Recep Tayyip Erdoğan
We passed 10 firetrucks and other groups in helmets, some in bikinis and without masks. Half of us stayed put, and the other half rushed to help tug at a hose that slithered up a dirt slope and to deliver water bottles to those up there working.
For Erdoğan, Turkish citizens in Austria as well as Germany constitute a “pool of voters for the AKP,” which he may need to draw upon in the 2023 presidential election given his declining popularity at home. But Erdogan is only able to draw on them because he is playing the kind of music Turks in Austria want to hear.
On the margins of capitalism or in the furnace of communism, Turkic peoples have borne the brunt of modernity’s failures and experienced few of its successes. Ancient history, invented or otherwise, offers a refuge.
“My baba left,” I would say to friends, who were still a little mystified I had moved by choice, “and now I’ve come back.” I could never stop myself from saying “back.” In a way, it makes no sense. I had never lived in Turkey before. But it acknowledges something that feels true: that the arcs of our stories stretch beyond our own lifetimes.
Calls within the EU to designate the Ülkü Ocaklari, also known by the moniker “Gray Wolves,” as a terrorist group are portrayed as a crackdown on Turkish far-right extremism. But it raises questions on broader issues about assimilation and inclusion of Turkish immigrants in Europe.
Recep Tayyip Erdoğan and Benjamin Netanyahu have become their countries’ longest-serving leaders by claiming to speak for silent majorities. In doing so, they have taken their respective countries in new directions.
Still today, a majority of the public believes that women were handed their rights on a silver platter. However, according to the rectified version of history, it was in the late 19th century that Muslim women of the Ottoman Empire first started to demand their rights.