Turkey’s crackdown on cartoonists is no laughing matter

Above is the cartoon that led to the arrest of several journalists in Turkey this week. It appeared in LeMan, the long-running Turkish satirical magazine that’s been poking fun at power for over 30 years. On the left of the image is a bearded man wearing a taqiyah – a Muslim skullcap – who introduces himself as Muhammed. On the right, a man in a top hat, resembling the traditional attire of Haredi Jews, says he’s Musa. Both have wings and are shown hovering above burning buildings and flying rockets.

According to LeMan, the character of Muhammed “is fictionalised as a Muslim killed in Israel’s bombardments”. A statement on X said: “This cartoon is not a caricature of the Prophet Muhammed, PBUH [Peace Be Upon Him]… There are more than 200 million people named Muhammed in the Islamic world.”

Despite this clarification, backlash at what has been perceived as a swipe at Islam has been swift and severe. On Monday, police raided LeMan’s Istanbul office, which was surrounded by an angry crowd, and arrested staff. On Wednesday an Istanbul court charged four team members with “publicly demeaning religious values” and ordered them detained pending trial. One of the four, cartoonist Doğan Pehlivan, was also accused of “insulting the president”. Two more LeMan employees are under investigation and appear to be outside the country. Authorities have also apparently banned the latest issue, ordered it pulled from newsstands and blocked access to LeMan’s website and social media accounts in Turkey. President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan personally condemned the cartoon, calling it “a vile provocation.”

All of this over a cartoon. A cartoon that wasn’t even about the Prophet Muhammad. Even if it were, this response would still be indefensible. Religions can and should be open to critique or satire. Criticising belief systems is not the same as attacking believers.

As veteran Turkish journalist Can Dündar told me this week, “Like many autocrats, Erdoğan is intolerant of humour.” He fears the chilling effect this latest crackdown could have. “This may silence already-frightened humour magazines altogether.”

LeMan has long been a thorn in Erdoğan’s side, and there’s a chance this is being used as a pretext to shut them down. It’s also no coincidence this is happening in a country where Erdoğan has increasingly embraced religious conservatism – a shift our brilliant contributing editor Kaya Genç has documented over the years (see here for example). But joining the dots doesn’t do anything for those who are now in jail for exercising their rights to artistic and media freedoms. We owe it to them to raise our voice and do what we can to get them out.

Young people in Turkey are defying decades of oppression 

Young people in Turkey have a lot to feel enraged about, from worsening living conditions to the government’s rampant corruption. Since 2015, I have felt my own fair share of rage. 

That was the year my father, Can Dündar, a journalist and former editor-in-chief of the opposition daily newspaper Cumhuriyet, was imprisoned on trumped up terror charges.

Pro-government press outlets told lies about him and our family, and prosecutors sought multiple life sentences for his “crime” of reporting on covert arms shipments to Syria. Although he was released nearly 100 days later thanks to public solidarity and a Supreme Court decision, my family was eventually forced into exile, with my parents now living in Germany and myself in the UK. 

My father likens Recep Tayyip Erdoğan’s tactics to those of Vladimir Putin and multiple other global dictators. “Arrest the opposition, weaponise the judiciary, silence the media, spread fear and disinformation, protect your throne,” he has told me. 

Now, ten years later, I have hardly been able to sleep since youth-led protests erupted across Turkey last month following the arrest of Istanbul’s mayor and President Erdoğan’s main rival, Ekrem İmamoğlu. He has been sent to Silivri Prison (also known as Marmara), the same jail my father was imprisoned in. 

Once again, this represents a devastating attack on Turkey’s democratic rights and freedom of speech. I’ve been following reports from the handful of independent media that are still operating. According to Reporters Without Borders (RSF), 90% of the media in Turkey is now under government control, which has allowed pro-government disinformation to run riot. 

After 22 years in power, Erdoğan’s regime has left the economy in ruins, corrupted institutions, and suppressed basic rights. Since 2016, close to 150 local mayors have been dismissed or detained, and replaced with government-appointed bureaucrats. Leaders from three major political parties are now in prison. İmamoğlu and 91 elected officials from the Istanbul Mayor’s office face false corruption charges. It’s a mockery of justice – especially as so much of the ruling party’s corruption avoids scrutiny, and journalists, lawyers and anyone else who draws attention to the government are prosecuted.

Whilst protests continue despite blanket bans in major cities, digital censorship is rife as social media networks have been stifled by low bandwidth. X complied with government requests to shut down hundreds of accounts; TV news coverage has been cut and channels have been threatened with the cancellation of their licences. Meanwhile, 1,133 protestors have been arrested, with many beaten and detained. More than 300 of those arrested are students, and face potential jail sentences and a ban from ever running for political office, not to mention missing their studies. Footage of police brutality continues to fill my social media feeds – crowds of young people beaten and wounded, or shot with tear gas and rubber bullets, some directly in the eye. 

The student demonstrations in İstanbul have ignited mass protests in nearly all Turkish cities. Young people have united across ideological and economic divides and catalysed a fractured political opposition into action, symbolised by the chant, No liberation alone, all of us or none”. At one rally, Özgür Özel, the leader of the main political opposition the Republican People’s Party (CHP), thanked young people for ignoring his caution and taking the lead. A young man was pictured carrying his father on his back to the polls that had been set up to support the detained Istanbul mayor’s candidacy as a presidential candidate against Erdoğan; 15 million people turned out to vote for him in a day.

The spirit of solidarity continues to grow against increasing cruelty. Mothers who have spoken out for their children’s arrest have been detained themselves. Teachers supporting their students’ rights have been sacked, and students at hundreds of high schools have organised sit-ins to show solidarity with them. Thanks to the mobilisation, nearly half of the young people arrested have been released but 48 remain in prison. The political opposition has organised a nationwide boycott of pro-government businesses, and people have been detained for promoting it.

But people continue to show dissent. The CHP holds weekly peaceful gatherings across different cities and municipalities of Istanbul to keep the momentum going. The government recently blocked the access of spotlights to one major gathering in the Beyazıt district. Thousands of people pulled up their phone’s flashlights instead, defying the darkness and lighting up the town square and each other’s faces.

Despite digital censorship, the internet is also being used as a convening space. The Istanbul mayor’s account is currently banned from posting on X, so supporters have reacted by changing their profile photos to his, sprouting countless İmamoğlu accounts across the platform. When X started shutting these down for “likeness” complaints, they got creative by making alternative, hilarious versions of his photo instead. A whack-a-mole scenario has unfolded where every act of oppression creates its own act of resistance. 

Today, one in four people aged 15 to 24 in Turkey is neither working nor in school. Youth unemployment has hit a record high in the country. Gallup’s Global Emotions Report conducted across 116 countries found that Turkey scored near the bottom of its rankings for “positive experiences” in 2024, as it has done since 2020, with high levels of unhappiness and anger. This social environment has no doubt fueled the protests.

A tweet from author, editor and teacher Taner Beyter sums it up: “Young friends, we have nothing to lose. We won’t be able to buy a car or a house. We won’t have stocks. Even if we succeed in the exams, we’ll be singled out in interviews. If we are taken to court, we don’t have ‘our guy’ to bail us out. We won’t get rich in this corrupt economy. Let’s carry on resisting against those stealing our future.”

For many Turkish youths, this is their first protest movement against a government they’ve only ever known as Erdoğan’s – just as mine was during the 2013 Gezi Park protests, a wave of demonstrations that began with the demolition of Istanbul’s Gezi Park. It quickly sparked into a movement against mounting injustices. At their core, both movements have their roots in inequality and crackdowns on free expression, and have been driven by a hope for change. 

The millions who came out to the streets during the Gezi Park protests have since been separated and many were individually targeted. Once the crowds dissipated, no longer linked arm-in-arm, people were easier to subdue and prosecute with chilling effects. 

But decades of crackdowns have failed to silence young people in Turkey. A photo on my X feed shows a poster raised by a young protester. Under the names of those who were killed during Gezi Park, a note reads: “I was nine years old then when my brothers stood up for me. I may have missed meeting them, but they’ve all gained a place in me. I promise I won’t let this be.” 

There’s hope in collective reaction. Youth movements propel frustrations into action, catalysing a fractured opposition to work together for common goals. Established political parties may struggle to meet their demands at first, but they are slowly being shaped by them and changing their approach.

Around the world, young dissidents are speaking out to demand a better future in the face of mounting challenges from inequality to global conflict, state corruption to environmental decline. 

Still, pressures against them are mounting. Their legitimate demands are being criminalised across the world from Iran to Palestine, USA to Belarus, Serbia to Myanmar, and more.

This is why at PEN International, the world’s largest association of writers, we’re building a youth network called the Young Writers Committee with representatives from 58 countries. We launched our web platform Tomorrow Club last week along with a podcast series, to amplify the stories of brave young people from around the world, and to create spaces for them to collaborate, learn about each other’s lives and struggles, and discuss how to cope with them.

It’s clear to see the shared experience across borders. We are all suffering from a shrinking space for free expression, and we want to uplift each other, exchange tools and tales, and establish supportive links for a shared future. 

There is a common pride in the word “youth”. Although it paints a massively diverse group with a single brush, it can also help us come together against urgent challenges. 

Cihan Tugal, a sociology professor at Berkeley University in California, USA, recently noted: “When Erdoğan fights for himself, he is also fighting for Trump, [Narendra] Modi, [Javier] Milei and Orbán, even if their interests do not always align. When the students and others in the street struggle against Erdoğan, they are also fighting for the rest of the world.”

That type of togetherness is demonstrated by young people protesting in Turkey and other countries. We should support and empower them to keep going. Their strong stance for justice and a better, fairer future can bring together fractured masses and pave the way against rising tides of authoritarianism.

Press freedom is deteriorating in Turkey

In the 2024 World Press Freedom Index published by Reporters Without Borders, Turkey ranked 158th among 180 countries. Just days before the release of this year’s index, 37 journalists remain imprisoned in the country, according to the Media and Law Studies Association (MLSA), an NGO defending freedom of the press in Turkey.

However, evaluating violations of freedom of thought and press solely based on the number of jailed journalists would be insufficient, as pressure on journalism intensifies daily in a number of ways.

Even though the first four months of the year are not yet over, 60 journalists have been detained so far. Among them, 25 have been arrested. These numbers are according to monthly reports from the Kurdish journalist organisation Dicle Firat Journalist Union (DFG). One of those arrested was Joakim Medin, a reporter for Swedish newspaper Dagens ETC.

On 27 March, Medin was taken into custody on charges of “membership in an armed terrorist organisation” and “insulting the president”, and just one day later, he found himself in a Turkish prison cell. On Wednesday this week, he was given an 11-month suspended sentence for “insulting the president”, and remains behind bars while he awaits a trial on the second charge. Additionally, three foreign journalists who entered Turkey for reporting purposes have been deported this year alone, according to DFG.

For some journalists, the repressions have been fatal. Within the first two months of the year, Kurdish journalists Aziz Köylüoğlu and Egît Roj were killed in Turkish drone strikes targeting Syria’s autonomous Rojava region – controlled by the Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF) – and Iraq’s Kurdistan region. Over the past 10 months, seven Kurdish journalists have been killed in Turkish airstrikes (some confirmed, some suspected). Despite the gravity of these killings, the international media have largely ignored what human rights organisations have described as war crimes.

Another journalist arrested this year is Yıldız Tar, editor-in-chief of KaosGL.org, known for reporting on violations against the LGBTQ+ community. Detained in Istanbul on 21 February, Tar spoke to Index on Censorship from prison, via his lawyer.

Tar said that the judiciary is criminalising journalistic work, and that interviews with women’s rights defenders and LGBTQ+ activists are treated as criminal evidence.

“For a long time now, the judiciary has failed to define journalism as an activity tied to the public’s right to be informed,” Tar wrote to Index. “Instead, it is framed within a security-focused paradigm. Unfortunately, we cannot talk about an independent judiciary in Turkey. The political power’s anti-LGBTI+ stance also influences the judiciary.”

With World Press Freedom Day in mind, Tar said: “We have no choice but to defend journalism. Journalism is not only journalists’ concern. When we are imprisoned, both the public’s right to information and our mission to be the voice of the voiceless are violated. The oppression and injustices remain unheard. All institutions must act accordingly to this reality.”

Beyond the record number of imprisoned journalists, detentions have become almost systematic in Turkey. Many detained journalists are released under judicial control measures such as regular reporting to the police, travel bans or house arrest. These increasingly common practices not only function as punitive measures but also significantly hinder journalistic work. Measures that should be exceptional have become the norm. For example, a single social media post may result in house arrest, and criticising the government might be enough to trigger a travel ban.

One of the many journalists who has been detained multiple times is Kurdish reporter Erdoğan Alayumat. With several lawsuits and investigations pending, Alayumat is under judicial control and must go to the police headquarters to give his signature weekly in Istanbul.

Speaking to Index, Alayumat said: “If you’re Kurdish and critical, journalism in Turkey becomes nearly impossible. I was arrested in 2017 and spent one year in prison. I was acquitted of all charges. Then, I was arrested again last year and later released. How easy do you think it is to work under the shadow of ongoing trials and investigations?”

Alayumat explained that judicial control functions as punishment, even without a trial.

“Living under judicial control is very difficult. Dozens of journalists are in prison, but hundreds more are forced to live under such restrictions. I couldn’t leave Istanbul for a long time because I wasn’t allowed to leave the city. This made it impossible to do my job. I also have a travel ban, and no one knows when it will be lifted. Going to the police station every week is exhausting – especially when you have to face the same officers who raided your home and detained you violently,” he said.

He added that this situation has had a severe psychological and economic toll and that journalists in Turkey continue their work at a great cost.

Last year, 36 journalists were sentenced and 53 acquitted in Turkey, and these trials resulted in nearly 100 years of cumulative prison sentences.

In addition to grotesque judicial repression, journalists in Turkey also face police violence. Especially during street protests and public demonstrations, journalists documenting police aggression often become victims of it themselves.

Following the arrest of Istanbul Metropolitan mayor Ekrem İmamoğlu in March, several journalists covering mass protests in Istanbul were injured due to police violence. One of them was İlke TV reporter Eylül Deniz Yaşar.

Speaking to Index, Yaşar recounted both her own and her colleagues’ experiences of police brutality.

“While documenting the police’s disproportionate response to protesters, we were physically assaulted. One officer sprayed tear gas directly into my eye at close range. I couldn’t open my eye for half an hour, and my vision remained blurry for hours. I feared permanent damage. Another journalist’s nose was broken. Someone else suffered head trauma. I’m not even counting verbal abuse and harassment,” she said.

She believes the police are now trying to build a “new press regime” in Turkey.

“Police are becoming the architects of this regime. They want to decide where, what and how we film. It’s getting harder to go out in the field,” she said. “I’m one of many journalists frequently detained. My home has been raided twice – home raids have become routine.”

Yaşar added that the repression journalists face in Turkey reminds them of “World War documentaries”.

“Like the terrifying scenes from those times. It feels like we’re living in a dystopian horror film,” she explained.

As Erdoğan’s regime seeks to suffocate journalism with both judicial stick and police baton, critical journalists in Turkey continue to resist – armed with the power of the camera and the pen, at great personal sacrifice.

The dichotomy of Turkey

On 1 August, a significant prisoner swap between the USA and Russia took place in Turkey’s capital Ankara and 26 prisoners were freed, including the peerless American reporter Evan Gershkovich. In playing a central role in the most extensive prisoner exchange since the end of the Cold War, Turkey’s National Intelligence Organization (MIT) won accolades. The operation reminded the world that its NATO membership has been the cornerstone of Turkey’s defence and security policy since it joined the bloc in 1952.

Yet over the next 24 hours, Turkey’s Information and Communication Technologies Authority barred access to Instagram without providing a specific reason. Reports suggested the ban was a response to Instagram’s removing posts related to the death of Hamas leader Ismail Haniyeh, a close ally of Turkey’s strongman president

During his 21-year reign, Recep Tayyip Erdoğan has established himself as the most relentless implementer of censorship in Turkish history. Twitter, Wikipedia, OnlyFans, YouTube, Google Sites, Blogger, Blogspot, Google Docs, SoundCloud, WordPress, Facebook, Reddit, Google Drive, Dropbox, WhatsApp, Voice of America, Deutsche Welle, and Roblox have been among the victims of Erdoğan’s censorship.

Erdoğan has always oppressed free voices by tagging them as fascists. He has attacked and imprisoned all sectors of Turkish society under that accusation – except for Turkey’s actual fascistic groups which are parts of his far-right governing coalition.

On 5 August, Erdoğan accused Mark Zuckerberg’s Meta of “digital fascism.” But five days later, Turkey restored access to Instagram. The nine-day block reminded people of the arbitrary nature of Erdoğan’s regime, which is built on macho posturing to audiences at home and bullying “foreign powers” in the name of the Turkish nation.

Turkish users could then re-access Instagram after the country’s minister of transport and infrastructure claimed Instagram had accepted that “our demands… will be met”. Yet Instagram continues to remove posts mourning the death of Haniyeh: nothing has changed.

Three days after Instagram was reinstated, a woman who criticised Erdoğan’s ban in a YouTube interview was arrested for “insulting Turkey’s President”. She was sent to a prison where she remains at the time of writing this.

For some, Erdoğan’s Instagram ban was but a pointless act. I see it as part of a more ominous tactic. Banning Instagram solidifies the idea that censorship in Turkey is all about Erdoğan’s whims. The strongman can cut access to Google, Amazon, Netflix, iCloud, and other vital internet services if and when he feels like it. He’s all-powerful: no legal entity can stop him from doing whatever he wants.

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