In politics, words sometimes get in the way of action. Sometimes a sentence destroys a bridge; sometimes a paragraph overshadows years of work. And sometimes it is one's own language that hurts the most. The recent events remind us of this very fact: He suffered from nothing as much as he suffered from his tongue, it was a pity for Özgür Efendi.
The resignation of Keçiören Mayor Mesut Özarslan from his party is of course a political problem in itself. Moreover, since the 2024 local elections, the number of resignations and mayors who have switched to the ruling party has been quite high. Local government balances, internal party factions, calculations for the upcoming elections... All of these can be discussed and debated. However, the tone of the discussion and the reflexes of the leadership are as decisive as the event itself.
Özgür Özel's post-resignation messages stood out more for their tone than their content. Toughness in politics is not new; Turkey's opposition has long used high-tension rhetoric to counter both the government's repressive language and its own internal tensions. But opposition leadership is something else. It carries the responsibility of managing anger, transforming resentment into composure and putting the risk of disintegration into a cohesive framework.
This is where the problem starts.
The reaction to the resignation of a mayor may be harsh in order to consolidate the party base. However, messages that give the impression of losing control of anger undermine not only the target but also the leader's own authority. Because leadership is most tested in times of crisis. And the language used in a crisis either reinforces or erodes the sense of trust.
Instead of reinforcing the emphasis on internal party discipline, “there is unrest in the center” perception. Opposition voters have long been tired of disorganization, uncertainty over strategy and internal bickering. In this environment of fatigue, the language of the leader should have been a reassuring harbor. Instead, the picture that emerged gave the impression that an emotional reaction overrode strategic wisdom.
Trust in politics is twofold: The leader's trust in his cadres and the cadres' trust in the leader. When one of these two ties weakens, the crack grows. A resigning mayor may not represent a crisis in itself, but the reaction sends a powerful message to other local actors. This message is either “there is room for different views within the party but discipline is essential” or “the price of contradicting the center is high.” As the tone of the second message rises, loyalty does not increase; fear increases. Fear accelerates dissolution in the long run.
If the main claim of the opposition is democratization, pluralism and freedom of expression, these values are expected to be visible within the party first. Of course, every political party/structure has its limits, but these limits are drawn through institutional mechanisms, not by shouting. Harsh outbursts in front of the media show the limits of a leader's patience rather than his/her power.
At this point, the issue is not only the resignation of a mayor; it is how the opposition carries the claim of being an alternative to the government. The language used to criticize the government “authoritarian language” If the accusation produces a similar harshness in intra-opposition debates, the difference becomes blurred in the minds of voters. The voter asks: “If those who will govern the country tomorrow use this language among themselves, how will they govern the state in a crisis?”
Perhaps the most painful thing is that such outbursts overshadow the actual political debate. What happened in Keçiören? What political or administrative reasons are behind the resignation? Which structural problems within the party prepared this rupture? Was everything necessary done to ensure that the mayors who were elected from other political movements two years ago felt a sense of belonging to the CHP? Instead of these questions, the discussion gets stuck on the leader's style. Words obscure the essence of politics.
But leadership is most often built with words. Words are either bridges or walls. Özgür Özel still has an opportunity: To reframe this crisis with a more inclusive and institutionalized communication. A language that emphasizes composure, not anger; collective goals, not personal resentment, can strengthen both trust within the party and credibility with voters.
At every moment of crisis within the party, circulating the ‘before us/during our time’ discourse has turned into a weapon that can be used against them.
History notes the moments when small crises turn into big ruptures. And those notes often include the following sentence: “He suffered from nothing as much as he suffered from his tongue.”