In 1913, long before modern Türkiye was founded, the Turks of Western Thrace established what is considered the first Turkish republic in history — a bold assertion of self-governance and national identity.
Since then, this resilient community has faced a century-long battle to preserve its culture, language, religion, and very existence in the face of growing Greek state pressure.
Following the Treaty of Lausanne in 1923, Western Thrace was placed under Greek sovereignty.
However, unlike the mass population exchanges between Greece and Türkiye following the agreement, Turks in Western Thrace — along with Greeks residing in Istanbul and the Princes’ Islands — were exempt from relocation.
This exception was not arbitrary; it was codified in international law to ensure the protection of minority rights. Yet over the decades, Greece has systematically eroded these protections.
“The Treaty of Lausanne…is a birth certificate that forms the basis of their identity, existence, and rights,” says Ozan Ahmetoglu, former president of the Iskece Turkish Union, which has been officially banned by the Greek government despite a clear ruling in its favour by the European Court of Human Rights (ECHR).
However, Greece has unleashed a century-long campaign to erase history, undermine identity, and silence an entire people under the guise of national unity.
From arbitrarily shutting down Turkish-language schools and replacing elected local religious leaders with state-appointed clerics, to confiscating foundation properties and banning the use of the word ‘Turkish’ in association names, Athens has deployed a slow but persistent policy of erasure.
Worse still, Greece has failed to implement multiple rulings by the ECHR, including cases that upheld the right of the Turkish minority to organise and express their ethnic identity.
Turkish activists in Western Thrace say that this disregard not only violates the treaty but also weakens Europe’s broader human rights framework.
Greece’s treatment of the Turkish community has long been a sore point in Turkish-Greek relations, already under strain due to several disputes over territorial claims in the Aegean.
Western Thrace – which borders Bulgaria, Türkiye and the Greek region of Macedonia – is home to an estimated 150,000 ethnic Turks.
Athens’ policy of identity denial
Greece’s longstanding policy of denying the existence of national and ethnic minorities within its borders is not merely a bureaucratic oversight — it is a calculated state doctrine designed to erase entire communities from historical and legal recognition.
While this policy targets all ethnic minorities, its most visible and egregious impact is on the Turkish minority of Western Thrace. The Greek state officially defines minorities exclusively by religious affiliation — a framework that deliberately ignores ethnicity, language, and culture.
In official statements and legal frameworks, the government insists that “there is only one religious minority in Greece — the Greek Muslim Minority.”
“This approach ignores the identities, languages, and cultural heritage of other ethnic minorities in the country, especially Turks, and reflects a perspective that is contrary to human rights. Denying the identities of minorities brings with it numerous problems,” Ahmetoglu tells TRT World.
In recent years, Greece has doubled down on this policy — transforming denial into an official state narrative.
Turkish identity is treated as a threat to national unity, and the community’s cultural expression is framed as foreign interference. This rhetoric has gained traction in political discourse and has been echoed in courtrooms, parliament, and even school curricula.
By erasing the Turkish minority on paper, Athens attempts to sever the historical and legal ties that link this community to Türkiye and to the international treaties that protect them.
Silent battlegrounds
One of the most visible and devastating areas of suppression is education. Until the 1970s, schools serving the minority were officially recognised as ‘Turkish schools’.
This explicit acknowledgement of ethnic identity was later revoked — replaced by vague, de-ethnicised labels like ‘Muslim’, ‘bilingual’ or ‘minority’, designed to dissolve communal identity under generic categorisation.
“Despite being part of compulsory education, Greece has not allowed the opening of minority schools providing bilingual Turkish–Greek education,” says Ahmetoglu.
Even more concerning, dozens of schools have been closed over the years, often justified by demographic pretexts — even as enrollment at Greek-language schools in the same region remains lower.
The imposition of state-appointed religious leaders is another tool in the pressure apparatus.

Turkish Muslims in Western Thrace have the treaty-backed right to elect their own muftis — a practice not only religious, but also symbolic of community autonomy.
Yet, Athens continues to appoint muftis directly, disregarding the community’s democratic choices and the binding nature of the Lausanne Treaty.
Ahmetoglu unpacks the broader meaning of this interference. “The mufti’s office is not only a religious institution but also plays a critical role in the legal and cultural representation of the minority.”
Greece’s control extends even to community foundations and charitable endowments.
Since 1968, Greece has suspended the minority’s right to elect the boards of these institutions.
Instead, government-appointed administrators — often with no ties to the community — manage foundation properties, including religious buildings, schools, and cemeteries.
This effectively removes the minority’s agency over its own legacy and infrastructure.
Denial, suppression, erasure
Ahmetoglu describes the Greek state’s policy as a “triangle of non-recognition, suppression, and de-identification”.
And for decades, Greece has implemented this model through the closure of minority associations bearing the word ‘Turkish’; refusing to recognise community-elected religious and civic leaders; and replacing Turkish-language curricula with generic or state-imposed content.
Long-established and culturally significant institutions such as the Iskece Turkish Union, the Gumulcine Turkish Youth Union, and the Western Thrace Turkish Teachers’ Union have been forcibly shut down by Greek authorities under the vague and politically charged justification of being “national security threats”.
The repression goes even further: Greece has actively blocked the establishment of new associations bearing the word ‘Turkish’, including the Turkish Women’s Cultural Association in Rodop and Iskece.
“In 2008, an ECHR panel, which included Greek and Greek Cypriot judges, convicted Greece, ordered compensation, and ruled for the reopening of the closed associations,” Ahmetoglu says.
Yet nearly two decades have passed, and these legally binding ECHR decisions remain unimplemented. Greece has circumvented compliance through domestic legislative manoeuvres and Supreme Court verdicts in blatant defiance of international jurisprudence.
Ahmetoglu warns of the broader implications:
“This attitude sets a dangerous precedent for the entire European legal order. The non-enforcement of ECHR judgments perpetuates the grievances faced by communities such as the Turkish minority of Western Thrace, whose sole wish is to live their identity and exercise their cultural rights.”
More than a hundred years after the Treaty of Lausanne, this policy of denial stands as a direct challenge not only to the Turkish minority but to Europe’s commitment to pluralism, rule of law, and minority rights.