The surprising answer to that question not all that long ago was that “nobody knew” or, more to the point, it was too risky to find out. The key to this conundrum was in the great difference in popular usage between “government” and “state.”
Government was the tip of the iceberg you could see, the elected organs of government, the statutes written on paper, the politicians on the stump. “State” was the power behind the throne, the real explanation, the back-room cabals where the real decisions were made. The “state” could not always shun the light, though, and sometimes marched on parade, gave judicial rulings and even held cocktail parties in the presidential palace. Even more mysterious was the “deep state,” the ultimate rationale for why things were the way they were, an untouchable flickering reflection in the depths of an infinity mirror. The deepest recesses of the state did not even have to be Turkish, but could reside in the White House, around the corner at the IMF or at a casual discussion on the golf links where the elders of globalisation convened.
If Turkey could not solve its Kurdish question, tackle inflation or respect human rights, there was no point hammering at the doors at the relevant ministries, since their hands were tied by raisons d’etat. Ask if politicians were upset about their own lack of accountability and the answer is, “What do you expect?” Who wouldn’t want power without responsibility?
Politicians had an under-the-table deal with the eminences grises of the state; they could get on with building up their patronage machines and even enriching themselves as long as they didn’t intervene in the territory that the unelected state considered its own. Just occasionally the more unpleasant aspects of that deal emerged. In 1996 a car crashed outside the town of Susurluk, killing a senior policeman, an ultra-rightist contract killer and injuring a powerful conservative Kurdish MP.
So what has happened under the long tenure in power of the Justice and Development Party (AK party)? The agreement between state and government has clearly broken down. Much of the AK Party’s energies have been spent fighting its own military or defending itself from its own judiciary, and this has been its own excuse for not introducing the sort of sweeping constitutional reforms that would make the political process truly accountable. Cleverly enough, it has made the public question the authority held by the military and whether it has the competence or even the will to combat the security situation in the Southeast. And, for the first time, it has made citizens question the way the courts conduct their own affairs. One way of looking at the current constitutional referendum is that it is an attempt to make the state accountable. It is not just a vote of confidence in the government, but a vote of no confidence in the power of the unelected. The Republican People’s Party (CHP) understands the first part of the equation, but has been slow in coming to terms with the second.
My argument is that the lack of understanding between government and state has up until now worked to the advantage of AK Party. But a theme to take up is that this, too, is destined to change.
