For decades, Turkey aspired to full integration with the West. Yet its dream of joining the European Union remains unrealised. In 1987, Turgut Özal, then prime minister, formally applied for Turkey to join the European Economic Community, warning that the country faced “a long and narrow road, uphill and full of obstacles”. His words proved prophetic. Almost four decades later, Turkey’s EU accession looks more remote than ever. Although the Union formally recognised Turkey as a candidate country in 1999, and accession negotiations opened in 2005, talks were effectively frozen by the EU in 2018 amid concerns over Ankara’s retreat from democratic standards. Turkey remains a candidate on paper; in practice, as one analyst put it, it is hard today to find anyone willing to bet on Ankara’s eventual membership of the EU [1].
At first, the accession process unfolded in an atmosphere of optimism. In the early 2000s, Turkish governments carried out a series of democratic reforms, aligning domestic legislation with EU criteria. But the causes of the later deadlock are complex and lie on both sides. In Turkey, there was a gradual drift away from the Copenhagen criteria, especially in democracy and the rule of law — a trend that accelerated after the failed coup of 2016 and the mass purges that followed. In the EU, meanwhile, some key member states had doubts from the outset about full Turkish membership. Even in the early years of negotiations, when Ankara was energetically implementing reforms, leaders in France and Germany began promoting the idea of a “privileged partnership” instead of full integration. For Turks, this felt like a dramatic shifting of the goalposts: suggesting alternatives to the membership that had previously been promised undermined the logic of the sacrifices and far-reaching reforms they were being asked to make.
At the same time, Greece and Cyprus systematically blocked Ankara’s progress, linking it to the resolution of their own disputes with Turkey. When a divided Cyprus was admitted to the EU in 2004, Ankara saw it as a breach of earlier understandings. As Sir Peter Westmacott, the British ambassador, put it, “when Cyprus entered the EU, the rules of the game changed” [1]. These developments seeded in Turkey the conviction that the EU had treated it unfairly, corroding trust in the entire accession process. Over time, disappointment with Brussels grew among Turkish society, feeding Eurosceptic sentiment. The belief that the Union had failed to keep its word made it easier for politicians to argue that “Europe will never accept us anyway”. Although a majority of Turks — especially the young and educated — still support the idea of EU membership, faith that it can actually be achieved has sharply weakened.
Meanwhile, the political climate inside the EU has changed. Economic crises, fears over migration and the rise of populist parties, often hostile to Turkey, have reduced enthusiasm for enlargement. Arguments about the difficulty of admitting such a large, Muslim-majority country have gained traction. Russia’s war against Ukraine in 2022 did revive EU enlargement policy — Kyiv was swiftly granted candidate status — but it did not alter Europe’s reluctance towards Turkey [1]. EU officials even avoid referring to Turkey as a “candidate country” [1]. Hakan Fidan, Turkey’s foreign minister, has openly asked whether the EU is still capable of thinking strategically if it rejects such an important ally.
What began more than 20 years ago as a promising process, with the hope of full membership, now resembles a suspended relationship marked by mutual mistrust. The two sides are locked in a peculiar stalemate. Formally, accession negotiations have not been broken off — nobody wants to burn the bridges — but in reality almost nobody believes they will end successfully.
The absence of a credible membership perspective does not mean Turkey and the EU have severed ties. Quite the opposite: the two sides remain bound to one another. In practice, however, the relationship has become transactional. Instead of a grand vision of integration, there are pragmatic bargains where interests overlap. Ankara notes that Europe tends to call when it urgently needs help. At the height of the migration crisis in 2015-16, the EU quickly struck a deal with Turkey, offering billions of euros in support in exchange for stemming the flow of refugees. Similarly, in late 2024, as the number of Syrian refugees arriving from the Middle East rose, Ursula von der Leyen, the European Commission president, announced €1bn in support for Turkey — while brushing aside President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan’s appeals for closer formal ties with the Union.
From Ankara’s perspective, this proves that Europe is guided chiefly by convenience: it is willing to turn a blind eye even to human-rights abuses in Turkey when it badly needs Turkish co-operation. The EU’s approach after Russia’s invasion of Ukraine is a case in point. Brussels seeks Turkish support against Moscow while playing down Ankara’s authoritarian impulses, so long as Turkey remains broadly on the western side. From Europe’s point of view, Turkey remains an indispensable but difficult partner. It is still a crucial member of NATO, with the alliance’s second-largest army and the largest among European members. In the context of war on the continent’s eastern flank, co-operation with Ankara has become more important in energy security and in efforts to contain Russian influence.
The EU and Turkey are also deeply intertwined economically. Since 1995 they have been linked by a customs union, integrating Turkey into European supply chains [1]. The EU is Turkey’s biggest trading partner, and more than half of foreign investment in Turkey comes from Europe [1]. Added to this is a Turkish diaspora of several million people in EU countries, serving as a living bridge between societies. These multiple ties amount to a state of interdependence. Despite political frictions, neither side can afford a rupture, because the costs would rebound on both.
Yet the partnership unfolds in the shadow of deep disappointment. Turks feel betrayed by the West; Europeans are dismayed by Turkey’s authoritarian drift. Brussels regularly condemns Ankara’s retreat from the rule of law. A striking example was the 2023 conviction of Ekrem İmamoğlu, Istanbul’s popular opposition mayor, which deepened concerns over the state of Turkish democracy. Such episodes reinforce the EU consensus that there is little point in reviving accession talks. Ankara, in turn, accuses Europe of hypocrisy: if the Union has no intention of admitting Turkey anyway, why should Turkey meet demanding European standards?
The result is a relationship in limbo. The accession process formally continues, but hopes of a successful conclusion have faded. In place of a shared vision of the future, there is everyday co-operation based on calculations of immediate interest and ad hoc compromise — a necessary relationship, but one stripped of its former belief in strategic partnership.
Turkey’s transformation over the past two decades has brought impressive economic growth, but also vast developmental contrasts — both geographical and social. On one side stand cosmopolitan Istanbul and the western provinces, which in terms of wealth are catching up with prosperous regions of Europe. Historic Istanbul boasts GDP per head of about €38,700, equivalent to 109 per cent of the EU average in 2022 [2]. Other developed areas, such as Kocaeli and Ankara, are not far behind [2]. On the other side, in eastern Anatolia, there are regions where annual income per head is only €8,000-10,000, or roughly 25-30 per cent of the EU average. The poorest province, Van, manages just €8,600 in GDP per head, or 24 per cent of the EU average [2].
This translates into a stark gulf in living standards. Modern towers, airports and shopping centres in western metropolises stand in sharp contrast to poverty in many villages of mountainous Kurdistan. The historic divide between the richer west and poorer east has endured despite numerous equalisation programmes. As early as the 1970s and 1980s, large projects such as the Southeastern Anatolia Project, known as GAP, were launched to stimulate development in neglected south-eastern regions. Infrastructure was indeed built — dams and power plants among it — but the development gap was not closed.
In recent years, the consequences of conflicts in the Middle East have added a further challenge. Turkey has taken in about 3.7mn refugees from Syria, many of whom have settled in cheaper, poorer southern provinces, placing additional strain on local labour markets and public services. Meanwhile, industry and services have flourished in the west. Cities such as Bursa, Kocaeli and Antalya have grown rapidly, attracting investment and labour migrants from the interior — the phenomenon of the so-called “Anatolian tigers”. Internal migration has intensified pressure on large cities, where modern housing estates and office blocks rise alongside slums on the periphery. The result is a two-speed Turkey: one made up of modern urban centres where wealth and opportunity are concentrated, the other of peripheries struggling with unemployment and underinvestment.
According to OECD data, Turkey’s regional disparities are among the largest in the developed world. Comparing the richest 20 per cent and poorest 20 per cent of regions, the gap in GDP per head is the widest among 30 OECD countries analysed [3]. The central government has tried to counter this by investing in infrastructure — roads and airports connecting provinces with the rest of the country — and by offering incentives to companies that locate factories outside Istanbul or Izmir. Yet the cultural and economic distance between “European” western Turkey and the Anatolian interior remains a challenge. It is a source of social and political tension that periodically surfaces in Turkish public life.
The renovated departures hall at Istanbul’s new airport — Europe’s largest, opened in 2018 — is emblematic of the scale of Turkey’s recent infrastructure ambitions. In recent years, Turkish authorities have delivered striking projects that have changed the country’s physical landscape. The Justice and Development party, or AKP, in power since 2002, made public investment one of the principal engines of economic growth and national pride. Hundreds of kilometres of new motorways and railway lines have been built; the number of airports has risen from 26 to 58 [4]. Above all, Turkey has pursued spectacular “megaprojects”: vast bridges, tunnels and flagship public buildings.
One example is the Çanakkale 1915 Bridge over the Dardanelles, opened in March 2022. With the world’s longest main span, at 2,023 metres, it became an engineering showcase for Turkey [2]. There have been many similar ventures: Istanbul’s third bridge over the Bosphorus, the Yavuz Sultan Selim Bridge; the enormous new Istanbul Airport; the Eurasia road tunnel beneath the Bosphorus; and the planned Istanbul Canal, an alternative waterway to the Bosphorus. All are intended to demonstrate Turkey’s aspiration to join the world’s infrastructure elite.
Yet these huge investments are often being delivered “at any cost” — both literally and figuratively. Most megaprojects have been built through public-private partnerships, typically under a build-operate-transfer model, in which private consortia finance construction in exchange for the right to operate the asset for many years. The government boasts that such projects do not burden the budget. Reality is more complicated. The contracts are based on availability payments made by the state. If, for example, a bridge or airport fails to attract the expected number of users, the Treasury pays the operator the difference. Availability payments are not inherently problematic; in many countries, they are a standard way of financing infrastructure. The problem arises when traffic forecasts are wildly detached from reality. Such cases are what give PPPs a reputation for being costly and tainted, even though well-designed contracts can generate real benefits.
Moreover, journalistic investigations suggest that many contracts have been awarded to companies linked to the ruling camp, often without transparent tendering. Megaprojects have become instruments of clientelism, guaranteeing large profits for loyal businessmen who repay the favour through financial support for the government and government-controlled media. Several examples illustrate the scale of the problem. The Çanakkale 1915 Bridge was celebrated as an engineering triumph, but traffic has proved far lower than forecast. In its first year of operation, the bridge achieved only about 9 per cent of the projected number of crossings, meaning the state had to cover most of the guaranteed revenue. Estimates suggest that in 2024 alone, operators of the bridge will receive about €380mn in subsidies — more than €500,000 a day paid by taxpayers, whether or not they use the bridge [5].
An even more extreme case is Zafer regional airport in western Turkey. It was built for about €50mn, but was saddled with such inflated passenger guarantees that the Treasury has already paid the operator more than the airport cost to construct. In 2024, the guaranteed number of passengers was about 1.3mn; barely 33,000 used it — less than 3 per cent. The private company had to be paid tens of millions of euros, prompting opposition MP Deniz Yavuzyılmaz to describe the airport as “a black hole sucking money out of the budget” [5]. In total, the state’s commitments to Zafer airport until 2044 amount to more than €200mn, generating colossal public losses for negligible social benefit [5].
Critics argue that the building frenzy promoted by Erdoğan has another purpose. Inflated contracts drain public finances and swell debt, while distracting attention from necessary structural reforms. Spectacle has taken precedence over efficiency: grand openings of bridges, stadiums and hospitals matter more than the quality of spending. Many investments have been pursued not because they meet real needs, but because they confer prestige. The planned Istanbul Canal, still on the drawing board, is often described as an expensive vanity project that threatens ecological damage and is driven largely by political symbolism. Similarly, new airports and concert halls have sometimes been built in cities still lacking basic municipal infrastructure.
Even so, the megaprojects have brought tangible benefits. Turkey now has a modern network of roads and bridges, helping integrate the domestic market. The authorities argue that these investments create jobs, stimulate local economies and improve quality of life. In image terms, they strengthen national pride: Turks speak proudly of “Europe’s biggest airport” or “the world’s longest bridge” being located in their country. The question is how high a price present and future generations will have to pay for them.
After 2008, Turkey recovered quickly from the global financial crisis and grew at an impressive pace for several years. Over time, however, troubles mounted. Erdoğan embraced his own unorthodox economic doctrine: he argued that high interest rates push prices up, and therefore pressured the central bank to cut rates even as inflation rose. In the short term this made borrowing easier and fuelled consumption. Soon, however, events spun out of control. The lira lost value sharply, and everything Turkey imports — from fuel to food — became rapidly more expensive [7].
At the end of 2021, the lira plunged and panic gripped the currency market. Within weeks, the dollar rose against the lira by almost half, while inflation jumped in December from 21 per cent to 36 per cent. The central bank tried to put out the fire by selling dollars from state reserves, but this was only a temporary remedy [8]. In 2022, inflation reached 85 per cent year on year, its highest level since the 1990s. Prices rose month after month, and household purchasing power melted away. The government raised the minimum wage and introduced relief measures, easing pressure on wallets but also adding further fuel to the inflationary fire [6], [7].
Foreign investors began to turn away from Turkey, and credit ratings fell. Only after the 2023 elections did the authorities make a 180-degree turn. Mehmet Şimşek, known for a more predictable approach, was put in charge of economic policy. Interest rates rose quickly — from single digits to around 50 per cent in 2024 — and the lira was no longer artificially propped up. This was painful, as credit became more expensive, but inflation began gradually to decline: from the extremes of 2022 to an annual average of around 58 per cent in 2024, and then further down in 2025 [7], [8].
This “return to normality” came at a cost. The economy slowed markedly, and the government had to raise taxes to close the budget. In 2025, politics once again intruded onto the economic field. The arrest of Istanbul’s opposition mayor frightened markets, the lira slumped again, and the central bank had to defend the currency by selling billions of dollars from reserves and raising rates to restore calm. The episode showed that investor confidence remains fragile and depends not only on economic decisions, but also on political stability [7], [8].
Despite the turbulence, the government has stayed the course. High interest rates are meant to “extinguish” inflation, while a weaker dollar and the tourist season are expected to help rebuild foreign-exchange reserves. The central bank forecasts a gradual fall in inflation in the coming years. In 2025, economic growth is expected to remain moderate, driven mainly by services and tourism — a sector that, after the pandemic slump, is again setting revenue records [8], [9].
This does not mean Turkey’s problems are over. Even “lower” inflation of thirty-something per cent still eats deeply into wages, while a weak lira raises import costs, especially for energy. The labour market continues to suffer from high female unemployment and low labour-force participation, limiting the country’s development potential. Other risks loom too: possible tensions in the Middle East and the enormous cost of rebuilding regions devastated by the 2023 earthquake [8].
In short, Turkey has learnt that cheap credit and artificial support for the currency can create a brief sense of prosperity, but eventually produce expensive food, costly electricity and market distrust. Only a return to harder rules — high interest rates and a more restrained state — has begun to cool prices. For the improvement to last, Turkey needs not only sound economic decisions, but also political calm and predictable government action [6], [7], [8], [9].
Paradoxically, even as Turkey has grappled with macroeconomic turmoil, it has in recent years emerged as a dynamic centre for new technologies and start-ups. The country has become a regional innovation hub. A young, well-educated population and advanced digital infrastructure have encouraged the rise of technology companies. In 2023, Turkish start-ups attracted more than $700mn in investment, mostly from foreign venture-capital funds [10]. This is an impressive result, showing growing interest among global investors in Turkey’s technology scene. The government has created special technology zones and offered incentives for innovative firms, aiming to increase Turkey’s share of global technology investment from 1 per cent to 5 per cent [10].
The effects are visible. Around the Bosphorus, a group of start-ups valued at more than $1bn — so-called unicorns — has emerged. The best-known Turkish unicorns include:
• Trendyol — an e-commerce platform, the country’s largest online marketplace. In 2021, Chinese giant Alibaba bought a majority stake in Trendyol, valuing the company at $16.5bn [10].
• Getir — an ultra-fast grocery delivery app built around the “15-minute courier” model. Thanks to international expansion, it reached a valuation of about $7.5bn at the end of 2021 [10].
• Peak Games — a mobile-games studio, creator of hits such as Toy Blast and Toon Blast. In 2020, America’s Zynga acquired Peak for $1.8bn [10].
• Hepsiburada — Trendyol’s rival in e-commerce, which in July 2021 became the first Turkish company to list on Nasdaq, at an offering valuation of about $4.4bn [11].
• Insider — a marketing-technology company offering a platform for data analysis and personalisation. In 2022, it achieved unicorn status with a valuation of about $1.2bn [12].
• Dream Games — another success story from mobile gaming, creator of the popular Royal Match, also valued at more than $1bn soon after its founding [12].
These successes point to the potential in the Turkish economy beyond traditional sectors. Young entrepreneurs are proving that they can build products and services that compete globally, while large funds — from Silicon Valley to the Gulf — are willing to invest in their growth. It is worth stressing that this innovation dynamic has taken place despite an unfavourable macroeconomic environment: rampant inflation, currency instability and a degree of regulatory unpredictability. Some start-ups register abroad, for instance in the Netherlands or the United States, to raise capital more easily and shield themselves from risk. Even so, their main operations and talent remain in Turkish metropolises.
Sport plays a special role in building Turkey’s prestige — especially football, which around the Bosphorus enjoys a status close to religion. Erdoğan, privately an ardent fan and a former semi-professional footballer, has for years invested political capital in the development of sports infrastructure. Across the country, there has been a genuine stadium revolution: old grounds from the 1970s and 1980s are being replaced by modern arenas meeting UEFA and FIFA standards. As Erdoğan himself has said, the number of sports facilities has risen from 1,575 in 2002 to 4,470 today [4]. Thirty-eight stadiums have been built or modernised, with a further four under construction [4]. New arenas have appeared not only in metropolises such as Istanbul — where the 75,000-seat Atatürk Olympic Stadium was renovated for the 2023 Champions League final — but also in medium-sized cities from Diyarbakır to Eskişehir.
As a result, Turkey now has infrastructure capable of hosting almost any major sporting event. Its ambitions in this area are beginning to bear fruit. After several failed attempts to secure the right to host football tournaments — Turkey bid unsuccessfully several times for the European Championship — UEFA awarded it, jointly with Italy, Euro 2032 in October 2023 [4]. For the first time, a tournament of that scale will come to the Bosphorus. It is a recognition of the country’s infrastructural progress. Istanbul had already hosted Champions League finals, including in 2005 and 2023, as well as other European finals; the UEFA Super Cup was played there in 2019 [4]. In 2026, the Europa League final will be held at Beşiktaş’s stadium in Istanbul, while the planned new 50,000-seat 19 Mayıs Stadium in Ankara is likely to host the 2027 Conference League final, provided it is completed on time [4].
Erdoğan makes no secret of his organisational ambitions. In 2025, he declared that Turkey was ready even to host the Olympic Games, pointing to the country’s sporting successes and modern infrastructure. The expansion of stadiums and success in hosting events serve not only sporting purposes, but political ones. For the authorities, they are a way to improve Turkey’s image abroad — as a modern, hospitable country that matters internationally. Major events also cement national pride and give the government an opportunity to mobilise society around the supposedly apolitical emotions of sport.
The head of the Turkish Football Federation publicly thanked Erdoğan and the government for “building magnificent stadiums and raising our transport and hotel capacities above global standards”, saying that without this Turkey would not have won the right to host Euro 2032 [4]. Yet in the shadow of the new stadiums lie the challenges of Turkish football itself. Clubs enjoy enormous support, but struggle with finances and with competitiveness against western powers. The Süper Lig is among Europe’s leading competitions in terms of attendance and fan engagement, but its economic potential has been undermined by the currency crisis and inflation.
Television contracts worth hundreds of millions of lira have lost value in euro terms as the currency has depreciated sharply. Between 2020 and 2024, the TL/EUR exchange rate fell from about 0.15 to barely 0.03, dramatically reducing clubs’ real income from media rights. The latest broadcasting deal was nominally 159 per cent higher than the previous one, but this increase reflected the weakness of the domestic currency rather than any genuine improvement. As a result, leading clubs such as Galatasaray, Fenerbahçe and Beşiktaş must balance budgets, restrain wage spending or seek new sources of revenue, such as transfers of stars to Arab leagues. Even so, they can still shine from time to time: Galatasaray is remembered for its UEFA Cup triumph in 2000, while Istanbul Başakşehir caused an upset in 2020 by winning the national title as a relatively new club backed by the authorities.
The story of Turkey over the past two decades is one of grand ambitions colliding with hard reality. On one side lies the unfulfilled dream of a European community — a project that was meant to anchor Turkey in the West, but foundered on mutual mistrust and geopolitical obstacles. On the other lies Turkey’s own path of development: full of impressive infrastructure achievements, but also internal tensions and economic turbulence.
Turkey has built and modernised on a scale unprecedented in its history. Motorways cut across Anatolia; record-breaking bridges link continents; stadiums and skyscrapers have transformed city skylines. At the same time, the country struggles with the ailments typical of emerging powers: runaway inflation, inequality and a democratic deficit. Europe, having chosen not to admit Turkey into its club, must now deal with it as a strategic neighbour — sometimes helpful, as with refugees or mediation with Russia; sometimes inconvenient, as with authoritarian drift or disputes in the Mediterranean.
One consequence of Turkey’s exclusion has, paradoxically, been a rise in its assertiveness outside EU structures. Ankara pursues a more independent foreign policy, balancing between East and West and seeking its own place in the emerging world order. For Turks, the absence of a “European anchor” has meant greater freedom of manoeuvre — developing ties with Russia, China or Muslim countries, for instance — but also the loss of an impulse for reform and of the predictability that the accession perspective once provided.
Today, Turkey’s relations with the West rest more on mutual necessity than on shared values, making them fragile and full of tension. And yet Turkey remains a country without which many of Europe’s problems cannot be solved. Geography and demography have condemned it to play the role of a bridge between civilisations, literally and figuratively. It is young, dynamic and ambitious, but also marked by contradictions. Can it realise its dream of becoming a modern, prosperous country while preserving its own identity? Can it find a model for coexistence with Europe — not as a member of the club, but as an equal partner?
These questions remain open. What is certain is that Turkey will continue along its own road, full of bumps and bends, trying to reconcile aspirations with capabilities. Its story is a reminder that development is not linear, and that political choices can have long-lasting consequences. In 2025, Turkey stands between ambition and reality: richer and stronger than before, yet also aware of the weight of opportunities missed.
[1] GIS Reports – “Turkey’s unfulfilled European hopes – transactional”: https://www.gisreportsonline.com/r/turkey-eu-transactional/
[2] Wikipedia – Economy of Turkey; 1915 Çanakkale Bridge: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Economy_of_Turkey ; https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1915_%C3%87anakkale_Bridge
[3] OECD – Türkiye country note (Regions & Cities at a Glance): https://www.oecd.org/content/dam/oecd/en/publications/reports/2025/01/oecd-regions-and-cities-at-a-glance-2018-country-notes_a745da06/turkiye_611c79b3/2dd02745-en.pdf
[4] Daily Sabah – „Erdoğan boasts of Türkiye’s ability to host any major sporting event”: https://www.dailysabah.com/sports/football/erdogan-boasts-of-turkiyes-ability-to-host-any-major-sporting-event
[5] Bianet – Çanakkale Bridge; Zafer Airport (PPP): https://bianet.org/haber/canakkale-bridge-opened-costs-to-nature-and-public-259369; https://bianet.org/haber/built-by-public-private-partnership-zafer-airport-to-cause-208-million-euro-of-public-loss-240684
[6] FocusEconomics – Turkey Inflation Rate: https://www.focus-economics.com/country-indicator/turkey/inflation/
[7] OSW – “Turbulent stabilisation: Turkey’s economy under Şimşek’s supervision”: https://www.osw.waw.pl/en/publikacje/analyses/2025-07-09/turbulent-stabilisation-turkeys-economy-under-simseks-supervision
[8] World Bank – Turkey Overview: https://www.worldbank.org/en/country/turkey/overview
[9] Property Turkey – Start-up industry overview: https://www.propertyturkey.com/index.php/blog-turkey/turkeys-startup-industry-a-hub-of-innovation-and-investment
[10] Reuters – Hepsiburada Nasdaq debut: https://www.reuters.com/world/middle-east/turkeys-hepsiburada-valued-36-bln-strong-nasdaq-debut-2021-07-01/
[11] World Economic Forum – 4 Turkish unicorns: https://www.weforum.org/stories/2022/09/these-4-turkish-unicorns-divulge-how-to-support-digital-transformation-and-the-start-up-ecosystem/
[12] StadiumDB – Euro 2032 explainer: https://stadiumdb.com/news/2023/12/euro_2032_what_do_we_know_so_far
