Once seen as brothers in faith, Syrians are now at the centre of Türkiye's sharpest debate: return. Economic hardship, social fatigue, and Europe’s moral outsourcing have turned an act of solidarity into a question of justice, identity, and survival. Süleyman Güngör brings this human dilemma to the forefront — where Realpolitik, economics, security, and morality collide
When war forced millions of Syrians to flee their country in 2011, Türkiye opened its borders, and its homes. The ensar-muhacir tradition — the hospitality of the people of Medina during the Prophet’s migration — became a national symbol of faith and virtue.
Türkiye’s tradition of hospitality runs deep. For centuries, the Ottoman Empire welcomed Muslim communities from the Balkans and the Caucasus. Many of these newcomers already spoke Turkish or quickly adopted the language, making cultural adaptation easier. They defined themselves not through ethnicity or sect but through a shared 'Turkish' identity, which helped them integrate fast. The Republic continued this pattern, absorbing populations from Greece, Bulgaria, and Bosnia during the twentieth century. Yet the Syrian crisis was different — its scale was unprecedented, and its permanence stretched the limits of compassion.
Nearly 2.4 million Syrians live in Türkiye under temporary protection and after a decade of inflation, unemployment, and social tension, Türkiye's compassion is at capacity
Today, according to 2025 figures from the Presidency of Migration Management, nearly 2.4 million Syrians live in Türkiye under temporary protection. Earlier migrations rarely exceeded a few hundred thousand, and ended quickly through assimilation.
Türkiye's President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan invoked the Quran, declaring of the Turkish people, 'We opened our hearts as the Ansar once did'. That moral tone defined the early years of AKP rule. Yet after a decade of inflation, unemployment, and social tension, compassion has met capacity. Open door has quietly turned into honourable return.
Between 2020 and 2025, Türkiye’s official inflation rose above 85%. Average rents in Istanbul and Ankara tripled and, according to government data, in Gaziantep and Şanlıurfa — cities hosting the largest Syrian populations — they doubled. Youth unemployment remained above 20%. Informal work in textiles and agriculture expanded as Syrians accepted lower wages, pulling local incomes down.
The phrase 'shared bread' now feels literal. There is indeed less bread to go around. A 2023 survey found that over 70% of Turkish citizens believe Syrians make daily life more expensive. Economic fatigue, more than hostility, explains the shift toward return.
Pierre Bourdieu’s idea of symbolic capital helps to explain it. Generosity, once moral wealth, turned into a social burden. Now, it is a virtue that costs too much to maintain.
Beyond economics, everyday life shows new invisible lines. Overcrowded schools, hospital queues, and limited housing are stretching local systems. In some border provinces, classrooms exceed 40 students per teacher. Overburdened clinics struggle to communicate with patients across language barriers.
As anthropologist Anthony P. Cohen argued, communities draw identity through symbolic boundaries — visible or invisible lines separating 'us' from 'them'. These lines now run through Turkish cities: in schools, markets, and neighbourhoods.
In 2016, the EU-Turkey deal promised €6 billion to manage migration, split between government and NGOs. Yet only about €4.2 billion reached Türkiye, and most of it funded only short-term relief. Europe effectively outsourced its borders — and its conscience — for a few euros.
Data from UNHCR, the UN’s High Commissioner for Refugees, show that Germany is hosting around 620,000 Syrians and France about 175,000. Türkiye shelters more than all EU states combined.
Europe’s moral capital lies in words; Türkiye’s in lived reality.
The Aegean Sea tells the rest of the story. Reports by Human Rights Watch and the UN document how Greek coastguards push back boats, sometimes leaving migrants adrift.
Across the water, Turkish villagers and fishermen rescue those same people.
The moral geography is stark. Europe closes its sea; Türkiye opens its homes. Even supporters of return admit that Turkish hospitality saved lives — at enormous moral and economic cost.
Return is no longer theoretical. Since 2022, more than 600,000 Syrians have gone back to northern Syria — to towns like Afrin, Jarablus, and Tell Abyad — under Turkish-supported local administrations, according to UNHCR. Schools, hospitals, and infrastructure are re-emerging.
Syria cannot rebuild if millions remain abroad. Reconstruction requires the return of genuine citizens — not only for Türkiye’s relief, but for Syria’s unity
But beyond the north, Syria as a whole needs its people. The country cannot rebuild if millions remain abroad. Prolonged exile deepens demographic fractures and strengthens Kurdish YPG-controlled enclaves, which divide the nation.
Reconstruction requires the return of genuine citizens — not only for Türkiye’s relief, but for Syria’s unity.
The call for return now crosses ideological lines:
Different motivations, same fatigue. The issue is no longer voluntariness but sustainability — social, political, and moral.
Philosopher Emmanuel Levinas wrote that genuine hospitality precedes sovereignty — an ethical impulse before the state. Yet modern humanitarianism, from UNHCR bureaucracy to NGO contracts, has turned compassion into policy paperwork.
Türkiye must now balance ethics with realism: enabling lawful return, and easing citizens’ hardships without breeding hostility
For Türkiye, leadership now means balancing ethics with realism: acknowledging limits, enabling lawful return, and easing citizens’ hardships without breeding hostility.
Türkiye’s story is not one of cruelty but endurance — of a nation carrying more than its share while Europe counted euros.
As boats continue to capsize in the Aegean, and Turkish families still share bread amid inflation, one truth endures: compassion without justice cannot last.
The task ahead is to make return humane, real, and shared — freeing hosts and guests alike from a moral burden the world refused to carry.
