Death imposes itself as an inevitable phenomenon of the human condition. It is at once a tangible, locatable, and datable fact, and an incommensurable mystery (Jankélévitch 2003: 7). Universal yet inaccessible to direct experience, it constitutes a singular scientific object that can only be apprehended through what the living make of it. Furthermore, investigating death leads one to question a plurality of dimensions (symbolic, imaginary, normative, religious, moral, spatial, or political) that traverse it and allows one to grasp “the full depth of culture” (Clavandier 2009: 7). Studying death, therefore, means questioning the way in which individuals, communities, and institutions conceive and ritualize finitude, in other words, thinking about the “limit”.
This fascinating and unsettling subject has been widely explored by the social sciences. Historians (Ariès 1977; Vovelle 1983) have shown the evolution of representations of death in Western societies; anthropologists have focused on describing the ritual practices specific to each culture, revealing both the universality and the situated dimension of the relationship to death. Funeral rituals—burial, mummification, exposure of bodies to nature (Delaplace 2011), double funerals (Hertz 1905), funerary anthropophagy (Conklin 2004)—aim to give meaning to “the impossible to say” and to transform the demise into a controlled social event.
Contemporary sociology is not lagging behind: several works question the place of death in the modern world. Urban life, with its constraints of time, space, and profitability, has profoundly modified our relationship to death. Several authors (Ariès 1997; Thomas 2010; Urbain 1989) even speak of a “disappearance” of death or, at least, its denial. This, now deemed inappropriate or uncomfortable, tends to be excluded from daily life and public discourse. The progressive sanitization of funeral rituals and the rise of cremation—which marks a true evacuation of the body—have contributed to making it a generalized “taboo” (Gorer 1995).
However, this thesis of occultation deserves to be nuanced: no one can deny the importance that funeral rituals and the process of mourning retain in our contemporary societies. It therefore appears more relevant to consider that a new relationship to death has been established, unfolding in other spaces and sometimes in unprecedented forms. We observe the emergence of digital rituals (Dilmaç 2018; Gamba 2007), virtual cemeteries, sometimes even dedicated to long-ignored pets, as well as debates on the fate of ashes linked to cremation (Esquerre 2011). In parallel, with death increasingly occurring in a medicalized context (Elias 2002), social sciences are interested in “dying,” i.e., the process of accompaniment towards the end of life. Finally, what about the increasing professionalization of funeral services, which offers an ever more diversified (Lassère 1997: 114; Mitford 1964) and commercialized range of services, to the point of fostering the emergence of a veritable “market for the deceased” (Trompette 2008)?
On the political level, death constitutes a central issue. Its social management involves the treatment and regulation of bodies, the organization of national mourning, the erection of war memorials, or the establishment of collective commemorations intended to give meaning to disappearances linked to wars, attacks, or disasters. The designation of figures intended to be sacralized, even pantheonized, illustrates the symbolic function of power, which elevates certain deceased into models for the community while others, deemed “less significant,” are relegated to oblivion. Similarly, mausoleums and places of memory participate in a political staging of death aimed at constructing and legitimizing collective identity. In times of crisis—epidemics, wars, or disasters—the State is also entrusted with regulating the treatment of corpses, sometimes to the detriment of traditional rites: repatriation of remains, identification of the disappeared, choice between dignified burials or mass graves. In these contexts, death appears as a revealer of the State’s capacity to ensure the symbolic and material continuity of the social bond.
Ultimately, while death constitutes a universal experience, the social and cultural modalities of its apprehension are profoundly transforming. Even when it seems concealed or reduced to the rank of taboo, it remains constitutive of the social horizon. It maintains a structuring significance, manifest in collective codes, funeral rituals, symbolic imaginaries, as well as in the legal and political frameworks that regulate it, always situated within a specific historical and cultural context. As such, death can be apprehended as a heuristic prism of the social, revealing both the ritualized practices, the institutional frameworks, and the forms of collective organization that unfold around the experience of disappearance.
- 1 Cf. Video Youtube, « Kaza Değil Cinayet : Aslı Odman’la İşçi Ölümlerinin Görünmezliği » (2025), htt (...)
- 2 Cf. Değirmencioğlu S. (dir.). Öl dediler öldüm. Türkiye’de şehitlik mitleri, Iletişim yayınları, Is (...)
In this volume, the aim will be to question the framing, political management (and instrumentalization) of death in contemporary Turkey. This choice is not insignificant: crossed by the omnipresence of the tragic and violence, Turkish society can indeed be described as “deadly” (mortifère), insofar as death constitutes both a familiar horizon and an instrument of social and political regulation. So-called “honour killings” and femicides, collective deaths caused by earthquakes (such as that of February 6, 2023), work accidents1 such as the Soma mining disaster (Adaman, Arsel, and Akbulut 2019) or the death of workers at the new Istanbul airport construction site, terrorist attacks, clashes linked to coups d’état, hunger strikes sometimes referred to as “death fasts” (ölüm orucu) and interpreted as forms of sacrifice with a martyrological dimension —or more recently the policy of culling stray dogs —all these events recall how profoundly death shapes the social experience in Turkey. When it is not inscribed in the collective memory, it is reactivated and instrumentalized by public authorities, through figures of the “good death” (martyrs) and commemorative mechanisms (sacred monuments, mausoleums, military cemeteries (şehitlik)2, or even museums, such as the one dedicated to the failed coup d’état of July 15, 2016).
The goal will thus be to question, in the Turkish context, what Achille Mbembe calls “necropolitics” (2006), i.e., the set of mechanisms and practices by which political powers decide not only on life (as in Foucault’s biopolitics) but above all on death. This concept allows for the analysis of the hierarchization of existences, the spatial inscription of this death-dealing management, and the forms of control exerted over bodies, whether they result from lethal violence or organized abandonment.
This centrality of death is found in the scientific literature produced on Turkey. Historians of the Ottoman era (Eldem 2005; Fleet and Boyar 2014; Veinstein 2011) have highlighted the richness of funerary and memorial practices, from burial rituals (Kurt, Yücesoy 2025), transformations of funerary spaces (Vatin, Yerasimos 2001) to imperial ceremonies dedicated to the sultans (Onaran 2016; Vatin 2006). The imaginary associated with death, with its liminal figures, such as the undead or vampires (Kırgi 2018), translates collective fears and cultural representations of the in-between. Epidemics (plague, cholera, and others), widely studied (Ayalon 2014; Bulmuş 2012; Varlik 2015), show how death could represent, beyond a demographic crisis, an existential threat to the Empire, which was forced to elaborate regulation strategies. Here already, death appears as an instrument of governmentality, inscribed at the heart of an imperial biopolitics aiming to preserve the survival of the State.
More recently, death tends to be analysed as a revealer of social tensions. It is thus studied from the perspective of discursive representations, notably through the examination of the vocabulary mobilized in history textbooks to designate the unspeakable (Copeaux 1996). It is also approached based on the differentiated spaces attributed to it and the forms of territorialization they imply (Vatin and Yerasimos 2001), further revealing its role as a marker of social and spatial inequalities (Pérouse 2012). Earthquakes affecting the country will also give rise to a specific literature on disasters (Can 2020; Sunata 2024), on collective deaths and the need for their state management (Gourain, Poyraz 2023), as well as on the memory linked to catastrophes (Medeiros Coelho and Beylunioğlu 2025). Similarly, the COVID-19 epidemic has led to questioning the phenomenon of prevented mourning and its effects on individuals. All of these works highlight the growing interference of the State, not only in the regulation of the conduct of the living towards death, but also in the control of the “after-death,” through the framing and sometimes the restriction of funeral and commemorative rites.
However, recent research highlights not only a process of banalization of death (Bakıner 2019), but above all the arbitrary and unequal nature of the social and institutional relationships that frame disappearance today. This reality manifests itself through the media invisibilisation of certain deaths or through a differentiated discursive enunciation according to the identity of the deceased (Ergin 2010); by the burial without rituals of individuals disgraced by the State in “traitors’ cemeteries” (Balkan 2019); by the non-resolution of disappearances left in the shadows (Dağtaş, Dağtaş 2007); or by discriminations in the modes of memorialization, where inequalities persist regarding the value accorded to people and their memory (Kobelinsky 2019). Jakšić and Fischer (2021) speak in this regard of a veritable “social organization of silence”, in which certain deaths are passed over in silence, concealed, or rendered unspeakable, while others are the subject of explicit processes of memorialization and valorization. Moreover, Akıncı (2018) asks: “Would it be too dramatic to say that Turkey is transforming into a necropolis, into a ‘state of death,’ for Kurds, Alevis, workers, leftists, the LGBTI community, students, women, and children?”(…) Through territorialized violence, the dominant necropolitics makes these dreadful deaths acceptable, ordinary, and, in some cases, even appreciated by ‘ordinary citizens’” (p. 47).
However, in the Turkish context, disappearance is not limited to its physical and biological dimension. While the states of emergency established after the 2016 coup attempt amplified and systematized exclusion practices, these are part of a longer history of authoritarian control. Already under military regimes, the deprivation of rights, the marginalization of opponents, the restrictions imposed on religious or ethnic minorities, and media stigmatization constituted forms of “civic death” and “social death”. After 2016, these logics broadened to new categories: dismissed civil servants, revoked academics, imprisoned journalists, political prisoners deprived of representation, but also students, women, and association activists, excluded from their rights and sometimes even from their status as citizens. Added to this are forms of loss of recognition that can be equated with a “symbolic death”: invisibilities, occultation, or erasure of entire groups (Kurds, Alevis, migrants, LGBTI, women, precarious workers). In all these cases, individuals remain biologically alive but are socially “dead,” stripped of their status and deprived of the necessary means for existence.
This volume thus proposes to examine the different ways in which death is apprehended in Turkey, both by individual actors and by institutions. It will analyze how public authorities intervene in the regulation of ritual practices, in the management of bodies, and in the arrangement of funerary spaces, while sometimes instituting a hierarchy between deaths recognized as “worthy” of mourning and deaths relegated to indignity. However, such dynamics also elicit collective mobilizations: families, associations, and militant organizations mobilize to obtain the restitution of remains and to demand more respectful and dignified treatment of the deceased, making death a veritable field of political struggle. This issue thus seeks to reveal how, in Turkey, the State does not merely accompany death, but manufactures it, stages it, and elevates it to a political tool, at the very heart of its governance of the living.
The proposals are open to a wide range of disciplines: sociology, political science, urban and cultural studies, history, anthropology, communication sciences, social movements research, and memory studies. Three main themes are proposed here.
Anthropologists have shown that biological death is not enough to truly mark an individual’s demise: it must also be the subject of ritualization; in other words, death always implies “a doing”. These practices, called rites, institute the separation between the world of the living and that of the dead to avoid any symbolic “contamination”. As formulated by Van Gennep (1909), funeral rituals constitute mechanisms of passage: they ensure the transfer of the deceased to elsewhere and allow the community to “kill the dead”. This process conditions their reintegration among the living, in the transfigured form of memory or ancestor. In the Turkish context, marked by great religious, cultural, and communal plurality, these funerary practices constitute a privileged field of observation.
In this perspective, this theme invites analysis of the political framing of ritual mechanisms in Turkey, whether ancient or contemporary. Public and political authorities intervene not only in the material organization of funerals but also in the regulation of the symbolic and collective forms of ritualization. Whether it concerns official religious practices, public ceremonies, or alternative forms of commemoration (Salomoni, 2024), the aim is to understand how the State frames, tolerates, represses, or reconfigures these mechanisms, thus revealing the eminently political dimension of death management. Contributions focusing on the media representations of death, their modalities of elaboration and dissemination, as well as their societal impact, may also be analysed.
These questions will thus offer the opportunity to explore the tensions that unfold between orthodoxy and orthopraxy, on the one hand, and their inseparable counterparts, heterodoxy and heteropraxy, on the other (e.g., body washing). Another part of the contributions could focus on the study of spaces dedicated to death and their evolution. Whether it concerns Ottoman or modern cemeteries, türbe and mausoleums, military cemeteries (şehitlik), war memorials, or memorial museums, the question will be to examine their role in the contemporary world: how do these places continue to exist, transform, and integrate into a rapidly changing public space? How do they coexist with more recent mechanisms? And above all, to what extent are these spaces, just like rituals, regulated, normed, or reconfigured by political authorities, who make them instruments of control, legitimation, or marginalization?
This theme invites reflection on the issue of prevented rites, when social, political, or health circumstances make their accomplishment impossible. One thinks, for example, of the COVID-19 pandemic, where burials were carried out hastily, or of natural disasters, such as recent earthquakes, when bodies (yet central to the rite) could not be found and the material absence of the deceased renders any funeral ritual impossible. But these preventions are not solely due to material constraints: they can also result from political decisions, when authorities choose to prohibit, restrict, or delay certain rituals, invoking motives of security, public order, or ideological legitimacy. It is then necessary to question the modalities and justifications of these preventions, as well as their effects on individuals and communities, faced with the impossibility of performing funerary acts deemed essential.
Finally, contributions may also question the new forms of funerary ritualities (Gervais 2020) and memorial practices that are emerging in contemporary society. Are they intended to be more secular, more individualized, more ephemeral, or do they involve technology (Dilmaç 2018)? How to analyse, for example, the appearance of virtual cemeteries, digital rituals, dematerialized tributes (Trépanier 2021), posthumous interactions on social networks, or even places dedicated to pets? Do these mechanisms reflect a redefinition of the relationship to death, giving rise to new practices and/or spaces dedicated to demise? Do they stem from a desire to compensate for the absence of a collective or political framework deemed insufficiently inclusive? Do they, on the contrary, mark a critical distance from instituted forms of ritualization, considered inadequate for contemporary needs, expectations, or imaginaries of death?
“All living beings are destined to taste death one day,” as certain inscriptions at the entrance to cemeteries in Turkey remind us. However, while death constitutes a universal experience, it does not strike individuals equally. Upstream, that is, throughout life, social, economic, professional, geographical, or environmental factors condition existence differently and contribute, for certain groups, to reducing life expectancy and hastening death. In other words, social inequalities in life also shape the conditions of demise.
Under this theme, proposals may question the way in which certain human conditions such as imprisonment, exile, work, or belonging to certain groups expose individuals to forms of precarization and vulnerability, whether produced by negligence or by deliberate policies. They may examine how certain lives become invisible while their deaths become unspeakable (Fassin 2022), and how these deaths are, from historical or contemporary perspectives, normalized and naturalized (Marichalar 2022) by different economic, political, or moral discourses. In this perspective, several avenues can be considered. They include, for example, work on “homicides on the job” and policies of impunity in the face of occupational accidents (Tezer et Odman 2021); research concerning sick prisoners (Can 2019) or pathologies linked to working and living conditions; as well as studies devoted to populations made fragile by institutionalization, discrimination, or extreme exclusion. All these avenues show how certain existences are maintained in a border zone between life and death, eventually reaching death itself.
However, these inequalities do not stop at the moment of demise: they continue and are accentuated after death through a differentiated institutional treatment of the deceased and their bodies. The modalities of burial authorized or hindered funeral rituals, just like memorial recognition or occultation, bear witness to persistent hierarchies in the social and political management of death. This theme will thus be dedicated to the State’s involvement and control over the destiny of the dead, the institutional hierarchizations it operates to distinguish certain disappearances, but also the social reactions these procedures provoke.
Proposals may, for example, question the way a “social organization of silence” (Jakšić et Fischer 2021) has been established in Turkey, relegating certain disappearances to the shadows and plunging individuals from the most dominated fractions of society into a death perceived as “problematic” or “cumbersome” (Clainche-Piel 2020). Which populations of society are affected by this procedure (e.g., minorities, precarious, migrants, LGBT, homeless people...) and how does the family experience it? What are the social, political, cultural... reasons that explain this differentiated treatment?
- 3 Ökten, N., «Ölümsüz Bir Ölüm, Sonsuz Bir Yas : Türkiye’de 10 Kasım», Hatırladıklarıyla ve Unuttukla (...)
More broadly, contributions may also focus on analysing the differentiated mechanisms put in place by authorities to establish a funerary distinction between disappearances deemed worthy of being commemorated and those considered negative or illegitimate. Around the “good death,” discussions could include, for example, commemorations of sacralized figures such as martyrs, the cult of saints, mausoleums dedicated to public figures (such as Anıtkabir)3, or new museums integrating new heroes into national history and participating in a process of suggested collective memory (Özyürek 2006). Conversely, the “bad death” from the state perspective crystallizes in practices such as the construction of “traitors’ cemeteries,” where the deceased considered unworthy of integrating the national memory are relegated, or even exhibited as counter-examples, or anonymous burials.
The state treatment of bodies may also be addressed in this theme. Katherine Verdery (1999) speaks in this regard of “the politics of the corpse”, to designate the set of practices exercised directly on or around the bodies of the deceased. These encompass both explicit acts of violence (such as dismemberment, profanation, or mutilation) and forms of symbolic violence aimed at erasing the identity of the deceased, for example through anonymous burials or interment in mass graves. This perspective invites particular attention to the manner in which States and other actors treat and manage the bodies of the dead: are they exposed, concealed, held in retention, buried in secret, or even deprived of burial?
These dynamics invite a series of questions: which deaths are constructed as “grievable” (Butler 2005) and which are excluded from the field of recognition and memory? For whom are official mourning policies and national mourning organized, and through what stagings and what actors (present or past)? In parallel, the question of the invisibilities of the dead arises: which populations see their disappearance concealed, and by what procedures—media exclusion, institutional silence, judicial non-resolution, or non-restitution of bodies?
This theme therefore invites questioning the way in which death is reinvested by politics in Turkey. By controlling the destiny of the dead (whether it concerns their treatment, commemoration, or erasure), the State exerts both a biopolitical and a necropolitical logic (Bargu 2019). It does not limit itself to managing biological life and death, but legitimizes its authority by hierarchizing existences and shaping collective memory, thus transforming the governance of the dead into a power over the living.
Particular attention may be given to the social reactions elicited by these differentiated treatments of the dead. In Turkey, these manifest through emblematic mobilizations: those of the Saturday Mothers (Cumartesi Anneleri), whose mourning remains prevented due to the nonrestitution of the bodies of their disappeared loved ones; those of feminist movements, which denounced Turkey’s withdrawal from the Istanbul Convention as a “leaving to die“ in the face of violence against women; those of workers demanding justice for deaths at work (Duvignaud 2013); or those of activists protesting against the fate reserved for stray dogs, sent to “death camps” by the authorities. Initiatives such as the “Initiative for Respect and Justice for the Dead” (Ölüye Saygı ve Adalet İnisiyatifi) also illustrate these civil society efforts to restore dignity and recognition to marginalized deceased individuals.
This theme proposes to address death beyond its biological dimension. Proposals focusing on symbolic deaths, such as social death and civic death, constitute the object of the third theme of this issue. The aim is thus to think about death beyond its biological dimension, to understand how it can be symbolically inflicted on a person or a group, plunging them into profound distress.
Social death occurs when the individual ceases to be recognized as an active actor by others, by one or more people in the existing world (Hallam et al. 1999) or by public authorities. Orlando Patterson (1985), drawing inspiration from the works of Izard (1985) and Meillassoux (1975), mobilizes the concept of social death to describe the condition of the slave. According to him, three fundamental elements characterize the state of servitude: the constant powerlessness in which the slave is maintained under the permanent threat of violent death; natal alienation, which establishes their dependence on the master by reducing them to the state of a socially dead person; and the total deprivation of rights and obligations arising from kinship, family, or community ties, transforming the slave into a veritable genealogical isolate. Patterson thus distinguishes two forms of social death: the first results from the uprooting of the slave, torn from their environment of origin and introduced into that of their master as a non-being; the second corresponds to that of a disgraced initiate, i.e., an individual who has ceased to belong to the community after having infringed the minimal standards of legal or socio-economic behavior (Patterson 1985: 42). He emphasizes the continuity of this type of slavery in Europe until the 19th century in the form of penal servitude.
The notion of social death remains a concept mobilized today in many works, particularly in studies on prison. Price (2015), explicitly referring to Patterson’s conceptual framework, defines prison as a space generating social death, through institutional violence, the systemic humiliation it imposes, and the natal alienation it operates on detainees. Guenther (2013), for her part, uses it in her analysis of solitary confinement in American supermax prisons, which she conceives as a form of radical deprivation of social relations, sensory stimulation, and meaningful human interactions, essential for maintaining a sense of identity and continuity with the world. Her analysis highlights the dehumanizing effects of isolation, emphasizing how the absence of social ties and external stimuli can erode the sense of self and generate profound psychological distress as well as existential despair. From a complementary perspective, Didier Fassin (2022) identifies social death in extreme forms of confinement, whether due to the duration or conditions of detention.
More broadly, social death refers to processes of extreme desocialization and disaffiliation, which are not limited to either slavery or incarceration. It refers to all situations where individuals find themselves locked in a condition of “living-dead,” unable to lead an existence socially recognized as “normal”. Guillemard (2018/1972) describes social death as a state where it is possible to remain biologically alive while perceiving oneself, or being perceived, as dead, awaiting a concordance between biological status and social condition. It is thus both the individual and collective dimensions of existence that are affected. The figures of the elderly, the unemployed, or the dying,” incompletely incorporated into our societies,” constitute, according to Claude Lévi-Strauss (2013), exemplary manifestations of this social death.
Social death can also be accompanied by civil death. Historically stemming from Roman law and consecrated by the Napoleonic Civil Code before its abolition in the 19th century, civic death designated the legal fiction by which an individual, although living, was deemed dead for the law: deprived of their civil status, legal capacity, family ties, and any recognized belonging to the political community (Charlin 2015; Taïbi 2018). While this sanction disappeared from the codes, the concept is experiencing a reactivation today in the social sciences to think about contemporary forms of disaffiliation produced by the State: massive restrictions of rights after criminal conviction, security mechanisms, confiscation of documents, asset freezing, administrative statuses depriving certain individuals of a full civic existence. In the North American context, this reflection has been stimulated by analyses of the new civil death associated with the collateral consequences of mass convictions (Chin 2012) and by the notion of neo-civil death, which describes the condition of individuals “existing but not living” in the US carceral economy (Smiley 2014). Monforte (2021) shows, however, that contemporary forms of civic death are increasingly emancipating themselves from the penal framework; they even operate in the absence of conviction, rely on privative statuses based on suspicion or anticipated threat, and become securitization techniques allowing States to neutralize individuals perceived as “future risks” rather than as perpetrators of proven offences.
- 4 Report coordinated by Körükmez, Lülüfer (2019). Academic Purge in Turkey – Human Rights Violations, (...)
In Turkey, it is observed that political authorities, through their measures, ideologies, repression, censorship, or various sanctions, regularly plunge certain individuals and collectives into an invisibility that weakens their existence and gradually leads to a veritable social “death warrant”. These mechanisms aim to punish those perceived as deviant, undesirable, or dissident. Thus, starting in the 1970s, dismissals, disciplinary and judicial procedures, and even imprisonments multiplied against academics for political reasons. More recently, following the Gezi events (2013), journalists, sociologists, urban planners, jurists, and economists were the target of such sanctions. After the petition of Academics for Peace (2016), many signatories were suspended or forced to resign (Özatalay 2020). As Gülşah Kurt reminds us, “these people have not regained their posts or rejoined the civil service. In other words, these measures are not limited to the state of emergency since their effects persist after its abolition”. Similarly, after the 2016 coup attempt, thousands of military personnel were dismissed, without the possibility of finding a job. Analysts4 do not hesitate to describe this process as a veritable “purge”. Finally, the LGBTQ+ communities are denied their very existence by certain political representatives.
The expected proposals may thus question, in a comparative or situated perspective, the multiple processes by which individuals or groups are symbolically “put to death” in contemporary Turkey. They may explore how certain forms of social death (uprooting, institutional humiliation, loss of recognition, isolation, disaffiliation, or exclusion from the community...) combine with mechanisms of civil death, such as the suspension of rights, professional prohibitions, privative administrative statuses, confiscation of documents, or legal erasure.
Authors are invited to analyze these dynamics in contexts as diverse as incarceration, political repression, censorship, mass dismissals, administrative statelessness, marginalization of sexual minorities, or the social isolation of certain groups. This theme particularly welcomes contributions examining contemporary forms of desocialization and extreme disaffiliation, the lived effects of invisibilities and exclusion imposed by political authorities, as well as securitization mechanisms that, in the name of an anticipated risk, produce “living-dead” devoid of civic recognition. Historical, sociological, and ethnographic analyses clarifying the continuities and ruptures between ancient figures of servitude, modern disciplinary regimes, and contemporary techniques of governing the undesirable will also be welcome. These approaches will allow us to grasp how social death and civic death are articulated today in the manufacture of vulnerabilities, inequalities of recognition, and contemporary forms of political and social illegitimacy.
Interested individuals are invited to submit a one-and-a-half-page maximum abstract (résumé d’intention), including:
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a provisional title;
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a clear presentation of the research problem in relation to contemporary Turkey;
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the main materials or corpus on which the analyses will be based;
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the objectives pursued, showing, if necessary, an article structure that is still provisional or potential;
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as well as a short indicative bibliography (5 references maximum).
Abstracts should be sent in Word or PDF format, accompanied by a brief biographical note (5 lines maximum), by February 9, 2026.
For any information concerning the special issue, and to submit abstracts and articles, please write to jadilmac@hotmail.com and secildoguc@gmail.com.
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Call Dissemination: December 8, 2025
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Receipt of Abstracts: February 9, 2026
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Feedback to Authors: March 2, 2026
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Article Submission Expected by: June 1, 2026
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Sending of Evaluations to Authors: September 1, 2026
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Return of Revised Texts Expected by: October 2026