For millions of Turkish citizens today, obtaining a visa to visit, study, or work in developed countries has become an exhausting, humiliating, and often fruitless process. Whether it is the United States, European Union members, the United Kingdom, Japan, South Korea, China, or even Russia, securing a visa has turned into an obstacle course — one that many Turks feel is stacked unfairly against them.
The reasons cited by these countries are often wrapped in polite diplomatic language. They range from “security concerns” to “migration risk” and “overstaying potential.” Some claim their consular systems are overloaded, or that high demand justifies longer waiting periods. Others insist that Turkey’s economic situation or political environment makes it necessary to “scrutinize applications more carefully.” Whatever the explanation, the outcome is the same: long queues, months-long delays, costly applications, and a high rate of rejection.
In the case of many EU member states, the visa issue has also become a subtle political snub directed at Türkiye’s current government — a way of signaling disapproval without formal diplomatic confrontation. While such gestures may play well in domestic European politics, they punish ordinary Turkish citizens rather than policymakers.
At the same time, it is true that Turkish citizens are among the top nationalities applying for asylum in EU countries. This reality does create a degree of understandable caution among European consular officers. Yet, any reasonable and properly trained visa officer should be capable of distinguishing between potential asylum seekers and genuine short-term travelers — businesspeople, students, academics, artists, and others who have clear ties and intentions to return. This distinction is not difficult to make, and it should not become an obstacle for the tens of thousands of eligible applicants who pose no migration risk whatsoever.
Turkish citizens from every walk of life have voiced their frustration. Businesspeople complain that they are unable to attend fairs, meetings, or investment summits — even when they can show proof of funds, return tickets, and established careers. Students with scholarships to top universities abroad are denied visas without explanation. Academics invited to conferences face uncertainty and humiliation at consulates. Sportsmen and women miss tournaments. Artists and journalists, whose work depends on cultural exchange, are rejected or made to wait endlessly. Even holders of green (official) passports — who represent the Turkish state in some capacity — are increasingly subject to scrutiny and arbitrary refusal.
The consequences go far beyond individual inconvenience. When Turkish entrepreneurs cannot travel freely, trade opportunities are lost. Partnerships go unrealized. Academic and scientific collaboration suffers, and the next generation of students is deprived of global exposure. Tourism, ironically, is affected too — not because Turks do not wish to travel, but because they often cannot. For many, the right to mobility — a basic feature of modern citizenship — feels like a privilege reserved for others.
Contrast this with Türkiye’s own visa regime. Ankara has long adopted one of the most liberal policies in the world, particularly toward citizens of developed nations. Most European countries, along with the United States, Japan, South Korea, and others, can enter Türkiye without a visa. Some — such as citizens of Germany and Poland — can even do so using only their national ID cards. The rationale is simple: to encourage tourism, attract foreign currency, and maintain the flow of visitors who contribute to the economy. Tourism represents a crucial source of hard currency for Türkiye, and in a time of economic pressure, the logic of “open doors” seems financially sound.
But there are other reasons as well. Türkiye has always seen itself as a crossroads between East and West — hospitable, open, and pragmatic. Maintaining easy access for foreigners reinforces its image as a welcoming destination and supports its geopolitical ambitions to remain a bridge between regions. It also serves a strategic economic goal: to make Istanbul a major global travel hub and to strengthen Turkish Airlines as a leading international carrier — a policy that has clearly paid off.
Still, one cannot ignore the growing sense of unfairness. Countries with similar or even weaker economies than Türkiye — from Latin America to parts of Eastern Europe — often enjoy visa-free travel to the Schengen zone or the UK. Meanwhile, Turks, who live in one of the world’s top twenty economies, are treated as potential overstayers or security risks. The contrast is both insulting and counterproductive.
Would reciprocity help? Should Türkiye begin to apply similar restrictions to those countries that make life so difficult for Turkish citizens? In theory, reciprocity is a matter of dignity and equality between states. If one side imposes strict visa controls, the other is entitled to do the same. In practice, however, this approach has costs. Fewer tourists would come. Hotels, restaurants, and shops across Türkiye — especially in resort regions — could lose valuable income. Jobs would be affected, and the flow of foreign currency would shrink at a time when the country needs it most.
Yet the argument is not purely economic. National pride and sovereignty matter too. A country that welcomes millions of visitors without question, while its own citizens are made to beg for entry elsewhere, cannot avoid the question: how long can this imbalance continue? A more measured approach may be necessary — one that does not close Türkiye’s doors but introduces reciprocity selectively, beginning with states that show consistent bad faith or systemic discrimination.
In the short term, Türkiye will likely continue to prioritize tourism revenues and economic stability. But over the medium term, the country must start asserting its dignity and protecting its citizens’ rights through a more balanced visa policy. This could mean requiring visas for certain countries, introducing digital pre-clearance systems, or linking future relaxations to genuine reciprocity.
A nation’s openness should never be mistaken for weakness. Türkiye’s hospitality has deep roots — but fairness must be mutual. It is time to remind the world that respect, like access, should go both ways.
