In Turkey, there are some sentences that cannot be discussed, because when they are discussed, it is immediately clear that something else is being targeted. “Happy to be a Turk” is exactly such a sentence.
Those who fight with this word today are not fighting with a slogan, but with the founding mind of the Republic, the idea of the nation-state and the understanding of sovereignty. The text you will read below is therefore not an opinion piece; it is an editorial. It is a clear position on the language of the state, the name of the nation and the philosophy of the Republic.
“Happy to be a Turk” The phrase is one of the most repeated but perhaps one of the least understood sentences in Turkey. Most of the debates revolve around the ideological intentions attached to this phrase rather than its content. However, this phrase is neither a claim of superiority nor a call for exclusion. It is a concise, clear and unshakable summary of the founding political philosophy of modern Turkey. The language Atatürk used here is extremely conscious. Saying “I am a Turk” is not a declaration of blood ties; it is a declaration of belonging. Therefore, the subject of the sentence is not an innate identity, but a conscious choice. The emphasis on “whoever says so” makes it clear that the nation is not a biological but a political and cultural unity. This approach is a very advanced and inclusive attitude at the beginning of the 20th century, during the transition from the remnants of the empire to the nation-state.
Tansu Çiller's attempt to soften this phrase as “I am happy to be a citizen of Turkey”, even if it seems well-intentioned, is conceptually problematic. Because “citizenship” is a legal status, whereas nation is a historical, cultural and political unity. Süleyman Demirel's objection makes sense at this point. With the reflex of a statesman, Demirel reminds us: “A nation cannot be made vague. A nation whose name is diluted loses its consciousness over time.”
“Although definitions such as ”Turkishness“ may sound inclusive, in reality they do not define the nation; they obscure it. Because every nation has a name. The French nation is French, the German nation is German, the Italian nation is Italian. The nation that founded the Republic of Turkey is called the Turkish nation. This name does not ignore ethnic origins; it excludes them from being the subject of political conflict. This is where the real inclusiveness begins. Atatürk's understanding of the nation is not one that rejects ethnic identities, but one that refuses to put them at the center of the state. Because as ethnic identities become politicized, the sense of common destiny weakens. When identity competition replaces common destiny, the state ceases to be a unifier and drifts into a divisive ground. In order to avoid falling into this trap, the Republic founded by Atatürk defined the concept of ”Turk" as the supreme identity.
Here “meta-identity” should not be misunderstood either. It does not mean the suppression of other identities. On the contrary, it means a common roof where everyone meets as equal citizens. Being a Turk is not a matter of lineage, but of loyalty to law, homeland and common values. This is why Atatürk clarified the issue by saying “The people of Turkey who founded the Republic of Turkey are called the Turkish nation”.
Today, most of those who fight with this phrase are actually fighting not with the words, but with the idea of the Republic. Because saying “I am happy to be a Turk” means defending secularism, citizenship, equality and a common future. It does not impose an identity; it offers a basis for unity. The door is open for those who accept it, and no one is forced to stay inside for those who reject it. But the language of the state cannot give up this common ground.
When the national consciousness weakens, only fragmented belongings remain. Fragmented belongings do not produce a strong state. History is full of examples of this. Those without a nation have no state and those without a state have no security. This is why Atatürk's statement is not a matter of nostalgia; it is a matter of existence. In conclusion, the phrase “I am happy to say I am a Turk” is neither a slogan nor a sentimental gesture. It is the constitutional spirit of modern Turkey. It is based not on race but on will, not on blood but on consciousness, not on origin but on a common future. What needs to be discussed is not the existence of this word, but how far we can carry this consciousness today. Because the issue is not this: Who came from where? The real issue is this: Who has the will to make this country live together? And Atatürk's answer is still there: "Happy is the one who says 'I am a Turk'.
This is precisely why this sentence cannot be separated from today's constitutional debates. A constitution is not just a legal text; it is the political expression of how a nation defines itself. When the concept of nation is made vague, the constitution loses its meaning. By detaching the state from the consciousness of common history and destiny, it is reduced to a contract between individuals. Although this approach may seem libertarian at first glance, in the long run it erodes sovereignty. This is because sovereignty is not the will of abstract individuals, but the collective will of a historically constructed nation. Refraining from defining the nation is not neutrality; making the nation ambiguous is de facto liquidating the nation. Any approach that obscures national identity with the claim of “inclusion of all” will ultimately protect no one. Societies that cannot define themselves as nations are defined by others; these definitions are never innocent.
From here, it is inevitable to come to the mental split that the Turkish left has experienced. Historically anti-imperialist, the left has weakened its defense of sovereignty as it has moved away from the idea of the nation. However, there is no sovereignty without the nation. A political line that abandons the concept of nation unwittingly creates a ground open to imperial interventions. A language that declares the nation as “reactionary”, the state as “oppressive” and sovereignty as “dangerous”; eventually begins to legitimize foreign interventions as “democratic transition”. Imperialism is not stopped by morality; it is stopped by power, state and sovereignty. Without a nation, there is no sovereignty; without sovereignty, anti-imperialism is only a slogan.
In Palestine, the denial of the nation has normalized the permanent occupation of the people. The overthrow of legitimate leaders in Venezuela in the name of “democracy” is a de facto suspension of international law. These examples are not tragedies from distant geographies; they are direct lessons for Turkey. Every country whose national consciousness is weakened, whose state language is eroded and whose sovereignty is rendered questionable becomes a suitable ground for the next intervention. For this reason “Happy to be a Turk” is not only a discussion of internal identity; it is also a line of resistance against imperialism. This sentence reminds us that sovereignty belongs unconditionally to the nation; it expresses the will to keep the state out of ethnic bargains, identity rivalries and foreign interventions.
This text is therefore not just a column, but a reminder, a warning and a call. Freedom cannot be established by diluting the nation, democracy by weakening the state, peace by eroding sovereignty. Each of these is only possible with a strong national consciousness. Without this consciousness, constitutional articles remain on paper, elections become a ritual, and politics becomes dependent on the approval of foreign centers. The choice before Turkey is clear: Either the founding philosophy of the Republic will be preserved or the idea of nationhood will be abandoned step by step and an uncertain, precarious and open to intervention structure will be accepted. This is not a debate on language; this is not a polemic on identity; this is a matter of existence.
And that is why the last sentence does not change. As the expression of a state mind based not on race but on will, not on blood but on consciousness, not on origin but on a common future, it stands with the same clarity a hundred years later:
I am happy to be a Turk.