Religion as a Tool of Outreach: Historical Reflections on the Gülen and Adnan Oktar Movements in Their Relations with Israel

Abstract

This study examines the strategic deployment of religion as a political tool in contemporary Turkey through a comparative analysis of two ideologically distinct Islamic movements: the Gülen movement (Hizmet) and the movement of Adnan Oktar. Despite their divergent theological premises and organizational structures, both movements articulate religious worldviews that diverge significantly from dominant Islamist narratives—particularly in their surprisingly affirmative positions toward Israel. Rather than treating religion as a fixed doctrinal corpus, this article conceptualizes it as a flexible repertoire shaped by political context and rhetorical need. In this light, Israel emerges not as a diplomatic partner but as a symbolic site through which broader ideological positions are negotiated. The contrast between the two movements sheds light on how religious language can serve as both a boundary marker and a strategic resource in the articulation of identity, authority, and ideological distinctiveness. This article contributes to a deeper understanding of how Islamic movements in Turkey—often perceived as monolithic in their opposition to Zionism—can, under certain conditions, reframe religion to support non-hostile, and even sympathetic, positions. It offers a framework for analyzing the political uses of religion without overlooking theological nuance or disregarding intra-Islamic plurality.

1. Religion and Politics in Turkey Within a Historical and Theoretical Framework—Secularism and Kemalism

The evolution and dynamics of Turkish Islam are shaped by a unique synthesis of religious, cultural, and political influences. This historical trajectory is evident in the way Turkish Islam has evolved significantly from the Ottoman period to the modern period in the Republic of Turkey. Islam in Turkey is deeply rooted in the country’s Ottoman heritage. The Ottoman Empire (1299–1922) was a major Islamic caliphate that institutionalized Sunni Islam as the state religion while accommodating diverse religious practices within its vast territory. The Sultan, also the Caliph after the demolition of the Abbasid Caliphate in 1517, was seen as the protector of the Muslim ummah (community), intertwining political authority with religious legitimacy.

Sufism, or Islamic mysticism, has played a pivotal role in shaping Turkish Islam. Sufi orders (tarikatlar) such as the Mevlevi, Bektashi, and Naqshbandi have historically been influential. The Mevlevi Order, founded by the followers of Jalāl al-Dīn Rūmī, emphasizes love and tolerance, while the Bektashi Order, associated with the Janissaries, blended Shia and folk traditions, promoting a more syncretic form of Islam (Birge 1994).

The establishment of the Republic of Turkey in 1923 under Mustafa Kemal Atatürk marked a radical shift. Atatürk’s secular reforms aimed to reduce the influence of Islam on public life and align Turkey with Western modernity. Key reforms included the abolition of the caliphate, the closure of religious schools (madrasas), and the banning of Sufi orders. One of the most consequential measures in this regard was the official closure of all Sufi lodges (tekkes) and dervish convents in 1925, which effectively dismantled the institutional presence of Sufism in the public sphere. These measures were not isolated administrative adjustments but part of a comprehensive ideological project to redefine the foundations of Turkish identity along secular–nationalist lines. The Kemalist elite sought to replace Islam’s institutional authority with a rationalist, positivist worldview rooted in the principles of laicism (laiklik), and thereby to establish state control over religious expression. The Directorate of Religious Affairs (Diyanet İşleri Başkanlığı), founded in 1924, exemplified this paradoxical approach: while ostensibly separating religion from politics, the state nonetheless retained a monopoly over the production and regulation of religious discourse. As Erik J. Zürcher noted, “the aim was not to create a secular society in the Western liberal sense, but to nationalize and domesticate Islam under state supervision” (Zürcher 2004, p. 181). Through legal, institutional, and symbolic reforms—including the adoption of the Swiss Civil Code and the Latin alphabet—the Kemalist regime sought to displace Ottoman–Islamic continuity and inscribe a modernist, Western-oriented national narrative (Zürcher 2004).

However, it is important to note that the concept of secularism (laiklik) in Turkey differs significantly from Western notions of secularization. Rather than advocating a strict separation of religion and state, Turkish secularism has historically involved state supervision and regulation of religion as a means to control social and political order (M. Çınar 2015; Yavuz 2003). This “state-centered secularism” creates a distinct framework within which Islamist movements must navigate and articulate their religious identities.

This historical framework has shaped how Islamist movements position themselves vis-à-vis the state. Rather than rejecting secularism outright, many movements, including those led by Gülen and Oktar, articulate their religious identities in negotiation with this distinct secular structure. Understanding this context is crucial for readers unfamiliar with the Turkish setting, as it clarifies the specific tensions between secular state authority and religious activism, which differ from more conventional Western secular–religious divides. This distinction also elucidates why Islamist actors in Turkey may engage with state institutions and foreign actors such as Israel in complex and varied ways that reflect their navigation within a secular yet religion-regulated environment (Cornell 2015).

Despite secularization in Turkey, Islam remained a significant cultural force. From the 1950s onwards, religious movements became more visible socially and politically without opposing the secularism of the Republican People’s Party. After the country transitioned to a multi-party system in the 1946 elections, the Democrat Party (Demokrat Parti) won the 1950 elections. This party softened the state’s strict secular policies, a trend that continued until the first military coup in 1960. During this time, state-controlled Islamic organizations and Sufi orders reemerged. The Republican People’s Party’s failure to provide breathing space for religious groups created opportunities for center-right conservative parties. During these years, Turks began studying abroad, particularly in Egypt and Saudi Arabia, and brought back political Islam and the Sunni tradition of the Muslim Brotherhood and Salafis (Cornell 2015).

During this period, the Turkish government gradually adopted a more tolerant stance toward religion, marked by a series of initial concessions. Among these were the reintroduction of Islamic education in primary schools for two hours per week, the restoration of the Arabic call to prayer, the construction of mosques in rural areas, and the facilitation of increased pilgrimage to Mecca. The first of these measures—religious classes—was implemented as early as 1949 during the rule of the Republican People’s Party (Cumhuriyet Halk Partisi, CHP). However, the majority of visible religious accommodations and symbols were introduced and significantly expanded under the Democrat Party (DP) governments between 1950 and 1960.

In the late 1950s, the Democratic Party’s critical stance toward Kemalism led to military intervention and the party’s downfall. The 1950s and 1960s introduced new intersections between Islam and the secular Turkish Republic.

Political Islam entered Turkey’s political landscape in 1969 with the establishment of the National Order Party (Milli Nizam Partisi) by Necmettin Erbakan, despite constitutional restrictions on the instrumentalization of religion for political purposes. Erbakan’s Islamist discourse, though framed within legal democratic mechanisms, challenged the Kemalist vision of secularism by promoting an Islamic moral economy and cultural authenticity. The 1970s witnessed heightened ideological polarization and widespread political violence, which culminated in the 1980 military coup.

Amid the broader Cold War environment, the 1980 coup was not only a domestic response to political chaos but also a reaction to mounting geopolitical pressures. The Soviet invasion of Afghanistan (1979) and the Iranian Revolution that same year intensified Western fears of ideological contagion across Turkey’s borders. Military planners, operating within NATO’s strategic perimeter, viewed Turkey as a key buffer against both Soviet communism and Iranian-style Islamism. As noted by Feroz Ahmad, the coup was tacitly welcomed by Western allies who regarded the Turkish military as a guarantor of regional stability and ideological containment (Ahmad 1993). Notably, the military regime, while suppressing radical Islamist movements, simultaneously endorsed a “Turkish–Islamic synthesis” (Türk-İslam sentezi) (Kafesoğlu 1985) to counter leftist ideologies and contain Iranian revolutionary influence.1 This strategic use of religion entailed cooperation with moderate Islamic countries such as Saudi Arabia and a partial rehabilitation of Sufi orders and Islamic institutions under state surveillance (Yavuz 2003; White 2002; Zürcher 2004).

Islam in Turkey experienced a revival during this period, largely due to the military’s support, as well as Özal’s policies, which emphasized Islam as part of Turkish identity. Özal sought to renew the Turkish–Islamic synthesis, blending Islamism with nationalism. Additionally, legal changes from 1976 to 1983 facilitated the renewal of charitable and social functions of religious organizations and Sufi orders, enhancing their social significance. As a result, religious movements became central to powerful political and economic networks, having been strengthened further by the political, socioeconomic, and cultural dynamics of the 1980s and 1990s. Özal opened government positions to religious citizens and encouraged religious entrepreneurs to expand their businesses. Furthermore, Özal’s neoliberal policies, adopted by the state, were designed to ensure economic growth and to strengthen the private sector. These policies helped enhance the influence of religious movements by integrating them into the political and economic fabric of Turkey. The survival of Islamic groups after the 1980 coup facilitated their growing influence in both the state and society (Aviv 2023).

The rise of Erbakan’s political Islam provoked direct confrontation with Turkey’s secular military establishment, which culminated in the 1997 “postmodern coup.” Central to the conflict were education reforms that extended compulsory schooling from five to eight years and thereby weakened the influence of religious vocational schools. In 1998, Erbakan’s party was banned through judicial and military coordination, which reflects the continued guardianship role of the secular elite.

During the AKP’s (Adalet ve Kalkınma Partisi, or Justice and Development Party) first decade in power, the party developed a mutually beneficial alliance with a spectrum of Islamic communities—including Nakşibendi-affiliated groups such as İsmailağa and Menzil, the Fethullah Gülen movement, and localized Salafī associations. Through institutional mechanisms, the state granted these groups public legitimacy, licensing their educational institutions, granting access to TOKİ housing projects, and integrating their members into key branches of the bureaucracy, judiciary, and security apparatus (Çarkoğlu and Toprak 2006; A. Çınar 2015). The Directorate of Religious Affairs played a central role in amplifying the theological narratives aligned with AKP’s priorities, while Islamic groups reciprocated through electoral mobilization and provision of grassroots welfare services. This arrangement produced a form of Islamic corporatism, wherein the state informally delegated elements of social governance to religious actors in exchange for political loyalty and ideological alignment (Özbudun 2014; Yavuz 2009).

However, the collapse of relations with the Fethullah Gülen movement after the 2013 corruption investigations and especially following the 2016 coup attempt revealed the vulnerability of this model. The state swiftly reasserted control over the religious sphere, signaling its unwillingness to tolerate autonomous Islamic actors capable of challenging central authority (Bermek 2024).

Religion manifests itself across multiple dimensions in Middle Eastern states, namely, through identity, ideology, institutions, and political culture. Politics has shaped religion as much as, if not more than, religion has shaped politics, and this reciprocal relationship is clearly visible in the interaction between religion and state. Turkey provides a particularly illustrative case. Over the past century, it has undergone a significant transformation—from the Ottoman Empire’s instrumental use of religion, especially through pan-Islamist ideology aimed at consolidating the Sultan’s authority, to the establishment of a secular nation-state, and more recently, to the emergence of a post-secular political order. Today, Islam’s political role is being revitalized—in a way that is often described as neo-Ottomanism—without a complete break from the country’s secular foundations. The protection of Muslims and the provision of aid to fellow believers have become central pillars of the country’s foreign policy (Solarz 2020).

The main aim of this study is to critically examine how religion is mobilized as a political and ideological resource by two influential Islamic movements in contemporary Turkey: the Gülen movement and the movement of Adnan Oktar. Specifically, this study focuses on the religious discourse each movement employs in relation to Israel and Zionism—an ostensibly unlikely site of engagement for Islamist actors. Through this comparative inquiry, this study seeks to uncover the ways in which theological narratives are repurposed to serve strategic objectives in domestic and transnational arenas. This research interrogates the tension between authentic religiosity and instrumental political deployment of religious language within the Turkish Islamic context. The central research question guiding this study is as follows: “To what extent do the Gülen and Adnan Oktar movements’ discourses on Israel reflect genuine theological positions, and to what extent are they politically motivated strategies designed to accrue legitimacy, influence, or distinctiveness within the broader Islamic sphere in Turkey and beyond?” This study explores whether their engagement with Israel constitutes a sincere commitment to interreligious dialogue and pluralism, or rather a calculated move to differentiate themselves from other Islamist currents—particularly from the more confrontational rhetoric associated with Erdoğan’s AKP and the legacy of Milli Görüş.2

This study contributes to the scholarly literature on political Islam, religious soft power, and Turkish–Israeli relations by offering a nuanced and empirically grounded analysis of two unconventional case studies. By examining the contrasting postures of Oktar and Gülen toward Zionism and the State of Israel, it complicates the prevalent binary assumptions in the study of Islamism—that religious actors must necessarily adopt antagonistic positions toward Jewish identity and the Israeli state. This research highlights the capacity of Islamic movements to adapt their discursive strategies to align with broader political opportunities and reveals religion as a flexible field of negotiation rather than a fixed ideological boundary. It also brings to light understudied aspects of intra-Islamic diversity in Turkey, while foregrounding the role of charismatic authority and eschatological claims in shaping foreign policy alignments.

2. Methodology

The selection of Adnan Oktar and Fethullah Gülen as focal cases in this study was based on their distinct yet complementary strategies of religious engagement with the secular Turkish state and with foreign actors, particularly Israel. While both figures operated outside the formal political system, each constructed an alternative Islamic authority that intersected with national and international agendas. Oktar’s media-centric, visually saturated messaging and his direct outreach to Jewish and Israeli figures contrasted sharply with Gülen’s more institutionalized, educationally grounded, and globally networked approach.

By juxtaposing these two movements, this study aims to reveal the varied modalities through which Islamic discourse can be instrumentalized—not only to articulate theological positions but also to negotiate power, legitimacy, and foreign relations. Their inclusion thus serves a comparative purpose, illustrating different configurations of religious soft power within and beyond the Turkish context.

This study employed a qualitative methodology centered on critical discourse analysis (CDA), focusing on how religious language and symbolism are strategically mobilized by two Islamic actors—Adnan Oktar and Fethullah Gülen—in the context of Turkish political and foreign policy discourses. The primary materials analyzed include televised interviews, media appearances, public statements, and published writings by both Oktar and Gülen. These were interpreted within the broader socio-political transformations that have shaped Turkey’s religious and national identity from the late twentieth century to the present.

In addition to these public-facing sources, this study draws extensively on archival documentation, including unpublished diplomatic correspondence and policy memos from the Israel State Archives, as well as verbatim transcripts of plenary and committee debates in the Grand National Assembly of Turkey (TBMM). These documents provide insight into the official treatment of both movements by state actors and offer a comparative view of how Turkish and Israeli institutions responded to the religious-political positioning of Gülen and Oktar.

The textual analysis is further enriched by original interviews with senior Israeli religious figures, including Rabbi Yitzhak Haleva, who played a direct role in interfaith initiatives involving Oktar’s organization. These interviews served not only as sources of factual clarification but also offered valuable interpretive perspectives on the broader implications of such engagements.

Methodologically, this study adopts an interdisciplinary framework, integrating perspectives from political theology, media and religious studies, and Turkish political history. This combination allows for a nuanced understanding of how religious discourse operates both as a vehicle for spiritual authority and as a tool of geopolitical influence.

While this study clearly employs critical discourse analysis as its methodological approach, it further identifies and builds specific analytical categories and networks of meaning to guide its interpretation. These categories include religious legitimation, identity construction, political alignment, and interfaith dialogue. The relationships among these categories reveal the political and symbolic meanings embedded in the discourses of both movements, illustrating how religious language is strategically deployed to negotiate power and legitimacy domestically and internationally. By explicitly outlining these categories and their interconnections within the Methodological Section, this study provides a clearer framework for understanding the complex and pluralistic nature of Islamic movements and their interactions with Israel.

3. Attitudes Toward Zionism in Turkey: A Concise Historical Perspective

It is essential to contextualize both the Gülen movement and the Adnan Oktar movement within the broader ideological framework that has historically characterized segments of Turkish Islamic leadership, particularly in relation to Israel and Zionism.

Until the 1950s, overt expressions of hostility toward Jews and Israel were relatively marginal in Turkish public discourse. While pan-Turkist publications in the 1930s and 1940s occasionally echoed antisemitic views—sometimes influenced by Nazi racial theories—such rhetoric was far from mainstream, and antisemitism was not a dominant theme in either state policy or popular media. In the 1950s, however, Islamic literature and press in Turkey began to reflect a gradual intensification of hostility toward Jews, and even more so toward the State of Israel and its foundational ideology, Zionism. In other words, anti-Jewish motifs became increasingly visible in Turkish Islamist publications throughout the two decades following 1950. These attitudes grew progressively more strident, although it was only from the 1970s onward that they adopted a distinctly political and economic character, particularly in anti-Zionist and anti-Israeli contexts. Several concrete examples may be noted: In the 1930s and 1940s, antisemitic rhetoric appeared primarily in pan-Turkist journals, often under the influence of racial theories imported from Nazi Germany. Beginning in the 1950s, such propaganda became increasingly prominent in Turkish publications influenced by Islamist actors, and its tone and scope continued to escalate in subsequent years (Landau 1988).

Over the years, a significant number of Muslim leaders involved in Turkish political and religious discourse have emphasized opposition to Zionism and, at times, to Israel itself—positions that have served to reinforce their religious and ideological authority. This antagonism has often been embedded within a wider narrative of perceived global threats, in which Freemasons, Christian missionaries, and Jews are depicted as interconnected foreign elements inimical to both Islamic and Turkish national interests. Although antisemitism has not traditionally found deep roots in either Turkish governmental policy or widespread popular sentiment, Islamist actors have managed to intensify their rhetoric by anchoring it in selective references to the Qur’an and Hadith. Through this strategy, they have fused classical religious sources with modern political grievances, thereby transforming anti-Zionism—and, by extension, anti-Israeli sentiment—into a central component of their ideological arsenal. This process has not only served to consolidate their popular base but has also contributed to the construction of a coherent villain archetype, tailored to resonate with both religious and nationalist audiences. The cases of both Gülen and Oktar, albeit in different ways and tones, must be read against this backdrop of evolving religious-political engagement with the “Jewish question” and with Israel’s symbolic role in the Turkish Islamic imagination (Landau 1988).

Islamist discourse in Turkey, rooted in early Islamic hostility toward Judaism, frequently conflates opposition to Jews, Zionism, and Israel without drawing clear distinctions between them. This trend began with individual spokesmen and grew to be taken up by pseudo-scholars using dubious sources, and eventually organized Islamist groups that employed anti-Jewish, anti-Zionist, and anti-Israel rhetoric as a core propaganda tool. From the Islamist perspective, this conflation has proven effective—particularly within a political climate marked by a state-led cooling of relations with Israel, a process that Islamist propaganda has both exploited and reinforced through the construction of a unified villain image (Landau 1988).

In the last three decades, Islamic discourses in Turkey have undergone a gradual transformation. The 1980s and 1990s were dominated by the political Islamic discourse of Erbakan and the Milli Görüş, which also included anti-Western and anti-Zionist Islamist rhetoric. However, especially after the “soft coup” in 1997, when the military clamped down on Islamist politics, which it saw as a threat to the secular order in Turkey, these types of discourses have been increasingly marginalized. Instead, a more moderate Islamic discourse developed, which sought to align itself with the state and negotiate the terms of secularism. Avowedly turning its back on Islamist politics, a reformist wing of Milli Görüş formed AKP, which came to power in 2002 and whose political identity may be characterized as conservative-Islamic nationalist and neo-liberal rather than Islamist. Antisemitic rhetoric was never part of the mainstream political discourse in Turkey, and Turkey’s foreign policy vis-à-vis the Arab–Israeli conflict has generally been one of caution. Turkey has sought to strike a balance between maintaining good diplomatic relations with Israel and supporting UN resolutions against Israel, as well as recognizing Palestine (Aykan 1993). Throughout the 1990s, the growing Islamist movement in Turkey sought to mobilize political discontent over the plight of the Palestinian people by intensifying their anti-Israel and anti-Jewish rhetoric. The polemic of the Islamist newspapers became harsher, often failing to distinguish between Israelis, Zionists, and Jews. The Welfare Party sought to appeal to Islamist sentiments by combining anti-Western and anti-Zionist rhetoric. Necmettin Erbakan, the leader of the Milli Görüş, was known for harboring anti-Zionist views bordering on antisemitism.. According to Turkish scholar Rıfat Bali, two main themes in Necmettin Erbakan’s anti-Zionist rhetoric were the notions that international Zionism aims for world domination and that Zionism is a source of anarchy in Turkey (Bali 1999).

While the AKP initially presented itself as a break from the overt Islamism of Erbakan’s era, its ideological lineage remains unmistakably rooted in the Milli Görüş tradition. Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, as a political protégé of Erbakan, inherited not only his mentor’s organizational infrastructure but also key elements of his worldview, particularly in relation to Zionism. Under AKP leadership, the discourse on Zionism was strategically reconfigured: although couched in humanitarian concern for Palestinians, it drew on earlier Islamist tropes that equated Zionism with racism. This rhetoric reached a defining moment not only at the 2009 Davos forum, where Erdoğan publicly condemned Israeli policy as war crimes, but more pointedly at the 2013 Alliance of Civilizations Forum in Vienna. There, Erdoğan grouped Zionism together with antisemitism, fascism, and Islamophobia, declaring all to be crimes against humanity. Despite international backlash, he firmly reiterated his position. His remarks reflect a broader discursive trend within the AKP, where the denunciation of Zionism operates as a moral mirror to Islamophobia, casting Turkey as a defender of global justice while reproducing older patterns of Islamist conspiracism under the guise of civilizational critique (Aviv 2017, p. 75).

This discursive framework was reinforced and disseminated through popular culture, most notably via Turkish television dramas (dizis) that merged nationalist and Islamist narratives. One salient example is the Valley of the Wolves (Kurtlar Vadisi) franchise, which aired episodes depicting Israeli agents as child killers and organ traffickers, particularly in the 2009 Gaza-themed film Valley of the Wolves: Palestine. Such productions, aired on mainstream Turkish channels, often with tacit governmental support, served to entrench anti-Israel sentiment by dramatizing geopolitical grievances through emotionally charged visual storytelling. Scholars have noted the role of these series in shaping popular perceptions of Zionism and reinforcing Erdoğan-era civilizational binaries (Anaz 2017; Çevik 2024).

4. Religion as a Political Tool in the Gülen Movement: Core Religious and Political Principles

Fethullah Gülen’s movement, known as the Fethullah Gülen movement or Hizmet, is a religious and social movement that emerged in Turkey during the 1970s. Gülen, who passed away in 2024, was once a highly influential figure in Turkey’s political and social landscape. He began his journey as a conservative religious leader before evolving into the head of an educational movement that impacted various fields both within Turkey and internationally. The development of the movement was intertwined with its relationship to the Turkish state and its political struggles, especially under the rule of Recep Tayyip Erdoğan (Yavuz 2003).3

The movement began taking shape in the mid-1970s, although its ideological and intellectual foundations can be traced back to the teachings of Bediüzzaman Said Nursi (1877–1960). Nursi, a pivotal Islamic scholar and anti-materialist thinker, authored the six-thousand-page Qur’anic commentary Risale-i Nur and laid the groundwork for what came to be known as the Nurcu movement. Following Nursi’s death, his followers splintered into several sub-communities throughout the 1960s and 1970s, often divided by political and methodological disputes. Gülen, who had been a state-employed preacher, gradually gathered a distinct group of followers and, by the early 1970s, had formed a separate, coherent community under his leadership. While drawing on Nursi’s theological legacy, Gülen reinterpreted his concept of Hizmet (service) as a broader communal mission to serve Islam through education, dialogue, and civic engagement. Inspired by Nursi’s model of religious reading circles (dershane), which functioned as quiet sites of Islamic resistance under the secular Kemalist regime, Gülen expanded these into a modernized, organized network. Despite some theological and ideological convergences with other Islamic groups of the period, notably the Naqshbandi Order, the Gülen community differentiated itself by its preference for engagement with state structures and the liberal market. Importantly, Gülen maintained a deliberate distance from overt political Islam, refraining from supporting Necmettin Erbakan’s Refah Partisi (Welfare Party), much as Nursi had avoided full political alignment with Adnan Menderes and the Democratic Party in the 1950s (Bermek 2024).4

This period of formation coincided with a tumultuous decade in Turkish history, marked by severe political polarization between the radical left and the nationalist right, which culminated in the 1980 military coup. Amidst this turbulence, Gülen’s movement adopted a consciously non-confrontational path, aiming to promote ethical and religious values rather than direct political involvement. The movement’s experience during these years left a lasting imprint on its strategic posture. In the 1990s, it established the Abant Platform (Abant Bildirisi), a pioneering forum that brought together intellectuals of divergent political and religious views to encourage dialogue and consensus-building in the public sphere. In the late 1990s, Fethullah Gülen became embroiled in a major controversy with the secular-nationalist establishment of the Turkish Republic following the release of video recordings that sparked public outcry. These recordings, made in 1997 but released in 1999, depicted Gülen advising his followers to infiltrate state institutions “carefully, without drawing attention”, and to “wait for the opportune moment” to act from positions of power. These remarks were interpreted by the secular elite and the military as evidence of a covert Islamist strategy to undermine the secular nature of the state—an effort fundamentally at odds with the principles of Kemalism and the separation of religion and state. As a result of the scandal, a legal investigation was launched against him, and Gülen chose to leave Turkey, going into self-imposed exile in the United States (Seufert 2014). This incident marked a turning point in Gülen’s public image, framing his movement as potentially subversive in the eyes of both the state and segments of the broader public, despite its prior emphasis on moderation and interfaith dialogue.

Although Gülen denied these allegations—claiming the video was manipulated—this incident marked the start of an increasingly hostile campaign against the movement within Turkey. After the 1997 military “soft coup” and the media backlash of 1999, the movement lost domestic legitimacy and shifted its center of gravity abroad, especially to the United States. In subsequent years, it expanded its operations in Europe, South America, and Africa, often emphasizing education, intercultural dialogue, and global peace initiatives.

This external shift marked not only a geographic relocation but also the beginning of a period of strategic global expansion. During the 2000s, the Gülen movement significantly expanded its global presence through schools, media, and dialogue platforms. It gained more visibility. The movement also amassed significant wealth during this period, which allowed it to expand its educational institutions, media ventures, and interfaith activities across many regions—although, notably, its penetration into the Arab Middle East, Iran, and Israel remained limited or cautious (Hendrick 2013).

Following the attacks of 11 September 2001, the movement intensified its efforts to frame itself as a model of non-violent, dialogical Islam, presenting Gülen as a global religious intellectual whose ideas resonated with the values of tolerance and coexistence. This strategy was reflected not only in public discourse but also in the increasing number of academic conferences and institutional initiatives bearing Gülen’s name. Despite the forced exile of its leadership and many of its members, the Gülen movement has demonstrated organizational resilience and ideological continuity abroad. Through its global educational and interfaith networks, the movement has reconstituted itself in diaspora, framing exile as both a spiritual test and a historical mission (Shively 2024; Tee 2020).

Fethullah Gülen’s engagement with Jewish leaders and Israeli representatives in the late 1990s and early 2000s reflects a deliberate and strategic attempt to position himself—and, by extension, his movement—as a proponent of interreligious dialogue, moderation, and global coexistence. While his earlier writings and sermons contained statements that could be interpreted as anti-Jewish, often reflecting the broader populist religious atmosphere in Turkey during the 1970s, the 1990s marked a significant shift in tone and policy.5 This change is illustrated by a series of documented encounters with major Jewish figures and organizations. The Jewish–Gülenist dialogue, while not central to the movement’s early years, became emblematic of its international outreach strategy and self-representation as a force of moderation. The willingness to engage with Jewish communities and with Israel on theological and cultural grounds illustrates the movement’s complex and pragmatic use of religious discourse in the service of public legitimacy.

The earliest known meeting occurred in 1997, when Gülen met with senior representatives of the Anti-Defamation League (ADL) in New Jersey, including Abraham Foxman and Kenneth Jacobson. Jacobson recalled that the meeting was initiated after Gülen was described to the ADL as a “moderate voice” in Turkish Islam, and that the encounter confirmed his image as someone committed to tolerance and constructive engagement with Jews and Israel. A second meeting followed in Istanbul in 1998, during a visit by the Conference of Presidents of Major American Jewish Organizations. Despite opposition from Turkish authorities and members of the Jewish community, Jacobson and others insisted on meeting Gülen, who again emphasized themes of moderation, peace, and interfaith cooperation (Aviv 2010, pp. 104–6). Gülen’s approach was not limited to the American Jewish establishment. In 1997, he also met with Israel’s Chief Sephardic Rabbi, Eliyahu Bakshi-Doron, in Istanbul, at the initiative of Zali De Toledo, the Israeli cultural attaché. Although initially controversial—given Gülen’s unofficial status and tensions in Turkish–Israeli relations—the meeting was approved by both the Turkish Directorate of Religious Affairs and the Israeli Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Rabbi Bakshi-Doron raised the plight of imprisoned Iranian Jews, and Gülen expressed solidarity, although he clarified that he had no direct ties with Iranian authorities. The encounter, however, also included Gülen’s interest in opening schools in Israel, which underscores the movement’s educational diplomacy and global ambition (Aviv 2010, pp. 106–8). In the 14th Meeting of the Parliamentary Investigation Commission on the FETÖ/PDY Coup Attempt (Türkiye Büyük Millet Meclis, Tutanak Dergisi, 9 November 2016), an additional insight emerged: Ankara’s former Chief of Police, Cevdet Saral, alleged that Gülen was acting as a CIA operative, citing the establishment of some 165 schools worldwide as evidence of CIA involvement. He asserted that the meeting with Rabbi Bakshi-Doron had been used as the official pretext to open yet another school, with each institution effectively serving as an intelligence outpost. He also mentioned that the February 1998 meeting participants examined Gülen’s fluid self-presentation—sometimes emphasizing nationalist credentials, other times cultivating ties with Kemalist institutions—before, in a more mystical and moderate guise, discussing how his global network of schools might facilitate Israel’s outreach to the Turkic republics of Central Asia.

Further relations developed with Turkish–Jewish leaders, notably Chief Rabbi David Asseo and his successor Yitzhak Haleva. Haleva emphasized Gülen’s role in mediating between the Jewish community and Turkish media outlets that published inflammatory content. He praised Gülen’s actions as beneficial not only to Jews but to the Turkish Republic as a whole, particularly in fostering a spirit of religious coexistence.6 Gülen also maintained ties with Jewish businessman İshak Alaton, who facilitated Gülen’s international educational ventures and even assisted him with a U.S. visa extension during a period of legal uncertainty—an episode that contradicts popular theories about Gülen’s supposed intelligence connections.

Despite this robust interreligious engagement, Gülen’s critics—especially secularists and segments of the Turkish–Jewish community—remained skeptical, partly due to the memory of his earlier statements and the broader societal suspicion toward religion-based movements in a staunchly Kemalist political environment. Interviews with Turkish Jewish leaders suggest that some perceived Gülen’s shift as opportunistic, while others viewed it as a genuine transformation prompted by broader exposure and a commitment to universal values (Aviv 2010, pp. 111–13).

Beyond these specific critiques, additional concerns have been raised regarding the substantive depth of the dialogue itself. The absence of engagement with particularly sensitive or contentious issues—such as antisemitism in Islam and the wider Muslim world, the tension between religious authority and secular governance, and the role of religious feminism—has led scholars to question whether the movement’s interfaith efforts represent a strategic performance of moderation rather than a meaningful theological confrontation with difference (Hendrick 2013; Yavuz 2013). In this light, pro-Israeli gestures by Gülen and his affiliates may be interpreted less as expressions of deep theological conviction and more as instrumental acts meant to reinforce the movement’s image as a moderate Islamic alternative aligned with Western norms of pluralism and coexistence.

Overall, Gülen’s relationship with Israel and the Jewish community demonstrates the movement’s effort to frame Islam as compatible with pluralism and peacebuilding. Whether driven by theological evolution, political strategy, or both, his engagement contributed to a discourse that challenged prevailing paradigms of religious exclusivism in Turkey and attempted to place the movement within a global interfaith framework.

5. The Theatrics of Faith: Image, Influence, and Foreign Relations in the Oktar Movement

Adnan Oktar (pen name Harun Yahya, hereafter Adnan Oktar) was born into a secular Ankara middle-class family in 1956 as Adnan Arslanoğulları. A Turkish advocate of the ijaz ilmi (a doctrine holding that the Qur’an has a miraculous quality in terms of both content and form) in the context of literature and Islamic creationism, Oktar believes that his genealogy can be traced back to the Prophet Muhammad. In 1979, he moved to Istanbul to study interior architecture at Mimar Sinan Fine Arts University. As a Sunni zealot, he gathered around him a cohort of young people who belonged to socially active, prosperous, and recently religious families of Istanbul. He assembled a team of 25–30 people at the Mimar Sinan Fine Arts University to join his activities and, over time, this group started giving presentations via various university platforms. Adnan Oktar’s name began to appear regularly in the press, sometimes in the headlines, and, in 1990, he began to refine the structure of his group’s activities. In that year, he founded the Bilim Araştırma Vakfı (Science Research Foundation) in Istanbul, which became the primary organizational framework for his followers. Members were assigned roles corresponding to their skills, and the foundation launched conferences, publications, and anti-Darwinist campaigns—this marks the transition to a more institutionalized movement.7 The foundation organized conferences and advertising campaigns and distributed a large number of books published under the name of Adnan Oktar. Around the turn of the millennium, the movement began publishing its own books, first in English and later in other languages. These books present Islamic topics in a simple and straightforward manner and have frequently been made into high-resolution videos that are freely downloadable on the internet. All of Oktar’s books on science-related topics emphasize the might, sublimity, and majesty of God. After 2007, Oktar began to play an increasingly visible and public role. He began to appear on local Turkish television channels in the Black Sea region, conducting interviews and hosting his own shows. In 2011, the movement founded its own satellite television station, A9 TV, which broadcasts on various cable networks in Turkey and is streamed live over the internet. As Solberg mentioned, one feature of religion in late modernity is the growing production and distribution of religious knowledge outside traditional authorities. New media—especially the internet—enable individuals to position themselves as religious leaders. In this context, Oktar is one of many popular Muslim figures striving to expand their influence within the contemporary landscape of Islamic preaching and da‘wah, treating it as a competitive space for religious outreach and authority (Solberg 2013b).

Adnan Oktar has been arrested multiple times over the years on various charges but was consistently released after legal appeals or a lack of sufficient evidence. His most significant arrest occurred in July 2018, when he and over 200 associates were detained by Istanbul’s financial crimes unit as part of a broader crackdown on his organization. In 2022, Turkish courts sentenced Oktar to 8658 years in prison for leading a criminal organization under a religious guise and committing numerous offenses, including sexual assault, abuse of minors, fraud, and attempted political and military espionage. He was also found guilty of supporting the Gülen movement, though he later denied the claim. No subsequent legal developments or revisions have been reported since the 2022 conviction, which remains the most recent publicly known ruling in the case (Al Jazeera 2022).

6. Ideological Influences of the Adnan Oktar Movement and Its Relations with Israel

Oktar portrays the Israeli military as a force that targets hospitals, ambulances, and schools, claiming that tanks encircle medical facilities and obstruct the entry or exit of emergency services. He frequently invokes the concept of atheistic Zionism, framing it as an ideology that legitimizes terrorism and aligns with fascist principles. In his view, this ideological framework provides Israel with moral justification for the killing of innocent Palestinians, being rooted in a broader inheritance of nineteenth-century European colonialism. Oktar further asserts that atheistic Zionism entered the sphere of global politics as a fundamentally racist doctrine that is based on the premise that Jews should not coexist with other nations (Oktar and Bergman 2003, pp. 70–74).

In his work Yahudilik ve Masonluk (Judaism and Freemasonry), Oktar draws connections between what he interprets as divine commands to commit violence in the Torah and modern Israeli military actions, which he presents through sensational media imagery and critical commentary. He describes Israel as a state governed by religion and portrays Jewish education as heavily centered on religious ritual and militaristic indoctrination. Yahya further alleges that historical Jewish hostility toward Islam played a central role in fomenting intra-Muslim divisions. He specifically claims that the split between Sunnis and Shi‘ites was instigated by certain Jews who sought to undermine Islamic unity. As Harun Yahya claims, "The split between Sunnis and Shiites occurred under the influence of incitement by some Jews who harbored enmity towards Islam. Even today, Zionist Jews are continuing their efforts to sustain and deepen this division through various means" (Oktar 1987, p. 55).

While this early book reflects a strong anti-Zionist and anti-Jewish polemical tone, it was a later publication that sparked broader controversy: Soykırım Yalanı (The Lie of the Genocide), in which Oktar denies the Holocaust, claiming it was a fabrication designed to justify the creation and actions of the State of Israel. He argues that Zionist leaders collaborated with the Nazis to promote Jewish emigration to Palestine and that wartime deaths were the result of disease and starvation rather than systematic extermination. The booklet presents this thesis as a historical fact, not speculation, and frames the Holocaust as a political myth used to deflect attention from Israeli violence and occupation. Soykırım Yalanı attracted media attention both within Turkey and abroad. The Stephen Roth Institute for the Study of Contemporary Antisemitism and Racism at Tel Aviv University listed Oktar as a Holocaust denier due to this. The Institute referred to Oktar in its 2000–2001 report on antisemitism as a “Turkish anti-Semite” (Porat and Stauber 2002).

As a result of claiming to provide hard evidence of Zionist and Masonic plots both in Turkey and globally, the books of Oktar caught Erbakan’s interest and laid the ground for amicable and mutually beneficial relations between Erbakan and the Oktar movement in the 1990s. For example, in Yahudilik ve Masonluk (Judaism and Freemasonry), Oktar wrote the following:

Siyonizm, gerçekte faşist bir terör olan kendi terörünü meşrulaştırabilmek için bu yola başvurmuş ve etkili de olmuştur… M. Tevrat bölümlerini, Filistin’in mazlum halkına karşı kullanmıştır. Bu, samimiyetsiz bir yorumdur. Dini, faşist ve ırkçı bir ideolojiye alet etmektir.

(Oktar 1987, p. 42)

This kind of rhetoric, blending anti-Zionist conspiracy with religious critique, made Oktar’s books particularly appealing to Erbakan and other figures within the Milli Görüş movement, who were themselves critical of Western imperialism and Zionism.

After the “soft coup” and the backlash against political Islam in 1997, the Welfare Party was banned and reemerged as the Virtue Party (Fazilet Partisi). Adamant to show that the new party’s platform remained Islamist, the secularist press published news reports indicating close ties between the Virtue Party and Oktar. Cumhuriyet alleged that prominent executives of the Virtue Party had tried to protect Oktar by attempting to halt the police operation in 1999 (Solberg 2013b, p. 83). Another Turkish daily, Milliyet, reported that Erbakan had summarized the content of Yahudilik ve Masonluk during an iftar dinner (the breaking of the fast during Ramadan) with Islamic civil society organizations close to the Virtue Party (Solberg 2013b, p. 83). There were even speculations that the real author behind the books published under the name of Adnan Oktar was not Oktar, but Erbakan himself (Solberg 2013b, p. 83). In addition to his works on Darwinism, the anti-Zionist and anti-Masonic conspiracy works published in the name of Adnan Oktar thus contributed to Oktar and his group winning sympathy within Islamist circles in the 1990s. Islamist newspapers associated with Milli Görüş, such as Milli Gazete, have generally given favorable press coverage to the efforts of the Adnan Oktar movement. However, in the wake of Oktar’s recent TV appearances featuring scantily clad women and disco dancing, circles close to Erbakan appear to have distanced themselves from Adnan Oktar. An article published on Erbakan’s official website criticizes Oktar harshly for the content of his TV programs. The article praises the books published in the name of Adnan Oktar but asserts that Oktar’s behavior shows that he could not have been the real author behind these books (Solberg 2013b, p. 83). It is not unreasonable to argue that Adnan Oktar’s distancing from traditional Islamic movements may have drawn him closer to Israel. His pursuit of recognition, legitimacy, and ideological independence led him to emphasize positions that set him apart from other Islamic movements—most notably his engagement in dialogue with Jews and his pro-Israel stances.

In response to the criticism against the book Yahudilik ve Masonluk, Oktar has denied responsibility for the book. In the 2000s, Oktar changed his policy, increasing his tolerance toward non-Muslims, especially Jews. In 2006, a book affirming the Holocaust, titled Soykırım Vahşeti (The Holocaust Brutality), was published after the transformation in Oktar’s attitude toward Jews and Judaism. In fact, Oktar has become an advocate of Israel, hosting many political, religious, and non-religious Jewish leaders from Israel and all over the world, meetings which were screened on the movement’s Channel 9.8

Oktar also published numerous books to promote tolerance and peace between Christians, Muslims, and Jews. In an interview with Der Spiegel, he himself claimed that Soykırım Yalanı had been written by a friend of his who had published his own essays using Oktar’s pen name, Harun Yahya, as his own: “The book, ‘The Holocaust Lie’, is by one of my friends, Nuri Özbudak. It is not one of my books. He published his own essays under that title. Later, we protested this through the Public Notary and declared that fact to the public. I did not take any other legal action but only protested through the Public Notary because he used my name. My book expressing my own ideas was published later” (Steinorth 2008).

Sinem Tezyapar, an executive producer, program director on Channel 9, and close disciple of Adnan Oktar, was arrested alongside Oktar in July 2018 and denied the fact that Oktar wrote antisemitic books. Regarding his viewpoints on Jews, she said,

Adnan Hoca is not rigid. He is very open-minded and he constantly encourages progress. If he learns something is incorrect, he instantly, at that moment, can change his whole view with humility. When he realizes there is a better style, way, argument, he makes necessary changes. So, his books are also in constant editing. He no longer publishes some of his books. Having said that his views changed as he interacted with Jews and Israelis is true. He does not deny that he was critical of Zionism back then, but he has never been antisemitic. But later he learned what Zionism IS for Israelis and that hap penned especially after people from Israel came to visit him and explained what Zionism is for Israelis. Then he changed his views regarding that.

(Aviv 2017)

Tezyapar herself is an advocate of tolerance and fights antisemitism (Al Quds Al Arabi 2013).

Similarly, Rabbi Ben Abrahamson, a Jewish scholar actively engaged in interfaith dialogue initiatives with Adnan Oktar, frequently appeared on Oktar’s television broadcasts to explore and articulate shared values and principles between Islam and Judaism. He remarked,

Historically his position changed before. The anti-Semitic material was written during his early days when he was in college. After he built his group, and most of them from the most elite circles, some with distant Jewish family connections, it changed.9

As aforementioned, the emphasis on dialogue and “a union of faiths” became central features of the Oktar movement’s other outreach activities from 2009 onwards. The Oktar movement developed links with a Jewish group from Israel called “the re-established Sanhedrin” and had a meeting with them in Istanbul in July 2009. In 2011, the movement invited another delegation of religious leaders from Israel to Istanbul and held a joint press conference (Solberg 2013b, p. 87). The event was reported in the Jerusalem Post (Mandel 2011), and videos from these meetings were published on the Oktar movement’s websites. When the Adnan Oktar movement established its own satellite TV channel in 2011, a program titled “Building Bridges” became a regular show, featuring Jewish leaders, Christian evangelists, and even Freemasons.

7. Strategic Use of Religion: Gülen’s Engagement with Israel and the Construction of Political Capital

Religion often plays a dual role in global affairs—shaping identities while simultaneously serving as a political tool. As Fox and Sandler argue, religion can manifest itself in international relations in four distinct ways: as a foundation for a worldview or outlook, as a source of identity, as a tool for legitimizing political rule, and as a basis for the existence and activities of international—particularly supranational—actors on the global stage (Fox and Sandler 2004). The last three of these forms are particularly evident in the context of the Middle East and can be analyzed at the systemic, state, regional, or transnational levels (Solarz 2020). These theoretical dimensions are directly applicable to the activities of the Gülen movement, which illustrates how religion may function simultaneously as identity marker, legitimizing discourse, and transnational infrastructure—especially in its relationship with Israel and Jewish communities.

Gülen’s motivations may also have included strategic considerations. His movement, having increasingly turned outward since his relocation to the U.S., benefited from international legitimacy, and associations with Jewish organizations helped reinforce its image as a moderate Islamic actor on the global stage. Scholars have noted that Gülen’s alignment with Israel may have served to appeal to Western, particularly American, stakeholders (Aviv 2010; Yavuz 2003). A communications summit organized by the Gülen-affiliated Journalists and Writers Foundation in Istanbul in 2008, which invited leading Israeli journalists, reflected continued efforts at cross-cultural bridge-building (Aviv 2010, p. 108).

Yet, critical voices also exist. Some scholars and political observers have speculated that Gülen’s engagement with Jewish figures was instrumental rather than ideological. Allegations have surfaced suggesting ties to the CIA, which purportedly viewed Gülen’s movement as a counterbalance to radical Islam in the Muslim world. Others have compared his outreach style to that of Unification Church leader Sun Myung Moon, framing it as a soft proselytizing strategy intended to sway elite opinion while distancing the movement from more fundamentalist currents (Yavuz 2003; Yılmaz 2003). Nevertheless, Gülen himself said his interest in Jews comes from the Ottoman tradition of coexistence. He stated that he “was the first Turkish Muslim cleric to initiate formal dialogue with Jewish leaders in the 1990s”.10

In an attempt to strengthen ties with Israel and the Jews and in response to the claims that Gülen had spoken harshly about Jews in the past, Rabbi İshak Haleva testified that he himself saw on television a sermon Gülen delivered in a mosque, in which he spoke against Jews. However, Haleva dismissed it, explaining that he was not particularly disturbed by the speech because he was used to hearing derogatory statements about Jews. Such statements were also documented in writing, as there were tapes and books by Gülen that contained various declarations against Jews. Zali De Toledo noted that Gülen’s early books, which included many anti-Jewish passages, were removed from bookstores and can no longer be found today. For example, the first edition of his book Küçük Dünyam (My Little World) contained expressions against Atatürk and secularism, and considerable sums were paid to recall the book and publish the more widely known current version. It should be noted that Zaman, the newspaper affiliated with the Gülen movement, which began publication in 1986 and was the first Turkish newspaper to launch an online edition in 1995, contained Islamist and anti-Israeli content during its early years. These publications were troubling enough to draw the attention of Israeli diplomats in Turkey, who reported on them. In a document sent to the Middle East Department of the Israeli Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the Israeli ambassador to Ankara at the time described the newspaper as “fundamentalist and even antisemitic”, according to archival documents from the State of Israel. All of this was noted in connection with the newspaper’s ties to the Özal government and was reported in 1992 (State Archives of Israel 1992).

Haleva explained this by saying that, at that time (most likely the late 1970s), Gülen knew Jews only through books. Another possible reason, in his view, was the desire to win broad public support, as it was known among Muslims in Turkey that speaking against Jews often gained one increased popularity and approval. However, the explanation Haleva finds most convincing is that Gülen underwent a genuine spiritual transformation as he came closer to the world beyond Islam. According to Haleva, Gülen experienced a 180-degree shift, after which he began speaking very positively about Jews and even defended them in the Turkish media when their name was being tarnished. While Haleva attributes Gülen’s transformation to a sincere spiritual evolution and increased exposure to non-Muslim communities, this interpretation may underestimate the strategic dimensions of Gülen’s discourse. Scholars such as Hendrick (2013) and Aviv (2010) suggest that Gülen’s pro-Jewish rhetoric also served political aims, particularly in appealing to Western audiences and reinforcing the movement’s image as moderate. Moreover, the absence of substantive engagement with issues such as antisemitism in Islamic tradition raises questions about the depth of this purported ideological shift.

Overall, Gülen’s outreach to Israel and Jewish communities combined ideological realignment, strategic positioning, and genuine interpersonal connection. Whether driven by theological reflection, political calculation, or public diplomacy, these initiatives helped situate the Fethullah Gülen movement within broader narratives of global interfaith dialogue—though they have also provoked criticism and scrutiny from both Turkish secularists and anti-Zionist currents.

The issue of Israel proved so significant that it became a major point of contention even in the relationship between the Gülen movement and the AKP: A significant turning point occurred in the relationship between the two sides with the Mavi Marmara incident on 31 May 2010. A flotilla, including the ship Mavi Marmara, was organized by the Turkish NGO IHH to break the Israeli blockade on Gaza and deliver humanitarian aid to the Palestinians. However, the operation was halted by Israeli commandos, which led to a violent confrontation between Israeli soldiers and those on board that resulted in casualties and triggered a serious diplomatic crisis between Turkey and Israel.

Despite the broader nationalistic and Islamist reactions in Turkey, Gülen took a sharply different position. In an interview with The Wall Street Journal, he criticized the flotilla organizers for failing to receive Israeli approval before setting sail, emphasizing the importance of abiding by international procedures—even when pursuing humanitarian goals (Lauria 2010; Uzer 2013). This stance aligned with Gülen’s broader ideological framework of political moderation and was interpreted by some critics as evidence of alignment with Israel and even collaboration with the CIA. Gülen was accused of betraying Turkish national interests and of trying to reshape Muslim identity in Turkey in a Western-friendly direction (Yavuz 2013).

It was also claimed that Gülen’s public condemnation of the flotilla was part of his close ties with Israel. However, researchers dating the split between his movement and the AKP to early 2012 argue that the deterioration in their relationship had already begun during this period, which was marked by increasing tensions and conflicting interests.11 With respect to Israel, although Israeli authorities rejected all attempts by the Gülen movement to establish educational institutions within its borders, the movement nonetheless maintained a presence in East Jerusalem through the “Kimse Yok Mu” association, which was affiliated with the Fethullah Gülen movement. This association reportedly operated a building in Jerusalem, despite the general Israeli policy of not allowing non-citizens to construct buildings. The building’s entrance displayed the flag of “Kimse Yok Mu”, indicating its affiliation. The activities in Jerusalem were coordinated by Adnan Tokak, who was referred to as the “Israel Imam” of the organization. He was also a member of the movement’s “Consultation Council”, which indicates his high-ranking position within the organization. Tokak’s involvement in interfaith dialogue initiatives and his leadership roles within the movement underscore his influence and the strategic importance of the Jerusalem operations (Yeni Şafak 2025). He continued his organizational activities under the title of “Jerusalem coordinator” for “Kimse Yok Mu”. Notably, during a period when Turkish citizens faced detentions upon entering Israel due to diplomatic tensions, Tokak reportedly obtained work and residency permits from the Israeli government. The “Kimse Yok Mu” association was a humanitarian aid organization affiliated with the Gülen movement. It operated in various regions, including Africa and the Middle East, providing aid and assistance. In Jerusalem, the association’s activities were part of the movement’s broader efforts to establish a presence and influence in the region. While Israel may seem like an unlikely gateway to the Arab world, the movement’s presence in Jerusalem likely served a symbolic and strategic function: projecting an image of moderation and interfaith cooperation to Western audiences. Rather than seeking direct influence in neighboring Middle Eastern states through Israel, the Jerusalem base functioned as a soft-power platform aimed at gaining international legitimacy and showcasing the movement’s global humanitarian and dialogical outreach. In addition, the association was included in an official list of international organizations recognized by the Ministry of Welfare for their work in education, health, dialogue, and cultural activities.

The exact timeline of the association’s activities in Jerusalem is not specified in the available sources. However, reports indicate that, in May 2015, members of the organization, including Adnan Tokak, hosted visitors in the Jerusalem building affiliated with “Kimse Yok Mu”. This suggests that the association was active in the region at least until that time. A senior diplomatic source in the Israeli Foreign Ministry testified that “an instruction was given to Turkish ambassadors around the world, especially in the United States—an instruction that provoked considerable anger—stating that they should draw closer to Gülen and open doors for him”. It is possible that this directive was issued because a few days earlier, the Speaker of the Turkish Parliament at the time, Bülent Arınç, had held an official event marking the 83rd anniversary of the founding of the Turkish parliament, which took place on 23 April 2003, and was attended by Israeli representatives. Ahead of this occasion, the Turkish Ministry of Foreign Affairs distributed a circular requesting that Turkish ambassadors abroad attend events organized by the Gülen-affiliated educational network. This circular provoked the anger of President Sezer and Chief of Staff Özkök (Aviv 2023, p. 261).

Gülen himself stated that, prior to the 1990s, he wrote and preached against those who combined political aims with religious garb, but he was never involved in any active or open conflict with any Jewish group. He expressed a desire to continue the tradition of tolerance toward Jews that had existed for centuries in the Ottoman and Turkish populations. Gülen claimed that he was the first member of the Muslim community in Turkey to initiate dialogue with the Jewish community and its leaders during the 1990s (Aviv 2023, pp. 243–44). In other words, it appears that Gülen was ultimately forgiven, and that dialogue—whether as a method, conviction, or strategic instrument—proved more enduring than past animosities.

8. Reframing Zionism and Judaism: The Evolution of Oktar’s Interfaith Discourse

Adnan Oktar’s later writings reflect a notable rhetorical shift regarding Judaism and Zionism, moving from a generalized accusatory tone toward a more nuanced distinction between religious and ideological currents. In the eighth edition of Yeni Masonik Düzen (The New Masonic Order), Oktar introduces a preface titled “Important Statement about Judaism and Zionism”, wherein he differentiates between devout Jewish believers—whom he claims Muslims should accept—and what he terms “atheist, radical Zionism”, a worldview he associates with occupation and social Darwinism (Oktar 2009, p. 10). This rebranding includes the renaming of earlier publications, such as the transformation of Siyonizm Felsefesi (The Philosophy of Zionism) into Ateist Siyonizm Felsefesi (The Atheist Philosophy of Zionism), which reframes Middle Eastern conflicts as the result of atheist Zionist ideology while simultaneously highlighting shared ethical values between Islam and Judaism, which include historical narratives of Jewish refuge within the Ottoman Empire. This approach contrasts with earlier works that explicitly attributed Zionist racism to sacred Jewish texts, which were perceived as being distorted, reflecting a shift away from overtly theological accusations. In more recent editions, there is a deliberate move to moderate antisemitic rhetoric that targets “radical Zionists” and “atheist Freemasons” rather than Judaism itself. Additionally, publications previously characterized by aggressive anti-Jewish language, such as Yehova’nın Oğulları (The Sons of Jehovah), have been removed from official distribution channels. Nonetheless, conspiracy frameworks persist in his work, now redirected toward materialist ideologies rather than ethno-religious identities. In the case of Oktar as well, this shift was manifested through the strengthening of ties with Israeli delegations and an emphasis on interfaith dialogue.

9. Changing Course

Although Adnan Oktar would later position himself as a strong proponent of interfaith dialogue, including public meetings with Israeli religious figures, this was not always the case. In 1991, the Israeli chargé d’affaires in Ankara reported the distribution of antisemitic materials associated with Oktar’s movement, raising concerns among both consular staff and private citizens. The chief rabbi and leaders of Turkey’s Jewish community brought the matter to President Süleyman Demirel, who sought to reassure them that the state was monitoring the situation closely (Solberg 2013b, p. 153). At the time, Israeli diplomats viewed the movement with suspicion, and Jewish representatives expressed cautious relief that Oktar’s antisemitism had manifested only in publications rather than physical violence. (State Archives of Israel 1992).

Just like Gülen, however, in the 2000s, Oktar shifted his approach and became a prominent advocate of interfaith dialogue and a pro-Israel religious leader. This shift was marked by the movement’s engagement with a Jewish group from Israel known as the “re-established Sanhedrin”, with whom it convened a meeting in Istanbul in July 2009. In 2011, the group expanded its efforts by hosting another delegation of Israeli religious figures for a joint press conference, titled Joint Press Conference of Mr. Adnan Oktar with Israeli Delegation (Oktar 2011). The event received coverage in The Jerusalem Post (Mandel 2011), and audiovisual documentation of these encounters was disseminated via the organization’s online platforms. Following the launch of its satellite television channel in the same year, the Adnan Oktar movement aired a program titled Building Bridges, which regularly featured Jewish religious leaders, Christian evangelicals, and occasionally even Freemasons, thereby reinforcing its commitment to interreligious visibility and dialogue.

This ideological shift also became apparent in Oktar’s own writings. After the 11 September 2001 attacks, he published a book in which he argued that true Islam opposes terrorism, and since then, he has sought to promote interfaith dialogue and reconciliation. In his articles and books, he frequently cites the prophets of Israel and the vision of redemption and global peace that they bequeathed to the world. Oktar publicly supports the Jewish people’s right to live on their ancestral land in sovereignty, independence, and genuine peace with their Arab, Turkish, Iranian, and other neighbors. As a result, his critics accuse him of being a Mossad agent. Nevertheless, this turn toward interreligious dialogue has provoked criticism from more conservative Islamist quarters. One of Oktar’s most vocal opponents is Ahmet Mahmut Ünlü (Cübbeli Ahmet Hoca), a prominent figure in the Ismailağa community who has condemned Oktar for his inclusive stance toward Jews and Christians (Solberg 2013b, p. 155). In a striking example of intra-Islamist polemic, some nationalist-Islamist detractors have even accused Oktar of being crypto-Jewish—an allegation intended to delegitimize his theological authenticity within conservative circles. In 2003, his organization published Soykırım Vahşeti (The Holocaust Brutality), a book acknowledging the Holocaust—this marks a stark contrast to his earlier associations with antisemitic discourse. By 2014, Oktar had published an opinion piece on Ynet, affirming the historic friendship between Jews and Turks and advocating for closer Israeli–Turkish relations.

Ayoub Kara, who served as deputy minister for the development of the Negev and Galilee, met with Oktar on 20 January 2010, in Istanbul. The meeting included an interfaith delegation from Israel, initiated by Kara, comprising a rabbi, a Catholic priest, a Druze qadi, and a Bedouin sheikh. The encounter was part of efforts to promote interreligious dialogue and address issues such as fostering mutual understanding among faiths and expressing support for the release of the kidnapped Israeli soldier Gilad Shalit (A9TV International 2009). In 2009, while Gilad Shalit—an Israeli soldier—was being held captive by Hamas in the Gaza Strip (from June 2006 until his release in October 2011), an unconventional interfaith initiative emerged, aimed at exploring alternative avenues of influence over Hamas leadership. Noam Shalit, Gilad’s father and a prominent public figure in Israel, was expected to join a multi-faith delegation traveling to Turkey, where he was scheduled to meet with the controversial Turkish Islamic theologian Adnan Oktar. Ultimately, Noam Shalit did not travel to Turkey as initially planned. Instead, he formally authorized the delegation led by Ayoub Kara to explore avenues for the potential release of his son, Gilad Shalit, through Kara’s interfaith initiative. This delegation was entrusted with pursuing contacts that might offer indirect leverage over Hamas via religious and ideological channels.

During the meeting, Oktar even stated, “I pray and make great efforts for the release of the Israeli soldier from Hamas captivity, Shalit is also our child. The day is near when Shalit and his family will dine in Istanbul…Very soon you will receive good news regarding Shalit” (Walla News 2010). Oktar’s invocation of paternal language in reference to the kidnapped Israeli soldier—“Shalit is also our child”—reveals his strategic deployment of affective religious rhetoric to position himself as a transnational moral actor. This statement, made during a 2010 meeting with Israeli delegates (Walla News 2010), aligns with his broader aim of cultivating an image as a peacemaker, despite the more controversial aspects of his public image.

The meeting between Kara and Oktar also sparked criticism, which intensified after two members of Oktar’s movement visited the Knesset in January 2016 and were photographed with Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, whom they encountered by chance in a hallway.12 (State Archives of Israel 1992). Nevertheless, it appears that, as early as 2015, Yossi Cohen—then National Security Advisor and head of Israel’s National Security Council, and later Director of the Mossad—had sent a letter to Kara prohibiting him from meeting with Oktar due to the antisemitic publications and Holocaust denial attributed to him. In the letter to Kara, Cohen wrote, “…Following the recommendation of the National Security Council and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and after consultation with the Prime Minister, it was decided that your trip to Turkey at the invitation of Adnan Oktar will not be approved. We would be glad to further discuss your visits to the region on an official level” (Mako 2016).

Israel’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs also made it clear that Oktar and his followers were considered “a bizarre cult, Holocaust deniers, and antisemitic”. (State Archives of Israel 1992). This approach, notably, was not extended to the Gülen movement.

Despite this and other criticisms voiced at the time, Kara told me in an interview that the aim of his meeting was to improve relations between Israel and Turkey—relations that, according to him, had begun to deteriorate approximately two years earlier. In his words, “I organized a delegation that I headed, which included rabbis representing the diverse spectrum of religious Judaism in Israel, as well as Druze, Muslim, and Christian religious figures. The objective, as mentioned, was to improve Israel’s image in Turkey”. According to Kara, the initiative was primarily in Israel’s interest, not Oktar’s. He claimed in the same interview that it was not known at the time that there were profound ideological differences between Oktar and the Erdoğan government, particularly Erdoğan himself, since Oktar presented himself as someone who maintained good relations with the Turkish authorities.13

It is hardly surprising that Kara identified Adnan Oktar as a potential conduit for strengthening Turkish–Israeli relations. Despite his reservations regarding Oktar’s atheistically framed critique of Zionism, Kara acknowledged the latter’s persistent efforts to underscore the historical and strategic affinity between Turkey and Israel. The following excerpt from an article Oktar authored in an Israeli newspaper serves as a compelling illustration of this stance:

Today, although the Jewish population in Turkey has decreased, the Turkish people’s affection and friendship toward the Jewish community remain unchanged. Turkish-Israeli relations continue to improve steadily, with both countries working to overcome lingering points of contention. Historically, the two nations have shared a unique bond marked by mutual respect and cooperation, and as two of the most powerful actors in the region, they are seen as natural allies. The Turkish government harbors no hostility toward Israel or the Jewish people; rather, the friendship is sincere and enduring—rooted in a shared past that dates back to 1492. While disagreements may arise, they are never strong enough to undermine the deep connection between the two peoples.

(Oktar 2014)

Rabbi Ben Abrahamson also said the same. In his interview, he said,

Originally we (I) thought that Erdoğan was supportive of Adnan Oktar and his people. Adnan Oktar spoke very highly of Erdogan and seemed to have access everywhere. We went to the blue mosque, for example, and were able to bypass a long line of tourists to visit it, and for me to talk 1 h with the head Imam.

Mordechai Kedar, a university professor, elaborated on the relations between Erdoğan, Oktar, and Israel:

I do not know how close Adnan Oktar truly was to Erdoğan’s inner circle, but the series of meetings he organized for the Israeli delegation with members of the ruling party was impressive and clearly demonstrated his strong connections with certain figures within the party. This is particularly noteworthy considering that, to the best of my knowledge, it was the first time in recent years that such an Israeli delegation had visited Turkey.

I am not claiming that Oktar or the members of the delegation brought about a transformation in Israeli-Turkish relations, but we clearly sensed that there are many in Turkey in general—and within the ruling party in particular—for whom Israel is dear, and who feel that the time has come to find a formula that would allow Israel and Turkey to put an end to this painful chapter in their bilateral relationship.14

Nevertheless, Kara did not feel that meeting with Oktar had been a mistake, stating that, “In any case, relations with the Turkish regime were already against us. So why was it so terrible that we met him, if he could not have harmed Israel–Turkey relations, which were already bad regardless of Oktar? It was an attempt to improve the relationship, an attempt I do not regret”.15

“I got the impression that he wanted to bring about a liberal salvation that would emerge from within the Islamic world for the entire region. We believed he wanted Turkey to remain open and follow the Atatürk model, not an Islamist one”. (personal interview, 2025).16 Kara further noted that, although the Jewish community in Turkey strongly opposed their meetings, he never heard Oktar or his representatives say anything negative about Jews or against Israel. In response to a question about whether the topic of messianism came up during their discussions, Kara firmly denied any such content, stating that the subject of messianism was never raised, not even briefly. In his view, Oktar presented himself as someone whose aim was to promote peace in the world—a point Kara himself emphasized during their conversation.

Oktar, who had publicly expressed anti-Zionist views, was at the time considered to be a spiritual authority with potential influence over a number of Middle Eastern leaders, including senior figures in Hamas and Iran’s former president, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad. He frequently portrayed himself as maintaining ties with key players in the Muslim world and claimed—without verifiable evidence—to hold sway over decision-makers in Iran, Syria, and even Hamas. These assertions were likely part of a broader effort to cultivate an image as a religious peacemaker and interfaith bridge-builder. The premise behind the delegation’s engagement with Oktar rested on the belief that religious or ideological persuasion might prove effective where traditional diplomatic efforts had failed.

Although there is no direct, credible, or well-documented evidence that Oktar or his associates maintained official channels of communication with Hamas or served as meaningful intermediaries, Israeli media and diplomatic actors at the time entertained the notion that his perceived spiritual authority and charismatic appeal within radical Islamist circles might render him a useful conduit for indirect engagement. Consequently, the planned encounter with Oktar was seen as an attempt to access the moral and religious foundations of Islamist discourse, which offered a symbolic alternative to stalled state-level negotiations (Stoil 2010).

The engagement with Israel was construed as an integral component of a broader messianic agenda, strategically mobilized to advance and actualize this eschatological vision. Adnan Oktar advocates a messianic and ecumenical form of Islam as a response to the evils of modern society, believing that the Mahdi will soon appear in Turkey—a country he regards as morally superior and destined to lead a future Islamic union. Although he avoids explicitly identifying the Mahdi, his descriptions closely resemble his own persona. The movement’s literature reinforces this portrayal by constructing a particular vision of Mahdism that subtly but unmistakably leads the reader to the conclusion that Oktar himself is the Mahdi—the savior of the End Times (Tiryaki 2021; Bigliardi 2014). In addition, the movement’s literature contains detailed descriptions of the Mahdi’s physical appearance, lineage, family background, and actions and the geographic location in which he is expected to reside. These portrayals strongly suggest an intentional effort on Oktar’s part to cultivate the perception among his followers that he himself is the awaited Mahdi. Such content features prominently in his televised sermons on A9. Oktar himself, after being detained in 2018, mentioned the messianic issue by saying, “Israel thinks I am the Mahdi mentioned in the Torah” (“İsrail beni Tevrat’ta geçen Mehdi olduğumu düşünüyor”) (TRT Haber 2017), emphasizing the extraordinary perception he believes some in Israel have of him. In this context, it is important to note that the central discourse within the Adnan Oktar movement revolves around Islamic messianism and implicitly portrays Oktar himself as the Mahdi. Adnan Oktar, through various publications and broadcasts on A9 TV, frequently sets specific dates for the Mahdi’s appearance and makes dramatic declarations on the subject.

An analysis of these statements reveals that the dates he indicates often coincide with the founding years of his movement and his arrival in Istanbul—possibly as a means of attributing sanctity and a divine dimension to his activities—and he thereby positions himself as possessing mystical legitimacy. Oktar claims that we are currently living in the End Times, that the Mahdi has already appeared, and that Jesus is expected to return within this century. To hasten the transition into a global era of prosperity that will precede the Day of Judgment, Oktar calls for the establishment of a Turkish–Islamic union and argues that Turkey is the natural religious and political leader of the region (Solberg 2013a). This may explain why he has long invited figures from Israel—to symbolically demonstrate the superiority of Islam over the religions of the region and the world in anticipation of the End Times.

In his efforts to engage with Israel, Oktar framed the tensions between Turkey and Israel as part of a broader scheme orchestrated by external actors, which he often described in terms of a “British deep state”. He positioned himself and his movement as active participants in interfaith diplomacy, emphasizing their outreach not only to Israel but also to other key international actors such as Iran, Russia, and China. According to Oktar, his group not only dispatched delegations to Israel but also financed the visits of Israeli rabbis as a gesture of goodwill. He firmly rejected allegations of receiving financial support from Israeli sources and argued instead that his efforts had a tangible impact on international policy—particularly in contributing to the United States’ decision not to recognize the Armenian Genocide following Turkey’s general elections on 24 June. Presenting his approach as one of religious outreach and strategic diplomacy, Oktar consistently portrayed his mission as aimed at fostering a positive image of Islam and improving Turkey’s relations with Israel (Oktar 2014).

Just like Kara, Oktar met with Rabbi Ben Abrahamson and his wife, Rebecca, a Jewish educator, interfaith activist, and writer based in Jerusalem, who is known for her efforts to foster dialogue between Muslim and Jewish communities. As an Orthodox Jewish woman engaged in Muslim–Jewish outreach, Abrahamson took part in at least one public televised dialogue with Adnan Oktar and his representatives. In December 2015, she appeared alongside her husband, Rabbi Ben Abrahamson, on A9 TV. In her 2015 article in Arutz Sheva, she presented a notably favorable view of Oktar’s movement, describing it as “a glamorous yet loving” Islamic initiative dedicated to peace, interfaith reconciliation, and moral clarity (Abrahamson 2015). Unlike traditional Islamist groups, she observed that Oktar’s circle projected a message of integration of Islam, democracy, modern aesthetics, women’s empowerment, and global ethical values. Abrahamson emphasized the movement’s repeated condemnation of terrorism and antisemitism, and saw its outreach to Israeli religious leaders—including the 2012 delegation to Istanbul—as ideologically sincere (A9 TV 2015). Just like in Kara’s case, the Abrahamson couple was criticized for their relations with Oktar. While Abrahamson presented the Oktar movement as a genuine force for interfaith harmony, other scholars and observers have critiqued its theatricality, ideological ambiguity, and underlying motivations. Turkish secular commentators, investigative journalists, and even former followers have described the group as exhibiting cult-like features, including revolving around the charismatic personality of Oktar and being marked by tightly orchestrated media events.n Israel, reactions were equally mixed. Some religious leaders and public figures expressed concern that Israeli rabbis had unknowingly lent legitimacy to a movement whose religious depth was questionable and whose activities served, in part, as image rehabilitation in the wake of growing domestic criticism in Turkey. Commentators have long argued that Adnan Oktar’s appeal rests less on theology than on spectacle. His A9-TV broadcasts feature the preacher flanked by surgically-enhanced “kittens” in revealing eveningwear who sway to pop beats while he delivers creationist monologues—imagery that has prompted journalists to label the show “a sexed-up Disney version of Islam” and to question whether any serious religious teaching is taking place. In the same spirit of pageantry, Oktar frequently invited Israeli rabbis and politicians to his Istanbul studio—encounters trumpeted as inter-faith outreach but widely interpreted in the Israeli and Turkish press as calculated public-relations theatre rather than genuine dialogue (AFP and ToI Staff 2021). Ben Abrahamson adopted a different approach from that of Ayoob Kara regarding Adnan Oktar and the rationale for engaging with him. As he stated in an interview,

There have been two motivations for our relations with Oktar; one you could call “interfaith”, the other political… I am a student of Rabbi Benamozegh who posits a world view were all the world’s religions are remnants of Noahism, which Judaism entrusted with the key to get them all to work together. The goal is not to replace world religions, but to reform them to have a constructive relationship with Judaism, via Noahism, for Tiqqun Olam and all that. Oktar’s “Call to Unity” seemed to be similar, and later I found it to be based on Sufi teachings. I was unable to meet any Muslim scholars, so effectively I worked with them to find speakers for their TV broadcast, and they found Islamic scholars for me to meet. The even gave me “visiting professor” status at ISAM then Turkish Islamic Institute. At the same time I was working with Ms. Shoshana Bekerman, the parliamentary advisor for then MK Nissin Ze’ev and her IPCGE [The Inter-Parliamentary Coalition for Global Ethics] organization. She had asked me to attend some of her meetings at the UN, UNESCO and elsewhere to help provide friendly environment for her Islamic and Jewish guests. So I used her connects to offer more people to interview for his TV show…it was very clear that the whole purpose of these interviews was to thaw relations in the Turkish public towards Israel. Over and over again he [Oktar] wanted his audience to see Jews as people…We worked through the Gaza boat crisis, several Gaza wars, and an anti-Semitic Turkish TV show… He actually objected to my theological and historical comments as “too complicated, too much like a professor, they should just see the warmth in your eyes”. We worked through the Gaza boat crisis, several Gaza wars, and an anti-Semitic Turkish TV show. Shoshana Bekerman cooperated, but only to make higher and higher connections in the Turkish government

(personal interview, 2025).17

According to Kedar, in 2012, Oktar initiated the invitation of a delegation of Knesset members from the religious sector of Israeli society, with the goal of opening a dialogue between Israel and the Turkish political elite—particularly the ruling AKP, which has been in power since 2002. The Israeli delegation included members of the Knesset, Rabbi Nissim Ze’ev and Rabbi Yitzhak Cohen, the latter of which also served as Deputy Minister of Finance at the time. Joining the delegation were also Rabbi Dr. Yitzhak Dayan, chief rabbi of Geneva; Rabbi Ben Abrahamson; and MK Ze’ev’s parliamentary assistant, Shoshana Bekerman (personal interview, 2025).18

On the Turkish side, the participants included Yaşar Yakış, former foreign minister of Turkey; former health minister Halil Şıvgın; several current and former AKP members of parliament and ministers; and additional figures from the party’s leadership and from Turkey’s broader religious and political elite (personal interview, 2025).19

It should be emphasized that, in contrast to certain Israeli interlocutors who maintained ties with Adnan Oktar, the Jewish community in Turkey—including its former chief rabbi, Rabbi Yitzhak Haleva—expressed strong opposition to his movement. In an interview I conducted with Rabbi Haleva in 2008, he compared the movement to a pig that displays its split hooves in an attempt to appear kosher. As he explained, according to Jewish dietary laws, a kosher animal must exhibit all three signs of ritual purity; the pig possesses only one—split hooves—but lacks the others, and is therefore impure. Likewise, Haleva argued that Oktar’s movement may present superficial signs of religiosity or legitimacy, but remains spiritually impure and inauthentic. By contrast, the Gülen movement received a more favorable reception from segments of the Turkish-Jewish community. Haleva, in multiple personal conversations, spoke positively about the Gülen movement and explicitly emphasized that the two movements should not be compared.20 The Jewish community’s opposition to Oktar’s enterprise was also conveyed directly to Israeli participants in delegations that visited him in Istanbul. In relation to this issue, Rabbi Abrahamson remarked.

I spoke with the late Chief Rabbi, Haleva, his son, the Chabad representative, and the rabbi of the Ashkenazi Synagogue in Istanbul. And they all said the same thing: they will not risk anything controversial. Any closeness between Jews and Muslims is seen as an attempt at conversion. And as the Chabad shaliach said:

the next day one will find himself at the bottom of the river

(personal interview, 2025).21

10. Conclusions

While the AKP rose to political power, the Gülen movement developed into the most influential Islamic civil society movement in Turkey. In its earliest phase, the discourse of the Gülen movement contained anti-communist and anti-Western elements. With time, it developed a more inclusive approach, emphasizing dialogue and tolerance as necessary for solving conflicts and problems both in Turkey and globally, thereby gaining sympathizers among secular liberals in Turkey (Yavuz 2003, p. 184). Arguably, the Gülen movement spearheaded the change toward a more pluralistic, moderate Islamic discourse in Turkey. From the mid-1990s onwards, the Gülen movement began advancing interfaith dialogue, and Fethullah Gülen had meetings with Jewish and Christian leaders, including John Paul II in 1998 (Yavuz 2003, p. 201). It was only after the Gülen movement’s efforts that the Diyanet also began promoting interreligious dialogue and eventually established its own unit for interreligious dialogue (Yılmaz 2003). Today, inter-civilizational dialogue is one of the core bases of the Gülen movement’s transnational activities, together with activities in the field of education (Pandya and Gallagher 2012).

Like Fethullah Gülen, Adnan Oktar began his public trajectory as the leader of a movement that articulated a distinctly anti-Zionist—if not overtly antisemitic—discourse within the Turkish context. Over time, however, Oktar, much like Gülen, underwent a notable transformation in both rhetoric and orientation. What had initially been a narrative steeped in conspiratorial hostility toward Jews and Zionism evolved into a framework in which interreligious engagement became central. In the case of Oktar, this shift manifested as a theological emphasis on “the union of religions”, while, for Gülen, it took the form of a sustained commitment to “interfaith dialogue”. For both figures, these paradigms eventually became foundational pillars of their respective belief systems and public ideologies. In Oktar’s case, in particular, this transformation appears to have been as much strategic as it was doctrinal, serving to differentiate his movement from more traditionalist Islamist currents in Turkey and to legitimize it on the global stage. The transformation in Adnan Oktar’s discourse should be interpreted not merely as a consequence of broader processes of globalization but as a reflection of Turkey’s evolving ideological climate, which is marked by the decline of traditional Islamist paradigms associated with Milli Görüş and Necmettin Erbakan and the ascendancy of a more moderate, conservative-nationalist Islamic orientation represented by the AKP–Gülen alliance. As the Gülen movement gained increasing prominence within Turkish civil and political life, the Oktar movement consciously distanced itself from the anti-Zionist rhetoric characteristic of earlier Islamist currents, instead embracing a modernist, neo-Nurcu, dialogue-oriented conception of “liberal Islam”. Echoing Fethullah Gülen, Oktar began to highlight theological affinities between Islam and the Abrahamic faiths. While this interfaith discourse has arguably become hegemonic in certain Turkish religious and intellectual circles, it continues to face resistance from more traditionalist constituencies—particularly among conservative Nakşibendi groups aligned with the ideological legacy of Milli Görüş. A prominent representative of this strand is Ahmet Mahmut Ünlü, commonly known as Cübbeli Ahmet Hoca, a leading figure in the conservative Ismailağa community. Cübbeli Ahmet Hoca receives much media attention and is known for his humorous and entertaining style of preaching. He is one of Oktar’s most vocal critics and has, among other things, criticized Oktar for his inclusivist attitude toward Jews and Christians. Ironically, some conservative nationalist critics seeking to discredit Oktar have also “accused” Oktar of being crypto-Jewish.

Although, in some reported encounters with Adnan Oktar, messianic themes were not raised, other forms of documentation—such as recorded interviews and his own public writings—indicate that messianism occupies a central place in his worldview. Within this context, Oktar does not categorically oppose Zionism as such. Rather, he expresses reservations only when it is, in his view, associated with an ideology of global domination and the rejection of other religions—that is, when Zionism appears to him in a conspiratorial and radicalized form. This framing reflects a recurring pattern in Turkish public discourse, particularly in certain Islamic and radical political circles, where Zionism is often linked to global conspiracy theories. Nonetheless, in Oktar’s messianic rhetoric, his objection stems not from a denial of the Jewish people’s right to a state or to religious practice, but from what he perceives as an ideological threat to global religious pluralism and moral order. He explicitly states that if Jews wish to live according to their faith in their own country, he has no objection. His opposition arises only when he detects—or claims to detect—an intention to establish a singular religious hegemony through the eradication of all others (MEMRI 2007). Overt antisemitism—a distinction that is functionally irrelevant—does not prevent the Turkish public sphere from being saturated with deeply negative and reductive representations of both Jewish identity and Zionist ideology. “Zionism” and “Israel” frequently carry extreme, almost demonic connotations for large segments of the Turkish population. Rıfat N. Bali emphasizes that, for much of Turkish society, Israel is perceived as a “terror state” engaged in the “colonization” of Muslim and Arab lands—an interpretive framework that often masks manifestly antisemitic rhetoric.

This mode of perception finds explicit expression in the discourse of Adnan Oktar, who articulates a conditional approach to Zionism: he does not object to the existence of a Jewish state or to the Jewish people’s right to religious and national sovereignty, but rather takes issue with Zionism only when it is portrayed—as he sees it—as an imperial ideology that seeks global domination and the rejection of other religions. Such framing is fully consistent with dominant strains of Turkish Islamist discourse, wherein Zionism is routinely cast as a conspiratorial and morally corrupt doctrine. Oktar thus does not depart from the prevailing conception but rather reiterates it in a sharply articulated and structured form—precisely the pattern that Bali identifies as central to the political-Islamic rhetoric in contemporary Turkey (Bali 1999).

The implication is that Adnan Oktar is inclined to accept messianic phenomena in Israel, along with their broader religious significance, primarily because the entire discourse surrounding the Messiah serves not only his worldview but also the theological vision of his movement—namely, the belief that he himself might be the Mahdi, the Muslim messianic figure. In this framework, the recognition of the Mahdi by members of other religions, particularly by their religious leaders, would represent a critical and legitimizing step toward fulfilling his mission and spiritual destiny.

In contrast, Fethullah Gülen not only refrained from framing Zionism in negative terms but also appeared to acknowledge Israel’s right to exist. On multiple occasions, he publicly defended Israel—even at the cost of straining relations with the Turkish government. That said, one could argue that this confrontation with the Turkish authorities also served a strategic purpose: to distinguish “Gülenist Islam” from “Erdoğanist Islam”—that is, to differentiate the ways in which the two figures interpret and represent Islam to the world. Gülen, having aligned himself with the West—where he not only found support after the failed coup attempt in 2016 but where his movement continues to operate as a diaspora-based network—may have chosen to emphasize positive engagement with Israel as a means of demonstrating his movement’s pro-Western orientation. In this sense, Israel functions not only as a religious interlocutor but also as a symbolic asset in Gülen’s broader strategy of political-religious positioning.