Turkey’s authoritarian turn: Erdoğan’s regime is shedding its democratic pretence

For years, Turkey has balanced uncomfortably between democracy and authoritarianism. Elections have continued, opposition parties have existed, and civil society has remained active, albeit under strain. But recent events make it increasingly difficult to maintain the illusion that Turkey remains a functioning democracy. The arrest of Istanbul’s popular mayor, Ekrem İmamoğlu, on flimsy charges that appear politically motivated, is only the latest step in President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan’s drift towards autocracy. The move reflects an unmistakable shift of Turkey away from democracy into an elected dictatorship. 

 

Scholars have long described Turkey’s political system as “competitive authoritarianism”—a hybrid regime where democratic institutions exist but are manipulated to ensure the incumbent’s dominance. Over Erdoğan’s two-decade rule, he has steadily eroded the checks and balances of the Turkish Republic: subordinating the judiciary, repressing the press, co-opting big business and curbing academic freedom. 

 

All these while, elections were conducted regularly, offering Erdoğan a veneer of democratic respectability. In truth, however, the space for genuine political competition has become nearly extinct. The arrest of İmamoğlu, who enjoyed significant popularity and was widely recognised as the biggest threat for Erdoğan, shows that the president would not tolerate even symbolic challenges to his authority. 

 

İmamoğlu’s alleged crime was referring to election officials as “fools” after they annulled his initial 2019 mayoral victory, a decision many viewed as orchestrated by Erdoğan’s allies. Though İmamoğlu later won the reelection with an even greater margin, the state’s response makes clear that popular legitimacy carries no protection if it threatens the ruling order.

 

Authoritarian regimes rarely emerge overnight. Turkey’s descent has been slow but deliberate. The failed 2016 coup provided Erdoğan with the pretext for a sweeping purge of public institutions. Over 100,000 civil servants, judges, military officers and teachers were dismissed or arrested. Media outlets were shuttered, journalists imprisoned and dissent criminalised under expansive anti-terror laws.

 

The judiciary, once relatively independent, is now firmly under executive control. Courts routinely deliver politically expedient rulings, as seen in the convictions of opposition leaders, journalists and human rights activists on flimsy or fabricated charges. The state-controlled media ecosystem works with the government, flooding the public with pro-government propaganda, and drowning out alternative voices.

 

Democratic repression operates on multiple levels. In the past few years, the Erdoğan government has ousted dozens of elected mayors from the pro-Kurdish HDP and replaced them with unelected state-appointed trustees. Now, with İmamoğlu targeted, even the more centrist opposition faces similar tactics. The message is clear: electoral victory offers no sanctuary from repression.

 

What distinguishes Erdoğan’s authoritarianism from that of 20th-century dictators is its method. There has been no suspension of the constitution, no outlawing of opposition parties and no dramatic abolition of elections. Instead, power is centralised through legalistic means—constitutional referendums, manipulated court rulings and selective prosecutions. This incrementalism has made Erdoğan’s model particularly insidious—and appealing to other would-be autocrats like Hungary’s Viktor Orbán. Erdoğan’s tactics of governing through law, but without justice, offer a blueprint for them.

 

Erdoğan’s political survival has also depended on controlling the narrative of the Turkish economy. For years, growth fuelled by construction booms and foreign capital kept the public onside. But the Turkish economy is now in dire straits. The lira has lost significant value, inflation remains above 50 per cent, and foreign investment has dried up.

 

Rather than correct the course, Erdoğan has turned to nationalism and conspiracy theories. The latest strategy involves blaming western governments, financial markets and also domestic critics as enemies of the people and the Turkish state. In a way, this has helped Erdoğan to distract people from the country’s economic dysfunction.

 

İmamoğlu’s detention fits neatly into this strategy. Erdoğan has presented it as a necessary defence of national dignity against those who “insult” public servants and challenge the state. Judicial tools are being used increasingly to silence critics, portraying it as lawful governance, while any dissent is cast as disloyalty.

 

While Erdoğan has been marching steadily ahead, the West has been timid about responding to Turkey’s democratic regression. Brief statements came out of European capitals about İmamoğlu’s arrest, but nothing consequential has happened as far as Erdoğan is concerned. The United States, clearly, is focused on other global crises, and President Trump, in any case, appears impressed by dictators. Britain, increasingly inward-looking, has remained largely silent.

 

This inaction is not accidental. Turkey plays a key strategic role: it houses NATO assets, controls refugee flows into Europe and maintains critical energy and trade links. Western governments fear that confronting Erdoğan might jeopardise cooperation on these fronts. 

 

Yet by imposing no costs upon Erdoğan’s anti-democratic moves, the West is not containing the crisis, but facilitating it. Democratic regression in Turkey encourages authoritarian regimes elsewhere and weakens the credibility of Western commitments to human rights and the rule of law.

 

Within Turkey, the opposition faces growing peril. The Republican People’s Party (CHP), İmamoğlu’s party, is now under immense pressure. Its leaders risk prosecution, its supporters are intimidated, and its access to fair media coverage is severely limited. The pro-Kurdish HDP is being taken apart through a mix of legal and political steps, with many of its elected representatives imprisoned or exiled.

 

And Erdoğan would be all the more powerful now with the decision of the Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK) on May 12 to formally announce its dissolution, ending more than four decades of armed insurgency against the Turkish state. Once a secessionist group seeking an independent Kurdish homeland, the PKK later shifted focus towards securing greater rights and autonomy for Kurds within Turkey. The announcement followed a call in February by imprisoned PKK leader Abdullah Öcalan for the group to abandon its armed struggle.

 

Erdoğan has seized upon the development as a political triumph. His party has framed the PKK’s dissolution as a personal victory in his quest to eradicate terrorism. However, critics argue that Erdoğan may leverage the moment to further consolidate power, court Kurdish voters and amend the constitution—potentially enabling a third presidential term and deepening Turkey’s autocratic trajectory.

 

Despite these obstacles, some opposition is brewing within Turkey, particularly among the youth who are disillusioned with Erdoğan and want change. However, without international backing and institutional guarantees, their capacity to organise and resist is severely hampered. Unless democratic forces within and outside Turkey act decisively, the prospect of free and fair elections in the near future is bleak. Erdoğan’s repressive apparatus is designed not just to maintain power, but to eliminate alternatives altogether.

 

İmamoğlu’s arrest makes explicit what has long been underway: the transformation of the Turkish state into a one-man regime, legitimised by manipulated elections and maintained through fear and repression. Turkey was once held up as a model for the Muslim world—a country that could marry Islam, democracy and modernity. Today, it stands as a warning: that democracies do not die only by coups or revolutions, but by the slow, legal suffocation of dissent.

Middle East