The semantic shift that the concepts of “elite” and “elitism” have undergone in public discourse reflects not only political polemics, but also a broader crisis of trust in knowledge, authority, and guidance in modern societies. In this context, the Epstein scandal has been etched into memory as one of the symbolic breaking points of this transformation. Initially perceived as a judicial investigation into a criminal network, this scandal quickly became part of a much broader debate. It is a fact that the expression “Western elites,” which appears before us as the perpetrators of this scandal, has increasingly turned into a negative, even irritating categorical classification within media discourse, political rhetoric, and the digital public sphere. Thus, the process of distancing, ongoing for half a century, from the intrinsic connotations of “elite” and “elitism,” such as moral responsibility and intellectual guidance, has reached a stage where this axiological mission is now associated with closed networks, power relations, regimes of wealth and privilege, and ultimately with spheres of pleasure and illicit vulnerabilities.
It is certain that this transformation is closely related to the structural changes in the modern public sphere. Jürgen Habermas’s work The Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere is particularly significant in demonstrating how public debate has gradually shifted from a rational-critical ground to a more mediatized and emotional one. According to Habermas, this transformation of the public sphere has facilitated the reduction of complex concepts into slogans. The semantic shift experienced by the concept of “elite” can be read precisely within this context. In other words, we observe that this multi-layered concept has been simplified in media and political language into a one-dimensional label, a process that has consequently weakened its intellectual substance.
The role of political rhetoric has also been highly determinative in the “elite” concept acquiring negative connotations as a profile. Russian President Vladimir Putin’s use of the discourse of “corrupt Western elites,” particularly in his criticisms of the West following the Epstein scandal, appears to have contributed to the concept turning into an ideological target. Political discourse, by its very nature, simplifies concepts; because politics produces powerful symbols rather than complex intellectual distinctions. However, this simplification often comes at the expense of conceptual accuracy. Thus, “elite” and “elitism” have ceased to denote a category expressing intellectual guidance, ethical responsibility, and aesthetic awareness, and have instead transformed into a category of political accusation.
At this point, it should be noted that the transformation experienced by the concept of “elite” has a linguistic counterpart: pejoration. In linguistics, pejoration refers to the process by which a word acquires negative meanings over time. As also emphasized in Raymond Williams’s work Keywords, the fundamental concepts of modern societies are redefined within political struggles. The transformation undergone by the word “elite” is a typical example of this process. Historically, the concept was associated with virtue, excellence, and responsibility; yet over the past century—both globally and in Türkiye—it has increasingly come to be associated with privilege and detachment. In the Turkish context in particular, the contribution of the government’s populist rhetoric to this development cannot be underestimated—especially when we consider that the government has positioned “elite” and “elitism” as a kind of existential “other.” I will discuss the general perception of “elitism” in the Turkish context under a separate heading in greater detail.
Let me state it plainly without prolonging the matter: there is a critical distinction that must be made here. The Epstein case is not the story of elitism, but rather the story of the moral collapse of certain figures perceived as “elite.” When this distinction between concept and representation is not made, singular events turn into generalized critiques of concepts. We must all acknowledge that one of the greatest problems of modern public debate is the tendency to judge concepts based on examples that misrepresent them. Indeed, this has rendered the historical meaning of “elite” and “elitism” invisible, while simultaneously burdening them with distinctly negative connotations. Therefore, rethinking the concept of “elite” requires reopening the question of modern societies’ trust in the idea of intellectual guidance. Because to reconsider “elitism” is not merely to revisit a social category, but also to raise a fundamental question in both the particular trajectories of societies and the broader question of civilization: who can assume the task of providing cognitive, ethical, and aesthetic guidance to societies—and how?
Is Elitism a Class-Based Privilege Centered on Power, Fame, and Wealth? Or Is It a State of Individual and Human Consciousness?
This much is clear: the most fundamental distortion to which the concept of “elite” has been subjected in modern debates is its reinterpretation as a class category. Today, the word “elite” is often equated with economic power, political influence, or social visibility; yet this equation represents a significant rupture from the concept’s historical meaning. Max Weber’s treatment of social hierarchy through the distinction of class–status–party clearly demonstrates why this conflation is problematic. According to Weber, class relates to economic position, status to social prestige, and political power to institutional influence. The mistake made by modern public discourse is to collapse these three distinct dimensions into a single term: “elite.” In doing so, elitism is stripped of its moral, individual, and intellectual qualities and reduced to a socio-economic category. This transformation itself signals a semantic shift in the concept. In linguistics, this process—referred to as semantic shift—denotes the acquisition of new meanings by a word over time; in the case of “elite” and “elitism,” this change is more specifically an instance of pejoration. The concept has not only acquired new meanings but has also been burdened with negative connotations. Recalling Raymond Williams’s Keywords: A Vocabulary of Culture and Society, we must keep in mind his argument that fundamental concepts in modern societies are redefined through political struggles. The fact that the word “elite” today evokes associations with class, privilege, and detachment is precisely a dramatic outcome of this historical redefinition.
In the classical tradition of thought, however, elitism was never conceived as a class-based doctrine. At this point, I find the distinction made by José Ortega y Gasset in The Revolt of the Masses particularly instructive. The “elite” is not a class positioned above society, but the individual who demands more from himself than what the average demands. This approach transforms “elitism” from a sociological category into an ethical one. Indeed, this is precisely where the intellectual and conceptual misclassification lies: being “elite” is not an innate privilege centered on the possession of wealth, power, status, or fame, but a responsibility consciously assumed. Where, then, is the error? The error lies in shifting the ground of the discussion to the wrong domain.
For this reason, it is crucial to emphasize that elitism is not a class-based but a moral and individual quality, and to recognize that being “elite” does not mean belonging to wealth, fame, influence, or social networks, but rather assuming a certain level of responsibility. This responsibility concerns the relationship the individual establishes with himself, with knowledge, and with society. Therefore, elitism is not an “upper-class ideology,” but a consciousness of the ethics of responsibility.
This perspective also explains why the concept of “elite” has been misunderstood in the modern era. Thorstein Veblen’s analysis of conspicuous consumption in The Theory of the Leisure Class demonstrates that wealth often produces a form of visibility detached from cultural depth, and that in modern societies, the notion of fame increasingly substitutes visibility for “value,” “virtue,” and “excellence.” In other words, modern culture (deliberately) tends to conflate what is visible with what is valuable. Yet “elitism” produces not visibility but obligation. For this reason, the “elite” profile is defined not by opportunities but by responsibilities. Accordingly, the proper definition of “elitism” should be grounded not in class or status, but in individual ethical capacity. At this point, it can be said that “elitism” is not a position that demands privilege from society, but a state of consciousness that feels responsibility toward it. If we can clarify this distinction, we may then ask another question:
Who is the real elite? How should elitism be defined along the axes of morality, erudition, and wisdom?
A New Definition of “Elite” Along the Axes of Ethics and Responsibility
The moment we remove “elite” from being a class category and position it as a moral, individual responsibility, the center of the concept becomes the individual’s inner world, self-awareness, and self-regulation; thus, the “elite” is defined not by external markers, but by an inner state of discipline and consciousness. For this reason, being “elite” is not only about the accumulation of knowledge, but also about the capacity to assume responsibility for that knowledge. The distinction between knowledge and wisdom is decisive here: knowledge enables us to understand the world; wisdom teaches us how to live in it. Aristotle’s concept of phronesis, that is, practical wisdom, articulates this distinction clearly in classical philosophy. Phronesis is the capacity to translate theoretical knowledge into the concrete domain of life—in other words, it is the bridge between knowledge and action. The point at which “elitism” begins is precisely where this bridge is established.
The Scottish philosopher Alasdair MacIntyre, in his seminal work After Virtue, argues that one of the greatest axiological crises of modern societies is the “fragmentation of a shared moral language.” According to him, modern individuals have lost the concept of virtue, and moral discourse has been deprived of a common ground. In such a context, the elite should not merely be the one who produces knowledge, but the one who keeps moral reflection alive. Therefore, the distinctiveness, exceptionality, and even solitude that constitute the hallmark of the “elite” are natural consequences of this state of consciousness. In the Turkish intellectual tradition, this perspective deepens around the concept of irfan. It would be worthwhile to reread Bu Ülke by Cemil Meriç or İsyan Ahlakı by Nurettin Topçu through this lens.
Another indicator of being “elite” is cultural consciousness. Pierre Bourdieu introduces, in Distinction, a concept that has opened the door to extensive debate: cultural capital. This speculative concept is significant in demonstrating that being “elite” is also a matter of cultural accumulation. What is referred to as cultural capital consists of elements such as aesthetic taste, use of language, cultural production, ethical sensitivity, and intellectual accumulation. If we were to ask which figure in the Turkish intellectual and aesthetic tradition exemplifies this approach, my answer would be directly Ahmet Hamdi Tanpınar—particularly the character İhsan in his novel Huzur. Because İhsan appears before us as an “elite” who ensures the continuity of cultural tradition without possessing fame, wealth, political influence, or inherited power. İhsan is a teacher. He has neither political influence, nor fame, nor lineage-based affiliation, nor wealth… Precisely as Tanpınar conceptualizes civilization as a delicate relationship established with time—and as he suggests that those who sustain this relationship are individuals endowed with cultural consciousness—“elitism” becomes the state of being a carrier of cultural continuity.
The Aesthetic Dimension of Elitism: Taste, Style and Poetry
Another dimension of the debate on “elitism” is its aesthetic nature. This dimension has a profoundly vital role in determining the quality of the relationship that human beings establish with the world. For human beings are not only thinking beings, but also feeling and appreciating ones. When the aesthetic horizon of a society narrows, it is not difficult to observe that not only its art, but the subtlety of its entire public life, deteriorates. At this point, Roger Scruton, through his work Beauty, provides a strong reference for understanding the aesthetic dimension of elitism. According to Scruton, the sense of beauty is an indicator of the value that human beings attribute to the world. Accordingly, one of the greatest crises of the modern world is the growing perception of beauty as something unnecessary. If we consider that beauty enables individuals to see the world not merely as an object to be used, but also as a realm of meaning to be preserved, we can readily grasp that aesthetic consciousness is an inseparable component of elitism.
Reducing aesthetic consciousness merely to the production of art is, unfortunately, another form of conceptual narrowing. One of its most significant manifestations is the way language is used. This usage points to a refined form of expression enriched by metaphor, imagery, what Yahya Kemal referred to as derûnî ahenk (inner harmony), and the production of imagination. In other words: poetry…
- S. Eliot, in defining poetry not as the spontaneous expression of individual emotion but as a disciplined synthesis of cultural memory and individual experience, effectively argues that the poet carries not only the voice of his own age but also that of preceding ages. Thus, engaging with poetry is at the same time a responsibility toward civilization—an articulation that implicitly reflects an “elite” stance and posture. Indeed, in our classical literature, poetry is endowed with an almost divine quality, as expressed by one of its most “elite” poets, Şeyh Gâlib, in his famous work Hüsn ü Aşk: “Ol demde Sühan huzûra geldi / Kün emri gibi zuhûra geldi.” If we also listen to the great twentieth-century French poet Paul Valéry, his well-known statement may be recalled in the same context:
“Poetry is never finished; it is only abandoned.” This sentence, for instance, is particularly significant in that it reflects one of the core characteristics of elitism: the demand for perfection. If the “elite” is one who is not satisfied with what is merely sufficient, poetry too is a linguistic practice that refuses to settle for sufficiency. Another reason why poetry embodies an “elite” stance lies in the distance it maintains from the popular. Poetry does not aim at immediate comprehensibility; rather, it seeks deep associations. For this reason, poetry addresses not the masses, but attentive and qualified readers. This does not render poetry “detached”; it renders it “intense.” Perhaps this is the form that best represents the often-mentioned intellectual solitude of elitism.
At this point, it seems necessary to draw a critical conceptual distinction between “elite” and “intellectual,” for they are not the same. Although these two concepts are often used interchangeably in modern debates, there is a subtle yet highly significant difference between them. Not every intellectual is an elite. Nor is it necessary for an “elite” to be an intellectual, although the elite possesses the capacity for intellectuality. Why? Because the intellectual is primarily one who produces, interprets, and critiques knowledge. The elite, by contrast, is the one who represents this production of value in the public sphere by assuming epistemic, moral, and aesthetic responsibility. In other words, the intellectual is a social role, whereas elitism is a state of consciousness. Since delving into the full scope of this distinction would shift our discussion onto a different analytical axis, it is preferable to leave it for a separate inquiry and suffice here with this clarification.
Why Is “Elitism” Perceived Negatively in Türkiye?
The unsettling connotation that the words “elite” and “elitism” carry in Türkiye from a semantic standpoint must be sought not only in contemporary political debates, but also in the deeper layers of the country’s modernization experience. For the debate on “elite” in Türkiye is, at the same time, a psychology of modernization. Since the direction, pace, and method of modernization did not produce an equal transformation of mentality across different segments of society, this process inevitably generated a sharp sense of distance between the semantics of “society”—or more precisely “the people”—and the “elite.”
At this point, Şerif Mardin’s approach centered on the center–periphery distinction offers a critical explanation. According to Mardin, because the modernization process extending from the Ottoman Empire to the Republic was largely shaped at the level of the state and through state-led initiatives, and because social transformation proceeded from the top down, this produced a mental and cultural distance between the intellectuals—who were the carriers of modernization—and the broader segments of society. While the institutional face of modernization became rapidly visible, cultural transformation could not be internalized at the same pace. This unequal tempo and lack of synchronization laid the groundwork for the concept of “elite” to become associated, over time, not with guidance but with distance. However, it is also necessary to underline a critical conceptual confusion here. A significant portion of critiques directed at “elitism” in Türkiye are, in fact, critiques of “intellectuals” who are perceived as alien to the realities of society. Yet the “elite” is not identical to the “intellectual.” (Although there are nuanced differences between them, I intentionally use “intellectual” and “aydın” interchangeably here.) When this distinction is not made, critiques directed at intellectuals appear as though they are directed at the concept of “elite,” and as a galat-ı meşhûr (a widely accepted misconception), the negative connotations of the concept are reinforced. It is, of course, a fact that there exists a vast and seemingly endless literature on this subject, with countless articles, books, conferences, and papers devoted to it.
When we look at Turkish literature, we observe that the tension produced by modernization is frequently narrated through a sense of being caught between the past and the future. In addition to Tanzimat-era novels, authors such as Yakup Kadri, Halide Edip, Peyami Safa, and Reşat Nuri, among many others, can be cited as examples. Within this psychological framework, the figure of the “elite” oscillates between two images: (1) the individual striving to advance society; and (2) the individual detached from society and its realities. The ambivalent nature of the concept of “elite” in Turkish sociology becomes particularly evident at this juncture. And, of course, there is also the issue of a conflict produced by contemporary political language, and the existential legitimacy derived from this conflict.
It is a clear fact that modern political language has been determinative in the negative connotations attached to the concepts of “elite” and “elitism” in Türkiye. Especially in recent years, the term “elites”—so frequently invoked in political discourse as an “other”—has been used as a category of accusation, associated with detachment from society and its realities, privilege, and arrogance; this is something we have closely witnessed—and continue to witness. Within this discourse, “elitism” has been stripped of its meaning as an idea of intellectual responsibility and presented almost as a social flaw. This language has operated in conjunction with a strategy of constructing oppositions, frequently employed in the production of political legitimacy, whereby a sharp division is drawn between “the people” and “the elites,” and a narrative centered on victimhood is constructed. Yet, over time, a rather striking picture has emerged. The very qualities initially criticized—power, wealth, visibility, political influence, and even arrogance—have been reproduced in another form of “elitism,” equally artificial and equally subject to the same deviations, but this time by a different cadre and a different social milieu. Does this process not demonstrate that this form of pseudo-“elitism” has not disappeared, but merely changed hands? In this way, has not anti-elitist discourse paradoxically produced its own elite, giving rise to a new sphere of privilege structured around power, money, fame, and influence? If so, then we must acknowledge that the debate on “elitism” is not truly about the authentic and genuine foundations of “elitism,” but rather about how it is defined within political discourse and by whom it is represented.
In conclusion, in Türkiye, the debate on “elitism” has never been conducted on the basis of the true role of “elites” and the genuine nature of elitism. For this reason, I regret to say that I do not believe there currently exists a sufficiently clear intellectual consciousness capable of conducting a proper conceptual discussion on what “elitism” truly denotes and what responsibilities it entails. What Türkiye needs is not opposition to “elites,” but a correct understanding of what it means to be “elite.”
I believe that Turkish sociology is not entirely unfamiliar with the idea of distinction inherent in the authentic notion of “elitism” I refer to. For this awareness has historically been nourished by strong traditions of irfan that emerged from within the people and manifested in different forms across various layers of society. To give an example: Mevlevîlik, one of the most refined cultural currents of Ottoman urban life, was not merely a Sufi path but also a school of etiquette (adâb-ı muaşeret), an aesthetic discipline, and a code of urban refinement. Extending from music to architecture, from poetry to philosophy, and indeed to literature, as well as to the etiquette of conversation and the table, this delicate world represents a form of cultural elitism in which “distinction” is grounded not in wealth but in measure, style, cultivation, and the capacity for representation—would I be mistaken in saying so? By contrast, in the social spheres outside the center, Bektaşîlik encountered this idea of “distinction” in a different tone, through a more horizontal and inclusive language of irfan, offering a framework of strong morality, etiquette, and wisdom that did not appear hierarchical. This tradition transformed a metaphysical and spiritual form of elitism into a field of wisdom embedded in everyday life and accessible to broader segments of society. Moreover, the carriers of this irfan were not only institutions, but language itself: the metaphors, images, and multi-layered, richly associative meanings circulating in Mevlevî poetry, Bektaşî sayings, and the oral culture of Anatolia—requiring intellectual cultivation to be fully grasped—demonstrate that the aesthetic and intellectual horizon of the people possesses a far deeper vein of distinction than is often assumed; and this, in fact, constitutes a genuinely elitist stance. Thus, in the cultural history of Anatolia, distinction has existed not merely as a privilege confined to the palace or the center, but as an “aristocracy of irfan” experienced in different forms across different social strata. This reality is significant in showing that “elitism” in Türkiye should not be approached merely through the lens of rupture or distance—constructed through misleading and superficial perceptions of the past century—but rather as a matter of deep-rooted cultural continuity.
Elitism Is a Social Necessity
Societies do not stand solely upon institutions, but upon standards and principles. These standards generate a shared sensitivity and sensibility regarding what is right, what is valuable, what is beautiful, and what is meaningful. Yet this sensitivity does not arise spontaneously; it requires roles and profiles that carry it. There must always exist a segment that invisibly maintains the threshold of culture, thought, and morality at a higher level—and indeed, such a segment has always existed. When this “distinguished” segment disappears, society loses not only its direction but also its measure. The greatest fragility of modern mass society emerges precisely here: disorientation, a loss of bearings. In an age where access to knowledge has increased but knowledge itself has been devalued, where visibility has expanded but authority has weakened, societies are in greater need than ever of guidance concerning civilization. For as knowledge proliferates, it becomes more difficult to discern truth; as options multiply, it becomes harder to find direction. It is precisely at this point that “elitism” emerges to designate a function: the determination of direction. The genuine and authentic “elites” of a society elevate the cognitive and affective level of the community to which they belong. They establish, in an invisible manner, a reference framework that shapes the level of discourse, the refinement of language, the depth of thought, and the elegance of public life. And what is the picture that emerges in the absence of such a framework? Unfortunately, we are all too familiar with the answer. In a public life where this “distinguished,” “select” segment is inactive, abolished, or alienated, discourse rapidly hardens, language becomes coarse, debate grows superficial, civility is devalued, ethical action becomes inert, and aesthetic depth is buried. Mediocrity becomes the norm. For “elitism” is a mechanism of level-setting that invisibly maintains the intellectual and aesthetic threshold of society at a higher plane.
Perhaps the sentence I should have written at the very beginning of this text is best stated at its conclusion; let me present here the essential point I intended to convey.
Derived from the Latin verb eligere, meaning “to choose,” and acquiring its present meaning through the French words élite (the select) and élitisme (elitism), the concepts of “elite” and “elitism”—contrary to the perception shaped by misleading and directive factors, as I have attempted to explain and discuss above—do not denote power, wealth, arrogance, influence, or detachment. Rather, they signify the will to choose value, quality, ethics, aesthetics, knowledge, and high culture. In this sense, the select—that is, the elite—is not the one who is visible through a false glitter, but the one who is felt through measure and moderation, and who embodies distinction. It is not one who demands privilege and advantage from the masses, but one who stands apart from them precisely because he gives direction to their horizon; not one who merges into noise, but a state of consciousness that silently enables the elevation of standards.
For this reason, “elitism” is a civilizational necessity for societies.