“They thought we were slaves to a miserable future,” read graffiti widely scrawled alongside mass protests in Turkey following the arrest of Ekrem Imamoğlu, the mayor of Istanbul. Imamoğlu and about one hundred others—mostly municipality officials—faced accusations of corruption and terrorism. These accusations, based solely on the testimony of three secret witnesses, were seen as politically motivated. They came in response to the “City Consensus” formed ahead of last year’s local elections, an effort to win control of key municipalities, especially Istanbul. The Consensus was put together by the Republican People’s Party (CHP) and People’s Equality and Democracy Party (DEM), along with many other groups, including NGOs, unions, and more.

However, people’s response to the arrest was completely unexpected. On the 18th of March, İmamoğlu’s diploma was rescinded due to alleged irregularities in his university transfer when he was a student 35 years ago. Turkish law requires a candidate to hold a university degree, thus barring him from running for the presidency and shocking large segments of society, pushing them into despair. The move was a textbook case of Recep Tayyip Erdoğan’s assault on political rivals through fabricated cases, themselves produced through faulty processes. In this case, the university’s central committee overstepped its authority; only the faculty who awarded the diploma could actually make this decision.

The following day, numerous arrests took place, and while the political parties initially responded with hesitation, students took the lead. Istanbul University’s students, where Imamoğlu had studied, gathered for a protest in front of the institution’s historical building in Beyazıt. Despite heavy police presence, they overcame barricades and marched towards the municipality building, electrifying the rest of the country. Students, and primarily young people, joined the demos in a self-organized manner. News of protests erupting in many major cities soon followed, signaling that this time Erdoğan would face serious resistance against yet another politically motivated legal attack.

Even on the first night, there was something unusual about the protests in Turkey. While the first groups of students were mostly from socialist backgrounds, they quickly became a minority as broader segments of society began to join. The supposedly “apolitical” Gen Z proved their critics wrong. Some protestors came with a nationalist standpoint, with salutes and gestures belonging to the Greywolf movement—a breakaway faction from the Nationalist Movement Party (MHP), a partner in Erdoğan’s coalition. Since 2017, the movement has splintered, with different groups either supporting or opposing Erdoğan. Queer activists also joined with a more leftist approach, as a group who suffered immensely from ever-shrinking liberties since 2015, when İstanbul’s Pride parade was banned for the first time. The young “western city Kurds” were present too—a term highlighting the different political perspectives of Kurds born or raised in western cities, often due to the forced migration of their parents from the Kurdish region in the east. Kemalist-liberal voices also made themselves heard, the official political narrative until Erdoğan’s rise to power in 2002, which focused on western-liberal values and a unified identity in the country. This unity often came at the cost of oppression, massacre, and the forced immigration of minority ethnic identities.

All these groups joined the protests not necessarily out of ideological solidarity against an autocrat, but primarily because they were all being consigned to a shared miserable future; a future that shines bright only for the supporters of the oppressor and elite ruling class. This generation, like in most places in the world, grew up in an environment of tightening laws against civil society, educational injustice, and mounting economic hardships. Yet at the same time, through social media, this generation could witness firsthand what their peers in other, more resource-rich countries had. Long overlooked as passive followers rather than a potential driving force, they have demonstrated a politically savvy when the moment has called for it. They forced the oppositional liberal CHP to accept the importance of street protests, whereas under its previous leaders, the party had been wary of such civil disobedience movements, fearing they would alienate the more conservative parts of society from joining the opposition movements. Özgür Özel, the leader of the party, stood by the street protests on the second day of the mass gatherings in front of the Municipality of Istanbul, with the condition that the protestors refrain from violence. Students went even further, demanding that a representative of their own choosing speak each night alongside politicians—a demand the party accepted. With their first speech the following night, the students’ representative called for a mass boycott of the university classes, paving the way for one of the biggest civil disobedience movements the country has ever seen. The individual calls for a student boycott in the universities turned into a nationwide, collective voice. 

Structural problems in Turkey abound. The lack of social or governmental support, diminishing scholarships for students, the growing number of university graduates without a job, corruption in the hiring process for public offices, and the government’s assault on the freedom of universities are only a few of the daily, tangible symptoms of the miserable future that people are asked to accept. The prevalence of these elements forced the students to take action without having to agree on a broader political stance. The heterogeneity of the crowds also made it difficult for the regime to criminalize protests as it used to; it was not only Kurds who are de-facto “terrorists,” not the leftists who are the “instruments of radical foreign intervention,” not the feminists and queers as “the degenerates of alien elements.” Thus, in an environment where falling outside the regime’s narrative is equated with treason and crime, and where demands for liberties are seen as threats, the ruling elite did not know whom to attack this time.

Hunting the Capital beyond the Streets

The lack of media coverage of the protests angered considerable parts of society and ignited the discussions of boycotts. One such example is CNN Türk, which in 2013 infamously aired a documentary on penguins during the height of the Gezi Protests. This time, their preference was a food program demonstrating a künefe recipe. Large chunks of what was once liberal media are now owned by Erdoğan-supporting conglomerates. Erdoğan himself led a boycott campaign in 2008 against the Doğan Media Outlet, whose newspaper widely reported on the corruption charges against Deniz Feneri Derneği (DenizFeneri e.V as known in Germany), which embezzled donations gathered under the promise of helping the poor to set up businesses. Erdoğan, then prime minister, decried the court ruling in Germany as unlawful and targeted the media organs that reported the case as foreign agents. As a result, Doğan Media Group sold the whole media outlet, bowing to the political pressure from Erdoğan, and it became Doğuş Media Group.

Thus, reversing Erdoğan’s earlier strategy and riding on the excitement of the student boycott, Özgür Özel has called for a general boycott of some of these conglomerates. Demirören Group is one of the main targets that took over the Doğan Group and turned every one of their channels and newspapers into a propaganda tool of Erdoğan. Demirören not only owns media outlets, but also runs several other companies that operate in various sectors, from mining to construction to tourism. Another is Doğuş Group, also strong allies of Erdoğan, who run many luxury restaurants and hold the distribution of car brands like Volkswagen, Audi, and Porsche just to name a few. Another media outlet on the list is Turkuvaz Medya, the owner of the internationally known Daily Sabah, along with other newspapers and TV channels, as well as many Turkish franchises of international magazines, such as Vogue, GQ, Esquire, and Cosmopolitan. Another is Albayrak Medya, owned by Berat Albayrak and Serhat Albayrak — the latter being Erdoğan’s son-in-law and a former minister of the economy, whom Erdoğan was forced to dismiss after his disastrous term in office. The list continues with Turkey’s Radio and Television Institution (TRT, Türkiye Radyo Televizyon Kurumu), the state-owned official channel, as well as Anadolu Agency, the state-run news agency. One of the few subjects of the boycott unrelated to the media is ETS Tur, a traveling agency owned by the Minister for Transportation, Mehmet Nuri Ersoy. Another is D&R, the biggest bookshop chain owned by Demirören. 

For many, the most surprising target on the list was a coffee chain. The students’ condition for supporting the boycott list proposed by the CHP was that several companies of their choosing also be included. Upon the agreement, EspressoLab was announced as a boycotted brand. The students’ reason for EspressoLab’s inclusion in the ban was its takeover of university canteens, where before, they could previously purchase coffee and sandwiches for much cheaper prices. When you visit any city in Turkey today, it is impossible not to come across an EspressoLab branch. Operating as a franchise, the chain has expanded rapidly beyond Turkey into many Gulf and North African countries, and even opened a branch in Nürnberg, Germany—134 new locations in just a year and a half. Initially, the company expressed confusion about their place on the boycott list. However, when a photo of the owner with Erdoğan resurfaced, and Justice and Development Party (AKP) MPs began flocking to EspressoLab after Iftar to publicly show support, their claims of political neutrality quickly collapsed. It also signaled the regime’s anxiety over a boycott of the brand. A large segment of society is now accused of treason based solely on their consumption habits. Criminal complaints have been filed against many who shared calls for boycott on social media—including actors, journalists, and students—and some have even been taken into custody through house raids. The criminalization of the boycott and its supporters reveals the state and pro-government companies’ fear of collective organization against them.

When asked about how the list was decided, Özel replied that many were media outlets that did not cover the nationwide protests. Alternatively, many are brands that make their profits mainly from the CHP’s electorate and other opposition supporters, making them ideal targets for a boycott campaign that could resonate with their customers. As a social democratic, Kemalist party, the CHP’s voters are mostly urban middle- and upper-middle-class citizens, and thus they use travel agencies, bookshops, media outlets, and expensive cars more than the more rural AKP voters. This once again revealed the neoliberal financial web of the Erdoğan regime. Once the boycott gained momentum and more information about brand ownership circulated on social media, people realized that the state and private capital had become one, feeding off each other.

Both Özel’s argument—that these companies profit from the CHP’s voter base—and Erdoğan’s fear of a boycott proved to be well-founded. DBL Entertainment’s case quickly turned into an international affair. The owner of the company wrote that, “the boycotters are enemies of the capital and committing treason.” The backlash was quick and organized. People called for a boycott of the company’s events and reached out to names like Trevor Noah, Ane Brun, and Muse to cancel their events, all of whom followed the demands. The company owner was forced to apologize, but it was already too late for his international reputation: DBL announced they would withdraw from all future events they were organizing and soon announce which company would take over. He later said that he regrets his initial post on social media that led to the boycott, which cost him millions of dollars.

Another point of the boycott was to “use our power that comes from consumption.” The traditional argument for mass strikes was and still is about using the power of (withdrawing) labour. With that being said, the economist Öner Günçavdı explained that the power of consumption is much stronger in today’s Turkey, where the service sector has outgrown the industry sector. Therefore, breaking the consumption chain is much easier and more effective than the production chain. Moreover, it can attract more support, as it is about rejecting something rather than actively engaging in it. Given the criminalization of any form of public unrest over the last 10 years, some people might be afraid to go into the streets or find it difficult to do so consistently, either for political or physical reasons, as is the case with many pensioners. Simply refraining from buying certain things or buying nothing at all, as was the case on the 2nd of April’s general day of boycott for not spending anything, is something much easier to get behind. 

It also changed people’s daily habits; the economic crisis made people addicted to shopping. Saving money does not make sense because of the high inflation. So, whenever they can afford, they buy new things with the thought that they might not be able to in a few months. Hence, credit card debts are through the roof. Now people have found a reason not to spend money as an act of resistance.

What’s Next? 

With Eid approaching at the height of the demonstrations, Erdoğan’s announcement that the holidays would be extended from two days to nine by combining two weekends altered the course of the demonstrations. CHP organized one last big meeting at Maltepe in Istanbul, with 2.2 million people attending on March 29th. As the holiday officially ended on April 7th, they decided to shift their focus to smaller gatherings in different districts in Istanbul every Wednesday and a mass demonstration in a different city every Saturday.

There are also new fronts to fight, as the state’s response to the protest was, as expected, violent. Intimidation, beatings, teargas, plastic bullets, and torture in custody were commonly reported. At one point, more than 1,000 protestors were under custody, 301 of whom were arrested. Now, the lawyers are dealing with the appeals to the higher courts against the initial charges from prosecutors. The more challenging task is to improve the conditions they are held in. Some students were put in cells in numbers that the rooms cannot accommodate, so they had to sleep on the floor. Because of the pre-existing problem of overcrowded prisons – there are more than 400,000 prisoners in the country – some were sent to prisons in other cities, far away from any support system they might get through their lawyers and families. More than 700 accounts on social media were blocked, most of which belong to journalists, feminist/queer, and leftist groups. Conversations around how to use social media differently and alternative ways of communication are taking place. 

Streets are still busy though. The students’ main focus shifted towards continuing to build solidarity between different universities and gathering support for the arrested students. They had a mass gathering in the Kadıköy district of Istanbul on April 9th, with some famous musicians playing during the event in solidarity. On April 10th, 104 of them were released from the prisons where they had been kept since their arrests. However, just days after, prosecutors asked for three years of prison and a political ban for 139 of the cases out of over a thousand, and trials will begin by the end of the month. One of the students’ objectives is to raise awareness of the systematic practice of sexual assaults and torture by the police, especially experienced by young women. 

While the boycott on April 2nd witnessed shuttered shop windows and empty shopping malls, people did not abandon the streets. Some cafes stayed open to serve free tea and coffee, home-cooked meals were shared, and public forums were organized. Boycott tents were set up in some parks, where activities continue daily. The general boycott was repeated a week later on Wednesday, 9th of April, suggesting once-a-week boycotts may become a regular cadence. Self-organized student groups, feminists, and youth organizations of the opposition parties are coming together in parks and universities to discuss and strategize next moves, as well as how to structure a sustainable boycott movement. Layered discussions are being held, such as how to build a feminist boycott and how the lower-income population could participate, given that the gap between poverty and starvation is narrower than ever before.

On April 11th, the ongoing university movement spread to high schools as well. The suspension of opposition-aligned teachers from more than 30 well-established high schools in many cities, especially in Istanbul, and their replacement with new administrators and teachers sparked a sharp reaction. Sit-ins and class boycotts were organized in numerous high schools.

With the mass protests being replaced by smaller and more district-based meetings, the most circulated posts on social media have become about how much time is needed for a boycott or mass protests to be successful. Everyone reminds each other that this will be a marathon, rather than a sprint. Erdoğan will resist leaving his position, but the streets are taken back by protestors after almost 10 years of heavy surveillance. Regained public space and the newly discovered power of boycotts motivate people and make them hopeful. Journalist Ruşen Çakır, who runs the independent platform Medyascope, commented that Turkey was one of the first countries to slide into autocracy at the end of the first decade of this century. They resolutely added that there is no reason why it shouldn’t be the first to overthrow an autocrat too.