Turkey’s Political Crisis Is a Crisis of the Regime

On March 19, 2025, the arrest of Istanbul Mayor and opposition presidential candidate Ekrem İmamoğlu reignited a political crisis that has been smoldering for years. But this crisis is not merely political—it is structural. It is, above all, a regime crisis. And it didn’t begin last month, last year, or even last decade. It has been brewing for over three centuries, hidden beneath layers of constitutional reform, military coups, and ideological realignments.

To understand the current situation, we must distinguish three dimensions of Turkey’s long crisis: its historical, national, and contemporary aspects. Historically, it stems from the troubled course of Ottoman and Turkish modernization. Nationally, it relates to the top-down construction of Turkish national identity. But today’s crisis is shaped by the rise of political Islam—and more specifically, the authoritarian consolidation of power by President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan through shifting and transactional alliances.

One of Erdoğan’s core influences is the 1979 Islamic Revolution in Iran. While Turkey’s political Islamists differ from their Shia counterparts, they borrowed from that revolution two powerful tools: taqiyya (religious dissimulation) and mut‘a (temporary marriage). In Turkey, these concepts have been reimagined not only in the personal sphere, but as political instruments: taqiyya as a strategy of concealing intentions, and mut‘a as a metaphor for fragile, opportunistic political alliances.

From Gülen to Ergenekon: A Tale of Two Alliances

Erdoğan’s political career has unfolded in two phases of alliance-building. In the first phase, from 2002 to 2010, he partnered with the Gülen Movement—a Sunni Islamic network with deep roots in education and the bureaucracy. While Erdoğan publicly championed democratic reforms and EU accession, privately, he used the Gülenists’ technocratic power to consolidate control. Gülen, for his part, never considered this a true alliance—more a conditional alignment of goals.

But this partnership unraveled after the 2010 constitutional referendum. Erdoğan, viewing the movement as an independent power center, launched a campaign to shut down its schools and curb its influence. The breaking point came in December 2013, when prosecutors linked to the movement launched corruption probes that directly implicated Erdoğan’s inner circle.

Faced with existential threat, Erdoğan turned to his former enemies: the remnants of the old military-nationalist elite often referred to as the “Ergenekon” network. These were the so-called Neo-Unionists—a modern reincarnation of the Committee of Union and Progress, the secretive group that shaped both the late Ottoman Empire and early Republican Turkey. In this second phase, Erdoğan forged a mut‘a-style pact with the Neo-Unionists, reviving a political class he had once imprisoned.

Together, they purged the Gülenists from the state. But this alliance came at a heavy cost. Dissenters—liberals, journalists, pro-Kurdish politicians—were jailed. Corrupt officials and mafiosos were released. July 15, 2016, the failed coup attempt widely blamed on the Gülenists, became the moment of full consolidation. In the name of national security, Erdoğan and the Neo-Unionists effectively erased any remaining opposition.

A Fragile Pact Fractures

That alliance lasted nearly a decade. But on March 19, 2025, the arrest of İmamoğlu marked its collapse. It signaled not just the return of repression, but a return to internal power struggle. The buried hatchets between Erdoğan and the Neo-Unionists have been dug up once more.

This begs the question: Where does the main opposition, the CHP, stand? Is it a Unionist party?

While the Neo-Unionists are not a transparent organization, their ideological lineage is unmistakable. Many of the CHP’s figures—including its late leader Deniz Baykal—publicly defended those tried in the Ergenekon cases. Former convicts from these trials now sit in Parliament under both CHP and MHP banners. The implication is clear: the Neo-Unionists have allies across the political spectrum.

Their ultimate goal? First, use Erdoğan to destroy the Gülen Movement. Then, turn on Erdoğan himself—viewed as the “political arm” behind the July 15 coup—and remove him from power. Ironically, Erdoğan seems to have had the same idea: use the Neo-Unionists to eliminate the Gülenists, then marginalize them in turn.

But now, the script is off track. Erdoğan has already served three terms, despite the constitutional two-term limit. He has presided over the largest corruption scandals in modern Turkish history. And yet, he refuses to relinquish power—not because of any grand vision for Turkey, but because he fears what will happen the moment he steps down.

Even CHP leader Özgür Özel’s public assurance—“we won’t go after your family”—hasn’t calmed his nerves. Erdoğan is determined to hold onto power, even if it means dragging the country into deeper crisis. As political scientist Mümtaz’er Türköne aptly put it: this is a crisis of refusal—of ‘I will not hand it over.’

Turkey’s Dangerous Deadlock

Today, Turkey is governed not by constitutional principles but by temporary alliances, covert networks, and mutual blackmail. The façade of legality has worn thin. The rule of law has become transactional. And the real crisis is no longer about ideology, but about survival—of factions, not of the Republic.

Until Turkey confronts its legacy of secrecy, impunity, and autocratic engineering—whether rooted in political Islam or nationalist militarism—this regime crisis will not only persist but deepen.

The question is no longer when the next crisis will erupt.
It is whether Turkey’s political class is willing—or able—to prevent the collapse of the entire system.