As heads of state and government from NATO's 32 member countries gather in Ankara on 7–8 July for the alliance's 36th summit, hosted at Turkey's Presidential Complex, they are reaffirming NATO's unity in an increasingly volatile world. It is only the second NATO summit hosted by Turkey, following the 2004 meeting in Istanbul.
Yet the choice of venue carries an uncomfortable irony. NATO defines itself as an alliance founded not only on collective defence but also on democracy, individual liberty and the rule of law. As leaders meet in the Turkish capital, the host nation is marking the tenth anniversary of the failed coup attempt of 15 July 2016, an event that transformed Turkey's political landscape.
A decade later, one of NATO's most strategically important members remains burdened by unresolved questions about that night and by the far-reaching consequences that followed, including one of the largest post-coup crackdowns in modern history.
The attempted coup was a tragedy. More than 250 people lost their lives, thousands were injured and Turkish democracy suffered a profound shock. There is little disagreement about the human cost.
What remains contested is whether the Turkish public has ever been allowed to know the complete truth about how the events unfolded. Critics of the government's account continue to call for an independent investigation into unresolved issues, including disputed forensic findings, questions surrounding ballistic evidence, allegations regarding the chain of command and the use of force, and claims about the actions of security forces and armed civilians on the night of July 15.
The release of new material, including the Beştepe documentary, has renewed debate over whether these questions received adequate judicial or parliamentary scrutiny. Regardless of one's view of the competing narratives, a transparent and independent examination would strengthen, rather than weaken, public confidence in the historical record.
The scale of the crackdown has been documented not only by victims and exiled dissidents but also by Europe's leading democratic institutions and international human rights organisations.
Over the past decade, the Council of Europe, the European Parliament, Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch have consistently reported a dramatic deterioration in Turkey's rule of law, judicial independence and fundamental freedoms following the July 15 coup attempt. However, successive Western governments have largely accepted Ankara's official narrative while paying comparatively little attention to the extraordinary purge that followed. Under the state of emergency, more than 150,000 public servants were dismissed, hundreds of media organisations, schools, charities and businesses were closed, and tens of thousands of people were imprisoned. The overwhelming majority were accused of links to the Gülen movement, a faith-inspired civil society network that had previously enjoyed a complex relationship with the ruling AKP before becoming its principal domestic enemy.
Whatever one's view of the movement itself, the sheer scale of collective punishment should have alarmed every democracy. Teachers, judges, journalists, doctors, businesspeople and ordinary civil servants found themselves branded as terrorists, often on the basis of association rather than proven criminal conduct. Families were separated, assets confiscated and passports cancelled. Hundreds of thousands of Turkish citizens were forced into exile. Many remain unable to return home a decade later.
Yet Western capitals gradually fell silent.
Russia's invasion of Ukraine, Turkey's strategic position on the Black Sea, migration management, energy corridors and Ankara's expanding defence industry transformed President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan from an increasingly authoritarian leader into an indispensable geopolitical partner. Strategic necessity overtook democratic principle.
Washington needs Turkey's military capabilities. Europe needs Ankara's cooperation on migration and regional security. As a result, concerns over human rights and judicial independence increasingly became secondary to security calculations.
The contradiction was on display during NATO's summit in Ankara. A Dutch journalist challenged Secretary General Mark Rutte over Turkey's recent crackdown on opposition figures, journalists and comedian Deniz Göktaş. The journalist asked whether Ankara remained an appropriate venue for a gathering of liberal democracies and whether allied leaders should use the summit to raise these issues directly with President Erdoğan.
Rutte's answer was notable. He reminded the audience that democracy means far more than elections. It also requires a free press, journalists who can ask difficult questions, the freedom to investigate and publish, and the right to peaceful protest.
Those principles deserve to be applied not only in speeches but also in practice.
The renewed debate over July 15 has also been fuelled by the release of Beştepe, a documentary examining events inside the Beştepe Gendarmerie Headquarters, one of the locations the government identified as central to the coup attempt. Through witness testimony, court records and trial material, the documentary raises questions about police conduct, missing security camera footage, forensic evidence and the treatment of suspects during investigations. Whether one ultimately accepts its conclusions or not, the film illustrates that significant aspects of July 15 remain contested and continue to deserve public scrutiny rather than censorship.
These concerns are not limited to opposition activists or exiled critics.
In Parliament, DEM Party MP Dr. Ömer Faruk Gergerlioğlu recently highlighted that Turkey's parliamentary commission established to investigate the July 15 coup attempt never produced a final report. He said fundamental questions directed at Hulusi Akar, who was Chief of the General Staff during the coup attempt and was later promoted to defence minister, remain unanswered.
Gergerlioğlu questioned Akar's military decisions before and during the coup attempt, the handling of intelligence warnings, and his refusal to testify before the parliamentary commission. His broader point resonates beyond Turkey's political divisions: if the official account is complete, why do so many fundamental questions about July 15 remain unanswered a decade later? This is not an argument for replacing one unquestioned narrative with another. Nor is it an attempt to minimise the suffering of those killed resisting the coup attempt.
It is an argument for accountability.
Democratic societies do not fear independent investigation. They welcome it.
The tragedy of July 15 has become more than a historical event. It has become the legal and political foundation upon which an unprecedented restructuring of Turkish society has been built. Extraordinary emergency powers became permanent. Independent institutions weakened. The judiciary became increasingly politicised. Civil society shrank dramatically. Critical journalism became far more dangerous.
For members of the Gülen movement, the consequences have been especially severe. Thousands remain imprisoned or live in exile. Many have never been convicted of involvement in violence yet continue to face social exclusion, property confiscation and restrictions on their fundamental rights. Whatever one's opinion of the movement, justice requires that criminal responsibility be individual, not collective.
Unfortunately, the international community has often failed this test.
European governments and the United States continue to emphasise shared security interests while treating democratic concerns as an inconvenience. This approach may deliver short-term geopolitical stability, but it weakens the very democratic values NATO claims to defend.
History shows that alliances built solely on strategic convenience rarely remain stable. Democracies strengthen one another not only through military cooperation but also by insisting upon transparency, accountability and the rule of law.
Ten years after July 15, the most responsible position is neither to accept every official statement uncritically nor to embrace every alternative explanation without evidence. It is to recognise that important questions remain unresolved and that an independent, credible examination of the events and their aftermath would serve Turkey's citizens—and democracy itself.
If NATO wishes to demonstrate that democracy is more than a slogan, it should encourage openness rather than silence. It should support independent inquiry rather than political expediency. And it should remember that alliances are ultimately strengthened not by avoiding uncomfortable questions, but by having the confidence to confront them.
A decade after one of the defining nights in modern Turkish history, the greatest threat is no longer the events of July 15 themselves. It is the possibility that the search for truth has become subordinate to the demands of geopolitics.