A Psychological Sensitivity in the Search for a Solution: Reflections on Gökhan Bacik’s article: "State, ‘Cemaat’, Political Resolution: A Roadmap Proposal"

Recently, Gökhan Bacık reopened one of Turkey’s most painful societal debates — the state–religious community (cemaat) relationship — with an article published on Medyascope. The core proposal in his piece was the recognition of the cemaat as a “political actor,” and, much like the case with the PKK, the suggestion of resolving the issue through a “political solution model.” While this proposal is valuable in terms of intellectual courage, it carries a heavy emotional burden for thousands of people still suffering at the grassroots level.

This article is not written as a polemic or a rebuttal, but rather to give voice to the psychological and emotional fractures experienced on the ground. Because a true solution is not only possible on the political level but must also be carried and framed through psychological healing.

For religious communities that were once closely aligned with the state and later experienced a harsh rupture, the trauma has many layers: dismissals from jobs, social exclusion, confiscation of property, stigmatization of children, long periods of detention... And through all this, neither the political sphere nor society at large has provided open acknowledgment or even a simple “we hear you.”

This is why suggestions like “the cemaat must dissolve itself” provoke a reaction from the grassroots such as: “We’ve already been punished — now are we to deny our very existence?” In psychology, this is called secondary trauma: when your pain goes unrecognized, the wound is reopened.

While Bacık’s proposal may make sense from a standpoint of political rationality, the language used could be perceived by stigmatized individuals as a call to collective guilt. Yet justice cannot be achieved by generalizing guilt — it must differentiate individual responsibility. Blanket statements risk creating new layers of injustice, especially for the thousands who have had no involvement in wrongdoing.

So, what kind of language should be used instead?

Instead of “dissolve yourself”, say “redefine your sense of belonging.”

Instead of “sign a new contract with the state”, say “establish a shared ground of responsibility and truth.”

Because this process can only move forward if individuals feel not guilty, but wounded — and still worthy.

What Gets Overlooked in the Search for a Solution?

First: The initial step of healing is the recognition of trauma. This should not be limited to an official apology from the state. Yes, the widespread punitive policies enacted by the state have caused deep suffering and deserve acknowledgment. But where such acknowledgment is delayed or seems unlikely, the upper leadership of the cemaat — if a legitimate structure still exists — must step in to make the community’s suffering visible, create space for expression, and offer support. This would serve as a healing bridge between the leadership and the grassroots.

Second: Political solution processes cannot rely solely on rational planning or strategic negotiations; they must also include deep empathy and emotional repair. In contexts of collective trauma, people do not only seek restitution of their rights — they long to feel seen, heard, and understood. At this point, empathetic politics, that is, a political approach centered around people’s emotional realities, becomes a prerequisite for restorative justice.

Not only the state, but also the community’s internal actors — opinion leaders, civic formations, intellectuals — must adopt and promote this empathetic language. This means addressing the issue not only externally but turning inward as well. Voices from within the community must acknowledge past suffering, emotionally connect with the grassroots, and be able to say: “We hear you.”

Concrete Proposals:

Establish Community Testimony Platforms: Create safe spaces where victims can share their experiences of injustice, loss of rights, and emotional devastation. These platforms would serve not only for storytelling but also for strengthening collective memory.

Foster Empathetic Leadership: Provide training and awareness programs to help both political and religious leaders develop a more empathetic and inclusive language.

Issue Public Apologies and Acknowledgments of Responsibility: Political authorities and upper-level representatives of the cemaat must take responsibility for past harms and have the courage to offer public apologies. Such symbolic gestures can be crucial in rebuilding trust.

Initiate Reconnection Processes: For communities whose bonds with society have frayed, localized dialogue forums and empathy workshops should be organized to rebuild trust through relational healing.

Third: Instead of demanding that communities like the cemaat dissolve, we should expect a transformation that is transparent, accountable, and integrated into the civic order. This transformation must be framed in an inclusive language that relies not on fear but on trust. It requires time, dialogue, and mutual goodwill.

Bacık’s article may be the first to open a political resolution framework for this issue. Yet if such a framework is constructed without taking into account the society’s deep psychological wounds, it may reopen them instead of healing.

Today in this society, there are people who suffer even though they know they are not guilty — people who cannot wipe the labels from their children’s eyes, who are torn between a sense of belonging and a loss of identity. These people are not against a solution. But a true solution can only be built if someone tells them: “You are not alone. You were wronged. Let’s think together now.”

Note: This article is not written to defend any political organization. It is a call for awareness of how the pain experienced on the ground must be taken into account in any meaningful resolution process.

The Place Where I Forgot My Voice: The Silent Anatomy of Group Pressure

“One day, someone asked me, ‘What are you thinking?’ I couldn’t answer. Because I genuinely didn’t know. It was as if my inner voice had been silenced years ago.” These words belong to Elif, a 33-year-old woman who spent many years within a religious community. When she first came to therapy, her silence wasn’t only in her words—it echoed in her mind, her body, and her soul. For over a decade, she had lived as the “obedient” woman, the “unquestioning” servant, the “compliant” wife. Over time, she lost the ability to make her own decisions, until one day she said, “I don’t even know what I feel,” realizing just how deeply that silence had settled in.

Human beings are inherently social creatures, and the brain is wired for social life. The need for acceptance, when combined with the fear of rejection, often leads people to unconsciously conform to group norms. Neuroscientific research shows that social rejection is processed in the brain much like physical pain. In their 2004 fMRI study, Eisenberger and Lieberman found that when individuals are socially excluded, areas of the brain associated with physical pain—such as the anterior cingulate cortex (ACC) and the insula—are activated. Elif’s long-standing silence was not merely psychological; it was a biological adaptation.

Group pressure shapes not only behavior, but also perception. In another fMRI study by Berns and colleagues (2005), it was shown that when individuals conformed to a group’s opinion, even the visual processing centers of the brain were affected. This suggests that group influence can alter what we perceive as reality. That was exactly Elif’s experience—not only did she forget what she thought or felt, but even what she believed. The pressure to belong had gradually erased her sense of self.

People who remain in such group structures for extended periods often develop self-censorship, a fading of identity, diminished awareness, and a kind of internalized false compliance. Elif’s inner voice had slowly dimmed under the shadow of the group’s norms. But through therapy, that voice began to resurface. The first step was awareness: the question “Is this truly my belief, or something I was taught to believe?” was written on the first page of her notebook. With journaling, making small decisions, and reconnecting with her emotions, Elif began to reclaim the silent spaces in her mind. Inner child work, especially around the question “What had little Elif been silenced about?”, helped uncover layers of her buried self.

Healing is possible for those who have been subjected to group pressure—but it is not easy. A new, safe relational experience can provide the ground where a person begins to hear their own voice again. In this way, therapy becomes not just a place of talking, but a space where the voice is reborn, where the body finally dares to say, “I exist.” Confronting cognitive dissonance—asking with courage, “Is this truly my belief, or someone else’s idea I’ve internalized?”—can open the door to transformation. But above all, healing requires time, support, and freedom. Because group pressure is not just a pattern of behavior—it’s a form of neural reprogramming. And yet, thanks to neuroplasticity, the brain is capable of forging new connections. Even where identity has been erased, selfhood can be rewritten.

In one of our last sessions, Elif said something that captured her journey: “It turns out I did have a voice. It was just deeply silenced.” That sentence not only sums up her healing—it also captures the heart of this story. Because there are still thousands of voices out there: silenced, repressed, forgotten within the walls of group conformity. And each one is waiting—to be heard, to be seen, and to be remembered. Sometimes in a therapist’s listening ear, sometimes in the lines of a book, and sometimes in the simple, heartfelt question: “What do you think?”

Lara K Mangan

Why Does Life Keep Throwing Challenges at Me?

Have you ever whispered to yourself,
"Why does life feel heavier for me than it does for others?"
Maybe you’ve felt like you’re stuck while everyone else moves forward. Maybe you’re just tired of falling apart.

If that sounds like you, I want you to know something important:
You’re not alone—and you’re not broken. You’re simply human. And being human means sometimes struggling, but also having the capacity to grow stronger.

In this blog post, I’ll walk you through 10 heartfelt and practical ways to nurture your emotional resilience. These are simple steps, rooted in both psychological wisdom and real-life experiences. Whether you’re trying to heal from pain, navigate change, or just breathe easier, this is for you.

10 Gentle Ways to Build Emotional Resilience

1. Acknowledge Your Emotions Instead of Hiding Them

We often feel the pressure to appear strong. But resilience doesn’t mean ignoring your pain. It means being honest with yourself.

Try this simple affirmation:
“I’m struggling right now, and that’s okay.”

Allowing yourself to feel is the first step to healing.

2. Small Steps Create Big Change

When life feels overwhelming, focus on tiny victories.
Open a window. Take a short walk. Wash one dish.

These small actions may seem insignificant, but they build momentum.
Every small step matters.

3. Remember What You've Already Survived

You are stronger than you think.
Look back at your past and ask:

• What have I already overcome?

• What inner strength helped me then?

 Write down three challenges you’ve survived. Let that list remind you: You are resilient.

4. Reach Out—You’re Not a Burden

Connection heals.
Speak to a friend, a therapist, or a support group.
You don’t need solutions right away—just someone to hold space for your story.

Your pain deserves to be witnessed, not silenced.

5. Ask the Braver Question: “What Can I Learn From This?”

Instead of “Why is this happening to me?”, try:
“What might this pain be teaching me?”

This subtle mindset shift can open the door to growth, meaning, and empowerment.

6. Find Safety in Routines and Rituals

Simple daily habits—your morning coffee, a prayer, a favorite mug—can offer comfort when everything else feels uncertain.

These small anchors keep you grounded.
Let them guide you back to yourself.

7. Practice Conscious Breathing

When stress builds up, our breath becomes shallow and tight.
Try this calming method:

 The 4-7-8 breath technique:

• Inhale for 4 seconds

• Hold for 7 seconds

• Exhale for 8 seconds

Even just one minute of this can shift your state of mind.

8. Help Others—And Heal Yourself

Kindness is a two-way street.
When you support someone else, you reconnect with your sense of purpose.

A small act of care can lift both your heart and theirs.

9. Speak to Yourself With Kindness

You wouldn’t shame a friend for feeling low, so why do it to yourself?

At the end of the day, try saying:
🕊️ “I did what I could today. That is enough.”

Self-compassion fuels resilience.

10. Remember: This Is Just a Season

You are not your burnout.
You are not your loss, your fear, or your confusion.
You are the one moving through it all.

 Hard times don’t define you—they refine you.

Maybe you stumbled across this blog post because you needed a reminder—
That you’re allowed to feel.
That you’re allowed to fall.
And most importantly, that you’re allowed to start again.

Resilience isn’t about being tough.
It’s about being tender with yourself while you grow.
If today, all you managed to do was survive, I’m proud of you.

That, too, is resilience.

Want to talk about what you're going through?

I’m here to support you with compassionate, trauma-informed therapy rooted in deep human understanding. Feel free to contact me