Analysis
Smart, independent reporting on Turkey's politics, economy and foreign affairs.
Zülfü Livaneli made a clear decision this week. The musician and novelist put an end to the playing of his celebrated composition at opposition rallies protesting the operations that have targeted Ekrem İmamoğlu — and subsequently numerous other mayors and municipal officials — since March 19, 2025.
Turkey's oldest and main opposition party, the CHP, is now effectively divided in two after a court annulled the party's November 2023 congress and reinstated former chair Kemal Kılıçdaroğlu in place of Özgür Özel. The split became more visible when both camps held rallies simultaneously at 2 p.m. on May 30. Kılıçdaroğlu returned to party headquarters to chants of 'Kılıçdaroğlu, the people's hope' — a stark reversal from just days earlier, when another crowd had branded him a 'traitor' and 'the AKP's hope' on May 24, reacting to the court-ordered change in the party leadership carried out with police support. The first head-to-head show of strength between the two camps laid bare a simple reality: Özel commands greater grassroots support, but Kılıçdaroğlu holds the formal authority to run the party.
As the crackdown on CHP municipalities deepened with the detention of even private drivers, the party has remained defiant—pressing forward with rallies, contesting disinformation, visiting imprisoned members, and calling for early elections, which it frames as a fight against a “civilian coup.”
CHP Chair Özgür Özel escalated his rhetoric, urging people to take to the streets in response to what he described as a diminishing role for Parliament. Addressing crowds at public rallies and budget debates in Parliament, Özel emphasized the historic weight of legislative authority. “The right to control the budget is humanity’s greatest democratic achievement. Parliament is not born of the budget — the budget is born of Parliament,” he said.
Since Istanbul Mayor Ekrem İmamoğlu’s detention on March 19, the CHP has held 40 rallies despite no upcoming elections, yet failed to shift the political agenda. The party opened İmamoğlu’s first campaign office in its Çankaya stronghold in Ankara, only to see its provincial chair dismissed days later. Though operations against Istanbul Municipality slowed, confessions from businessperson Aziz İhsan Aktaş continue to dominate headlines. A fresh wave of arrests targeted subsidiaries ISFALT and IETT, as well as tender officials.
In the 1970s, Turkey was plagued by deadly street clashes that claimed at least 10 lives a day. One of the bloodiest moments came in 1977, when the May Day rally in Istanbul’s Taksim Square turned into a massacre after shots were fired into the crowd, killing over 30 people. The ongoing ban on May Day rallies in Taksim dates back to that tragedy. As the violence escalated, conventional media outlets repeatedly asked, “Where is Turkey heading?” The era came to a close with the military coup of September 12, 1980.
Turkey has witnessed dramatic days for the second time in the past twenty years. Istanbul Mayor Ekrem İmamoğlu’s detention sparked outrage and led to one of the largest protests since the iconic 2013 Gezi protests. I spent my days covering rallies in front of the Istanbul Municipality building in Saraçhane, 12 years after staying for a month in Gezi Park. This experience has prompted me to compare the two.