ON a recent Turkish Airlines flight, I diligently read the two English-language dailies distributed onboard. Both contained many column inches of material castigating Fethullah Gulen, the preacher who heads a vast network of educational and other social welfare institutions in Turkey and abroad. He has been accused by the government of instigating the recent coup attempt that left hundreds dead and designated a terrorist. When the coup fizzled out in the face of civilian opposition, tens of thousands of military personnel were jailed; close to a hundred thousand civil servants and teachers sacked; and scores of media outlets shut down.

Now, Turkey is demanding that the US hand over the fugitive. But although a formal extradition request has been submitted, together with a dossier purporting to contain evidence of the cleric’s involvement, American authorities are reluctant to act until a court has scrutinised the documents to ensure that they will hold up in the face of a legal challenge.

While Recep Teyyep Erdogan, the Turkish president, has used the failed coup as an excuse to neuter all opposition, it is his controversial decision to enter the anti- militant Islamic State group campaign aimed at liberating Mosul that is most worrying Turkey’s allies. Iraq has protested over the Turkish incursion, and there are growing concerns that the presence of Turkish Sunni troops will exacerbate existing sectarian tensions. As it is, many fear that once the IS is driven out of Mosul, Iraqi troops and Shia militias might clash with the largely Sunni civilians. So the presence of more armed Sunnis from Turkey only adds to these fears.

With Kurdish peshmergas threatening to keep the area they liberate, many experts darkly hint at the possible break-up of the modern Iraqi state into its earlier Ottoman components of Kurdish, Shia and Sunni provinces. Indeed, Erdogan suggested such a possibility when he reminded the crowd at a recent rally in Bursa that “Mosul and Kirkuk were ours in the past”. To him, this was a justification for Turkish involvement. He went on to state that the Ottoman Empire had been reduced from 20 million square kilometres to a mere 780,000 that comprise the Turkish state today.

An ethnic factor Erdogan uses to justify his intervention in Iraq and Syria is his stated concern for the welfare of the Turkmen minorities there. He is using their presence to counter the claims of the Kurds to statehood. Specifically, he is seeking to bolster and justify Turkish military presence to neutralise the Kurdish PKK and its Syrian offshoot. Indeed, he has recently invoked the so-called National Pact (or National Oath) to claim legitimacy for Turkish intervention in its southern neighbours. This ‘pact’ dates back to 1918 when an armistice was declared between Turkey and the victorious coalition, and was intended to demarcate territory — including Mosul and areas north of Aleppo — held by Turkey at the time. But the 1923 Treaty of Lausanne that formally broke up the Ottoman Empire handed Mosul to the newly created state of Iraq, while Turkey agreed to relinquish land around Aleppo to Syria.

This was done at a time when Turkey lay exhausted and defeated after years of warfare. Kemal Ataturk, the creator of modern Turkey, was pragmatic and cautious, realising that his country was in no position to fight to keep territory. Indeed, his policy for years can be summed up thus: “Peace at home; peace abroad.” Now, Erdogan is questioning the wisdom of the revered Turkish ‘father of the nation’, arguing that a more patriotic leader would have fought harder to retain the borders promised under the National Oath.

Of course Erdogan has to tread carefully while criticising the iconic founder of modern Turkey. Ataturk’s statues and portraits adorn public squares and official buildings across the country, and school textbooks praise him to the skies. And as he enshrined secularism in the new constitution, Erdogan, a conservative Muslim, has struggled to introduce religion into public life. So by criticising Ataturk’s lack of patriotism, he hopes to undercut his secular ideals. Indeed, this is the major fault line in Turkish politics today.

As Turkey’s troubles in the region have multiplied, and its long-time American ally has sought to distance itself from Turkish policy towards the Syrian Kurds, Erdogan has sought to normalise ties with Russia, Israel and Egypt. In particular, the Turks are peeved with Washington for its perceived lack of sympathy over the failed coup, and its refusal to hand Gulen over.

The ongoing PKK and IS campaign of terror against Turkey has underlined the high cost of Turkish policies. And while PKK has targeted police and army personnel, IS has been indiscriminate in its attacks. The result has been a steep fall in the number of tourists visiting Turkey, with an accompanying decline in revenue.

While these can be seen as short-term problems that can be overcome, the real worry is about Turkey’s political trajectory. More and more, Erdogan sees himself as an Ottoman pasha master of all he surveys from his garish new 1,000-room palace in Ankara. His increasingly authoritarian pronouncements do not chime with the demands of a modern democracy. With virtually all independent media outlets silenced, and the judiciary under threat, there is virtually no check on Erdogan’s power. And with ongoing discussions to hold a referendum on giving him even greater authority under an executive presidential system, Turkish democrats fear the worst.

Once viewed as a potential member of the EU and an inspiration to Muslim nations struggling to evolve into democracies, Turkey is increasingly being seen as a country regressing towards autocracy. Sadly, Erdogan is doing everything he can to reinforce this impression.

irfan.husain@gmail.com

Published in Dawn, October 31st, 2016