Turkey’s Political Crisis & Democratic Movement

From One Election to the Next

A fundamental point must be emphasized: elections in Turkey have remained competitive up to this point and are met with an extremely high level of civic engagement from a politically active society. I have previously referred to a “minimal but solid democratic culture” among the Turkish population. It is true that this has not prevented a majority of the population from remaining largely passive in the face of deeply unequal electoral conditions: not just socio-economic inequalities—as in all liberal democracies—but especially the direct and indirect repression targeting opposition forces, all the more so when these involve the Kurdish minority subject to colonial-style oppression.

This population has thus tolerated—without necessarily approving, but by allowing it to happen—the effective annulment of the results of the last two rounds of local elections in Kurdish regions. In a purely colonial logic, duly elected mayors were imprisoned and replaced by government-appointed trustees. Yet this democratic culture also leads people to invest immense significance in competitive elections as a kind of “peaceful arbitrator” for determining the direction of the state, and to engage deeply in electoral processes. A clear indication of this is the fact that turnout has never fallen below 76%—a figure not subject to fraud, as voter mobilization is regularly observed—and has remained consistently above 85% for the past 45 years.

After the crushing defeat in the 2023 general elections—which saw the reelection of R.T. Erdoğan and the return of a weakened but intact majority—the CHP called a party congress… with Kemal Kılıçdaroğlu, loyal to the tradition of CHP leaders who never take responsibility for failure, preparing to be reelected party president. However the shock of the defeat, combined with the disastrous management of the period between the general election and the congress, cost him much of his political credibility.^[1] The result was an unprecedented jolt within the CHP, leading to the formation of an internal opposition bloc of “reformists” gathered around Istanbul’s mayor, Ekrem İmamoğlu (elected in 2019), and his ally, the parliamentary group leader Özgür Özel.

In November 2023—and for the first time in the party’s hundred-year history—an incumbent party president was defeated at a congress. Leadership of the CHP passed to the Özel-İmamoğlu duo, with Özel as president and İmamoğlu as the party’s public face. What changes did this new leadership of “reformists”—though still emerging from the party apparatus—implement? Mainly two. First, a more professional approach to party leadership and efforts to mobilize the party’s heavy machinery of 1.5 million members. Second, a more explicit openness toward Turkey’s Kurds. The new leadership refused to ostracize DEM (the Peoples’ Equality and Democracy Party, rooted in the Kurdish national movement and democratic forces), and İmamoğlu even stated during a public debate that it would be “madness” to label a party that won five million votes as “terrorist.”^[2]

This revamped team led the CHP into the 2024 local elections—elections that Erdoğan had vowed to win on the night of his 2023 reelection, with the specific aim of recapturing Istanbul. On the opposition side, expectations were low going into the vote; most analysts simply hoped to hold on to the gains of 2019. But the outcome was the opposite of 2023: a humiliating blow for the regime and a resounding victory for the CHP, which symbolically emerged as the election’s leading party.

İmamoğlu easily outpaced his AKP rival and secured a solid majority on the municipal council, which he had not previously controlled. The CHP’s organizational momentum coincided with the regime’s shift to orthodox austerity measures following the abandonment of counter-cyclical policies. This, along with the exposure of the regime’s hypocrisy on the Palestinian issue—business circles close to the regime were trading with Israel and even its army—helped shape the electoral tide.

The situation now seems clearer than it did a year ago: the CHP has become the country’s main political force, and İmamoğlu is a popular candidate capable of defeating Erdoğan. This poses a tremendous threat to a regime whose leaders personally benefit from their stranglehold on political power.

A Peace Process?

It is within this context that the so-called “peace process” emerges. This process has taken an unexpected form: it was Devlet Bahçeli, the long-time leader of the far-right Nationalist Movement Party (MHP) and ally of Erdoğan who put forward the proposal of a process that would lead to the disarmament and dissolution of the PKK in exchange for an amnesty: including for its historic leader, founder, and symbolic figure, Abdullah Öcalan, who has been held in the island prison of İmralı for 26 years.

A series of exchanges and negotiations then began, including meetings between government officials and a delegation of DEM deputies serving as intermediaries with İmralı and Mount Qandil in Iraqi Kurdistan, where the PKK leadership is based. This culminated in Öcalan’s “historic” declaration on February 27, 2025, calling for the laying down of arms and the self-dissolution of the PKK.

Three weeks later, the Erdoğan regime crossed a previously uncrossed line: preventing a political rival from running in the presidential election. This first took the form of annulling İmamoğlu’s academic degree—decades after it was awarded—on the grounds that, according to the Turkish constitution, a higher education diploma is a necessary qualification for presidential candidates.

This decision was immediately followed by İmamoğlu’s arrest, along with much of his leadership team, on charges of corruption and support for terrorism (classic accusations routinely used by the regime against its opponents). The timing was not coincidental: stung by the fiasco of the opposition’s candidate selection in 2023, the CHP was scheduled to hold its primary on Sunday, March 23 to select its presidential candidate—with İmamoğlu as the sole contender.

How should we understand the overlap between this “peace process” and the regime’s authoritarian offensive against a center-left Turkish party? One can venture both a hypothesis and an observation about the actual nature of this so-called “peace process.”

The hypothesis is this: facing the highest risk yet of losing power to the CHP, the regime may have decided to criminalize the party, banking on internal divisions that such an event might provoke. Given the scale of this operation—targeting the party governing Turkey’s largest cities—it might also reflect an effort to resolve another major issue, the “Kurdish question,” by assuming that the Kurdish national movement would remain neutral amid the CHP’s criminalization, prioritizing the peace process instead. However, assuming that such a large-scale maneuver was in fact launched by the regime, it inevitably ran into several major obstacles: first among them, the nature of the “peace process” itself.

Indeed, Öcalan’s dramatic declaration was widely reported in the international press, but with one key detail omitted: after reading Öcalan’s statement at a press conference, the DEM deputies added the following orally: “Abdullah Öcalan also told us, ‘Without a doubt, the disarmament and self-dissolution of the PKK would require, in practice, the recognition of civil politics and a legal framework.’” This “footnote,” regarded by the entire Kurdish national movement as part of Öcalan’s statement, clearly changes the meaning: it is no longer a unilateral self-dissolution, but one conditional on tangible democratic guarantees.

And here lies the rub: there has been absolutely no positive political gesture toward the Kurds since the start of this “process.” Not a single Kurdish municipality placed under government control has been returned to its elected mayor. None of the mayors imprisoned in the last two electoral cycles have been released. No DEM (or former HDP) political leaders have been freed. So when Ekrem İmamoğlu was arrested, there was technically a “peace process” underway—but without a single concrete step forward from the Turkish government.

This made Devlet Bahçeli’s March 21 statement all the more astonishing. In it, the far-right leader proposed that a PKK disarmament congress be held on Turkish soil, in the town of Malazgirt, on May 5—with logistical support from the local DEM mayor! It is hard to imagine the PKK leadership traveling from Mount Qandil in just over a month, without any form of political or other guarantees, laying down their arms and heading home empty-handed. All the more so since the other half of Bahçeli’s statement was a violent attack on the CHP (which the MHP allied with a decade ago—before switching sides to support the AKP), portraying the Turkish center-left party as criminal, using language that left little room for any democratic opening.

Kurdish leaders—whether in DEM’s civil political wing, the PKK’s political-military apparatus, or the movement’s broader network of associations—are fully aware that the lack of democratization renders any peace process extremely fragile. They cannot forget that the previous peace process in 2015 was unilaterally scrapped by Erdoğan, who later even denied it had ever taken place. At bottom, the DEM leadership’s justified mistrust was summed up by its co-president Tülay Hatimoğulları: “What’s to stop us from being prosecuted tomorrow for our meetings with Öcalan, as part of the delegation involved in this peace process?”

Erdoğan’s Failure

As a result, since the beginning of this crisis, DEM has maintained a principled stance: defending both the peace process and democratic rights as inseparable. This is far from the stereotypical and baseless accusations from nationalist opposition circles that claim DEM is giving Erdoğan a free hand in exchange for peace. The DEM leadership supported İmamoğlu first when his diploma was annulled, and then following his arrest. They also met with CHP leaders at Istanbul City Hall, which has become a rallying point for the opposition. The Istanbul branch of the party called on people to gather at Saraçhane Square, the site of massive ongoing demonstrations since İmamoğlu’s detention.

Even more symbolically significant were the Newroz celebrations—an annual mass gathering of the Kurdish national movement and a traditional Kurdish holiday. The Newroz celebration in Amed/Diyarbakır is considered a major political event. Contrary to expectations, however, there was no new message from Abdullah Öcalan read aloud at the event. The DEM delegation had been prevented from visiting him, which constitutes a serious blow to the peace process.

Tuncer Bakırhan, DEM’s co-president, delivered a highly anticipated speech in which he condemned the regime, declaring: “What is being done to the opposition contradicts the spirit of the February 27 declaration [by Abdullah Öcalan] and is unacceptable,” explicitly denouncing İmamoğlu’s incarceration. This position has been consistent for DEM since the beginning of the crisis, though it is likely the regime had hoped for a more “neutral” statement.

In this light, the regime’s attempt to divide the opposition seems to have already failed—thanks in large part to the clarity and consistency of DEM’s leadership. It’s also worth noting that CHP leaders have made real efforts to rise to the moment by reciprocating the DEM leadership’s outreach. Özgür Özel even sent a message for Newroz (a first for a CHP president):

[...] These are ancient lands where different cultures, languages, and beliefs live together in fraternity, where solidarity and hope bloom. No tyrant, no Dehak [a mythical evil ruler in Kurdish legend] can destroy our brotherhood!” He concluded his message with the traditional Kurdish phrase: “Newroz pîroz be!”

He also expressed support for numerous political prisoners, including former leaders of the HDP (People’s Democratic Party, DEM’s predecessor). Similarly, in a statement written from prison and shared on social media, Ekrem İmamoğlu declared: “As long as the Kurds say there’s a problem, then there is a Kurdish problem.”

Mobilized Youth and the CHP

Since the beginning of the movement, the CHP has sought to establish a connection with the mobilized public—unlike during the last mass democratic movement in Turkey in 2013 (“the so-called Gezi movement”). Beyond its more open stance toward Kurds, the CHP leadership formally recognized the importance of students in the current wave of mobilization by giving them a platform at Saraçhane Square.

Indeed, the student youth are the vanguard of this movement, and this is acknowledged by all actors involved—whether it be the CHP or prominent personalities, artists, athletes, and celebrities who all, in one way or another, emphasize the importance of the country’s youth in their statements of support, whether implicit or explicit. The regime recognizes it too—through repression. At the time of writing, Selinay Uzuntel, a student leader who spoke on behalf of students in struggle at Saraçhane (and a member of EMEP, the Labor Party, a Marxist-Leninist party of Hoxhaist tendency), has just been arrested, along with other student organizers.

There are 7 million university students in Turkey, amounting to 8.2% of the total population (compared to 4.4% in France). These young people have known nothing but AKP rule—specifically in its corrupt, nepotistic form. They are pursuing their studies, but in most cases, cannot realistically hope for professional opportunities afterward. Confronted with the arbitrariness of the regime, a significant majority would prefer to live abroad if they could. They witness daily the enormous gap between the regime’s proclaimed virtues and the ostentatious, arrogant cynicism of those who benefit from it.

Some still remember their older siblings who “did Gezi,” confronting the same arbitrary and intrusive authorities… Twelve years ago, during the Gezi movement, a young comrade told me, “Being young in Turkey means getting yelled at morning and night by Erdoğan on television.” That striking phrase is probably even more true today, now that the regime loses legitimacy by the day.

This vanguard role of the student movement goes hand in hand with a desire for autonomy. For the first time in Istanbul, on Monday, March 24, students organized a separate rally in Beşiktaş, distinct from the main one at Saraçhane. Earlier that day, “academic boycotts” (similar to student strikes) were launched at numerous universities.

Returning to the CHP: it carried out its primary election, but opened it to all citizens through “solidarity votes.” On Sunday evening, the CHP leadership announced the colossal figure of 15 million participants (the vote was not electronic). This transformed the primary into a de facto referendum. It’s impossible to verify this number, since the event was not a formal election and no sufficiently resourced media outlets were allowed by the regime to cover it.

Nevertheless, local media coverage suggests that participation was indeed high. Given the weakness of the labor movement, the hardships of daily life, and the many barriers to organizing, a mass strike movement seems out of reach for now. Instead, the CHP has called for boycotts targeting certain economic actors and media outlets. Since the movement began, the regime has spent 11% of its foreign currency reserves—around $20 billion—to prevent a collapse of the Turkish lira, while the Istanbul stock exchange rebounded after an initial plunge.

The gatherings at Saraçhane are massive, but will they be sustainable without tangible progress? Neighborhood assemblies have already begun forming in Istanbul, if only because Saraçhane is too far for millions of residents in such a vast metropolis. It remains impossible to predict how this movement will unfold, but we can already begin to explore some of its internal contradictions.

Kemalism Against Kemalism?

Out of this polyphony—proclaiming a desire for national unity beyond traditional divisions and oppressive social relations—there nonetheless arises a dissonant voice that cannot be ignored: Turkish supremacism. While other opposition ultranationalist figures exist (such as the leaders of İYİ, the “Good Party,” or the neo-fascists of the ZP, Victory Party), the loudest voice comes from the CHP mayor of Ankara, Mansur Yavaş.

A former ultranationalist leader who joined the CHP, Yavaş won the Ankara mayoral election in 2019 at the same time as İmamoğlu’s victory in Istanbul, and was re-elected in 2024, soundly defeating his AKP opponent. Speaking at Saraçhane, he denounced the “double standards” against protesters in Istanbul, while a “party in the East of the country” held rallies (referring to Newroz) where a “rag” (meaning Kurdish and PKK flags) was flown and cotton candy was handed out to children (a reference to a widely circulated video of a police officer distributing cotton candy to children in a Kurdish town during Newroz)—whereas “here” (in Istanbul or Ankara, but implicitly among “the Turks”), “our youth are being beaten.”

This crass rhetoric equates a trivial episode with decades of colonial oppression and reverses the historical roles. Entirely indifferent to any peace prospects, Yavaş promotes the maintenance of a supremacist status quo. That is democracy for Turks only, which in the end means democracy for no-one. This discourse does not represent the movement’s leadership. Yavaş, as a defector from another party, has never had strong allies within the CHP (though the party itself has, in its worst right-leaning periods, harbored similar rhetoric). Still, the discourse exists.

Behind Yavaş stands the nationalist opposition milieu: small parties mentioned earlier, as well as certain other mayors like Tanju Özcan in Bolu or Burcu Köksal in Afyonkarahisar, and some CHP officials. These figures are not merely a potential deviation from the movement—they actively weaken it. It was because of Yavaş’s remarks that Özgür Özel’s Newroz message was booed during its reading in Istanbul. Ever the tactician, Erdoğan seized the opportunity to cite Yavaş’s comments in an attempt to frame the current protest movement as one led by enemies of peace and defenders of the status quo.^[3]

Anyone observing the current mobilization will notice the abundance of portraits of Mustafa Kemal Atatürk and Turkish flags at rallies and protests. This was also true in the 2013 Gezi movement. Even among the youth, many justify their activism by invoking Atatürk: quoting excerpts from his “Address to the Youth,” or his “Great Speech” entrusting the Republic to youth, or the famous phrase, “Sovereignty unconditionally and irrevocably belongs to the nation” (implying not to one man, e.g. Erdoğan).

The symbolic use of Atatürk legitimizes the opposition discourse, situating it within a patriotic continuity while also repurposing it. What people retain from Atatürk’s words are those aspects that can be linked to collective sovereignty and, more importantly, to the historic mission of Turkish youth—thus validating the democratic aspirations being voiced today. Just as during the Gezi movement—but even more explicitly now, as this moment directly challenges an electoral process (whose significance in Turkey we’ve already noted)—Mustafa Kemal Atatürk is being invoked in service of a democratic vision.^[4]

This is, in essence, a performative discourse about the past: if Atatürk entrusted the Republic to youth, it is because the Republic and the war of liberation embody democratic aspirations. Özgür Özel does something similar when he declares: “These are ancient lands where different cultures, languages, and beliefs live together in fraternity”—even though these lands experienced the Armenian Genocide, the 1942 Wealth Tax^[5], and long before that, the colonial oppression of Kurds. But since the stated goal is now an inclusive republic, it becomes necessary to reinvent a past that supports it—and a version of Kemalism that validates today’s political demands.

In contrast, Mansur Yavaş distorts contemporary social relations, portraying Kurds as privileged and Turks as oppressed in their own country. Yet he remains faithful to the practical content of actual Kemalism—the product of a heroic war of national liberation that nevertheless refused to recognize Turkey’s national plurality, broke the promises made in that direction, repressed Kurdish uprisings, and rapidly ended any semblance of controlled political pluralism…

That said, there’s little doubt that for the radical left organizations involved in the mobilization—some of which play a catalytic role among youth, such as the Workers’ Party of Turkey (TİP), which holds four parliamentary seats, one of them currently imprisoned—the priority is not to deliver a history lesson, but to push the movement forward. As Marx once said, “Every step of real movement is more important than a dozen programs,” or a dozen history classes…

The role of the movement’s “democratic mass lie” is to open space for confronting historical truth, so that democracy can deepen and, through a class struggle strategy, strip the bourgeoisie of its tools of division. But we’re still a long way off from that. Today, every step taken by a student protesting for democracy in the conservative stronghold of Konya is more precious than these reflections. Our support must not fail them.