Omut Ozkirimli: Senior Research Fellow at IBEI and Professor at Blanquerna University, Ramón Llull.
Finally, what was anticipated has occurred: Ekrem İmamoğlu, the Mayor of Istanbul and a strong potential rival to Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan in the 2028 presidential elections, has officially been arrested on flimsy corruption charges, four days after being taken into custody. This move has been long expected and cannot simply be deemed a political maneuver. It may not seem this way, but this is what coups look like today: without bloodshed or noise, only the groans of democracy dying in handcuffs.
After 23 years in power and with Turkey’s economy in free fall, Erdoğan understands that no election – even a rigged one – is now secure. This has left him with two options: cancel the elections or remove any credible rivals. However, timing was crucial. Before taking action, he needed to ensure that the geopolitical chessboard was arranged in his favor.
This meant brokering a ceasefire with the Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK). It also meant avoiding any backlash from the European Union. To this end, Erdoğan threatened to unleash waves of migrants toward the EU – a threat that grew more potent after the fall of Syrian dictator Bashar al-Assad, who had helped in his downfall. Erdoğan also flexed Turkey’s military muscles at a time when America’s commitment to NATO is in doubt, sending a clear message that Europe without Turkey would have a dangerously exposed eastern front.
Once he became indispensable himself, Erdoğan took his step and removed İmamoğlu. This move came with short-term costs: the Turkish central bank had to spend a record $12 billion to shore up the lira. However, the opposition’s response so far has been politically equivalent to tripping over one’s shoelace at the starting line.
Nevertheless, the Turkish public is furious. Since İmamoğlu’s arrest, hundreds of thousands have taken to the streets demanding his release and, more broadly, justice and human rights. Protests quickly spread from Istanbul and Ankara to Adana, Antalya, Çanakkale, Çorum, Edirne, Eskişehir, Kayseri, and even religiously conservative Konya, where at least 200 farmers, some with their tractors, joined the movement.
The surge in popular opposition has undoubtedly shaken Erdoğan. Nationwide gatherings and protests have been banned, and the usual instruments of government repression have been employed against those challenging the ban: batons, water cannons, and tear gas. More than 1,400 demonstrators have been detained so far.
The government has also restricted travel to and from Istanbul, imposed limits on access to several social media platforms, including Instagram, TikTok, X, and YouTube; banned live broadcasts of gatherings and protests; and arrested several journalists, including Yasin Akgül from Agence France-Presse and award-winning photojournalist Bulent Kılıç. “Turkey is not a country that will submit to the street – it will not yield to street terrorism,” Erdoğan warned recently.
There could not be a more opportune time for the Republican People’s Party (CHP) to unite the opposition and offer a credible alternative to Erdoğan’s leadership. However, what the CHP has presented so far amounts to little more than tired populist and nationalist slogans, more fitting for Turkey’s guided past than its existential present. There is no mention of the recent mass protests in Turkey, the 2013 Gezi Park demonstrations, which were driven by similar popular energy. No engagement with the Kurds, who have repeatedly shown to be crucial in elections and continue to face severe persecution. Nor is there any acknowledgment that this moment transcends party politics.
This is not merely a stumble; it is symptomatic of a deeper problem. The CHP clings to an outdated political mentality, focusing more on competing in elections than on defending democracy. This explains why protesters do not rally behind the party but instead politely but firmly demand it get out of the way.
If the CHP has learned anything from İmamoğlu’s arrest, it should be that the old ways, based on believing that change comes through polite negotiations and organized confrontations, are no longer valid. This not only means the party must adjust its methods; the CHP must acknowledge that it is no longer the hero of Turkish politics. That role now belongs to the Turkish people – the discontented, the frustrated, the rebellious – who see İmamoğlu’s arrest as an assault not just on one man but on their collective future.
İmamoğlu’s arrest should also serve as a wake-up call for observers and academics who still believe that Turkey is a hybrid regime, where electoral competition is “real but unfair,” rather than a full-fledged dictatorship. Even political scientists who proposed the idea of “competitive authoritarianism,” Steven Levitsky and Lucan Way, modified their theory in 2020, noting that a new kind of strong leaders are using “populist and ethnic nationalist strategies” to entrench their power. If the CHP were wise, it would look beyond old academic texts, polling numbers, and nighttime anecdotes of Mustafa Kemal Atatürk to craft a strategy that resonates with the protesters instead of undermining or destroying their momentum.
One thing is clear: Old Turkey is gone. The question now is whether the Turkish people will have the chance to shape what comes next. It is too early to tell whether the current wave of popular anger and disappointment will evolve into a coherent movement capable of maneuvering, let alone surpassing Erdoğan and his followers. But it should be evident that when the game is rigged, attempting to play it better – with more thought, cleverness, and daring – is futile. The only way to have any chance of winning is to flip the table.
