In this country, politics has long since shifted from producing solutions to stoking emotions.
You look at the squares—there’s a lot of applause. You watch TV—there’s a lot of noise. You look at social media—there’s a lot of anger. But amid all this noise, one can’t help but ask: In a country where there’s so much talk, why are so few problems being solved?
The concerns of a citizen leaving home in the morning are actually quite clear: their child’s education, a fire in the kitchen, the rent they pay, their worries about tomorrow… But politics often prefers to stir up emotions around these concerns rather than actually addressing them. Because emotions are easy. Anger is contagious. Fear spreads quickly. Hope, on the other hand, is free.
One politician steps forward and proclaims himself the voice of the people. Another steps forward and claims to be the true representative of the nation. A third comes along and insists that only he can save the country. Interestingly, everyone in the country speaks on behalf of the people, but the people themselves hardly ever get a say. Everyone knows what the citizens think. No one listens to the citizens.
Perhaps this is the greatest achievement of populist politics: not distracting people from their problems, but dissuading them from questioning the causes of those problems. Because people who ask questions are a nuisance. A person who asks questions demands accountability. And a person who demands accountability doesn’t just applaud. Yet applause is the sound politics loves most.
Let’s not be unfair. Populist politics didn’t just fall from the sky. Our own habits played a part in bringing it about. For years, we’ve rewarded those who speak well, not those who solve problems. We’ve listened to those who raise their voices, not those who remain calm. We’ve believed those who tell us what we want to hear far more than those who tell us the truth. Because the truth can sometimes be uncomfortable. Fairy tales, on the other hand, soothe us. There’s no supply without demand. Populism’s greatest power lies not in politicians, but in the attention it receives.
They say Turkish society is an emotional one. That’s true. But it’s only part of the truth. Turkish society is also a society of common sense. It can be deceived, but it cannot be deceived forever. It may get excited, but sooner or later it comes face to face with the realities of life. It knows that market prices don’t listen to speeches. It knows that electricity bills aren’t swayed by slogans. It also knows that its child’s future cannot be built on empty rhetoric.
Maybe that’s why we feel like we’re constantly living in the midst of an election campaign. Every day brings a new debate, every day brings new polarization, every day brings a new slogan. We talk so much about politics that sometimes we forget to talk about the country itself. The agenda changes, the labels change, the arguments change, but the citizens’ fundamental issues remain the same.
Populism can win elections. It can set the agenda. It can rally the masses. But it is not enough to build a country’s future. Because countries are sustained not by slogans, but by institutions. Societies move forward not through anger, but through reason. And politics, no matter how powerful it may seem, ultimately yields to the realities of life.
Life’s relationship with reality, however, is far more ruthless than the ballot box. There, it is the outcome—not propaganda—that reigns supreme.