Sorry seems to be the hardest word

Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, hailed in the past as a man of the people, has increasingly turned into a leader surrounded by yes men, so certain that he alone knows what is best for the population that he can turn a deaf ear to alternative views.

Power -- and not just alcohol -- has intoxicating effects, and the Erdoğan of today seems a distant cousin of the man who promised to democratize Turkey when the AKP came to power a decade ago. Some important reforms were indeed introduced, but in the past couple of years the trend has gone into reverse. Yes, the ongoing process with the Kurds is a very positive development that has stopped lethal clashes in recent months, but extinguishing one fire while pouring oil onto others -- alienating the Alevis unnecessarily, for instance, by naming the third bridge after Yavuz Sultan Selim, aka Selim the Grim -- is not going to bring lasting harmony to Turkey.

The prime minister's defiant reaction, as pepper gas canisters were flying through the air, suggests he had understood little of what was going on. He resorted to his standard response, blaming the media, the opposition, foreign conspiracies and a handful of pillagers and extremists -- anyone but himself -- and ignoring that even people from his own constituency recoiled at the indiscriminate use of force and supported the protest.

The prime minister's authoritarian attitude and his arbitrary policies, which have deepened the polarization in society, are today the main source of frustration. But the problem goes deeper: The entire Turkish political system is based on a patriarchal understanding of governance, which thrives on confrontation. This macho approach to politics, in my view, lies at the roots of many of Turkey's most entrenched problems.

In the testosterone-filled world of Turkish politics, honor, pride and revenge appear to be core values, while the only form of cross-party "dialogue" in Parliament seems to be an exchange of insults. Compromise and consensus building, essential ingredients of any democratic system, are perceived as weaknesses, just as taking a step back or issuing an apology would be seen as a defeat.

Tolerance for diversity and respect for others' views or lifestyles are in short supply across the political spectrum. Criticism, however well-intentioned and constructive, is seen as a betrayal and few politicians ever engage in critical self-reflection. The main opposition party, the Republican People's Party (CHP), may try to get credit for the popular outburst, but its inability to come up with any kind of alternative vision in the past decade has made it possible for Erdoğan's power to grow largely unchecked.

The media, too ready to fall in line with the powers-that-be, is another important democratic shortcoming. In the past few days, people had to turn to social media -- described by the prime minister as a "menace" -- and to independent news outlets to keep informed, as television stations broadcast cooking shows and documentaries while a thick fog of tear gas rose from protest sites around the country.

Stuck in his own isolated world, the prime minister is in real danger of undermining some of the real achievements of the past decade. What will happen next will depend in large part on the government's handling of the crisis in the coming weeks. The protesters, for their part, may find it hard to channel their views into a coherent political movement. President Abdullah Gül was conciliatory when he stated that "the message has been received" and he underlined that "democracy is not just about elections." Nor is it about the majority imposing its will on the rest without respect for alternative views. Unless the explosion of frustration of the past few days acts as a reality check for AKP officials and encourages the government to return to the path of democratization, Turkey could face a difficult period.