There are some sentences in politics; they are applauded the moment they are uttered, but the echo they leave behind is actually a harbinger of a collapse. Because those sentences do not magnify the reality - they try to cover it up.
“We would give our lives, but not the CHP Headquarters.”
At first glance, this statement can be read as a manifesto of resistance. However, a closer look reveals that it is not an expression of determination, but a panic reflex of a deep crisis of legitimacy. For a truly legitimate structure does not have to “defend itself to the death”. Legitimacy is established through process, not slogans.
Today, the congress and convention debates that have marked the last years of the CHP are still lingering like an open file. While the questions of how the will of the delegates was shaped, how transparent the processes were and whether intra-party democracy really works remain unanswered, this language of absolute ownership is not a sign of self-confidence; it is an effort to suppress questioning.
Because politics is based on a simple truth:
If you have to defend something so loudly, there is already a problem that needs to be defended.
And maybe that is exactly the point:
Is it really a “headquarters” that is being defended, or is it an order that is being evaded from being questioned?
But the real breaking point is what this high-pitched rhetoric translates into in practice. Because politics is all about the distance between what is said and what is done. As that distance widens, even the most ambitious sentences quickly lose their meaning.
Today, it is a serious question mark whether the will that says “we will not give the headquarters” shows the same determination when it comes to internal party democracy. While the debates on the congress and assembly processes are still lively, the fact that these processes are not handled transparently, but rather covered up, makes every claim of “absolute legitimacy” even more questionable.
Moreover, this contradiction is further exacerbated by the emerging picture on internal party discipline and ethical issues. While some names come into play with quick and harsh reflexes, there is a remarkable reticence in other cases of similar gravity. This situation strengthens the criticism that “position according to the situation” has replaced “principle”.
But this is where institutional seriousness begins:
If the same standard does not apply to everyone, there is no standard.
And that is precisely why the harsh rhetoric that is rising today, rather than being a show of strength, turns into a noise that tries to cover up these inconsistencies of the past. Because politics is a field with a memory. Without forgetting what was done yesterday, the sentences uttered today cannot be credible.
At this point, it is no longer a question of defending a building, but of how that building is managed and by what principles it is kept standing. If these questions remain unanswered, even the harshest words are only a defense reflex.
It is precisely at this point that we need to see a dangerous trend that is becoming increasingly normalized in politics: The substitution of the language of the street for the language of the law.
Istanbul Metropolitan Mayor Ekrem İmamoğlu's statement “If the Court of Appeals sentences me, this government will not see the day of the Court of Cassation's verdict, this nation will rise up” regarding the case known as the “idiot case”, which is in the process of appeal, is exactly the expression of this rupture. This sentence is not only a political reaction; it is also the opening of a legal process to discussion through the threat of social mobilization.
In fact, there is a deep commonality of mentality between this discourse and the “we would give our lives” outburst. Instead of building a language centered on the law, both try to generate legitimacy by escalating tensions. However, even if this approach consolidates the base in the short term, it erodes the ground of politics in the long term.
Because the law does not survive on the threat of “the nation rising up”, but on principle, consistency and trust.
If a political movement starts to balance judicial processes with the street, this harms not only the current government, but also the legal order it itself defends. What emerges after this point is not a legal struggle, but a power struggle.
This is why the discourse on “heroism” needs to be rethought. True courage lies in managing tensions, not magnifying them. To transparently examine the controversial congress processes, to remove all shadows on the will of the delegates, to take clear steps against the names associated with corruption allegations, and to open the debate on immunity for MPs who have been indicted...
Without this, every harsh sentence only magnifies the lack of one thing: trust.
And politics cannot survive without trust.
The issue is now clear in its nakedness: The real crisis in politics is not what is being defended, but what is being persistently ignored.
Today's harsh rhetoric of “we won't give the headquarters” is presented as a language of resistance, but in reality it reveals another reality: A political comfort zone that circles around what needs to be done instead of confronting what needs to be done. However, legitimacy is rebuilt not through defense but through transparency.
If courage is to be shown, it starts with removing all shadows from the controversial congress processes. It is necessary to provide an openness that removes even the slightest doubt about the will of the delegates, to open up internal party democracy for discussion and to confront any criticism instead of suppressing it.
The same determination must be shown for mayors and bureaucrats who are named in corruption allegations. It is a requirement of institutional seriousness not to allow political affiliation to take precedence over legal and ethical responsibility, and to take clear steps such as suspension from office or severing ties with the party until they are cleared. Similarly, showing the will to lift the immunity of MPs who have been indicted would be a sign of respect not only for the law but also for the public conscience.
This is where true heroism begins.
Defending a building is easy.
The difficult thing is to question how that building is managed.
It is easy to come up with slogans.
The challenge is to establish an order of justice that makes those slogans redundant.
It is easy to speak out loud.
The difficult thing is to fill that voice.
Therefore, what is needed today is not a politics that says “we can die”, but a politics that can say “we are accountable”.
Because politics is strengthened not by claims of sacrifice, but by the courage of accountability.
And the last word is this:
It is not necessary to defend the headquarters, but to defend the truth.