Can We Elevate Turkish as a Language of Science Without Knowing English?

How does a language become a lingua franca of science? Before seeking answers specific to Turkish, let’s take a look at history.

In ancient times, communication and travel were difficult, and the world was fragmented—some regions were even entirely unaware of others. Even in such a fragmented world, we see that the same language spread across vast geographical areas as the language of science within cultural basins: Latin in the Western Roman legacy, Greek in the Eastern Roman legacy, Arabic in the Islamic world, and Chinese in East Asia. For centuries, scholars from various nations, including Turks, Kurds, and Iranians, learned Arabic and often mastered it even beyond native speakers. Similarly, in Europe, Latin remained the dominant scientific language until just a few centuries ago. Even in the late 17th century, an Englishman like Newton wrote his most important work in Latin.

At a certain point, the depth of a language’s conceptual lexicon contributes to its role as a scientific language. However, it is difficult to determine whether a language becomes conceptually rich because it is a language of science or if its conceptual richness makes it a language of science. Political power, economic prosperity, and the ability to produce civilization give a language an advantage. If we do not consider these factors when explaining why English surpassed German and French as the global scientific language, we would be unfair to the latter, as they are arguably more linguistically rich than English.

Another often-overlooked aspect of this topic is its relationship with literature, which does not always directly correlate with economic prosperity. For instance, the pre-Islamic Arabs had a highly developed literary tradition despite a sociological structure that could be considered the opposite of civilization. Analyzing this topic from all angles would require writing a large book. Therefore, in this article, I will assume that political power is the primary causal factor.

With the advent of globalization following the Age of Exploration, the introduction of previously isolated continents, the shrinking of distances, and the redistribution of wealth, the regional scientific languages of Latin, Arabic, and Chinese began to decline. The French Revolution and the rise of nationalism accelerated this fragmentation. Consequently, between roughly 1800 and 1920, for perhaps the first time in world history, every nation produced scientific work in its own language. This was the era when Darwin wrote in English, Einstein in German, and Madame Curie in French. However, after two world wars solidified the global political and military dominance of the United States, we see that between 1920 and 1960, other national languages gradually faded, and for the first time in history, a single language—English—became the global lingua franca of science.

Returning to today, given our current knowledge, is the idea of “Turkish as a language of science” merely a romantic fantasy? Or is insisting on university education in Turkish the key to realizing this ideal? Is this notion, championed by Oktay Sinanoğlu, merely a nationalist reflex?

To summarize my personal views under a few key points:

• Our common goal should be to replace English with a language of our own, not out of nationalism but as an anti-imperialist stance.
• It is naive to think that dethroning English can be achieved solely through Turkish-language education. On the contrary, perfecting English-language education is a more urgent priority. We have an intermediate level of English in science and weak level of English in the social sciences; improving both to an advanced level is essential. Without excelling in English education, we cannot even come close to making Turkish a scientific language. Expecting Turkish to become a scientific language without engaging with and contributing to global scientific literature in English is naive. To put it provocatively: We cannot make Turkish a scientific language without first making English the language of education. In my opinion, the biggest rival to English as a scientific language today is Chinese. One of the main reasons for this is that a significant portion of scientific content produced in English today originates from China (even excluding Chinese speaking scholars in the West).
• Political and economic momentum, along with a large population, is necessary. Mastering English and producing scientific knowledge alone is not enough. It does not matter how much knowledge the Netherlands produces relative to its population; its small size makes it impossible to offer a viable alternative. Therefore, measures to increase Türkiye’s global influence are indispensable if Turkish is to become a language of science.
• Even if we achieve all of this, how do we keep Turkish conceptually rich while conducting everything in English?
  • First, we must abandon ideological disputes over vocabulary. We must stop irrational resistance to words from other languages, including English.
  • Additionally, we must emphasize Turkish reading habits in STEM education. In reality, mastering a foreign language requires first having a strong command of one’s native language. The approach I outlined earlier—”making English the language of education”—does not exclude Turkish; rather, it necessitates implementation of a strong basis of Turkish. Reformulating the solution: We need an education paradigm that begins with intensive language training.
  • For Turkish scientific production, alternative mechanisms must be considered. Underappreciated academic genres such as reviews, perspectives, commentaries, case presentations, technical notes, research notes, summaries, and book critiques could be prioritized in Turkish. While engaging with the global scientific community in English, we can simultaneously develop and maintain a rich repository of Turkish scientific terminology.
• The debate on minorities’ mother-tongue education should be reconsidered within this framework. What we need is not “education only in the mother tongue” but education also in the mother tongue. Any demand for education in Kurdish, for example, that does not also prioritize mastering Turkish and English is a useless nationalist reflex that benefits no one. Learning and teaching local and foreign languages are crucial for expanding intellectual horizons and intelligence. Numerous studies highlight the correlation between multilingualism and intelligence. Given this, hearing young people say, “We have AI now, there’s no need to learn languages,” is deeply disheartening.

In conclusion, unless we master English and produce knowledge in English with the confidence and competence of Zemahshari—who, whether Turkish or Persian, told Arabs, “Come and learn your ancestors’ language from me”—we cannot embark on the path to making Turkish a language of science. We cannot teach young people English properly if they do not first learn Turkish properly. Without prioritizing language education at the foundation of our education system, we cannot achieve this goal. Without reaching political, economic, and demographic maturity, we cannot make meaningful progress on this front.