Hagia Sophia’s reconversion into a mosque highlights the deep cultural and political rifts between Turkey and the EU, complicating Turkey’s bid for membership.

Few buildings embody the intersection of history, faith, and politics as profoundly as Hagia Sophia. For centuries, its soaring dome has symbolized the shared heritage of Islam, Orthodox Christianity, and Roman Catholicism in Turkey.

Originally constructed under the Byzantine Emperor Justinian I in 537 CE, Hagia Sophia stood as a Christian basilica and a beacon of art and spirituality. Following the Ottoman conquest of Constantinople in 1453, Sultan Mehmet II repurposed it as a mosque, a status it held for nearly 500 years. In 1934, Mustafa Kemal Atatürk, modern Turkey’s secularist architect, converted Hagia Sophia into a museum—a gesture aimed at transcending religious divides and projecting a modern, pluralistic vision of Turkey.

However, in 2020, President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan’s decision to reinstate Hagia Sophia as a mosque sent ripples far beyond Turkey’s borders, triggering a cascade of reactions from the European Union and other international actors. The move reignited debates over religious coexistence, cultural heritage, and Turkey’s long-standing bid for EU membership.

The transformation of Hagia Sophia into a mosque drew sharp criticism from the Russian Orthodox Church, reflecting broader Christian discontent. Vladimir Legoida, an official of the Russian Orthodox Church, lamented that the decision disregarded Christian voices and risked exacerbating interfaith tensions.

Hagia Sophia holds profound historical and emotional resonance for Russia, a nation with deep Orthodox Christian roots. Nevertheless, Moscow acknowledged Turkey’s sovereign right to dictate the structure’s fate, a position that underscored the tension between national autonomy and global expectations of cultural stewardship.

In Europe, the backlash was more pointed. The EU’s top officials, including foreign policy chief Josep Borrell, framed Erdoğan’s decision as a step backward for interfaith dialogue. Borrell warned that the move would deepen mistrust between Muslims and Christians and erode the spirit of pluralism embodied by Hagia Sophia’s museum status. The EU’s collective unease, articulated through a statement endorsed by the foreign ministers of all 27 member states, underscored a broader rift in values between Turkey and Europe.

For Erdoğan and his supporters, restoring Hagia Sophia as a mosque was a matter of historical continuity and national pride. They argued that Sultan Mehmet’s original conversion of the building into a mosque endowed it with a permanent Islamic identity—a legacy that the secular reforms of Atatürk had unjustly interrupted. Erdoğan dismissed international criticism as unwarranted interference in Turkey’s domestic affairs, emphasizing the nation’s sovereign right to define its cultural and religious landmarks.

Yet, for the EU, the controversy over Hagia Sophia was emblematic of a deeper issue: Turkey’s perceived drift from the democratic and secular principles that underpin the European project. Even before 2020, Turkey’s EU accession process had stalled due to concerns over human rights abuses, restrictions on press freedom, and the erosion of judicial independence. The Hagia Sophia decision only reinforced these misgivings, with European leaders interpreting it as evidence of Erdoğan’s increasingly authoritarian and Islamist governance.

The Hagia Sophia controversy added another layer of complexity to an already fraught relationship. Turkey has pursued EU membership for decades, viewing it as a pathway to economic integration and geopolitical influence. However, the EU’s Copenhagen criteria—requirements that candidate countries demonstrate a commitment to democracy, human rights, and the rule of law—remain a significant hurdle for Turkey.

Critics within the EU argue that Erdoğan’s policies, including the handling of Hagia Sophia, signal a departure from these values. Turkey risks deepening its isolation from the EU by prioritizing domestic political gains over international consensus. For many European leaders, Hagia Sophia’s transformation is not just about the fate of a building but a broader reflection of Turkey’s trajectory under Erdoğan—a trajectory increasingly at odds with the European vision of pluralism and tolerance.

The fate of Hagia Sophia illustrates the profound challenges at the heart of Turkey-EU diplomacy. It is not merely a dispute over managing a cultural monument but a litmus test for the compatibility of values, governance, and aspirations. While Erdoğan remains steadfast in his ambition to bring Turkey into the EU fold, the path forward is fraught with ideological and political obstacles.

Suppose Turkey is to revive its EU membership bid. In that case, it must grapple with the fundamental question of identity: Can it reconcile its rich Islamic heritage with the pluralistic and democratic ideals of Europe? For now, Hagia Sophia stands as a powerful symbol of this tension—a historic site where the worlds of East and West, faith and politics, continue to collide.