By Nazlan Ertan
I had hoped to welcome 2025 with the word “umut”—hope—dear readers. Yet the somber mood of New Year’s Eve, when deserted streets echoed the gloom on Turkish television, has nudged me toward a more fitting phrase for the times: the 3Ys of Turkey. “Yoksulluk, Yolsuzluk, Yasaklar”- poverty, corruption, and prohibitions.
Today, let us turn the spotlight to the last of these. 2024 was a year when bans became the government’s favored tool, shaping public life by tightening its grip on both the digital and cultural spheres. In August, the Information and Communication Technologies Authority (BTK) blocked Instagram, a platform used by over 50 million Turks, after it allegedly removed posts expressing condolences for Hamas leader Ismail Haniyeh’s death. Yeni Şafak, a pro-government daily, labeled the platform’s actions “insensitivity.” Fahrettin Altun, the presidential communications director, and Abdulkadir Uraloğlu, the transportation minister, accused Instagram of crimes as broad as obscenity and incitement to suicide. Officials assured the public the ban was temporary, tied to Instagram fulfilling undefined “requirements.”
Opposition leaders were quick to react. Istanbul Mayor Ekrem İmamoğlu condemned the ban on X, calling it “arbitrary” and accusing the BTK of functioning as a censorship unit. For citizens dependent on Instagram for commerce and communication, this was yet another intrusion into their livelihoods. For others, it led to the rediscovery of Facebook, considered outdated by the Millennials and Gen Y.
TikTok was also squarely in the government’s crosshairs. Hüseyin Yayman, chair of Parliament’s Digital Platforms Committee, called TikTok a “national security issue” and claimed constituents had implored him to “close TikTok to open the gates of heaven.” While no ban has yet materialized, the platform faces mounting scrutiny.
The Freedom of Expression Association reported that mass censorship extended far beyond Instagram. At least 58,000 domains were blocked in the first two months of 2024 alone. Combined with stringent social media regulations, exorbitant digital taxes, and bans on platforms such as Wattpad (writers’ favorite tool), Discord, and Threads, these measures spotlight a systematic effort to stifle free expression.
Cultural life was similarly constrained. Ankara banned the 12th Pembe Hayat KuirFest, a festival showcasing 53 films from 29 countries, forcing organizers to move events online. Yet small victories offered glimmers of hope: bans on ODA TV and Ekşi Sözlük were lifted, and Açık Radyo, silenced by media watchdog RTÜK, reemerged online as Apaçık Radyo.
As 2025 begins, these struggles between state control and freedom of expression and media persist, casting a long shadow over the winter of our discontent. Will umut—hope—find its way back into the narrative?
