A couple of decades ago, the application was a bureaucratic nightmare, the price one had to pay in order to live in Turkey. By the time I finally received the coveted document with the permission to stay for another 12 months, I was sometimes so frustrated that thoughts of getting on the first plane out crossed my mind.The application involved several visits to the police headquarters and hours, if not days, of queuing in a crowded room. There was no particular order to the proceedings. People jumped the queue or disappeared into the müdür’s office if they had a special connection to seal the deal. For a while, like many foreigners around me, I employed the services of a fixer -- a komisyoncu -- who knew how to meander his way through the administrative labyrinth.
Visa and residence permit procedures aren’t easy anywhere, and I know Turks often face tremendous hurdles and lengthy waits when they want to travel abroad. But Turkish bureaucracy always appeared particularly forbidding. The sheer number of steps and people involved any bureaucratic endeavor never failed to surprise me.
Retrieving a parcel sent by relatives abroad from the customs office was a daunting task that involved a trip to a packed office where a dozen stamps and signatures had to be collected from as many counters. I remember spending the best part of a day in a warehouse in Karaköy, dimly lit by low-power light bulbs, in the late ‘80s to retrieve a few chocolates my mother had sent my children. We were told that parcels were only allowed at Christmas time and had to pay a fee to retrieve the gift.
But year after year, in line with Turkey’s overall transformation, interaction with the bureaucracy improved. Red tape has been drastically cut down, officials are more polite and the process is now surprisingly swift and efficient.
This year, in İstanbul, applicants were asked to make an appointment via the Internet before turning up in person at the foreigners’ department. As a result, it took me less than half an hour to submit my application for a new residence permit and only five minutes to retrieve my residence permit two days later. The evolution I describe is based on my own experience, that of a journalist granted permission to stay on the basis of an annual press card, and may not apply to all foreign residents, but it seems symptomatic of a major change of approach.
There were seats in the waiting room where a motley crew of people from all over the world waited for their turn, and even a video screen to keep them entertained. Not only does the new system ease the job of the civil servants, who no longer have to confront angry crowds, but it also shows a greater degree of respect for applicants, who don’t waste days waiting in line. It also seems to have brought a greater degree of transparency to the proceedings, limiting the potential for abuse.
These changes have appeared in parallel with Turkey’s economic development and its ongoing democratic transition, but these days, the debate over the country’s reform process is often so acrimonious that concrete evidence of positive change is sometimes overlooked.
But, as the country marks the third anniversary of Hrant Dink’s murder, it is also obvious that Turkey still needs to shed a light on many corners of darkness. The inquiry into the death of the respected Turkish/Armenian journalist and activist has become a litmus test of Turkey’s ability to confront anti-democratic forces. Until the people who plotted his death are exposed and tried, no amount of bureaucratic improvements will be sufficient to bolster Turkey’s democratic credentials.
