document[S1]

The most recent restatement came from Al-Ohali at the World Defense Show in Riyadh in February 2026, where he described a “historic leap” from 4% in 2018 to 25% at end-2024 — the same two numbers, rounded, with no new observation attached.

The arithmetic of the remaining gap is less damning than the headline framing implies. Moving from 24.89% to “over 50%” by 2030 requires roughly 4.2 percentage points a year. Between 2018 and 2024 the series moved 20.89 points in six years — about 3.5 points a year. Between 2021 and 2024 it moved 13.19 points in three — about 4.4 points a year. On its own published record, GAMI has recently been running slightly faster than the pace the target now requires. That is the strongest version of the official case, and it should be conceded before it is examined.

What Does GAMI Count as “Localised”?

GAMI has not said. No methodology appears on the authority’s news release, its “Localizing the sector” achievements page or its strategy page. Neither the numerator nor the denominator of 24.89% is disclosed.

What is published is assurance, not definition. Arab News, reporting the November 2025 announcement, described GAMI forming “working groups to audit contracts, review budgets, analyze figures, and verify them through external accountants and auditors to ensure the accuracy of the percentage” [S5]. Audit tells you the number was checked. It does not tell you what was counted.

One documented hint suggests the measure changed. In September 2022, announcing 11.7% for 2021, Al-Ohali said GAMI was “working now to find a new mechanism to measure localization to include the level of local content in this spending” [S4]. Read plainly: the 2021 measure did not capture local content depth. Whether 19.35% and 24.89% use the old mechanism, the new one or a hybrid is stated nowhere, and a series measured on a changing basis is not a trend. GAMI also publishes adjacent percentages that are easy to conflate: a 38% “local content percentage among companies operating in the military industries sector” — a company-level metric, not a spending share — and framework agreements covering “approximately 80% of expenditures on military apparel, equipment, weapons, and ammunition” [S3]. Three percentages, one press release, three denominators.

The deeper problem is that no third party can reproduce 24.89%, because no third party knows the denominator. SIPRI’s estimate of Saudi military expenditure for 2025 is $83.2 billion — and SIPRI brackets it, its convention for an estimated figure [S6]. The Ministry of Finance publishes a single “Military” line: SAR240 billion ($64 billion) planned for 2026, against SAR239 billion estimated for 2025 and SAR237 billion in 2024 [S20]. At the pegged rate SIPRI’s estimate is about SAR312 billion — roughly SAR72 billion ($19 billion) above the MoF line, because SIPRI captures items the Saudi budget books elsewhere. Two published totals for the same year differ by about 30%, and GAMI’s ratio uses neither publicly.

A composition question follows that the public record cannot settle. SIPRI’s arms-transfer series shows Saudi arms imports falling 31% between 2016–20 and 2021–25, the Kingdom dropping from the world’s largest importer to third and from 11% of global arms imports to 6.8% [S7]. That series measures the volume of major-arms deliveries, not spending, so it cannot be netted against GAMI’s ratio arithmetically. But it moves in the direction that would raise a locally computed share even if in-Kingdom output were flat: a falling import numerator against a broadly stable budget lifts the domestic share without a single new factory. GAMI publishes no decomposition of how much of the rise from 4% to 24.89% is domestic expansion and how much is import compression.

Does Saudi Arabia Make Its Own Weapons?

Some, genuinely — and not the ones that were shooting on 25 July.

The industrial base is real and has grown fast. GAMI counted 296 licensed and authorised establishments by the third quarter of 2024, against five companies when the authority started [S3] [S4]. It has directed SAR13 billion ($3.5 billion) of military procurement to local firms and is working on 53 industrial participation programmes worth about SAR35 billion ($9.3 billion) [S3]. Locally manufactured military goods carry zero VAT.

SAMI, the PIF-owned national champion, runs four lines: air systems, covering drones and fixed-wing maintenance, repair and overhaul; land systems; weapons and missiles; and defence electronics, covering radars, sensors, communications and electronic warfare. In February 2026 it restructured from company to “strategic group,” launching SAMI Land Company and SAMI Autonomous Systems and unveiling the HEET 8×8 and 4×4 armoured vehicles, which chief communication officer Wael Alsarhan called “new indigenous capability with full Saudi IP and design” [S18]. It has also acquired Alsalam Aerospace Industries, which has maintained Saudi F-15s since 1988 and now supports Typhoons.

Twelve joint ventures were active as of late 2022: SAMI Navantia Naval Industries on Avante 2200 corvette work, SAMI Thales Electronic Systems, SAMI L3Harris Technologies, SAMI CMI Defence Systems with John Cockerill, and a components venture with France’s Figeac Aéro owned 60% on the Saudi side. The Lockheed Martin venture is 51% SAMI. The pattern is the point: localisation is being bought, not invented. The same structure runs through defence partnerships and arms procurement, defence manufacturing and the corporate map of Saudi defence companies.

Sorted honestly, the picture is a ladder with a clear top rung:

CategoryStatus in-KingdomEvidence
Ammunition, small arms, apparelManufacturedGAMI framework agreements [S3]
Armoured vehiclesManufactured and designedSAMI HEET, February 2026 [S18]
Drones and interceptor boatsManufacturedGAMI, November 2024 [S3]
Fixed-wing MRO (F-15, Typhoon)Performed in-KingdomAlsalam Aerospace Industries
Naval outfittingPerformed under JVSAMI Navantia, Avante 2200
Defence electronics, radarJV assembly and integrationSAMI Thales Electronic Systems
Combat aircraftImported45 from the US, 2021–25 [S7]
Air-defence interceptorsImported730 PAC-3 MSE, $9.0bn [S15]
Air-defence launcher componentsOne item, weldedAIC Steel / Lockheed Martin, May 2025 [S13]

That last row is the most precise available answer on air-defence localisation. On 11 May 2025 in Jeddah, Lockheed Martin Missiles and Fire Control president Tim Cahill, GAMI assistant deputy Nawaf Albawardi and Arabian International Company for Steel Structures president Wasim Attieh marked the first completion of a locally produced THAAD launcher component: the MRP-T, the transportable missile round pallet, made by a steel-structures company demonstrating “precision welding” [S13]. Cahill’s quote was about supporting Vision 2030 and “generating high-quality manufacturing jobs.” He did not claim an interceptor. Nine years after the 50% commitment, the documented Saudi contribution to the Kingdom’s most advanced air-defence system is a welded steel pallet for moving the missiles.

How Much Does Saudi Arabia Spend on Defence?

$83.2 billion in 2025 on SIPRI’s estimate — eighth in the world, 6.5% of GDP, 2.9% of all global military spending [S6].

MeasureSaudi ArabiaContext
Military expenditure, 2025$83.2bn (estimated)8th globally; 7th in 2024
Real change, 2024–25+1.4%World +2.9%, to $2,887bn
Real change, 2016–25+12%World +41%
Share of GDP, 20256.5% (estimated)Down from 9.2% in 2016
Share of world spending2.9%Middle East total $218bn
Arms imports rank, 2021–253rd6.8% of world, from 11%
Main arms supplierUSA, 77%Spain 9.5%, France 4.6%

Two things follow. The military burden has fallen sharply — 9.2% of GDP in 2016 to 6.5% in 2025 — which is what happens when nominal GDP outgrows a budget held flat. The Ministry of Finance’s numbers show the same restraint: SAR237 billion in 2024, SAR239 billion estimated for 2025, SAR240 billion planned for 2026, a rise of 0.3%, inside total planned expenditure of SAR1,313 billion ($350 billion) [S20]. Defence is about 18% of the Saudi budget and it is not growing.

That restraint lands on a fiscal position under strain. The 2025 deficit came in at SAR277 billion ($73.9 billion) against a SAR245 billion projection. The first half of 2026 produced a deficit of SAR160.0 billion ($42.7 billion)97% of the full-year SAR165 billion projection in six months. GASTAT’s flash estimate published on 30 July 2026 put Q2 real GDP at −4.8% year on year, non-oil growth at 0.6%. The wider picture sits in our fiscal sustainability outlook, the forecaster split on 2026 GDP and the sovereign debt trajectory to 2030.

The consequence for localisation is rarely stated. A localisation ratio improves when the denominator shrinks. A localisation industry only improves when the numerator grows. With defence spending flat in nominal terms and the fiscal position deteriorating, the two can diverge — and the published series cannot tell you which is happening.

Air Defence Is the Category the Target Never Named

Here is the honest analytical point, and it cuts both ways.

Air defence is genuinely the hardest item on the list. It is not a platform but a system of systems: search and fire-control radar, engagement control station, launchers, an interceptor with its own seeker and divert motors, and the battle-management layer binding them. Germany, Poland, Romania, Sweden, the Netherlands and Spain all buy Patriot. Greece and Italy — the two countries operating batteries inside Saudi Arabia — are themselves running American and Franco-Italian systems, not national ones. SIPRI notes Israel is unusual precisely because it does produce air-defence systems for which there is high global demand [S7]. Holding Saudi Arabia to a standard almost no industrial economy meets would be a cheap criticism.

The defensible criticism is different. A 50% localisation target that excludes or defers the hardest category is a different target from one that includes it — and Saudi Arabia has never said which it is.

The evidence points one way. Vision 2030’s text scopes the target to “military equipment spending,” names spare parts, armoured vehicles and basic ammunition as the starting rungs, names military aircraft as the aspiration, and never mentions air defence, missiles, radar or interceptors [S1]. GAMI has published no methodology that would let anyone check whether the $9.0 billion PAC-3 MSE package sits inside the denominator [S15]. Alvarez & Marsal framed the economics in a study of the Saudi sector: domestic engineering captures 30 to 40% of a system’s lifecycle value, against 5 to 15% for assembly-only localisation, its Middle East regional leader Colie Spink putting it in a line — “Sovereignty starts with domestic engineering capability” [S19]. A welded transport pallet is not in the 30-to-40% band.

The peer-reviewed literature is more sympathetic than most commentary. A study in Defence and Peace Economics published online on 19 September 2025 argues Saudi defence industrial efforts were historically “stymied by overly complex regulation, stuttering institutional commitment and an inchoate defence industrial strategy,” and that Vision 2030 changed that, backed by “huge market leverage to extract defence offset benefits” [S22]. The paper’s full text is paywalled; only the published abstract was read for this piece.

Is the 50% Localisation Target Achievable?

On the published numbers, yes. On the published methodology, the question cannot be answered — because there isn’t one.

The run-rate case is above: 4.2 percentage points a year needed, 4.4 achieved between 2021 and 2024. GAMI has had one governor throughout, a licence base up roughly sixtyfold in seven years, and an explicit lever Al-Ohali stated bluntly in 2024: “There will be no armament transaction without localization” [S17]. Since 2021 foreign contractors have also had to run regional headquarters in the Kingdom to keep government business, a rule that bit on Lockheed Martin, Boeing, L3Harris and RTX from 1 January 2024 [S17]. Al-Ohali has argued accumulated policy and investment “should cause an exponential growth curve,” conceding that year-to-year gains alone look insufficient [S16].

The reasons for doubt are not about effort. They are about what is being measured, and they compound:

  • No published methodology. Numerator and denominator undisclosed; a stated intention in 2022 to change the mechanism, with no note on whether it changed [S4].
  • Four observations in nine years, none for 2019, 2020, 2022 or 2025, announced 11 to 12 months in arrears.
  • Two irreconcilable public totals for Saudi military spending, so outsiders cannot reproduce any ratio.
  • An import series falling faster than the budget, which lifts a domestic share mechanically [S7].
  • A target text that never names air defence, leaving the hardest category undefined [S1].
  • A flat defence budget in a deteriorating fiscal position, limiting the numerator’s room to grow.

Our defence localisation gap tracker carries a central case of 25 to 35% by 2030 and rates the target high risk. That range now looks conservative against GAMI’s own 24.89% for 2024. The honest position: the target may well be met as measured long before it is met as understood, and only GAMI can close that distance by publishing how it counts.

Why This Matters for Vision 2030

Defence localisation is not peripheral. It sits alongside the National Industrial Development and Logistics Programme as a pillar of the manufacturing story, and it carries a claim the others do not: strategic autonomy.

July 2026 tested that claim. The attacks on the Yanbu export complex on 25 July came when Yanbu was carrying roughly 92% of Saudi seaborne crude, after the Strait of Hormuz effectively closed. The infrastructure through which the Saudi state funds itself was the target. The crew that defended it was Greek. That is not a failure of Saudi arms — the intercept worked, which is what an alliance is for — but it is a precise measurement of where localisation has and has not reached, taken under fire rather than at a defence show.

The fiscal consequence follows. Every dollar of the $9.0 billion PAC-3 MSE package, and of the imports that made Saudi Arabia the world’s third-largest arms recipient, leaves the Kingdom, against a Vision 2030 rationale that was partly to “keep more resources in our country” [S1]. The military spending reference and the GCC defence benchmark show how the procurement mix compares regionally; the defence investment guide covers the offset route meant to close it.

And there is a dependency. The Greek deployment renews annually and expires in November 2026; the Italian one is the subject of a live authorisation dispute in Rome. Neither is a treaty commitment; both are political decisions taken in European capitals on European timetables. The US–Saudi security relationship has its own documented volatility, demonstrated by the 2021 withdrawal from Prince Sultan Air Base. A defence posture assembled from renewable foreign commitments is a different asset from a domestic industrial base — and the 50% target exists to convert one into the other.

Risks, Contradictions and Open Questions

The Saudi acknowledgement of the Greek mission is second-hand. Prince Khalid bin Salman’s thanks are documented, but by the Greek defence minister’s account of a phone call [S21]. No Saudi Press Agency release on ELDYSA was located. The deployment is not secret — the Hellenic Parliament votes on it — but the Saudi public record is close to silent. Who pays is likewise reported, not documented: trade coverage states Saudi Arabia meets operating and logistics costs and funds Greek PAC-3 upgrades [S11], and no bilateral instrument confirming it was located.

The US redeployment into Saudi Arabia in January 2026 is reported, not confirmed. Coverage dated 29 January 2026 describes systems moving to locations including Saudi Arabia; no primary Department of Defense statement naming the Kingdom was retrieved. The DSCA notification of 30 January 2026 is documented, and it is a sale, not a deployment [S15]. Italy’s parliamentary authorisation is separately contested — the government says the framework was disclosed, the opposition says Saudi Arabia falls outside the approved mandate [S10] — and neither position has been adjudicated.

GAMI’s series may not be internally comparable. The 2022 statement about a new mechanism to capture local content depth [S4] means 11.7% and 24.89% may not measure the same thing, and no restatement note, back-series or methodology has been published. No 2025 figure exists at 31 July 2026; on the announcement pattern the next should appear around November 2026.

Our own tracker page is stale. The defence localisation gap tracker states current localisation at 18 to 20%, against GAMI’s published 24.89% for end-2024. It needs correcting to the authority’s figure.

Nothing here establishes what the Kingdom could do alone. Saudi Arabia operates its own Patriot and THAAD batteries and has trained four THAAD crews. Allied batteries being present does not show Saudi units could not cover the same airspace, and no public source assesses relative coverage, readiness or interceptor stocks. This page describes what is deployed and documented, not a capability judgement.

What to Watch Next

  • November 2026 — the Greek mission’s current expiry. A fifth extension, a drawdown, or something more permanent would each say something different about how both governments read the threat.
  • Around November 2026 — GAMI’s 2025 localisation figure. Watch whether the number appears at all, and whether any methodology note travels with it.
  • Whether the Italian mandate dispute reaches a parliamentary vote. A formal debate in Rome would put the deployment’s legal basis on the record for the first time.
  • PAC-3 MSE deliveries and any localisation annex. Whether any element of the $9.0 billion package is built in-Kingdom, and at what tier, is the clearest available test of whether air defence sits inside the 50% target.
  • Saudi Q3 2026 fiscal data. With H1 already at 97% of the full-year deficit projection, the room for a numerator-led rise in localisation narrows further.

Sources