Is the ‘Second Republic’ Now a Reality?
Look here, right here, beneath this black marble—
Had he lived one breath longer,
Lies a child who would have risen
From nature to the throne.
He was killed in a civics lesson.
(Ece Ayhan)
We are at a moment when it is too early to speak, yet too late to remain silent. Therefore, we can neither panic nor afford to be indifferent. Still, with a composed and clear mind, we can identify several noteworthy aspects of the “Terror-Free Türkiye” process and place them meaningfully within the broader arc of Türkiye’s political history.
Rather than focusing on what the media highlighted as President Erdoğan’s most striking remark—“The AK Party, the Nationalist Movement Party, and DEM have decided to walk this path together, at least as a trio”—I would like to begin by reflecting on the headline and lead paragraph of the news article published on the official website of the Presidency regarding the speech. The headline reads, “The dawn of a Great and Powerful Türkiye is breaking,” and the summary states, “Today, the spirit of Malazgirt, the Jerusalem Alliance, and the essence of the War of Independence are taking shape once again.” These statements may well be interpreted as the first signs of a new founding moment. Indeed, the rhetoric of “regime change,” voiced by opposition figures for some time now, and its counterpoint—the discourse of “reckoning with Kemalism”—have both intensified. Meanwhile, the country’s main opposition party has characterized these statements as a “Sunni Islam-centered alliance” and declared, “We will not allow a reckoning through pan-Islamism,” thereby laying out their interpretation of the new process. In this context, rather than fueling an irreconcilable and incomprehensible dichotomy, it would be far more desirable to maintain composure and strive to understand the unfolding realities.
Rather than adopting a mediocre and self-inciting interpretation like that of the main opposition, one concept that can both clearly reveal the foundations of a new political order and render the discourses of “regime change” and “reckoning with Kemalism” ineffective is the “Second Republic”—a notion by no means unfamiliar to Türkiye’s political landscape. Admittedly, past experiences have not left particularly favorable impressions of this concept in the collective memory. Yet this concept should not be approached in the way it has been interpreted by coup-minded mentalities or by representatives of the global cosmopolitan project in Türkiye, who have used it under the guise of an open society. It must be reinterpreted. However, for a proper understanding, we must revisit the context in which the term emerged, trace its historical evolution, and understand why it faded, in order to define the conditions under which we might legitimately refer to a “Second Republic” once again. Although the term “Second Republic” was first used in the 1950s, primarily with reference to the Democrat Party and to describe a broader democratic path, it came to be more commonly associated with the new order established after the May 27 military coup. Immediately following the coup, the term was used by the press and subsequently voiced from the parliamentary rostrum during the formation of the new government, signaling the creation of a new political order. The primary emphasis at the time was neither on reckoning with the First Republic nor on founding a new state. Rather, it pointed to a new system envisioned within the framework of a forthcoming constitution. In this sense, it was comparable to the French transition to the Fourth and Fifth Republics—though France’s Fifth Republic was only three years old at the time. However, the associations evoked by the term were not warmly received, particularly by the members of the National Unity Committee, who perceived it not as a continuation but as a potential rupture. They aligned themselves with the notion of a “single and eternal republic.” Indeed, anxieties about regime change proved valid in every era. Although the “Second Republic” discourse of the 1960s identified itself with a constitutional agenda, it gained little traction either among the political elites (such as CHP and AP) or within broader society. Because it merely pointed to a constitutional reordering—and was perceived as threatening to the First Republic—it quickly lost popularity. Later on, the concept of a “Third Republic” and its variants were also voiced, but none ever matured into an established discourse.
Indeed, the discourse of the Second Republic was resurrected in the early 1990s through an article by Mehmet Altan. This time, contrary to its original meaning, it explicitly involved a reckoning—with sharp criticisms directed at Kemalism and a strong emphasis on the need for a new, democratic constitution. Even the symbolic “first eleven” of the Second Republic had been announced, and there was hope that the re-empowerment of the country’s displaced and uprooted natives would mark the beginning of a new hegemonic era.
However, the way Second Republicans of the 1990s viewed the state was arguably one of the most unfortunate aspects of the entire process. The sanctity of the state was being challenged, and in its more radical and sharpened forms, there was a kind of confrontation with the idea of the nation-state itself. At the same time, the framework imposed by neoliberalism was essentially accepted as the guiding structure. Notably, the Second Republicanism of the 1990s was in close alignment with Neo-Ottomanism—particularly through the figure of Cengiz Çandar (who, as a DEM Party deputy, was present when the terrorist organization PKK symbolically laid down its arms on July 11). This convergence reflected a kind of localized adaptation of the so-called “Green Belt Theory.” That reality is quite significant in shedding light on today’s renewed debates.
Much like the experience of the 1960s, the Second Republicanism of the 1990s was unable to find a strong political will behind it, nor could it generate a broad social consensus.
It is evident that in both historical periods, the discourse of the “Second Republic” was closely tied to a new constitutional process. At the same time, considering the way both initiatives eventually faded, it is clear that in neither case did the ideals or the discourse manage to secure strong political will or broad social consensus. Any future attempt to establish a “Second Republic” will likewise be discussed and debated within the framework of a new constitution.
According to statements by Mehmet Emin Ekmen, the Mersin MP from the DEVA Party and Deputy Chair of the Yeniyol Group, during discussions regarding the relevant commission, it was recorded that the CHP raised a reservation and declared that they would not participate in the commission if it turned into a constitution-drafting body. It is unlikely, therefore, that the process will proceed without a constitution—and with this stance, the CHP has made clear where it stands within the newly forming historical bloc.
In both attempts at a “Second Republic,” the issue of drafting a new constitution was central. However, in the first case, military domination rendered the idea of a civilian constitution unfeasible; in the second, the necessary political will was simply absent. Today, by contrast, there exists a strong political structure—comprising the AK Party with 272 seats, the DEM Party with 56 seats, and the Nationalist Movement Party with 47 seats, together exceeding the three-fifths majority—as well as broad social consensus and a vibrant civil initiative. This creates the conditions for a political landscape fundamentally different from those of the previous two attempts.
One of the most crucial pillars of the new historical bloc process lies in the nature of its relationship with the concept of the state. In contrast to the general attitude exhibited by the Second Republicans of the 1990s, today’s emerging bloc is more than capable of converging around the principle of the national state. In this regard, the stance and contribution of the Nationalist Movement Party cannot be overlooked. Among the components of the national state, the principle of “National Unity” stands out—with its subcomponents including national morale, political stability, and social order. In particular, the concept of “national morale” appears poised to become one of the foundational elements of the new era.
Internally, those who were once displaced—local actors driven from their positions in the past—have now reclaimed their ground and assumed their place in the construction of the new historical bloc. In contrast to the mistakes of previous periods, the elements of this bloc will come together under the framework and umbrella of the national state, standing in opposition to universalist or global cosmopolitan projects. Each will preserve its irreducible discursive identity, and collectively they will become part of a radical effort to construct a new “democratic covenant.” This is not a struggle against the republic, nor an attempt to revive imperial rhetoric under Neo-Ottomanism, nor the founding of a new state. It is the process of establishing a new order within the framework of a new constitution. Whether this process is labeled as the “Second Republic” or not, the new order to be established must be a national and democratic covenant inspired by the Nomos of these lands.
Ultimately, what this process is expected—or at least hoped—to lead us toward is a form of sovereignty grounded in the act of decision-making, in contrast to the post-political condition that dominates today’s world. The distinction between friend and foe will be defined as an outcome of the internally constituted democratic covenant, and this foundation of social consensus will, ideally, be recognized—at the very least—on a regional scale.