cost. That is not to say that they deny their religion – almost all Turks regard themselves as Muslim, even if they do not practise. It is written on virtually any Turkish ID card you care to examine, because it is the standard entry which must be actively changed if you are of a different religion or do not want any religion recorded at all. Despite this assumption of Muslim identity, what might be called, in distasteful tones perhaps, ‘overt’ displays of Islam – burqas, religious schools, even the use of the Arabic greeting salaam – are deemed to insult the idea of ‘Turkishness’ which Atatürk wanted to make the primary element of a person’s identity, replacing religion. This definition of ‘Turkishness’ is cherished and jealously guarded by the considerable Kemalist demographic, which includes a significant proportion of academic and artistic circles, although this is slowly changing.
Friends in England often ask me whether Turks are gradually getting more religious, or whether the government is imposing religion on them. Neither is true. The AKP is a religious political party and it reaches out to the considerable religious demographic of Turkey. Despite Turkey’s fame as a secular state, there has always been a traditionally conservative majority in the population. Until recently, these peoplehave been sidelined by nationalist governments and military juntas, but the AKP not only respects religious Turks, it courts them. During the holy month of Ramadan, for example, large posters featuring a smiling Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdoğan wish passers-by a happy Ramadan in an elegant, calligraphic script. He promises his supporters more mosques and religious schools. Religious Turks feel personally cared for, and secular Turks feel threatened. The AKP are secure in the knowledge that they have the unquestioning support of a huge swathe of the population, and they are not interested in pacifying the rest.
Erdoğan’s ability to polarise the population is impressive – roughly half of Turkey’s 75 million hate him, half love him. That, at least, was the case at the 2011 election; in the light of the protests, the scale has probably tipped against him, although his most ardent followers admire him more than ever for taking a strong line. For many, he is a new Atatürk – a strong, fearless, charismatic leader who has a bold idea of where he wants to take the country, and who also understands his religious base. Erdoğan appeals to ordinary Turks because he comes from a modest background, has a covered wife and worked his way up from nothing. He nearly made it as a professional footballer (giving him automatic kudos), and worked as a bus driver before getting involved in politics. It’s almost as if someone has made up his CV specifically to appeal to the large portion of ordinary working Turks who had previously been ignored by relatively privileged politicians who made them feel guilty for practising their religion, for example by banning headscarves in public institutions.
Republican Turkey’s respect for strong, charismatic leadersstems from the extraordinary hero worship of Mustafa Kemal Atatürk. Every Turkish leader since Atatürk has struggled in the shadow of the great man, and many people suspect that for Erdoğan he is a particular nemesis. Erdoğan represents many of the religious values Atatürk tried to eradicate, and on a few occasions has nearly slipped up by showing his true feelings towards the national hero – once he obliquely referred to the notoriously raki-loving Atatürk as a ‘drunkard’. Erdoğan has also surreptitiously reduced Atatürk’s legacy by curbing military celebrations on Republic Day, and by urging his supporters to carry Turkish flags ‘not bearing any other symbols’ (many Turkish flags traditionally incorporate a portrait of Atatürk). Still, Erdoğan has usually been careful not to make his feelings too obvious because he risks alienating the religious