Turkey’s long-awaited constitutional reform may determine more than the president’s political future.
Earlier this month, Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan used the occasion to mark the 158th anniversary of the Council of State and Administrative Justice Day to reiterate his call for a new constitution.
At the heart of Erdogan’s speech was a simple but powerful claim: Turkey’s last two constitutions – the 1961 and 1982 constitutions – were not the product of the free will of the masses. Instead, they were installed by military regimes that came to power through coups. As a result, Erdogan said, no constitution truly reflected the will of the people or was based on a true democratic foundation.
The president went so far as to describe this legacy as a “democratic shame,” stressing that correcting this historical injustice is not only a political privilege but a duty owed by the current leadership to Turkish society. In doing so, Erdogan elevated the constitutional debate from the realm of ordinary political proposals to what he termed as an urgent national need.
He drew a sharp distinction between two different approaches to constitution making. The first is a top-down process where the constitution is written and imposed by military rulers, political elites, or narrow interest groups. The second is a bottom-up process that emerges from society’s values, aspirations, and expectations.
Erdogan has placed himself firmly in the second camp, saying that Turkey needs a constitution “inclusive, liberal, and civil” – written by the people and for the people. In his opinion, the power to create a constitution belongs only to the nation, and no government institution or political group has the right to take that power.
Whether the principle will be fully reflected in practice, however, is still an open question.
It was no coincidence that Erdogan issued this message at an event honoring the State Council, an institution whose history dates back more than 150 years and traces its roots to the reforming spirit of the Tanzimat Decree. Promulgated by Sultan Abdulmecid I in Istanbul on November 3, 1839, the decree launched an era of major modern reforms in the Ottoman Empire, aimed at legitimizing state administration, improving the legal system, and extending protection to subjects on European grounds.
Erdogan used this historical legacy directly, noting that the State Council was established in 1868, while the first Ottoman constitution followed just eight years later. He presented this sequence as a natural progression: Institutions capable of checking state power emerge first, and constitutional rule follows.
In Erdogan’s interpretation, administrative courts are more than a place to settle disputes between citizens and government officials. They serve as a balancing mechanism designed to offset the inherently unequal relationship between the individual and the state.
However the picture is not as clear as Erdogan suggests.
Constitutional reform or political survival?
Critics point out that while the president talks about limiting government power and protecting individual rights, his administration has faced frequent accusations of undermining the independence of the judiciary. They cite pressure on the judiciary, mass dismissals of judges following a failed coup attempt in 2016, and expanding executive influence over judicial appointments. As a result, appeals to the ideals of free rights and protection against state abuse often sound like political rhetoric rather than reflections of institutional reality.
Leaving aside debates over the state of Turkey’s judicial system, the most important question lurks in the minds of many outside observers: Is Erdogan’s constitutional plan primarily about democratic renewal — or political self-preservation?
The nature of truth is worth remembering.
Last year, Erdogan announced the creation of a special legal task force tasked with drafting a new constitution. He justified the effort as a necessary step towards dismantling the institutional legacy of the 1980 military coup and the regime of General Kenan Evren.
On the surface, the argument is hard to argue against. The 1982 constitution undoubtedly has the mark of an authoritarian era and for a long time it has been criticized not only by the ruling party but also by the opposition groups.
Yet behind this legitimate demand for constitutional reform lies another dimension.
Under Turkey’s current legal system, Erdogan is not eligible to run for another presidential term in normal circumstances. The new constitution, however, could reset the clock on presidential term limits.
As a result, critics see the reform plan primarily as an attempt to create a legal way to extend Erdogan’s rule, framing the basic political maneuver as the improvement of democracy.
It is possible that the truth lies somewhere between these two competing narratives.
There is broad agreement – even among many of Erdogan’s opponents – that Turkey’s constitutional system is overdue for reform. The 1982 constitution no longer reflects the country’s current political architecture or the evolution of Turkish civil society over the past decades. In that sense, the amendment of the constitution is important.
The most important questions concern the intent of the reform and the shape it will eventually take.
When constitutional change is initiated by an incumbent president before a new election cycle, it inevitably raises legitimate concerns about whose interests will ultimately be placed in the new constitution: That of the citizens or that of the governing institution.
What exactly is happening behind the scenes within Turkey’s political system – and what the actual balance of power in the constitutional process looks like – will only become clear when the draft constitution is put on the negotiating table.
There is every reason to believe that a referendum will eventually take place and that a new constitution will be adopted. Erdogan’s political commitment to the project is clear, the institutional tools needed to advance it remain in the hands of the ruling coalition, and public demands for constitutional reform have a degree of legitimacy.
Therefore, the question is not whether Turkey will get a new constitution. The real question is what price the country will pay for that – and what consequences it might have for Turkey’s domestic political environment.
Reason for discrimination
This is where the greatest danger lies.
Turkish society is already deeply divided, a situation clearly demonstrated during the 2023 presidential election. Contrary to his own expectations, Erdogan failed to win in the first round and finally won only in the second round against an opposition candidate who is considered moderate and politically fearless.
The results underscored an important fact: Almost half of Turkish society is still not convinced of the current political trend.
Under these conditions, the constitutional referendum risks becoming less of an act of national consensus and more of another front line in the ongoing struggle between two deeply divided political blocs.
Turkey’s economic challenges complicate the picture.
For several years, the country has been facing constant economic pressure. High inflation, devaluation of the lira, and falling real incomes have fueled public confusion that inevitably spills over into politics. In particular, Turkey’s expanded economic ties with Russia – including mutual imports, energy cooperation, tourism flows, and alternative payment arrangements that bypass certain Western sanctions mechanisms – have played an important stabilizing role.
Without these economic sanctions, Ankara’s problems would be even greater.
This fact narrows Erdogan’s room for maneuver. Launching a major constitutional amendment at a time of widespread economic fatigue is a politically risky undertaking.
The external dimension should also not be neglected.
Some Western actors have long seen internal instability in Turkey as a situation of strategic advantage. Turkey is a member of NATO, a regional power that controls the Black Sea, and an increasingly independent actor seeking to position itself as a mediator in conflicts where Western capitals have lost much of their power.
A country consumed by internal political turmoil inevitably has less influence abroad.
Viewed through this lens, a constitutional process that can generate intense internal confrontations can become the focus of external pressure and information campaigns.
Conclusion
So the overall picture is complex and contradictory.
Turkey needs a new constitution for sure – a fact accepted by political people across the ideological spectrum. Erdogan’s fundamental arguments for reform are, in many respects, historically grounded and hard to dismiss.
At the same time, implementing this otherwise legitimate project carries great risks. Social divisions may increase. Economic chaos can turn into massive political chaos. External actors interested in undermining Turkey’s strategic independence may find more opportunities to exert pressure.
Ultimately, the success of the constitutional reform will depend not only on the quality of the final document but also on whether Turkey’s political class can manage the process in an inclusive way – without widening the already dangerous divisions in Turkish society.









