Economics on Arda Akgül

BlackRock Meets Erdoğan in Dolmabahçe: Sustainable Finance, FDI, and Turkey's Energy Transition

Sat, 04 Apr 2026 00:00:00 +0000

Some meetings matter less for what is said in the room than for what the room itself signals. That is how I read the Erdoğan-BlackRock meeting at Dolmabahçe. On 27 March 2026, President Erdoğan received BlackRock CEO Laurence D. Fink at the Presidential Office in Dolmabahçe, with Mehmet Şimşek and Alparslan Bayraktar also in the meeting. For me, that lineup said almost everything.

Why did this meeting matter?

Because BlackRock does not waste senior time on symbolic courtesy when there is no investable theme underneath it.

Larry Fink runs the world’s largest asset manager, and Turkish reporting around the meeting put BlackRock’s assets under management above USD 14 trillion. If a firm like that is sitting down in Istanbul with Turkey’s president, treasury team, and energy leadership together, the topic is not just generic diplomacy. The topic is capital allocation.

I think Erdoğan deserves some credit here for plain pragmatism. Instead of framing the conversation as ideology, he framed it around finance, energy, and investment capacity. That is the right language if Turkey wants to attract long-duration global capital instead of only hot money.

Sustainable finance is the real bridge

The easiest way to misread BlackRock is to think of it as a pure stock-market machine. BlackRock is much bigger than that now. It thinks in infrastructure, fixed income, transition finance, private markets, and public policy. Turkey, meanwhile, is trying to present itself as a market where energy transition, industrial scale, and regional connectivity can all meet.

That overlap is real. Invest in Türkiye now highlights a 120 GW combined wind and solar capacity goal for 2035 and a target of 55 percent clean electricity generation by the same year. In February 2026, Turkey and Saudi Arabia’s ACWA Power also signed an agreement for up to 5,000 MW of renewable investment. That is exactly the kind of scale global capital pays attention to.

If Turkey can package renewable generation, grid upgrades, industrial electrification, green finance instruments, and credible macro stabilization into one coherent story, then BlackRock’s interest makes sense. Not because Turkey has become a finished success story. Because it has become a plausible platform.

FDI needs a narrative bigger than cheap labor

This is where I think the meeting becomes more important. Turkey cannot build a real financial future by marketing itself only as a low-cost production base. That model is too thin. The stronger narrative is different: Turkey as a regional platform where Europe, the Gulf, Central Asia, and energy corridors intersect.

There are already signs that this story is gaining traction. The Investment Office says Turkey attracted USD 13.1 billion in FDI in 2025. That is not enough by itself, but it shows the country is not being ignored. Add the Istanbul Financial Center to that, and the ambition becomes clearer. Erdoğan described the center in 2023 as a project meant to make Turkey a regional and global financial hub. I do not think that was empty rhetoric. I think it was an attempt to create a physical and regulatory anchor for a much broader capital strategy.

Why Dubai is the right comparison

When I say Turkey could become a regional hub, I do not mean London overnight. I mean something closer to Dubai’s logic.

Dubai understood that a financial hub is not built only with towers. It is built with regulatory packaging, global connectivity, dispute resolution confidence, tax clarity, and a narrative that international capital can actually trust. Turkey does not need to copy Dubai line by line. But it should learn from the model: make cross-border capital movement easier, create specialized financial ecosystems, and link big national projects to investable global vehicles.

This is where BlackRock becomes strategically useful. Firms like BlackRock do not only bring money. They bring validation. If they take Turkey seriously in energy transition, sustainable finance, and infrastructure, other pools of capital pay attention too.

Why BlackRock’s strategy also makes sense

I think BlackRock is acting rationally here. Turkey is volatile, yes. But volatility and irrelevance are not the same thing. A country with industrial scale, a large domestic market, a strategic geography, ambitious renewable targets, and ongoing financial normalization can be exactly the kind of place a global asset manager studies carefully.

BlackRock does not need Turkey to be risk-free. It needs Turkey to be legible and financeable.

That is why the Dolmabahçe meeting matters. It suggested that both sides are trying to make the same argument from different angles. Erdoğan is saying Turkey should be read as a strategic investment platform. BlackRock is testing whether that platform can be made investable in practice.

For me, that is the right conversation. Not flattery, not fantasy, and not denial of risk. Just a serious negotiation between a state that wants to rise in the financial hierarchy and a capital giant looking for scale, transition, and influence. If Turkey gets the institutional follow-through right, that conversation could matter a lot more than one photograph at Dolmabahçe.

The Future of Investment Companies: From Field Reports to Policy Influence

Mon, 02 Mar 2026 00:00:00 +0000

I think investment companies are quietly becoming something more than financial institutions. They still allocate capital, price risk, and sell products, of course. But if you look closely, the biggest firms are also building capabilities that look a lot like geopolitical research shops, intelligence platforms, and policy actors.

That shift makes sense to me. Markets no longer move only on earnings reports and interest rates. They move on shipping routes, export controls, election probabilities, sanctions, defense policy, and energy chokepoints. Once that becomes normal, the old image of the investment firm as a spreadsheet-only machine starts to look outdated.

The Strait of Hormuz is the perfect case study

If I wanted to explain this shift in one example, I would start with the Strait of Hormuz. The U.S. Energy Information Administration still describes it as the world’s most important oil transit chokepoint. In 2024, around 20 million barrels per day of crude oil and condensate moved through it, plus a huge share of global LNG trade.

That means a narrow stretch of water can reshape inflation expectations, tanker insurance, refinery margins, airline costs, central bank reaction functions, and defense postures across multiple regions. No serious investor with exposure to energy, transport, sovereign debt, or industrial equities can ignore that.

Research is becoming more field-oriented

This is where the modern investment company starts changing form. BlackRock has the BlackRock Investment Institute. KKR publishes macro and geopolitical work through its strategy apparatus. Bridgewater’s culture has long treated political and macro observation as part of the investment process. JPMorgan even built a formal Center for Geopolitics.

For me, the pattern is obvious. The firms that used to depend mainly on financial statements now want shipping data, satellite imagery, policy briefings, supply-chain contacts, regional experts, election probabilities, and scenario planning. They want to know not only what a company earned last quarter, but what a strait closure, sanctions package, election upset, or missile strike might do to the whole investment landscape.

That is not traditional finance. That is finance stretching into strategic intelligence.

This is not espionage, but it is adjacent

I do not mean that major asset managers are turning into secret services. That would be melodramatic and wrong. But I do think they are moving into an espionage-adjacent zone where the premium is no longer just on public information, but on early interpretation, unconventional data, and field-level awareness.

A trader following AIS ship data, energy policy leaks, local-language political developments, and insurance market moves is doing something closer to open-source intelligence than old-school equity research. A global macro desk that talks to diplomats, former officials, local consultants, and corporate operators is already operating in a hybrid space between markets and statecraft.

What changes is not only the information set. It is the institutional ambition. Investment firms increasingly want to understand the world with enough depth that they can influence it too, whether through capital allocation, public commentary, board pressure, or informal policy access.

Policy influence is becoming part of the business model

I think this is the next step people still underestimate. Once a firm gets large enough, it stops being a passive observer of geopolitics. It becomes part of the environment that policymakers themselves watch.

BlackRock is a good example here. Through its size, research platform, and recurring public interventions, it already shapes how governments, regulators, and corporate leaders talk about inflation, energy transition, debt markets, and infrastructure finance. The same is increasingly true, in smaller ways, for other major firms with serious research arms.

That means the future investment company may need three things at once: financial skill, research depth, and political fluency. A firm that only understands valuation will know too little. A firm that understands global systems faster can price the future more aggressively and, in some cases, help shape it.

What does this mean for the rest of us?

For me, it means markets are becoming less separable from geopolitics than many textbooks still imply. The analyst of the future will need to read sanctions like earnings guidance, shipping disruptions like inflation data, and security alliances like industry policy.

The Strait of Hormuz makes that clear. A portfolio manager with no view on it is not apolitical. They are just underinformed.

That is why I think investment companies are changing in front of us. They are not leaving finance behind. They are absorbing more of the real world into finance. And once they do that, the line between market research, geopolitical analysis, and policy influence becomes much thinner than most people realize.

The Renaissance Economics

Fri, 20 Feb 2026 00:00:00 +0000

People usually talk about the Renaissance as if it were a miracle of genius. Great artists appeared, science accelerated, architecture changed, humanism flourished, and Europe somehow became more self-aware. I do not reject any of that. But I think the miracle looks less mysterious once you ask an economic question first: who financed all of this, and under what conditions?

Florence was not just beautiful. It was rich.

For me, Florence is the clearest starting point because it shows how culture can be built on commercial foundations without becoming less impressive. The city became powerful not simply because it loved art, but because it sat inside a dense financial and trading world. Textile production, merchant networks, credit systems, and banking families gave Florence surplus, and surplus creates options.

The Medici are the obvious symbol here, but I think the bigger point is structural. Once banking becomes sophisticated enough to move money across cities and political jurisdictions, patronage stops being random generosity. It becomes part of an entire urban system of prestige, influence, and risk management.

Banking changed what power looked like

The Medici Bank mattered not only because it was wealthy, but because it showed how finance could translate into social authority. Money could build chapels, fund workshops, underwrite diplomacy, stabilize rulers, and signal legitimacy. That is an old truth, but Renaissance Italy made it unusually visible.

This is also why I find the era so modern. We like to think of finance and culture as separate worlds, but the Renaissance shows the opposite. A strong banking system did not simply create private fortunes. It helped produce public beauty. That does not make patronage morally pure. It does make it economically real.

Trade routes made ideas travel faster

Renaissance Italy was not one unified nation-state. That fragmentation actually matters. City-states like Florence, Venice, and Genoa competed with one another in commerce, diplomacy, military affairs, and prestige. They were rivals, but rivalry can be productive.

Venice connected Europe to eastern Mediterranean trade. Genoa had its own financial and maritime reach. Florence specialized differently. Goods moved, but so did techniques, texts, accounting practices, and artistic styles. Once cities become nodes in a high-value network, ideas stop staying local for very long.

I think this is one reason the Renaissance spread with such force. It was not just driven by inspiration. It was carried by infrastructure.

Patronage was a market, even when it looked noble

Artists did not produce in a vacuum. Workshops needed commissions. Architects needed sponsors. Scholars needed protectors. Courts and merchant families wanted prestige. Churches wanted grandeur. Republics wanted symbolic legitimacy. All of that created demand.

Once you see that, Renaissance art starts to look less like isolated genius and more like high-end production inside a very competitive prestige economy. Michelangelo and Leonardo were extraordinary, obviously. But extraordinary talent still needs institutions, money, and buyers.

I do not mean that art was only a commodity. I mean the economic environment made ambitious work more thinkable. A society with concentrated wealth, urban rivalry, and symbolic competition will often spend heavily on visible excellence.

Science and politics grew in the same environment

The same conditions that rewarded art also rewarded technical knowledge, engineering, navigation, and statecraft. If city-states are competing, rulers start caring about fortifications, bookkeeping, mapmaking, military design, and administrative sophistication. In that sense, the Renaissance was not only a cultural movement. It was a political economy of urban competition.

That is why I like calling it “Renaissance economics.” It reminds me that culture does not float above material life. It grows through it. Where there is trade, credit, rivalry, and surplus, there is often also experimentation. Some of that becomes art. Some becomes science. Some becomes power.

Why does this still matter?

Because we still romanticize creativity in ways that hide its material base.

If a country wants more design, better science, stronger institutions, or richer culture, it cannot only ask for talent. It also has to ask how cities are financed, how surplus is created, how patronage works, and whether ambitious people have systems that can support them.

For me, that is the real lesson of Renaissance Italy. Florence did not produce brilliance out of thin air. It produced brilliance out of trade, finance, rivalry, and ambition. Once I see it that way, the Renaissance becomes even more impressive, not less. It stops being a miracle and starts looking like a civilization that had learned how to turn economic power into cultural power.

Thinking in Game Theory

Tue, 10 Feb 2026 00:00:00 +0000

I think game theory is one of the few ideas from economics that genuinely changes how you look at ordinary life. Not because it turns the world into a cold math puzzle, but because it forces you to notice something simple and important: your best decision often depends on what you think someone else is about to do.

That sounds obvious when stated like that. But once I started taking it seriously, a lot of things began to look different to me. Price wars looked different. Diplomacy looked different. Even basic everyday situations, like whether to cooperate, trust, wait, or move first, started to feel more structured.

Why is game theory so useful?

Because most real decisions are not made in isolation.

In standard economics, it is easy to imagine a person facing prices and constraints as if the outside world were fixed. Game theory interrupts that comfort. It says the world is full of other players, and they are watching, guessing, bluffing, adapting, and learning at the same time. Once that is true, strategy matters.

For me, that is the intellectual thrill of it. Game theory sits between economics and psychology. It is formal enough to be analytical, but human enough to be messy.

The prisoner’s dilemma is famous for a reason

The prisoner’s dilemma still works because it captures a frustration almost everyone has felt. Two people would be better off cooperating, but each has an incentive to defect if they fear the other side will do the same.

That is not just a classroom story. Firms cutting prices too aggressively can trap themselves in it. Countries entering arms races can trap themselves in it. Even friends or classmates deciding whether to share effort or free-ride can fall into the same structure.

What I like about the prisoner’s dilemma is that it shows how bad outcomes do not always come from bad intentions. Sometimes they come from incentives that make distrust look rational.

Nash equilibrium made strategy sharper

John Nash’s big contribution was giving us a way to think about strategic stability. A Nash equilibrium is a situation where no player has an incentive to change their action unilaterally, given what the other players are doing.

I remember first encountering that idea and finding it both elegant and slightly depressing. Elegant, because it gives structure to strategic interaction. Depressing, because equilibrium does not mean fairness, efficiency, or happiness. It only means no one can improve their position alone.

That distinction matters a lot. People hear “equilibrium” and imagine order. But some equilibria are ugly. A hostile geopolitical standoff can be an equilibrium. A low-trust business environment can be an equilibrium. A mediocre but stable market structure can be an equilibrium too.

Firms are always playing games

I think business students should learn game theory early because firms almost never compete in a vacuum. An airline deciding prices is watching rival airlines. A telecom operator pricing new data packages is watching the other operators. Even a luxury brand deciding how exclusive to remain is making a strategic move in relation to competitors and consumers.

This is why concepts like first-mover advantage, credible commitment, repeated games, and signaling are so useful. A company does not just choose an action. It also sends information. Sometimes the point of a move is not immediate profit. Sometimes the point is to shape expectations.

If a firm cuts prices, expands capacity, or publicly commits to a long-term market, it may be trying to alter the beliefs of everyone else around the table. That is pure game theory.

Geopolitics may be the biggest game of all

I probably enjoy game theory most when I use it to think about geopolitics. Deterrence, sanctions, trade wars, alliance commitments, military escalation, all of these are strategic interaction problems.

Take the Strait of Hormuz, the South China Sea, or even NATO signaling toward Russia. In each case, the issue is not only material power. It is also beliefs. What does the other side think you will tolerate? What do they think you will retaliate against? What are they trying to communicate without fully acting?

That is why miscalculation matters so much. In game theory terms, players do not just choose strategies. They choose strategies under incomplete information. And once information is incomplete, fear, bluff, and signaling can become as powerful as weapons or tariffs.

I use game theory in smaller ways too

I do not mean that I walk around Ankara turning every coffee decision into a payoff matrix. But I do find myself using game-theoretic thinking in ordinary situations. If I know another person is waiting to see whether I commit first, that changes my decision. If I think cooperation can become repeated and reputational, I act differently than I would in a one-off interaction.

For me, that is the real value of game theory. It does not tell you the future with certainty. It trains you to see structure in strategic situations that otherwise feel random.

And once you see that structure, you become a little less naive. You start asking better questions. Not just “What do I want?” but “What does the other player think I will do?” That one shift is often enough to make the whole world look more interesting.

Türkiye Varlık Fonu: Finansal Geleceğimizin Teminatı

Sun, 14 Dec 2025 00:00:00 +0000

Türkiye’de “varlık fonu” dendiğinde insanların aklına ya petrol zengini Körfez ülkeleri geliyor ya da fazla siyasi bulunan büyük devlet yapıları. Ben meseleye biraz daha farklı bakıyorum. Benim için asıl soru şu: Türkiye, yıllık bütçe mantığının ötesinde düşünebilen ve stratejik sektörlere uzun vadeli sermaye yönlendirebilen bir kuruma sahip mi?

Türkiye Varlık Fonu tam olarak nedir?

Türkiye Varlık Fonu, 6741 sayılı Kanun ile kuruldu ve kendi tanımıyla bir “ varlığa dayalı kalkınma fonu .” Bu ifade bence önemli. Çünkü TVF, Norveç tipi bir petrol gelirleri biriktirme kasası değil. Zaten Türkiye’nin yapısı da buna uygun değil. TVF’nin mantığı, mevcut stratejik kamu varlıklarını daha etkili yönetmek, bunların değerini artırmak, büyük ölçekli yatırımlara sermaye sağlamak ve finansal piyasaları derinleştirmek.

Fonun resmî yol haritasında dört ana başlık öne çıkıyor: fondaki varlıkların değerini artırmak, yurt içi stratejik yatırımları hayata geçirmek, uluslararası yatırım fırsatlarını değerlendirmek ve sermaye piyasalarını derinleştirmek. Benim dikkatimi çeken nokta şu: burada mesele sadece mülkiyet değil, koordinasyon. Yani dağınık duran kamu varlıklarını aynı stratejik vizyon altında toplamak.

Bu fon neden sadece bir portföy listesi değil?

TVF’ye sadece “hangi şirketler var?” diye bakınca konunun yarısı kaçıyor. Çünkü portföy yapısı aslında Türkiye’nin ekonomik sinir sisteminin bir özeti gibi. Finansal hizmetlerde Ziraat Bankası, Halkbank, VakıfBank, Borsa İstanbul, Türkiye Sigorta ve Türkiye Hayat Emeklilik var. Enerjide BOTAŞ, TPAO, TVF Enerji ve rafineri-petrokimya yatırımları var. Teknoloji ve telekom tarafında Turkcell, Türksat ve Türk Telekom bulunuyor. Ulaştırma ve lojistikte THY, PTT ve İzmir Alsancak Limanı dikkat çekiyor. Gayrimenkul tarafında ise İstanbul Finans Merkezi gibi çok daha geniş bir vizyonun parçası olan varlıklar öne çıkıyor.

Burada benim gördüğüm şey, rastgele bir portföy değil. TVF’nin ana sayfası bugün fonun 7 farklı sektörden 36 şirket, 2 lisans ve taşınmazlardan oluşan bir yapıya sahip olduğunu ve 2 trilyon TL özkaynak büyüklüğüne ulaştığını söylüyor. Bu, bilanço büyüklüğünden daha fazla bir anlam taşıyor. Çünkü bu şirketlerin çoğu enerji arz güvenliği, kredi genişlemesi, lojistik kapasite, veri altyapısı ve uluslararası bağlantı bakımından Türkiye’nin omurgasında yer alıyor.

Asıl mesele devlet kapasitesi

Ben TVF tartışmasını tam burada önemsiyorum. Türkiye gibi büyümek, dış şoklara karşı dayanıklı olmak ve stratejik sektörlerde ölçek yakalamak isteyen ülkeler sadece piyasanın kendiliğinden vereceği kararlara bırakılamaz. Devlet kapasitesi dediğim şey tam da bu: hangi sektörlerin kritik olduğunu görebilmek, oralara sermaye yönlendirebilmek ve bunu kısa vadeli siyasi döngülerin ötesinde yapabilmek.

TVF’nin resmî mandatında cari açığı azaltacak yurt içi stratejik yatırımlar, finansal piyasaları derinleştirme ve uluslararası ortaklıklar kurma hedefleri özellikle vurgulanıyor. Bu hedefler bence kâğıt üzerinde kalmaması gereken türden hedefler. Enerji tarafında dışa bağımlılığı azaltmak, finans tarafında uzun vadeli kaynak üretmek, telekom ve veri altyapısında ölçek ekonomisi yaratmak ancak böyle bir koordinasyon kapasitesiyle mümkün olabilir.

Burada son yıllardaki finansman örnekleri de önemli. TVF, 25 Mart 2025’te Hazine garantisi olmadan 20 bankanın katıldığı, 12 ülkeden ilgi gören 837 milyon euro ve 285 milyon dolar tutarında sendikasyon kredisi sağladı. Ben bu tür işlemleri sadece finans haberi olarak görmüyorum. Bu, dış dünyanın fonu nasıl fiyatladığını ve Türkiye’nin kurumsal finansman kapasitesine ne kadar güvendiğini gösteren bir test gibi.

Eleştiriler var, ama doğru soru farklı

Elbette TVF etrafında yönetişim, şeffaflık ve hesap verebilirlik tartışmaları var. Zaten bu kadar büyük bir yapıda bunların olması normal. Bence de iyi yönetim, güçlü raporlama ve uluslararası standartlara uyum bir lüks değil, zorunluluk. Ama buradaki doğru soru “Türkiye böyle bir fonu neden kurdu?” değil. Doğru soru, “Türkiye böyle bir fonu nasıl daha güçlü, daha şeffaf ve daha etkili hale getirir?” olmalı.

Bu yüzden 11 Temmuz 2025’te TVF’nin Global SWF GSR sıralamasında puanını yüzde 80’e çıkarıp 20’nci sıraya yükseldiğini açıklaması bana önemli geliyor. Bu tek başına bütün eleştirileri bitirmez. Ama fonun uluslararası yönetişim dilini daha ciddiye aldığını gösterir. Benim açımdan mesele tam olarak bu: kurumu yok saymak değil, kurumu geliştirmek.

Türkiye’nin önünde enerji dönüşümü, finansal derinleşme, yeni sanayi yatırımları ve dış finansmana erişim gibi uzun vadeli başlıklar var. Bunların hiçbiri sadece günlük bütçe refleksiyle yönetilemez. Bu yüzden ben Türkiye Varlık Fonu’nu bir tartışma nesnesinden çok bir kapasite sınavı olarak görüyorum.

Her hamlesi doğru olmak zorunda değil. Zaten hiçbir büyük kurum böyle işlemez. Ama Türkiye’nin on yıllık, yirmi yıllık hedefleri olacaksa, o hedefleri taşıyacak kurumsal araçlara da ihtiyacı var. Benim için TVF’nin asıl anlamı burada başlıyor.

Japan Inc.: Why State-Directed Capitalism Worked, Stalled, and Still Matters

Wed, 03 Dec 2025 00:00:00 +0000

When I think about capitalism from Ankara, my mind usually goes first to Wall Street, Silicon Valley, and the Anglo-American obsession with quarterly results. But Japan always interrupts that picture. For decades, Japan looked like a country where ministries, banks, manufacturers, and suppliers moved like parts of one disciplined machine. That machine got the nickname “Japan Inc.,” and I think it is one of the most important models to study.

Why did Japan Inc. work so well?

Japan found a way to make state coordination, corporate ambition, and industrial discipline reinforce each other instead of cancel each other out. The Ministry of International Trade and Industry , later reorganized into today’s METI, became the nerve center of postwar industrial policy. It did not run Japan like a Soviet planning board. It did something more effective: it coordinated technology imports, protected strategic sectors, nudged credit, and helped firms scale in industries where Japan wanted to dominate.

The results were huge. Japan’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs notes that the economy grew at nearly 10 percent per year in the 1950s and 1960s. World Bank growth data show how extreme that period could get: real GDP growth hit 12.9 percent in 1968. METI’s own history also points out that Japan became the world’s largest automobile producer in 1980. That does not happen because of culture alone. It happens when the state, banks, trading companies, and manufacturers are all pulling in roughly the same direction.

Keiretsu made long-termism practical

For me, the most interesting part of Japan Inc. is not MITI by itself. It is the corporate structure around it. Keiretsu groups made long-termism practical. Cross-shareholding, main-bank relationships, and dense supplier networks meant firms could think in product cycles, not just earnings calls. Mitsubishi, Mitsui, Sumitomo, and other groups were not simply old boys’ clubs. They were mechanisms for trust, financing, and production stability.

This matters more than people admit. A supplier will invest differently if it thinks the buyer will still be there in ten years. A bank lends differently if it sees itself as part of a long industrial relationship instead of a short trading opportunity. That is how Japan turned reliability into a competitive asset. Toyota did not only sell cars. Sony did not only sell electronics. They sold consistency, quality control, and the sense that the company behind the product was built to last.

Japan Inc. treated time itself as a competitive advantage.

So why did it stall?

Because the same structure that works brilliantly in a catch-up phase can become heavy in a mature one.

When a country is trying to build steel, ships, semiconductors, and automobiles, coordination is powerful. When that same country needs to reward creative destruction and reallocate capital faster, coordination can start looking like inertia. A RIETI review of MITI’s legacy argues that industrial policy often helped smooth structural adjustment, especially in declining industries. That was useful for social stability, but it also meant weaker pressure to let bad bets die quickly.

Then came the bubble. An NBER paper by Takatoshi Ito and Tokuo Iwaisako argued that Japanese land and stock prices after the mid-1987 surge could not be fully justified by fundamentals alone. Once that bubble burst, Japan entered the long aftermath that people now call the Lost Decades. World Bank series show growth dropping below 1 percent in 1992 and turning negative again later in the decade. Banks became cautious. Firms became defensive.

Demographics made the problem worse. OECD work on ageing in Japan noted that the country already had more than 50 people aged 65 and over for every 100 working-age adults in 2017, and projected that ratio to climb toward 79 by 2050. Even a very efficient industrial system struggles when the labor force shrinks, domestic demand softens, and the welfare burden rises.

So I do not think Japan Inc. failed because it was too statist or because it was not capitalist enough. I think it stalled because its old strengths, patient capital, protected relationships, incremental improvement, became less suited to an economy that needed faster reallocation and more risk-taking.

What does Japan still teach?

The lesson is not that every country should recreate keiretsu or empower a super-ministry and hope for the best. Even Japan itself has been pruning the old model. The Corporate Governance Code introduced in 2015 pushed listed firms to justify cross-shareholdings instead of treating them as untouchable. That tells me something important: Japan still values coordination, but it also knows coordination can harden into complacency.

For Turkey, this matters. Our debates often swing between romantic statism and blind faith in markets. Japan offers a harder and more serious middle position. Build competent institutions. Align finance with industrial capacity. Give firms a long horizon. But also force discipline, demand export performance, and do not confuse national strategy with permanent protection.

If Ankara wants deeper capabilities in batteries, rail systems, defense electronics, or advanced manufacturing, Japan is still worth studying. Not because it offers a template we can copy line by line, but because it proved that capitalism does not have to look purely Anglo-American to be world-class. It can be coordinated, relational, industrial, and still brutally effective.

That is why I keep coming back to Japan Inc. It was one of the most successful growth machines of the modern era, but it also became a warning. A model that helps a country rise can later slow it down if it starts preserving itself more than it preserves dynamism. For me, that tension is the real lesson.