Turkey is gradually changing in such dramatic ways that were the country’s founder, Mustafa Kemal Ataturk (1881-1938), to rise from the grave, he would probably drop dead from shock. The change is not recent; perhaps it was even inevitable. After founding the Republic of Turkey in 1923 on the ashes of the Ottoman Empire, Ataturk embarked on cultural, economic and political reforms to transform the former Ottoman Empire into a westernised and secular state. The epicentre of the reforms was secularism, which sought to preclude unhealthy religious influences on politics. Specifically, in 1927, courses relating to religion were excluded from the curriculum on the excuse that non-Muslims also lived in Turkey. Between 1927 and 1949, no religious instruction was permitted in the school system to prevent the sort of abuse of Islam that contributed massively to the collapse of the Ottoman Empire. The Turkish Armed Forces stood as guarantor of that secularism, that is, until the Justice and Development Party (AKP) came into office in 2002 and began to slowly and more palpably roll the curtain back by, among other things, introducing religious instruction in school curriculum.
Now, after a long time, and after series of turbulent struggles with ruling parties that introduced non-secular policies into governance, the Turkish military has finally bowed to public policy by allowing the inclusion of elective Koranic courses in the curriculum of military high schools. This is not only surprising; it may in fact presage a steady surrender of the republic to religious influences in line with significant public opinion. But whether that opinion will serve the republic well in the near and distant future is not clear. It required the firm hands and ruthless conviction of Ataturk to resist the yearnings of Turks for Islamic influences in Turkish life, whether in education or in politics. The situation is now changing in favour of non-secularist policies, but the military, for which Kemalism is both a doctrine and a nostalgic way of life, still remains largely insulated from religion. Indeed, the rollback became sharply evident after the 2007 elections, which the AKP won more emphatically than it did in 2002. First was the controversial election of Abdullah Gul as president, in spite of his past involvement with Islamist parties. (The presidency is ceremonial, as effective power resides in the office of the prime minister). And second was the proposal of the government that same year to lift the ban on headscarves in universities.
Of all the issues bifurcating the Turkish Republic, the headscarves controversy represents perhaps the most poignant. Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdogan had in the 2007 elections made electoral promise to lift the ban on headscarves. On winning, he caused the parliament in February 2008 to amend the constitution to that effect. But the opposition, at the head of widespread public protests, applied to the Constitutional Court to annul the amendment. The Court upheld the appeal and retained the ban. By 2010, however, the ban was no longer enforced, even though the law remains in force. For a society that is 95 percent Muslim, it is instructive how they respond to the controversial issue of religion, especially against the backdrop of the secularist principles adumbrated by Ataturk. For now there are enough forces to safeguard Kemalism and keep Turkey on the straight and narrow path of secularism. But the tide is changing, albeit slowly, almost like silent tremors, and with religion constituting a dangerous undertow to the continuing modernisation and stability of the republic.
A majority of Turks appears to recognise the salience of the Kemalist doctrine of separation of roles between religion and politics as a factor in modernisation and social and political harmony. Turkey was fortunate that as the Ottoman Empire disintegrated, Ataturk came along with his visionary leadership and forceful personality. He was prescient enough to appreciate the drawbacks of the past and the high ground Turkey must climb in order to take its pride of place in the modern era. That great lesson is lost on Egypt, Iran, present Iraq, and sadly Nigeria. The case of Nigeria is particularly depressing. Having never tasted modernisation, it has also failed to produce leaders who knew where to draw the line and strike the right balance. This is why the northern part of Nigeria is in turmoil, and why, if the Southwest does not take extraordinary measures now, it could also become susceptible to the destabilising forces of retrogression masquerading as religion.
