The Devrim car, the car of the era

In Turkey, the domestic automobile has often existed in the realm of discourse long before it reached the production line. From the Devrim cars in 1961 to today’s TOGG… In the more than 60 years that have passed, technology and the global automotive market have changed significantly; however, the meaning attributed to the domestic automobile has shown a surprising continuity through media language and political discourse.

This narrative continuity is clearly visible in the difference between how the Devrim cars were initially received in the press and how they have been remembered over time. Contrary to the common belief today, the Devrim cars were met with praise by the majority of the press after their launch. Being produced in 129 days with limited resources was presented as a great achievement of Turkish engineering. However, this initial narrative did not last. Over time, in the press and in social memory, Devrim transformed from a technical experiment into a narrative of disappointment and incompleteness.

With the inability to move to mass production, the state's failure to turn the project into a permanent industrial policy, and the shift toward different preferences in the automotive sector, Devrim quickly fell off the agenda. The applause of the first day was followed by silence… Over time, this silence led to Devrim being remembered by reducing it to a single moment. In fact, they had arrived at the parliament garden as two siblings, the Devrims. If Cemal Gürsel had boarded the white Devrim instead of the black one, would the fate of the project have changed? It is unknown, but what is known is that the white Devrim reached the hippodrome without any problems and greeted the public on Republic Day. But afterwards, the Devrim cars turned into a symbol of disappointment rather than a technical experiment. That superior engineering achievement, the blood, sweat, and tears were forgotten. The structural limits of the project, the economic conditions of the period, and the political preferences remained in the background; what remained in memory was the metaphor of the 'car that stalled on the road.'

Moreover, the Devrim cars were still in the prototype stage. It is a natural part of the road to mass production for a prototype vehicle to experience technical problems during the testing process. However, when it came to Devrim, this technical reality could not be explained to the public. The difference between the prototype and mass production blurred; the technical glitch that occurred turned into a symbol that determined the fate of the entire project.

In this respect, the Anadol experience offers a sharper counter-example. Unlike Devrim, Anadol, which went into mass production and was launched by the private sector, was a car that was produced for about 17 years, reached a wide user base, and found social resonance; the fan culture that still continues today is an indicator of this. However, despite all this continuity, because Anadol was not surrounded by high political and symbolic expectations, it did not turn into a narrative of either a 'national success' or a 'national disappointment.' This situation shows that the domestic automobile discourse is constructed selectively by the political context rather than by technical or social success.

TOGG AND THE DOMESTIC AUTOMOBILE STORY OF THE NEW ERA

The narrative built around TOGG, on the other hand, was framed as a 'success story' from the very beginning. In a global period where the transformation of electric vehicles is accelerating, it was presented not just as a car, but as a showcase of Turkey's claims in technology, industry, and competition. Subsequently, its concrete sales performance supported this narrative. The fact that TOGG saw high demand shortly after its release, gained a visible place in the electric car market in Turkey, and reached thousands of users strengthened the perception that the project had 'caught on.'

The language used by President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan since the announcement of TOGG to the public has also been very decisive. TOGG was not described as an experiment seeking the answer to the question 'can we do it?', but with the emphasis of 'we are doing it and we have succeeded.' Most of the news in the media also supported this by reproducing this discourse. Criticisms, on the other hand, were perceived not as a technical or economic debate, but as questioning the will behind the project.

In other words; while success or failure in Devrim was discussed after the process was completed and in retrospect; in the case of TOGG, a process that works in the opposite direction was operated. Success was defined while still at the beginning of the road; global transformation and political ownership formed the basic pillars of this narrative.

What changes is the car's technology, production context, and global competitive conditions. What does not change is the symbolic meaning attributed to the domestic automobile. Devrim lacked the institutional ground to carry this burden; TOGG, for this very reason, was described as a project that should not stall on the road. But history shows that the fate of the domestic automobile is determined not only by intentions or narratives, but by long-term policies that fill the substance of these narratives.

Perhaps the real question that should be asked today is this: When will the domestic automobile be able to be talked about as just a car in Turkey? The line stretching from Devrim to TOGG shows that the domestic automobile debate has been shaped in every period more by memory than by industry; more by narratives than by engineering.

Precisely for this reason, when it comes to the domestic automobile, the question of what 'success' is measured by inevitably becomes ambiguous. Are sales figures decisive, the knowledge added to the industry, or how it is remembered years later? Devrim was remembered as a collective disappointment rather than a technical experiment; TOGG, on the other hand, was positioned within a success narrative at the very beginning of the road. This picture shows that the fate of the domestic automobile in Turkey is often determined not by being a Devrim car, but by how it is described as the car of the era it is in.