Since the Eastern Mediterranean began its most recent period of upheaval, two dormant, ingrained, yet contradictory beliefs deeply embedded within the Turkish national psyche have been getting a fresh airing.
The first is the conviction that Türkiye has been denied its rightful status in the modern era. Once the centre of a vast and powerful empire, today’s state comprises just 15% of the Ottoman Empire’s former expanse—an empire still regarded by many Turks as their own historical inheritance.
The second is a more subdued but no less entrenched belief: that even this diminished territory and influence exceed the actual ethnic and cultural reach of the Turkish nation. Populations and cultures like Kurds, Arabs, Laz, Armenians, Alawites, Shiites, Christians, and Jews were brought under the Turkish state and its imagined national identity not through voluntary inclusion, but through coercion via successive wars during the first quarter of the 20th century.
Dual consciousness
The rhetoric of political parties and the musings of theorists are saturated with this century-old dual consciousness. Yet while the narrative of loss and diminishment is both prominent and emotional, the latent sense of entitlement to hegemony over others remains muted and internalised.
Together, these two seemingly opposing sentiments form the core of Turkish national identity. Every Turkish public figure can be read through this lens: a worldview often shaped by a nostalgic attachment to a glorified past, not as distant history, but as a means of preserving present-day Turkish dominance over others, with the constant threat of disintegration.
