In this piece, Gülseren Onanç, founder of the SES Equality and Solidarity Association, reflects on the recent political developments in Turkey, arguing that the political coup carried out against the Republican People’s Party was directed not only at the party itself, but at everyone who wants to live with dignity.
In May 2026, a Turkish appeals court annulled the Republican People’s Party (CHP)’s 2023 congress, which had elected Özgür Özel as leader over allegations of irregularities like vote-buying, effectively suspending Özel and the current leadership in what the opposition calls a “judicial coup” orchestrated by President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan to neutralise his strongest political rival ahead of future elections. Writing in the immediate aftermath of the ruling, Gülseren Onanç reflects on what this moment means for Turkish democracy and resistance under increasing authoritarianism.
The photograph is my own, taken during a visit to the Urfa Mosaic Museum. It depicts the goddess Ktisis, known in Greek mythology as the founder and protector of cities and structures, whose presence in this mosaic is thought to symbolise the prosperity and flourishing of the city. I could think of no more fitting symbol for this piece.
I sat down and wrote about the despair that settled over us following the ruling against the CHP. I had actually planned to write something cheerful for the holiday. What emerged instead was this piece, which is a mixture of both.
I feel like the frog in the slowly heating water.
As that famous story goes: if the water is brought to a boil all at once, the frog reacts and leaps out. But if the water is heated gradually, it grows still without realising the danger approaching. It mistakes the imminent death for the new normal. And in the end, it no longer has the strength to jump.
This is how I feel, like a frog at the beginning of the end.
Since the Gezi movement, the water in this country has been heated in a controlled and steady manner, and we, referring to all the citizens of this country like the frog in the story, are gradually slowing down, losing our capacity for action, and tying our hopes to a single person and institution rather than to ourselves. And when that person and institution are taken from us, we realise what we have lost, we are devastated, we despair.
“What can we possibly do as individuals?” we think and we keep watching without leaping.
The process began a decade ago with the imprisonment of opposition politicians such as Selahattin Demirtaş and Figen Yüksekdağ, people who had served as party co-chairs. Osman Kavala has been behind bars for eight years, held to account for Gezi. Then the other Gezi detainees Çiğdem, Mine, Can, Tayfun have been held for four years. Trustees were appointed over elected mayors. Dozens of opposition journalists were detained, opposition channels were shut down or placed under trusteeship. Overnight, Turkey withdrew from the Istanbul Convention which was the legal foundation protecting women from violence. Boğaziçi University was targeted, a trustee rector was appointed, and an institution was hollowed out from within. Two days ago, Bilgi University was shut down by a two-line presidential decree.
And society slowly grew accustomed to all of this.
Each new injustice made the next one possible.
Despite all these conditions, the main opposition party managed to achieve success against the government in the local elections. But so that this success would not lead to a loss of power, Ekrem İmamoğlu, the politician who most unsettled the government, first had his thirty-year-old diploma annulled, then was arrested on baseless accusations. And when the other leader who brought about the CHP’s renewal, Özgür Özel, continued to fight back, this time a politicised judicial mechanism was set in motion to shut down or render the leadership ineffective of Turkey’s oldest political institution, the hundred-year-old Republican People’s Party.
Authoritarianism has entered a new phase.
Through these attacks, the greatest hope society holds against Erdoğan’s authoritarian rule is being tried to be taken away from us. Authoritarianism has entered a new phase.
I believe we are now closest to the boiling point.
If we cannot leap out of this cycle of authoritarianism together, right now, we risk losing not only the CHP but society’s last faith in democracy, in equal citizenship, and in a life lived with dignity.
The political coup Erdoğan has carried out against the CHP by using the judiciary as a political instrument was not directed only at the CHP, it was directed at everyone in Turkey who wants to live with dignity.
This coup was carried out against the young people who want to live in a democratic and free country; against women who demand equality and a life free from violence; against LGBTQ+ individuals who want to live without interference in their way of life; against workers who want a secure future; against Kurds who seek peace and believe in a democratic country where different identities can coexist; against journalists who want to write, speak, and express themselves freely; against academics who want to teach freely.
We know that the aim of authoritarian regimes is not only to weaken the opposition, but also to weaken society’s very capacity to nurture even the smallest seed of hope. We are seeing it today.
I Am Ashamed to Say It: I Am Afraid
Like other authoritarians, Erdoğan wants people to withdraw from politics, to be afraid, to feel alone and powerless. He aims to erode our trust in the political process, in the party we support, and in the politicians we support.
He wants to render not only the opposition but also civil society and networks of social solidarity ineffective. He attempts to narrow the space for civic action through fear. We have seen how even the largest business associations in Turkey were silenced the moment they voiced the mildest criticism. We know how artists who speak out are subjected to systematic campaigns of delegitimisation.
And perhaps most painfully: those of us working within civil society have ourselves begun to hesitate, at times, even as we write. Even if it shames me to say it, even if I resist the thought of being afraid, I should confess that I am afraid.
My answer to the question of what President Erdoğan wants is clear: he wants to make us lose alongside him. He wants to take from our hands our trust in the future of our country, our hope.
Perhaps Erdoğan is even more afraid than we are.
They Have Not Yet Taken Our Hope
But we have not yet surrendered entirely. Even as we sense that the water is warming, they have not yet taken our hope from us.
There is still a Turkey in which tens of thousands of people took to the streets following İmamoğlu’s arrest, in which young people stood at the forefront of the protests, in which broad sections of society continue to demand justice. The fact that opinion polls show two politicians, Ekrem İmamoğlu and Mansur Yavaş, capable of defeating Recep Tayyip Erdoğan at the ballot box is a significant indicator of the resistance that remains within society.
It is precisely this that Erdoğan sees, and it is this resistance that he wants to extinguish at its source.
Next week, Turkey marks Eid al-Adha. In these lands, holidays are times when people celebrate life together, when grievances are set aside and social harmony is felt. This year, we enter the holiday disheartened and without hope.
But there is also a chance, in this holiday, to find the trust and courage we need. By pausing to reflect, by receiving the love and compassion of our families and those we hold dear, we can lay down our grievances and let hope take root once more.
As active citizens of this country, we must gather our resolve.
We must find ways to raise our civic objection in an organised manner and each of us must become a defender of democracy.
Otherwise, like the frog in the story, we will lose all feeling, and go on performing life without even realising that we have perished.
Happy holidays