Facing a Government Crackdown on Dissent, Türkiye's Protesters Put Aside Their Differences

A protester holds a Turkish flag as riot police stand guard during a protest against the arrest of Istanbul's Mayor Ekrem Imamoglu, outside Caglayan courthouse, in Istanbul, Türkiye, Sunday, March 23, 2025. (AP)
A protester holds a Turkish flag as riot police stand guard during a protest against the arrest of Istanbul's Mayor Ekrem Imamoglu, outside Caglayan courthouse, in Istanbul, Türkiye, Sunday, March 23, 2025. (AP)
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Facing a Government Crackdown on Dissent, Türkiye's Protesters Put Aside Their Differences

A protester holds a Turkish flag as riot police stand guard during a protest against the arrest of Istanbul's Mayor Ekrem Imamoglu, outside Caglayan courthouse, in Istanbul, Türkiye, Sunday, March 23, 2025. (AP)
A protester holds a Turkish flag as riot police stand guard during a protest against the arrest of Istanbul's Mayor Ekrem Imamoglu, outside Caglayan courthouse, in Istanbul, Türkiye, Sunday, March 23, 2025. (AP)

The arrest of an opposition presidential candidate last month has triggered Türkiye's largest anti-government protests in more than a decade, uniting demonstrators from different walks of life and sometimes diametrically opposed political views.

It includes supporters of popular Istanbul Mayor Ekrem Imamoglu, and young people who see all politicians as ineffective. Protesters range from the socialist left to the ultra-nationalist right, and from university students to retirees.

They are united by a sense that the government of President Recep Tayyip Erdogan has grown increasingly authoritarian, diminishing the secular and democratic values and laws that the country was built upon. They are fueled by outrage at Imamoglu's arrest and the government's attempts to quell the ensuing protests.

The protests began after the government arrested Imamoglu, the man seen as posing the most serious electoral challenge to Erdogan in years, on March 19. Prosecutors accuse him of corruption and aiding an outlawed Kurdish organization.

Critics say the charges are an excuse to get a key rival out of the way, but the government denies interfering with the legal process.

The largest protests have happened alongside rallies of Imamoglu's center-left pro-secularist Republican People’s Party, known as the CHP, but many young protesters said they don't support the party.

Ogulcan Akti, a 26-year-old university student working two part-time jobs to support his family, said both the opposition and the ruling party are "liars."

"The ones in power and the opposition that will come later, they’re all the same," he said. "We don’t trust anyone."

In the days after the mayor's arrest, thousands of students converged near Istanbul city hall. Some waved Turkish flags; others held images of left-wing figures from the 1970s and sang a Turkish version of the Italian protest song "Bella ciao."

In images on social media, some protesters made the ultranationalist "grey wolf" hand sign, standing next to others showing the leftists' raised fist. Some showed the peace sign favored by both leftists and pro-Kurdish groups, while others chanted slogans attacking the banned militant Kurdistan Workers’ Party.

Berk Esen, an associate professor of political science at Sabanci University, said most protesters he has seen are educated, urban young people aged 18 to 25, but they have little else in common: "This is a much more amorphous, eclectic group politically," he said.

One afternoon last week, dozens of students from Bogazici University gathered at a metro station in Istanbul, many wearing masks to avoid reprisals or arrest.

More than 2,000 people, including journalists, have been detained since the protests began. Around 300 were formally arrested on charges including "joining an illegal protest" and "resisting the police," with some accused of "terrorism links."

Lawyers for the arrested students say that the charge of "joining an illegal protest" does not justify extended detention, and that the number of arrests is "unusually high" compared to offenses such as terrorism or drugs.

At the metro station, 22-year-old management student Burak Turan and his girlfriend slipped into a mall, watching officers detain dozens of protesters.

"We are here because so many students are getting arrested for no reason," Turan said. "They act like it’s a war; they are exercising wartime laws." Turan refused to wear a mask, saying he had nothing to be ashamed of.

Other protesters include public employees, artists and retirees, many of whom support the CHP.

A man in his 60s watching a standoff at city hall said he was there to defend the rights of the younger generation. "We don’t matter, they do. They are our future." he said.

Others were there to speak out against as what they perceived as a slide away from Türkiye's secular and democratic values under Erdogan.

Mehtap Bozkurt, a 70-year-old pensioner and a CHP supporter, joined a protest outside Istanbul city hall.

"This country is secular and will remain secular," she said. "We will resist until the end. I am ready to give my life and blood for this issue."

That doesn't mean that people protesting aren't practicing Muslims, said Esen, the Sabanci academic. "There are Muslims, religious people and those who at least perform some religious duties amongst the protesters," he said. "But they also probably define themselves as secular."

Parents protest treatment of students

Outside the courts in Istanbul, parents and relatives, some holding flowers, maintained an anxious vigil. Some hoped for a loved one's immediate release, while others were overcome with frustration. One family member, who asked to remain anonymous fearing reprisals from officials, told local media that the detained students had "studied day and night to get into the best universities."

"Look at the treatment they are receiving now. There are no rights. There is no law. There is no justice," she said.

Another woman showed journalists a picture of her son with a black eye. "He told me, ‘Mom, they beat me up,’" she said tearfully. Another woman said she was a cancer patient left waiting since dawn. "What did these kids do? Did they murder someone? What did they even do?"

Around 300 protesters spent the Eid holiday in prison, separated from their families.

Lawyers for several protesters told The Associated Press that students are held in overcrowded cells and face physical and verbal mistreatment, as well as limited access to meals since prison commissaries are closed for Eid. Lawyers also fear that students could miss exams or be expelled as a "punishment" for taking part in the protests.

On Thursday the police issued a statement describing as "vile slander" claims that women had been sexually assaulted in custody.

The Interior Ministry said that at least 150 police officers were injured in clashes with demonstrators. Images from the protests showed riot police using tear gas and plastic pellets, while students threw plastic water bottles and flares.

A pivotal moment Esen says the protests may mark a pivotal moment for Türkiye.

"Will the police violence used by the government against them make them throw in the towel after a certain point or will it bring about a bigger showdown and make this a long-term affair? If the latter happens, I will be very optimistic about Türkiye becoming democratic again. If the former happens, all of this is heading toward a very bad place," he said.

A young female protester wearing a mask watched the standoff with police unfolding near city hall last week.

"I am here today because I do not accept autocracy," she said. "Ekrem Imamoglu’s arrest means that we accept that there will be no more elections in this country. I do not accept this."



‘I Thought I’d Died.’ How Landmines Are Continuing to Claim Lives in Post-Assad Syria

Members of the ministry of defense clear landmines left behind by the Syrian army during the war, in agricultural land south of Idlib, Syria, Sunday, April 13, 2025. (AP)
Members of the ministry of defense clear landmines left behind by the Syrian army during the war, in agricultural land south of Idlib, Syria, Sunday, April 13, 2025. (AP)
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‘I Thought I’d Died.’ How Landmines Are Continuing to Claim Lives in Post-Assad Syria

Members of the ministry of defense clear landmines left behind by the Syrian army during the war, in agricultural land south of Idlib, Syria, Sunday, April 13, 2025. (AP)
Members of the ministry of defense clear landmines left behind by the Syrian army during the war, in agricultural land south of Idlib, Syria, Sunday, April 13, 2025. (AP)

Suleiman Khalil was harvesting olives in a Syrian orchard with two friends four months ago, unaware the soil beneath them still hid deadly remnants of war.

The trio suddenly noticed a visible mine lying on the ground. Panicked, Khalil and his friends tried to leave, but he stepped on a land mine and it exploded. His friends, terrified, ran to find an ambulance, but Khalil, 21, thought they had abandoned him.

"I started crawling, then the second land mine exploded," Khalil told The Associated Press. "At first, I thought I'd died. I didn’t think I would survive this."

Khalil’s left leg was badly wounded in the first explosion, while his right leg was blown off from above the knee in the second. He used his shirt to tourniquet the stump and screamed for help until a soldier nearby heard him and rushed for his aid.

"There were days I didn’t want to live anymore," Khalil said, sitting on a thin mattress, his amputated leg still wrapped in a white cloth four months after the incident. Khalil, who is from the village of Qaminas, in the southern part of Syria’s Idlib province, is engaged and dreams of a prosthetic limb so he can return to work and support his family again.

While the nearly 14-year Syrian civil war came to an end with the fall of Bashar al-Assad on Dec. 8, war remnants continue to kill and maim. Contamination from land mines and explosive remnants has killed at least 249 people, including 60 children, and injured another 379 since Dec. 8, according to INSO, an international organization which coordinates safety for aid workers.

Mines and explosive remnants — widely used since 2011 by Syrian government forces, its allies, and armed opposition groups — have contaminated vast areas, many of which only became accessible after the Assad government’s collapse, leading to a surge in the number of land mine casualties, according to a recent Human Rights Watch (HRW) report.

‘It will take ages to clear them all’

Prior to Dec. 8, land mines and explosive remnants of war also frequently injured or killed civilians returning home and accessing agricultural land.

"Without urgent, nationwide clearance efforts, more civilians returning home to reclaim critical rights, lives, livelihoods, and land will be injured and killed," said Richard Weir, a senior crisis and conflict researcher at HRW.

Experts estimate that tens of thousands of land mines remain buried across Syria, particularly in former front-line regions like rural Idlib.

"We don’t even have an exact number," said Ahmad Jomaa, a member of a demining unit under Syria's defense ministry. "It will take ages to clear them all."

Jomaa spoke while scanning farmland in a rural area east of Maarrat al-Numan with a handheld detector, pointing at a visible anti-personnel mine nestled in dry soil.

"This one can take off a leg," he said. "We have to detonate it manually."

Psychological trauma and broader harm

Farming remains the main source of income for residents in rural Idlib, making the presence of mines a daily hazard. Days earlier a tractor exploded nearby, severely injuring several farm workers, Jomaa said. "Most of the mines here are meant for individuals and light vehicles, like the ones used by farmers," he said.

Jomaa’s demining team began dismantling the mines immediately after the previous government was ousted. But their work comes at a steep cost.

"We’ve had 15 to 20 (deminers) lose limbs, and around a dozen of our brothers were killed doing this job," he said. Advanced scanners, needed to detect buried or improvised devices, are in short supply, he said. Many land mines are still visible to the naked eye, but others are more sophisticated and harder to detect.

Land mines not only kill and maim but also cause long-term psychological trauma and broader harm, such as displacement, loss of property, and reduced access to essential services, HRW says.

The rights group has urged the transitional government to establish a civilian-led mine action authority in coordination with the UN Mine Action Service (UNMAS) to streamline and expand demining efforts.

Syria's military under the Assad government laid explosives years ago to deter opposition fighters. Even after the government seized nearby territories, it made little effort to clear the mines it left behind.

‘Every day someone is dying’

Standing before his brother’s grave, Salah Sweid holds up a photo on his phone of Mohammad, smiling behind a pile of dismantled mines. "My mother, like any other mother would do, warned him against going," Salah said. "But he told them, ‘If I don’t go and others don’t go, who will? Every day someone is dying.’"

Mohammad was 39 when he died on Jan. 12 while demining in a village in Idlib. A former Syrian Republican Guard member trained in planting and dismantling mines, he later joined the opposition during the uprising, scavenging weapon debris to make arms.

He worked with Turkish units in Azaz, a city in northwest Syria, using advanced equipment, but on the day he died, he was on his own. As he defused one mine, another hidden beneath it detonated.

After Assad’s ouster, mines littered his village in rural Idlib. He had begun volunteering to clear them — often without proper equipment — responding to residents’ pleas for help, even on holidays when his demining team was off duty, his brother said.

For every mine cleared by people like Mohammad, many more remain.

In a nearby village, Jalal al-Maarouf, 22, was tending to his goats three days after the Assad government’s collapse when he stepped on a mine. Fellow shepherds rushed him to a hospital, where doctors amputated his left leg.

He has added his name to a waiting list for a prosthetic, "but there’s nothing so far," he said from his home, gently running a hand over the smooth edge of his stump. "As you can see, I can’t walk." The cost of a prosthetic limb is in excess of $3,000 and far beyond his means.