Nationalism in Turkey: On Ideological Continuity Within the State
I see that what is discussed under the label of “nationalism” in Turkey is often treated only in relation to current political actors, television commentators, or certain parties. But I believe the matter runs much deeper than that. I believe what we are dealing with is not merely a political tendency, but an ideological current within the state that has preserved its influence for a long time—anti-liberal, security-oriented, authoritarian, and leaning more on the state than on the people.
I believe the roots of this current go back beyond the Republican era, all the way to the final period of the Ottoman Empire. I think it is insufficient to explain the close relationship that the Ottomans established with Germany before and during the First World War solely in military or diplomatic terms. They did not share the same religion, nor the same ethnicity; and yet the closeness is striking. That is why I believe this relationship was shaped not only by strategic interests, but also by a proximity in terms of state organization, understanding of authority, and nationalist-statist ideology.
I think official history has deliberately narrowed this field of discussion. For many years, the Ottoman-German rapprochement was explained only through “the hope of regaining lost territories” or through the framework of a “necessary alliance.” But I think this explanation covers only the visible surface of the matter. What is truly important, in my view, is which ideological references shaped the state mind, and through which similarities it found its natural allies.
Likewise, I do not think Germany’s decision not to attack Turkey during the Second World War can be explained solely through temporary geopolitical calculations. I think one reason Turkey was not placed directly in the enemy category was that Germany recognized here a state tradition and mentality that was not entirely foreign to itself.
After the Second World War, however, the picture took on a new form. Stalin’s pressure on Turkey pushed the state toward NATO. But I do not think this orientation meant that all layers of the state became sincerely and consistently pro-Western. Even if Turkey’s official direction turned toward the West, I think certain elements within the state maintained a distant, even hostile attitude toward America, liberalism, pluralism, and genuine democratic politics.
For this reason, I do not explain the various structures that flourished in Turkey during the Cold War merely as products of foreign policy necessity or anti-communist reflexes. I think there was also a balance-of-power struggle taking place between different ideological currents within the state. On one side stood the NATO-aligned right, religious structures, and controlled nationalism; on the other, I see a more closed, more statist, more anti-American, and more authoritarian core. I read Turkey’s political history not merely as a struggle between parties, but also as a struggle over which mentality would dominate the soul of the state.
I think the line that is today called “ulusalcılık” is precisely the contemporary form of this historical continuity. This line legitimizes itself at times through secularism, at times through anti-imperialism, at times through the survival of the state, and at times through nationalism. But beneath all of these different discourses, I see a mentality that restricts democratic society, approaches freedom with suspicion, and takes the internal order of the state more seriously than the people themselves.
For that reason, I see ulusalcılık not only as a school of thought, but also as a logic of tutelage. I think what is decisive here is a political reflex that does not truly represent society but claims to represent the state; that values cadres more than elections, institutions more than the people, and control more than freedom.
I believe the relationship of this structure to Atatürk must be evaluated separately. The idea that Atatürk was the direct and absolute representative of this line does not strike me as convincing. On the contrary, I think a distinction must be made between Atatürk himself, some of the cadres around him, and the harsher currents within the state.
I also do not find the official narrative about Atatürk’s death sufficiently convincing. The explanation that Atatürk died of cirrhosis does not seem to fit the ordinary flow of life. I personally know a homeless man who has lived on the streets for many years, neglected his personal care, and consumed heavy amounts of alcohol, yet even he did not die of cirrhosis. Given that, I find it strange that we are expected to believe that a statesman like Atatürk—someone well cared for, constantly under observation, with access to every possible resource, and certainly not an ignorant man—died of cirrhosis. I am not making a definitive claim here; but I do think the official narrative is strange enough to deserve scrutiny.
In present-day Turkey, I think the nationalist line draws its real strength not from society, but from certain layers of the state. Turkish society, in broad terms, has a more conservative, more traditional, and more Sunni sociological character. In contrast, I see the nationalist current as resting on a more bureaucratic, security-oriented, and ideological ground. That is why I think its social legitimacy is not natural or spontaneous, but constructed through influence within the state.
I think there are more similarities than people assume between religious-looking nationalism and secular-looking ulusalcılık in Turkey. Even though they use different languages, both approach the same mental universe in terms of their desire to discipline society, their tendency to narrow areas of freedom, their reflex to sanctify the state, and their methods of pressuring dissenting voices. I think the difference between them is often more a matter of style than of substance.
For that reason, I do not see it as a coincidence that Turkish society was for a long time pushed toward certain centers of power through the fear that “sharia is coming,” and that later these same circles developed closeness with Iran, Russia, or similar authoritarian axes. What I see here is not principled politics, but instrumental politics. Yesterday, one threat was highlighted to align society; today, the same mentality has repositioned itself through another geopolitical discourse. I think the real issue was never democracy or law, but who would hold influence over the state.
I also think this line lies beneath anti-Americanism in Turkey, sympathy toward Iran and Russia, Eurasianist discourse, the political line built around preferences such as the S-400, and the anti-liberal rhetoric that has grown stronger in recent years. This ideological current, influential within the state for a long time, moves with different actors in different periods; sometimes using right-wing figures, sometimes left-wing ones, sometimes nationalists, and sometimes so-called anti-imperialist figures in order to reproduce itself.
I believe many of the dark events that have taken place in Turkey should also be reconsidered within this framework. I find it insufficient to explain Madımak, Çorum, Maraş, July 15, and similar breaking points only through the visible actors involved. I think that in the background of these events there are deeper state reflexes attempting to redesign the political sphere, corner actors, and instrumentalize social tensions. Rather than making final judgments, I draw attention to recurring patterns.
I do not think the relationship between the current government and this structure is a simple relationship of support either. I see a relationship of mutual interest that sometimes conflicts, sometimes compromises, and sometimes uses one another. For this reason, I find it incomplete to explain many of the repressive and anti-freedom policies implemented in Turkey solely through Erdoğan’s personal political line. The narrowing of democratic space, the pressure on the rule of law, the restriction of freedoms, and the state’s movement toward a harsher and more disciplinary line against society are, in my view, the product not merely of day-to-day politics, but of a deeper state ideology.
At this point, I do not see Erdoğan as a determining subject acting alone. I see him as a political figure who sometimes clashes with these structures, sometimes compromises with them, and sometimes draws strength from the ground they produce. Therefore, I think what exists is not so much a single-centered power structure as a system of cliques that use one another, create space for one another, and position themselves against one another when necessary.
From the perspective of the opposition, I see the problem as even heavier. I do not think any opposition movement in Turkey can overcome these structures simply by winning elections. Because the issue is not only defeating the current government. It is also necessary to overcome the entrenched tutelary centers within the state, the security-oriented nationalist core, and the bureaucratic ideological continuity. I think this explains why democratic transformation in Turkey is so difficult.
Within this framework, I also do not explain why certain opposition figures are constantly targeted merely through vote shares. I read the rise of some political figures not only as an electoral calculation, but also in terms of their potential to disrupt internal state balances. That is why I evaluate internal party struggles, leadership battles, and public campaigns of delegitimization not only through visible reasons, but together with the ideological and institutional tensions operating behind the scenes.
I think this is exactly where Turkey’s current deadlock reveals itself. On one side stands the repressive practice of the current government; on the other stands the old and hard ideological core within the state. One draws power from the ballot box, the other from institutions; but both weaken the idea of a free society. Within this picture, I do not believe that a genuine democratic exit can come from a line that reconciles either with authoritarian conservatism or with statist-nationalist tutelage.
That is why I believe the real alternative in Turkey must rest on a strong social democratic line—one that trusts the people, is grounded in law, defends freedom, and does not sanctify the state above society. Because I think only such a political line can keep an equal distance both from the repressive structure of the current government and from the old dark centers within the state.
In conclusion, I think what I call “ulusalcılık” is not merely a political preference, but a hard ideological core within the Turkish state that has long been influential—anti-liberal, security-oriented, leaning more on the state than on the people, and capable of building relations with both the right and the left when necessary. I believe this structure must be taken into account in order to understand many of the contradictions, political drifts, and dark developments in Turkey. And I believe Turkey’s future lies not in choosing between different versions of this tutelary mentality, but in building a new political ground based on law, freedom, and genuine democratic legitimacy.
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