In Türkiye Election, Erdogan Doesn’t Flinch as He Fights for Political Life

Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan addresses his supporters during a rally ahead of the May 14 presidential and parliamentary elections, in Ankara, Türkiye April 30, 2023. (Reuters)
Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan addresses his supporters during a rally ahead of the May 14 presidential and parliamentary elections, in Ankara, Türkiye April 30, 2023. (Reuters)
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In Türkiye Election, Erdogan Doesn’t Flinch as He Fights for Political Life

Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan addresses his supporters during a rally ahead of the May 14 presidential and parliamentary elections, in Ankara, Türkiye April 30, 2023. (Reuters)
Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan addresses his supporters during a rally ahead of the May 14 presidential and parliamentary elections, in Ankara, Türkiye April 30, 2023. (Reuters)

Turkish President Tayyip Erdogan has nurtured an image of a robust and invincible leader over his two decades in power, yet he appears vulnerable as the political landscape may be shifting in favor of his opponent in Sunday's presidential vote.

Erdogan emerged from humble roots to rule for 20 years and redraw Türkiye’s domestic, economic, security and foreign policy, rivalling historic leader Mustafa Kemal Ataturk who founded modern Türkiye a century ago.

The son of a sea captain, Erdogan has faced stiff political headwinds ahead of Sunday's election: he was already facing blame over an economic crisis when a devastating earthquake hit in February. Critics accused his government of a slow response and lax enforcement of building rules, failures they said could have cost lives.

As opinion polls show a tight race, critics have drawn parallels with the circumstances that brought his Islamist-rooted AK Party to power in 2002, in an election also shaped by high inflation and economic turmoil.

Two days before the vote, Erdogan said he came to office through the ballot boxes and if he had to, would leave the same way.

"We will accept as legitimate every result that comes out of the ballots. We expect the same pledge from those opposing us," he said in a televised interview on Friday.

For his enemies the day of retribution has come.

Under his autocratic rule, he amassed power around an executive presidency, muzzled dissent, jailed critics and opponents and seized control of the media, judiciary and the economy. He crammed most public institutions with loyalists and hollowed critical state organs.

His opponents have vowed to unpick many of the changes he has made to Türkiye, which he has sought to shape to his vision of a pious, conservative society and assertive regional player.

The high stakes in Sunday's presidential and parliamentary election are nothing new for a leader who once served a prison sentence - for reciting a religious poem - and survived an attempted military coup in 2016 when rogue soldiers attacked parliament and killed 250 people.

A veteran of more than a dozen election victories, the 69-year-old Erdogan has taken aim at his critics in typically combative fashion.

He has peppered the run-up with celebrations of industrial milestones, including the launch of Türkiye’s first electric car and the inauguration of its first amphibious assault ship, built in Istanbul to carry Turkish-made drones.

Erdogan also flicked the switch on Türkiye’s first delivery of natural gas from a Black Sea reserve, promising households free supplies, and inaugurated its first nuclear power station in a ceremony attended virtually by Russian President Vladimir Putin.

His attacks against his main challenger, Kemal Kilicdaroglu, have included accusations without evidence of support from the outlawed Kurdistan Workers Party (PKK), which has been waging an insurgency since the 1980s in which more than 40,000 people have been killed. Kilicdaroglu has denied the accusations.

'Building Türkiye together'

Polls suggest voting could go to a second round later this month - if neither Erdogan nor Kilicdaroglu win more than 50% of the vote - and some show Erdogan trailing. This hints at the depth of a cost-of-living crisis sparked by his unorthodox economic policies.

A drive by authorities to slash interest rates in the face of soaring inflation aimed to boost economic growth, but it crashed the currency in late 2021 and worsened inflation.

The economy was one of Erdogan's main strengths in the first decade of his rule, when Türkiye enjoyed a protracted boom with new roads, hospitals and schools and rising living standards for its 85 million people.

Halime Duman said high prices had put many groceries out of her reach, but she remained convinced Erdogan could still fix her problems. "I swear, Erdogan can solve it with a flick of his wrist," she said at a market in central Istanbul.

The president grew up in a poor district of Istanbul and attended Islamic vocational school, entering politics as a local party youth branch leader. After serving as Istanbul mayor, he stepped onto the national stage as head of the AK Party (AKP), becoming prime minister in 2003.

His AKP tamed Türkiye’s military, which had toppled four governments since 1960, and in 2005 began talks to secure a decades-long ambition to join the European Union - a process that later came to a grinding halt.

Greater control

Western allies initially saw Erdogan's Türkiye as a vibrant democracy. But his drive to wield greater control polarized alarmed international partners. Fervent supporters saw it as just reward for a leader who put Islamic teachings back at the core of public life in a country with a strong secularist tradition, and championed the pious working classes.

Opponents portrayed it as a lurch into authoritarianism by a leader addicted to power.

After the 2016 coup attempt authorities launched a massive crackdown, jailing more than 77,000 people pending trial and dismissing or suspending 150,000 from state jobs. Rights groups say Türkiye became the world's biggest jailer of journalists for a time.

Erdogan's government said the purge was justified by threats from coup supporters, as well as ISIS and the PKK.

At home, a sprawling new presidential palace complex on the edge of Ankara became a striking sign of his new powers, while abroad Türkiye became increasingly assertive, intervening in Syria, Iraq and Libya and often deploying Turkish-made military drones with decisive force.



Fear Stalks Tehran as Israel Bombards, Shelters Fill Up and Communicating Grows Harder

Shops remain shuttered Tehran's historic Grand Bazaar, Monday, June 16, 2025. (AP)
Shops remain shuttered Tehran's historic Grand Bazaar, Monday, June 16, 2025. (AP)
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Fear Stalks Tehran as Israel Bombards, Shelters Fill Up and Communicating Grows Harder

Shops remain shuttered Tehran's historic Grand Bazaar, Monday, June 16, 2025. (AP)
Shops remain shuttered Tehran's historic Grand Bazaar, Monday, June 16, 2025. (AP)

The streets of Tehran are empty, businesses closed, communications patchy at best. With no bona fide bomb shelters open to the public, panicked masses spend restless nights on the floors of metro stations as strikes boom overhead.

This is Iran’s capital city, just under a week into a fierce Israeli blitz to destroy the country's nuclear program and its military capabilities. After knocking out much of Iran's air defense system, Israel says its warplanes have free rein over the city's skies. US President Donald Trump on Monday told Tehran's roughly 10 million residents to evacuate “immediately.”

Thousands have fled, spending hours in gridlock as they head toward the suburbs, the Caspian Sea, or even Armenia or Türkiye. But others — those elderly and infirm — are stuck in high-rise apartment buildings. Their relatives fret: what to do?

Israeli strikes on Iran have killed at least 585 people and wounded over 1,300, a human rights group says. State media, also a target of bombardment, have stopped reporting on the attacks, leaving Iranians in the dark. There are few visible signs of state authority: Police appear largely undercover, air raid sirens are unreliable, and there’s scant information on what to do in case of attack.

Shirin, 49, who lives in the southern part of Tehran, said every call or text to friends and family in recent days has felt like it could be the last.

“We don’t know if tomorrow we will be alive,” she said.

Many Iranians feel conflicted. Some support Israel's targeting of Iranian political and military officials they see as repressive. Others staunchly defend the country and retaliatory strikes on Israel. Then, there are those who oppose Iran’s rulers, but still don't want to see their country bombed.

To stay, or to go? The Associated Press interviewed five people in Iran and one Iranian American in the US over the phone. All spoke either on the condition of anonymity or only allowed their first names to be used, for fear of retribution from the state against them or their families.

Most of the calls ended abruptly and within minutes, cutting off conversations as people grew nervous or because the connection dropped. Iran’s government has acknowledged disrupting internet access. It says it's to protect the country, though that has blocked average Iranians from getting information from the outside world.

Iranians in the diaspora wait anxiously for news from relatives. One, an Iranian American human rights researcher in the US, said he last heard from relatives when some were trying to flee Tehran earlier in the week. He believes that lack of gas and traffic prevented them from leaving.

The most heartbreaking interaction, he said, was when his older cousins with whom he grew up in Iran told him “We don’t know where to go. If we die, we die.”

“Their sense was just despair,” he said.

Some families have made the decision to split up.

A 23-year-old Afghan refugee who has lived in Iran for four years said he stayed behind in Tehran but sent his wife and newborn son out of the city after a strike Monday hit a nearby pharmacy.

“It was a very bad shock for them,” he said.

Some, like Shirin, said fleeing was not an option. The apartment buildings in Tehran are towering and dense. Her father has Alzheimer’s and needs an ambulance to move. Her mother's severe arthritis would make even a short trip extremely painful.

Still, hoping escape might be possible, she spent the last several days trying to gather their medications. Her brother waited at a gas station until 3 a.m., only to be turned away when the fuel ran out. As of Monday, gas was being rationed to under 20 liters (5 gallons) per driver at stations across Iran after an Israeli strike set fire to the world's largest gas field.

Some people, like Arshia, said they are just tired.

“I don’t want to go in traffic for 40 hours, 30 hours, 20 hours, just to get to somewhere that might get bombed eventually,” he said.

The 22-year-old has been staying in the house with his parents since the initial Israeli strike. He said his once-lively neighborhood of Saadat Abad in northwestern Tehran is now a ghost town. Schools are closed. Very few people even step outside to walk their dogs. Most local stores have run out of drinking water and cooking oil. Others closed.

Still, Arshia said the prospect of finding a new place is too daunting.

“We don’t have the resources to leave at the moment,” he said.

Residents are on their own

No air raid sirens went off as Israeli strikes began pounding Tehran before dawn Friday. For many, it was an early sign civilians would have to go it alone.

During the Iran-Iraq war in the 1980s, Tehran was a low-slung city, many homes had basements to shelter in, and there were air raid drills and sirens. Now the capital is packed with close-built high-rise apartments without shelters.

“It's a kind of failing of the past that they didn’t build shelters,” said a 29-year-old Tehran resident who left the city Monday. “Even though we’ve been under the shadow of a war, as long as I can remember.”

Her friend's boyfriend was killed while going to the store.

“You don’t really expect your boyfriend or your anyone, really to leave the house and never return when they just went out for a routine normal shopping trip,” she said.

Those who choose to relocate do so without help from the government. The state has said it is opening mosques, schools and metro stations for use as shelters. Some are closed, others overcrowded.

Hundreds crammed into one Tehran metro station Friday night. Small family groups lay on the floor. One student, a refugee from another country, said she spent 12 hours in the station with her relatives.

“Everyone there was panicking because of the situation,” she said. “Everyone doesn’t know what will happen next, if there is war in the future and what they should do. People think nowhere is safe for them.”

Soon after leaving the station, she saw that Israel had warned a swath of Tehran to evacuate.

“For immigrant communities, this is so hard to live in this kind of situation,” she said, explaining she feels like she has nowhere to escape to, especially not her home country, which she asked not be identified.

Fear of Iran mingles with fear of Israel

For Shirin, the hostilities are bittersweet. Despite being against the theocracy and its treatment of women, the idea that Israel may determine the future does not sit well with her.

“As much as we want the end of this regime, we didn’t want it to come at the hands of a foreign government,” she said. “We would have preferred that if there were to be a change, it would be the result of a people’s movement in Iran.”

Meanwhile, the 29-year-old who left Tehran had an even more basic message for those outside Iran:

“I just want people to remember that whatever is happening here, it’s not routine business for us. People’s lives here — people’s livelihoods — feel as important to them as they feel to anyone in any other place. How would you feel if your city or your country was under bombardment by another country, and people were dying left and right?”

“We are kind of like, this can’t be happening. This can’t be my life.”