A commentary by Cem Ersin, Istanbul
“Erdoğan is our father, Turkey is our home.” This phrase has been scrawled on utility boxes, bridge pillars, and building walls in towns and cities across Turkey for years. More than mere flattery, it reflects a deeply rooted, cross-generational understanding of the state: the government as a patriarchal authority that commands obedience and must not be questioned. This authoritarian image of the state has long shaped the Republic—regardless of who held power. Public protest was rare—until now.
Following the controversial arrest of Istanbul’s popular opposition mayor Ekrem İmamoğlu, hundreds of thousands of people took to the streets—marking the first mass mobilization of this scale since the nationwide Gezi Park protests in 2013. It was a moment of political rupture. Police responded with force: thousands of demonstrators were detained, and courts issued house arrests and pretrial detentions—often based on vague or fabricated charges. The message was clear: the old hierarchy must not be shaken.
At the top of that hierarchy stands President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, who has reshaped and restructured Turkey’s political system over the past two decades. Since 2002, he has ruled with the Justice and Development Party—known by its Turkish acronym AKP, or as supporters call it, the “AK Parti”. The abbreviation carries a double meaning: “ak” in Turkish means “pure” or “clean.” The name serves as political branding—at least in the party’s own narrative.
With only a brief interruption, Erdoğan has served as AKP leader for most of its existence. Under his leadership, the party became the dominant political force in the country. Initially, the AKP rose to power promising a blend of conservative values, democratic governance, and economic modernization. Erdoğan was hailed as a reformer, steering Turkey closer to the EU and lifting it out of economic stagnation with neoliberal reforms. In the 2000s, he enjoyed broad popularity—even among liberals and pro-European urban elites.
But the failed coup attempt in 2016 marked a turning point. Erdoğan used the crisis to consolidate power, dismantle the separation of powers, and silence dissent. Under the banner of anti-terrorism, tens of thousands of people were fired, imprisoned, or forced into exile—including journalists, academics, civil servants, military officers, and judges. Turkey transitioned into a hyper-centralized presidential system with Erdoğan at the helm of all decision-making.
Economically, power has also become increasingly concentrated in the hands of a narrow circle. Major corporations, banks, construction conglomerates, and media groups are now directly or indirectly controlled by Erdoğan’s allies and party networks. Even many charities and foundations operate in alignment with the AKP. Those who resist this system or criticize it publicly risk state repression or economic marginalization.
Yet the recent wave of protests shows that Erdoğan’s grip on total control is no longer unshakable. İmamoğlu—seen as a possible challenger in the next presidential election—has reenergized the political opposition. Many people, including conservatives, view his arrest as excessive and unjust. On social media, calls to end political intimidation are growing. Even within the AKP, there are murmurs of discontent—though mostly behind closed doors.
Turkey now stands at a political crossroads. The country is deeply polarized, the economic crisis is exacerbating social hardship, and younger generations are increasingly disillusioned with traditional political blocs. Erdoğan appears determined to preserve his power—by any means necessary. But the political atmosphere is more fragile than ever. The protests over İmamoğlu’s arrest could mark a turning point—or they may be crushed before they gather momentum. It remains unclear which narrative will prevail: that of “Father Erdoğan,” or that of an awakening political consciousness.
The extent of Erdoğan’s reach became visible when Turkey’s main opposition party, the CHP—to which İmamoğlu belongs—released a boycott list. It named supermarket chains, shopping malls, media outlets, restaurants, and even car dealerships selling Audi and Volkswagen as entities to avoid.
When CHP leader Özgür Özel called for a national boycott day, many stores and cafés remained empty. In response, Istanbul prosecutors launched investigations into those supporting the campaign. The government’s counter-move was swift: cabinet members and prominent AKP figures—including former football star Mesut Özil—were sent out to publicly shop, drink coffee, and promote “national unity.”
Within the AKP, dissatisfaction with Erdoğan’s hardline stance—especially the protest bans and harsh treatment of demonstrators—has grown. However, party members rarely speak out. At most, criticism surfaces in private conversations. Over the years, financial, personal, and political dependencies have intertwined to form a tight network that binds the party together like a root system.
Those who have dared to speak publicly in recent days are mostly former insiders. Former President and AKP co-founder Abdullah Gül warned early on that the protests would harm both the government and the opposition. Others were more direct: former Education Minister Hüseyin Çelik wrote on social media that “the protest ban has inflicted irreparable damage on our already fragile democracy and rule of law.” Former AKP MP Hüseyin Kocabıyık also voiced criticism—prompting the party to initiate expulsion proceedings against him. In response, former AKP lawmaker Mehmet Metiner recently wrote on social media of “brutal” internal pushback, claiming that Erdoğan was not only being left alone—but being “shot at” from within.
The relationship between the AKP and Erdoğan has grown increasingly ambivalent. On the one hand, the party protects his power. On the other, concerns are mounting within its ranks about being held accountable alongside him one day. For now, however, these fears can likely be postponed—primarily due to developments taking place far from the protest front lines.
Just days after İmamoğlu’s arrest, Donald Trump’s special envoy for the Middle East, Steve Witkoff, spoke of “good news from Turkey.” Two days later, Turkish Foreign Minister Hakan Fidan met with his U.S. counterpart Marco Rubio. According to opposition media in Turkey, Fidan also addressed the protests during the meeting. “No need to worry,” Rubio reportedly replied. At the same time, major U.S. news outlets drastically reduced their protest coverage.
Under President Donald Trump, U.S.-Turkish relations are experiencing a revival. In Trump’s latest round of tariff hikes, Turkey escaped with a relatively mild 10% rate—a development that could bolster its position as a global economic player. Thomas Barrack, nominated as the next U.S. ambassador to Ankara, also praised Turkey during a Senate hearing this week. He described it as a “hub of cultures, religions, and commerce,” a future transit point for gas to Europe, and a shield against Russian interference. Thanks to Turkey, he claimed, even China’s Belt and Road Initiative could be “temporarily” contained.
As a regional ally, Turkey currently holds substantial strategic value for the United States. Trump has recently ramped up pressure on Iran—a country with which Turkey is also at odds. As long as Washington pursues a confrontational course toward Iran, Ankara can count on American backing. Former U.S. diplomat Nikki Haley emphasized in a December television interview that Turkey is the key to weakening Iran. She also described its crucial role in any peace process between Russia and Ukraine. In exchange, the U.S. may offer concessions in Syria, where it supports Kurdish militias seen by the Turkish government as affiliates of the banned PKK and targeted as enemies within Syrian territory.
But recent developments—including a call by PKK founder Abdullah Öcalan for the group to dissolve itself and the revitalization of Turkish-American ties—may shift the dynamics. One scenario reportedly being discussed within Turkey’s security establishment is this: the PKK militia in the region disbands, Turkey makes concessions toward Kurdish politicians, and largely halts its military operations against Kurdish groups. In return, the pro-Kurdish DEM Party could lend political support to the Erdoğan government. This support could prove decisive—potentially enabling a constitutional amendment Erdoğan has been eyeing for months. Under current law, he cannot run again for president. This scenario is not far-fetched. The DEM Party has been largely absent from the current protests, despite the fact that many of its mayors have been removed from office in recent months.
Other scenarios remain on the table. One was addressed in late March by CHP leader Özgür Özel, when he criticized Europe’s silence: those who champion democracy at home but support its opposite in Turkey should know that this government will change, he told a rally. But this is arguably the least likely scenario.
Under Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, Turkey has become a foreign policy actor too important for major global powers—East and West—to seriously isolate or confront. Despite authoritarian tendencies, domestic repression, and a dramatic erosion of democratic institutions, Ankara remains indispensable: to NATO as a southern military outpost, to the EU on migration and energy policy, and to Russia and China as a geostrategic bridgehead linking Asia, Europe, and the Middle East.
This foreign policy relevance creates a paradoxical stability: as domestic tensions escalate, international interest in maintaining functional ties with Turkey ensures that meaningful criticism or pressure rarely materializes. Symbolic gestures and statements from Brussels, Berlin, or Washington contrast sharply with ongoing diplomatic negotiations, arms deals, economic agreements, and defense contracts.
Against this geopolitical backdrop, the current wave of protests and internal murmurs within the AKP quickly fade from view. While cracks within the party surface from time to time—especially over economic mismanagement or the growing influence of certain family clans—there is no genuine uprising in sight. The dependence on Erdoğan’s system, where power, loyalty, and economic privilege are tightly interwoven, is simply too great. As long as Erdoğan remains in power, the AKP will continue to serve as the political instrument of his rule—disciplined, malleable, and always ready to adapt to his needs.
The graffiti glorifying Erdoğan as the “father” and Turkey as the “home” has become more than political slogans. They reflect a deeply internalized understanding of the state, in which personal power is intertwined with national identity. Just as these murals are not easily scrubbed away, Erdoğan himself seems unlikely to vanish—either from the public sphere or from Turkey’s political reality.
As long as he remains in power, so will the system he has built: a presidential regime where separation of powers is dismantled, the judiciary is politicized, and the opposition is suppressed. In this framework, the AKP no longer exists as an independent party—it serves as a projection of his will. Only if Erdoğan’s political strength falters—or if he disappears from the stage entirely—might the power structure in Turkey undergo lasting change.
