 Advice from Erdogan (right) for Mustafa Abdul  Jalil, chairman of Libya’s rebel council
     Advice from Erdogan (right) for Mustafa Abdul  Jalil, chairman of Libya’s rebel council         PALE, bespectacled and polite, Bekir Berat Ozipek, a young professor  at Istanbul’s Commerce University, is no street-fighter. But he was  excited by the heady atmosphere he experienced on a recent trip to  Egypt. He and two fellow Turkish scholars went to a conference at the  University of Cairo where their ideas on civil-military relations were  keenly gobbled up.
Then late one night, on the eve of a big protest, they went to Tahrir  Square, the heart of Egypt’s uprising. They loved what they found:  young people directing traffic, exuberant songs and slogans, a joker  imitating ex-President Hosni Mubarak. Then they dived into a restaurant,  where their chat about Egypt’s political system was joined by  youngsters at the next table, as well as the waiter. Mr Ozipek thought  he was living in the era of Voltaire.
A few days earlier another Turkish-Arab encounter took place. Ahmet  Davutoglu, Turkey’s foreign minister, was winding up a visit to  rebel-controlled Libya when he decided, to his minders’ alarm, to go to  the central square of Benghazi, which like its Cairene counterpart is  called Tahrir, or Liberation. As the crowd chanted “Erdogan, Turkey,  Muslim”, he brought greetings from his prime minister, Recep Tayyip  Erdogan, and told them: “We have a common future and a history.”
      
              From North Africa to the Gulf, the region seems to be going through a  Turkish moment. In years past Turkey’s spotty democracy was often cited  to prove a negative: the Turkish case (along with Indonesia’s and  Malaysia’s, also with reservations) showed that Islam did not pose an  insuperable barrier to multiparty democracy. But nothing much flowed  from that observation—until  the Arab spring. Turkey is now being  studied by Arabs as a unique phenomenon: a movement of moderate  Islamists, the Justice and Development (AK) party, has overseen an  economic boom, boosted the country’s standing and shown that the coming  to power of pious people need not mean a dramatic rupture in ties with  the West.
Whatever the  flaws of the Turkish experiment, it is clearly true  that Turkey under the AK party presents a more benign picture than many  other versions—real and hypothetical—of Islamist rule.  The country has  gained influence in the Middle East by keeping cordial ties with Iran  and standing up for the Palestinians. But there is no suggestion that it  will leave NATO or cut diplomatic links, however strained, with Israel.  Life has been made easier for pious Muslims in ways that secular Turks  dislike; but so far, at least, Turkey is a long way from any  Iranian-style enforcement of female dress, let alone a clerical class  that has the final say in all big decisions.
For Western observers of the Middle East, an evolution in a Turkish  direction—towards relative political and economic freedom—would be a  happier outcome than many others. So is there any reason why the Arab  countries, having passed through their current upheavals, should not  live happily, and Turkishly, ever after?
In fact, there are many reasons to be cautious about expecting Arabs  to follow Turks. Turkey’s moderate Islamism did not evolve overnight.  Its emergence, and taming, took a long time; it depended on many  countervailing forces, including an army which was firm in its defence  of a secular constitution, and was strong enough, at least until  recently, to deter any imposition of Islamic rule (see 
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Both in Turkey and Egypt veterans of political Islam have seen a  mixture of repression and limited participation in politics—but in Egypt  the repression was harsher and the opportunities to practise democracy  fewer. Albeit with fits and starts, Turkey’s Islamists had already  learned some political lessons when they took power in 2002. And  compared with many other politically active armies, Turkey’s has played a  disinterested role. After taking power in 1980, the army moved fairly  soon to restart multiparty politics and launch a free-market experiment.  It did give a sop to Islam by introducing religion in schools; but that  was a modest concession, made from a position of strength.
Compared with its Arab counterparts, Turkey’s secular order has deep  roots, going back to the creation of a republic by Mustafa Kemal in  1923. Modern Turkey’s defining event—the defeat of a Greek expeditionary  force dispatched with Western backing—was also the starting-point of a  ruthless reform effort whose declared aims included “fighting religion”  and ending the theocratic backwardness of the Ottomans. For decades  afterwards, memory of this victorious moment was enough to fill secular  nationalists with confidence, and put pious forces on the defensive.
As a largely devout Muslim nation, Turkey never ceased to produce  charismatic religious leaders, but they had to adapt to the realities of  a secular republic or else face prison or exile. To this day Turkey’s  political and legal system bears the marks of years of army-guided  secularism. Even Turkey’s Islamists remain “children of the republic”,  says Berna Turam, a scholar at Boston’s Northeastern University.
Guidance from Fethullah Gulen
These days the  religious teacher who wields most influence over the Turks is Fethullah  Gulen, who lives in America and forms the apex of a huge conglomerate  that includes NGOs, firms, newspapers and college dormitories in Turkey,  plus schools across the world. Whatever the ultimate aim of Mr Gulen,  his talk is Western-friendly: he mixes the vocabulary of Sufism with  language that is broadly pro-business and pro-democracy.
In contrast to many Arab Islamists he tries to please  Christians and  Jews. Turkish sceptics say the Gulen movement is more fundamentalist,  and less liberal, at its hard core than its benign external face would  suggest. The fate of several journalists who have tried probing it, and  found themselves prosecuted or jailed, lends weight to that belief.  People who criticise the movement can face nasty smear campaigns.
But followers of Mr Gulen claim that meetings they held in the 1990s  had a huge influence on Mr Erdogan, persuading him to abandon the idea  of an Islamic state.  Mr Gulen made an unusual break with the government  after last year’s killing of nine Turks by Israeli commandos who  swooped on a ship taking supplies to Gaza. He said it was partly the  Turkish side’s fault: the flotilla should not have defied Israel. Thus,  when Mr Erdogan faces pressure from pious mentors, it is not to be more  radical but rather the opposite.
Another feature of Turkish Islamism is the number of thriving  businesses with ties to the Gulen movement. Among the drivers of  Turkey’s expansion—the country’s GDP per head is three times that of  Egypt, with a similar population—are provincial entrepreneurs. It is now  commonplace to stress the AK party’s roots in the new Anatolian  bourgeoisie, and its appeal to the consumers of the country’s new-found  wealth: people who mix Muslim piety with a taste for expensive cars.  These groups set limits to the AK party’s ambitions;  like most rich  folk they favour stability. In the Arab world  there are middle-class  Muslims who look with envy at the confidence of their Turkish  counterparts.
Ibrahim Kalin, an adviser to Mr Erdogan, posits another difference  between AK and political Islam as it emerged in Egypt and Pakistan in  the 20th century. Even when pretending not to, the latter movements  always dreamed of a powerful Islamic government, using the tools of  modern statehood, like universal education, to impose a Muslim order.  AK, by contrast, lives comfortably in a world of “lighter” states, where  other agencies, including NGOs, the private sector and academia can  play a bigger role.
In AK circles it is common to hear such postmodern talk mixed with  nostalgia for the Ottoman era, when each faith ran its own system of  education and personal law. Ali Bulac, a columnist, argues that citizens  with civil disputes should consider Muslim arbitration: he says that  could be combined with retaining the secular penal code, a cornerstone  of the republic. Muslim democracy
 alla turca is  already an unusual creature, and is still mutating.