When looking at the last 25 years in Türkiye, public debate often becomes confined to an inventory of what has been accomplished. Roads, buildings, factories, defense industry projects, universities, infrastructure investments, and institutional transformations are listed and evaluated. Yet, this period should be understood not only through the lens of “what has been done,” but perhaps even more importantly through “what has once again become possible.” For the most critical achievement of the past two decades lies beyond tangible outputs: it is the reemergence of a self-confidence that had been eroding – and at times disappearing – for nearly two centuries.
The roots of this loss of self-confidence do not lie in a superficial story of backwardness, but in a profound civilizational rupture and a loss of language. The central problem throughout the modernization process was not delayed adaptation to technical innovations; it was the weakening of the relationship with our own historical accumulation, value universe and capacity for knowledge production. Over time, this fragility manifested not only in institutional structures but also in modes of thinking, in words, and in the imagination. The fundamental rupture Türkiye faced over the past two centuries was the internalization of the presumption that “we cannot do it.” This assumption spread from the military to governance, from science to the arts, fostering a skepticism toward our own forms while accepting external forms and concepts as natural and superior. Thus, the loss of self-confidence became not merely psychological, but epistemic and cultural in nature.
At this point, the influence of the strong knowledge and language hegemony established by Western civilization becomes unmistakable. Extending from academia to literature, from politics to urban imagination, this hegemony is not merely an external pressure; over time, it has become an internalized standard. The fact that we began evaluating ourselves not through our own lens but through the gaze of others is what ultimately deepened the loss of self-confidence. For societies that recount their own story in someone else’s language eventually cease to be the subject of that story.
In this context, the transformation of the past 25 years signals a critical rupture not only in terms of physical or institutional investments, but in surpassing the threshold of “we can do it too.” The breakthroughs observed in many domains – from the defense industry to infrastructure, from the health care system to higher education – are, in essence, the material manifestations of renewed self-confidence. Yet what truly made these manifestations possible is the crossing of mental thresholds. Put differently, the real issue is not the sum of what has been accomplished, but the mental transformation and new climate that enabled those accomplishments.
However, an important point must be emphasized here. The restoration of self-confidence is not a permanent gain by itself. If this process remains only at the level of practical achievements and is not deepened through knowledge production, language construction, and cultural forms, it will inevitably become fragile once again. For this very reason, the central question we must address today is how this reemerging self-confidence can be transformed into a lasting civilizational capacity.
At this point, universities and the civil sphere assume a critical role. Universities are not merely institutions that provide professional skills. They are the primary spaces where a society determines the lens through which it views itself, how it describes its identity, and the concepts through which it constructs its future. If universities continue to speak largely in someone else’s language and maintain a distant relationship with their own historical accumulation, it becomes difficult for the regained self-confidence to become permanent.
Similarly, the civil sphere is an indispensable part of this process. Self-confidence is strengthened not only through state policies, but also within civil domains where society can express itself, engage in discussion, and generate shared meanings. Authentic connections between universities and the civil sphere enable knowledge to meet life; they also help the civil sphere move beyond reactive and fragmented responses to develop a deeper and more coherent language. This mutual interaction transforms self-confidence from rhetoric into a living social capacity.
At this point, what Türkiye needs is neither a nostalgia that idealizes the past nor a dissatisfaction that diminishes what has been achieved. The real need is to reinforce the self-confidence that has begun to reemerge over the past 25 years through knowledge production, a new language, and the richness of the civil sphere. For self-confidence is meaningful only to the extent that it can continuously reproduce itself.
In sum, the true achievement of the last 25 years lies not in the roads, facilities, or projects that have been built, but in the renewed internalization of the feeling that “we can do it.” When this feeling is supported by the right conceptual framework and an authentic construction of language, it can become not only the foundation of today, but also the strongest capital of the coming century. Otherwise, the accomplishments may remain, but the self-confidence needed to sustain them will once again erode. For this reason, the essential challenge today is to demonstrate the will to transform the regained self-confidence into a new civilizational language.
New threshold
Therefore, as noted above, once self-confidence has been restored, there remains another critical threshold to cross. The recovery of self-confidence does not, by itself, signify a lasting transformation. Self-confidence becomes permanent only when accompanied by a language capable of carrying it, and by structures that can continuously reproduce that language. Otherwise, it may remain a temporary state of mind shaped by circumstantial successes.
At precisely this point, the essential question is the extent to which the newly reemerging self-confidence can be fortified through the construction of a new language. This language is not merely the language of political discourse; it is the way in which knowledge is produced, history is interpreted, society is understood, and the future is envisioned. More clearly stated, the question is this: having reached the point of “we can do it” in the past 25 years, has Türkiye begun to produce genuine answers to the question “how do we make this permanent”? A cautious – but not entirely negative – answer is possible. Yes, we cannot yet speak of a strong and coherent new language; however, signs pointing in this direction do exist.
Notably, in certain areas, striking stirrings can be observed. For example, there has been a marked change in the nature of the relationship established with history and thought. For a long time, the past was treated either as an idealized object of nostalgia or as a burden to be overcome. In recent years, however, a more mature interest has emerged – one that seeks to understand, verify, and bring the past into conversation with contemporary issues. History, for the first time, can be approached without a defensive reflex. This is an extremely critical mental threshold for building a new language.
On the other hand, within universities and intellectual circles, although still limited, there are increasingly visible efforts to construct our own conceptual frameworks. The relationship with Western literature has begun to move, at least partially, away from imitation and passivity toward a more selective and critical engagement. This is not yet a mainstream transformation; however, the mere emergence and legitimization of the possibility of “speaking differently” is, in itself, a significant development. For language can take root only once it gains legitimacy.
In this context, the area that requires the strongest reinforcement is the civil sphere. The discussion of cultural, intellectual, and moral issues beyond academic circles and within broader social grounds will offer a significant opportunity for the socialization of language. The civil sphere will shed its fragmentation to the extent that it engages with universities; and as universities interact with the civil sphere, they will avoid drifting away from social reality. This mutual interaction is one of the rare environments capable of ensuring the continuity of the new language.
Another point that deserves careful attention is the need to distinguish between self-confidence and a sense of competence. The recovery of self-confidence does not mean that every issue has been resolved or that criticism is no longer necessary. When criticism is forgotten – treated as a weakness rather than a condition for continuity – the new language stagnates before it is even born. This brings with it the risk that self-confidence may turn into a complacency that ultimately consumes itself.
In this context, another important point concerns the problems related to institutional continuity. A new language does not survive through isolated success stories; it lives through institutions capable of transmitting it across generations. In universities, cultural institutions, and civil structures, the mechanisms that would guarantee this continuity are not yet sufficiently strong. When language production remains dependent on individuals, it also carries the risk of weakening along with those individuals.
If serious effort is not invested in the areas outlined above, it will be inevitable for the remnants of the old language to shape mainstream reflexes. This will either marginalize new language initiatives or push them into a perpetual defensive posture against the mainstream. A language built from a defensive psychology remains reactive rather than creative and constructive. Such fragility blurs the boundary between political discourse and civilizational language. Therefore, if the construction of a new language is reduced to the rhetorical needs of daily politics, a loss of depth becomes unavoidable. A lasting language, however, can be built not through haste, but through patience, consistency, and broad participation that encompasses all domains.
In conclusion, yes, self-confidence has been regained, and this is historically of great significance. However, transforming this self-confidence into a lasting civilizational capacity depends on the establishment of a new language and the preservation of its continuity. Today, there are signs pointing in this direction, yet significant vulnerabilities persist as well. The success of this process depends not on allowing self-confidence to turn into complacency, but on turning it into responsibility; not on reducing language to slogans, but on making it a mode of production. If we can achieve this – and we can – the last 25 years will not merely be a period of restitution, but the true beginning of a much longer historical journey.
The views and opinions expressed in this article are solely those of the author. They do not necessarily reflect the editorial stance, values or position of Daily Sabah. The newspaper provides space for diverse perspectives as part of its commitment to open and informed public discussion.