Erdogan and his people

The failed coup in Turkey has instigated an extraordinary wave of popular mobilisation in the country. As soon as President Recep Tayyip Erdogan addressed the masses live on CNN Turk through FaceTime, asking them to take to the streets to contest the coup, a new era had begun in Turkey, in which the status quo—which is a civilian-led, modern, democratic secular state—that the people sought to preserve through public action has in fact already started to change.

Mass public gatherings in support of a leader are nothing new, neither in the Middle East nor outside. Perhaps the most obvious example that comes to mind in this regard is the late Egyptian president Gamal Abdel Nasser, who was famous for his charisma and the ability to mobilize thousands if not millions. His decision to resign following the 1967 Six Day War led to spontaneous mass mobilisation by the Egyptian people who demanded that he stay in power. He obliged.

At the other end of the spectrum is the current Syrian president Bashar al-Assad, who, like his late father, has used the masses to show the outside world that he has legitimacy. Of course, a significant proportion of the masses dutifully gathering in Syria’s squares to voice support for Assad have not done so out of free will, but out of coercion and hegemony.

Unlike with Assad, the masses in Turkey have responded to the explicit call by Erdogan to engage in public action to preserve the status quo, without being intimidated to do so. But the rallies in Turkey were not purely spontaneous, like the ones witnessed in Nasser’s era, because Erdogan himself called on the public to act.

To understand the rapid and wide response to Erdogan’s call, we must look back to the last presidential elections in Turkey, which Erdogan won with a majority of 52 per cent. He presented himself at that time as a defiant leader in the face of growing external and internal threats, like Islamist terrorism and hostile neighbouring regimes. He had been taking a hard line against the Assad regime, seeking the removal of Bashar al-Assad from power through supporting multiple factions within the Syrian opposition. And he had called Israel a “terrorist state” following its military operation in Gaza in 2012. But more than that, he also cultivated a sense that his election was essential among voters by focusing on the domestic threat of the PKK and presenting himself as the only candidate who can secure Turkey.

This focus on security proved to be an effective and enduring political mobilizer. It allowed Erdogan to recently shift his public political rhetoric regarding Israel and Assad without losing the trust of the masses—the change was always packaged as a way to sustain Turkey’s security and, therefore, the status quo.

That the coup was military-led sparked a sense of panic among the population at large not just because of the unsavory prospect of having oppressive military rule in Turkey, which neither Erdogan’s supporters nor his opponents wanted, but because of what it would mean for the country’s security and stability. A successful coup would have sparked an indefinite period of uncertainty. Coming little over two weeks after one of the largest terrorist attacks witnessed in Istanbul, the coup attempt happened at a time when the people were in no mood for entering the political unknown.

Erdogan understood this, and knew his call to the people to rally in his aid would not fall on deaf ears. He knew this would strengthen his individual authority.

This incident has already changed state-citizen dynamics in Turkey. In the wake of the failed coup, Erdogan has used the approval of the masses as well as their fear of the unknown to engage in a far reaching purge of the state system from his opponents, packaged as ridding the state from the “virus” of traitors. He has, in parallel, been placating the people through offering state services, such as public transport, for free. People have also been summoned to act as vigilantes, gathering in public spaces to demonstrate their commitment to the nation and, by extension, its leader.

In doing so, Erdogan is blurring the line between leader and nation. This kind of dynamic has not existed in modern Turkey since the days of former leader Mustafa Kemal Ataturk. The curious contrast is that, while Ataturk reached the status of the father of the modern nation through changing the political system, Erdogan seeks this status through taking over the system.

The Turkish people took to the streets to preserve the status quo. The result is something different. They feared removal of the status quo from without; what they have now is change from within. It has come upon them with their inadvertent blessing—and their leader’s firm, guiding hand.