Turkey's Great Divide

Only a few months ago, Utku Koseoglu would spend his evenings playing football or maybe downing an Efes beer or two with friends at a waterside nightclub in one of the trendier parts of Istanbul. His reading ran to thrillers like The Da Vinci Code. But these days, the 27-year-old lawyer is more likely to be found hunched over a conference table in a cramped and sweaty office in Istanbul's hectic Kadikoy district, toiling late into the summer night writing blogs, collecting Web clippings and organizing marches. When he finds time for a book, it's the writings of Turkey's revered founder Kemal Ataturk, not Dan Brown. "I could have been starting my career," he says with a wry smile. "Instead, I am doing this."

The reason for his conversion to political activism, he says, is that his country is facing the gravest threat to its secularist identity in more than 50 years. The ruling Justice and Development Party (AKP), led by Recep Tayyip Erdogan, has links, he believes, to Islamic sects that are intent on undermining democracy and Turkey's treasured secularist principles. For the the sake of the nation, says Koseoglu, they must be defeated at the polls. "We want to expose the true face of the AKP and make sure no vote is wasted." The little outfit to which he belongs, formed a year ago under the title the Kemalist Politics Group, is one of scores that have emerged in in the run-up to parliamentary elections on July 22. In a rare expression of political will from a middle class that has traditionally seen scant need to get involved, these groups have organized dozens of marches that have brought millions onto the streets in cities across the nation. "Our strategies are long-term," says a friend of Koseoglu's, Demir Buyukozkan, 28, at a recent late-night session in Istanbul. "In the next generation, our goal is to be leaders of this country."

Unfortunately for these emboldened secularists, a great many young conservatives have precisely the same goal. Indeed, supporters of the AKP, which has dominated the Turkish parliament for the past five years, have been invigorated by the secularists' opposition. After the Turkish army, a stalwart (if frequently undemocratic) defender of the country's secular heritage, intervened in April to block the party's choice for President, the AKP vowed to leave the decision to the people by calling for early elections. (If the party wins a majority in the parliament, it aims to change the constitution to allow a direct presidential vote.) Hundreds of thousands of volunteers for the AKP are, like their secularist counterparts, pounding the pavement in 81 provinces to rally support.

In an interview with TIME, Turkey's Foreign Minister Abdullah Gul, whose efforts to become President were opposed by the military because his wife wears a head scarf, said he plans to stand for the job again if the party is returned to power. "What we have done in the last five years speaks for itself," he says, noting, for example, his party's move for Turkey to adopt the European Union's body of law. "Is this an Eastern country's legal system? Is this Shari'a? No, it is the European laws! We are upgrading this country. We are the real reformers."

These elections promise to be the most hotly contested in memory, and turnout may reach historic highs. Seaside cottages are renting for half price on the balloting weekend as Turks plan to flock back to the cities to vote. Conspiracy theories are rife as parties accuse each other of undermining Turkish democracy. At stake are policies vitally important in Turkey and beyond, including the question of whether or not to send Turkish forces into Iraq, Turkey's stalled membership talks with the E.U., and economic and democratic policies at home. On most of these issues, Turks are deeply divided.

And nowhere do the fault lines run deeper than among young Turks. A generation not previously known for its activism is rallying around secularist, pro-Islamic or nationalist flags in unprecedented numbers — a political awakening attributed by some to the ideological currents of the present campaign. Their convictions and involvement are key in a nation where nearly 70% of the population is now under 35, the highest proportion among industrialized economies. And political parties are making tremendous efforts to woo the young. An attempt by the AKP to lower the age of eligibility for a seat in parliament from 30 to 25 just narrowly missed being implemented. "We are forcing them to get involved," Gul told TIME. "They are the future of this country." Mark Parris, a former U.S. ambassador to Turkey now at the Brookings Institution in Washington, says 2007 is pivotal: "This could define the kind of country that Turkey is for a generation."

For years, young secularists like Utku Koseoglu took their power for granted. They saw themselves as the rightful heirs to Ataturk, the West-leaning founder of modern Turkey in 1923 who decreed a secular state and exhorted subsequent generations to defend it. Ataturk's "secular establishment," rooted in the military and judiciary, became a kind of ruling class. When political parties strayed too far from secularist principles, the army stepped in — for example, to force an Islamist-led government from power in 1997. Few young Turks felt compelled to vote, the more so after the military banned political parties from campuses following a 1980 coup.