The Sultan in Erdogan

By Naveed Qazi | Editor, Globe Upfront

Turkey entered a decisive moment in 2017 as President Recep Tayyip Erdogan sought sweeping constitutional changes to transform the country’s parliamentary system into an executive presidency. On 16 April, fifty‑five million citizens were asked to vote on a package of 18 amendments. Reuters reported that the reforms abolished the office of prime minister, gave the president authority to appoint vice presidents and ministers without parliamentary approval, issue decrees, dissolve parliament under certain conditions, and exert influence over judicial appointments. 

The BBC noted that the ‘yes’ camp narrowly prevailed with just over 51 per cent of the vote, a result that reconfigured Turkey’s political architecture and allowed Erdogan to potentially remain in power until 2029.

Supporters framed the reform as a path to stability, pointing to strong presidential systems in France and the United States. Pro‑government newspapers argued that coalition politics had paralysed Turkey for decades and that decisive executive authority was needed to confront terrorism and economic challenges. Critics, however, saw the referendum as a power grab. The Financial Times warned that checks and balances would be weakened, while The Economist argued that Erdogan was positioning himself as an ‘all‑powerful sultan’. The Washington Post highlighted fears that the amendments would erode parliamentary oversight and judicial independence, leaving impeachment of a president nearly impossible.

The referendum came less than a year after the failed coup attempt of July 2016, which profoundly reshaped the state. The government declared a state of emergency that lasted almost two years. Amnesty International documented mass arrests and purges: around 40,000 people were detained, more than 100,000 public servants were dismissed, and 3,000 judges were removed. Erdogan’s leadership attributed the coup plot to the network of exiled cleric Fethullah Gulen, once an ally but now accused of running a ‘parallel state’. Gulen denied involvement, but the crackdown extended far beyond his followers. Human Rights Watch noted that journalists, academics and opposition figures were swept up in prosecutions, often under broad anti‑terror laws.
Press freedom deteriorated sharply. The Committee to Protect Journalists described Turkey as the world’s leading jailer of journalists in 2016 and 2017. The newspaper Zaman was seized and placed under state control, while staff from Cumhuriyet were detained. Deutsche Welle reported that social media prosecutions became routine, with citizens jailed for tweets deemed insulting to the president. The New York Times observed that this climate of fear widened the gulf between Erdogan’s supporters and secular, Kurdish and liberal constituencies.

Erdogan’s polarising image had already sharpened during the Gezi Park protests of 2013, when hundreds of thousands rallied against his paternalistic style of governance. CNN and the Guardian documented excessive police force, tear gas and water cannons, as well as concerns about media censorship and limited public consultation. Protesters accused Erdogan of authoritarianism and disinformation. The scars of Gezi lingered, especially among younger urban voters and minorities such as Alevis and Kurds, many of whom viewed the 2017 reform as consolidating executive dominance at their expense.

Security and the Kurdish question remained central. The armed conflict with the Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK) intensified after the collapse of a peace process in 2015. Reuters reported on large‑scale military operations in the southeast, curfews in Kurdish towns and the detention of elected mayors from the pro‑Kurdish HDP. Erdogan’s government treated the PKK’s political wing as a terrorist entity, arguing that autonomy demands threatened national unity. Opposition figures warned that democratic pluralism was being eroded, while Al Jazeera noted that Kurdish grievances deepened as arrests mounted.

Foreign policy debates added further friction. In Syria, Turkey launched Operation Euphrates Shield in 2016 and later Operation Olive Branch in 2018, arguing that cross‑border action was needed to push back ISIS and the YPG, which Ankara views as the Syrian branch of the PKK. The US military cooperated extensively with the YPG‑led Syrian Democratic Forces against ISIS, a partnership that produced visible tension in US‑Turkey relations. The Wall Street Journal reported on Ankara’s insistence that Western support for the YPG undermined Turkish security. Erdogan himself accused the United States in December 2016 of supporting ISIS and Kurdish militias, claiming he had ‘confirmed evidence with pictures and videos’, a charge reported by outlets including Al Jazeera and Reuters. Washington strongly rejected the allegation, insisting it had never backed ISIS. Russian officials also accused Turkey of enabling ISIS oil smuggling in 2015, though Ankara rejected the claims. Independent investigations by major newspapers emphasised the complexity of smuggling networks and noted Turkey’s subsequent military engagements against ISIS. Ahmet Sait Yayla, a former Turkish counter‑terror chief, went further in interviews with investigative outlets such as INSURGE Intelligence and The Investigative Journal, and later in academic publications including Studies in Conflict & Terrorism and Perspectives on Terrorism, alleging that Turkish intelligence had facilitated ISIS operations through humanitarian relief agencies and tolerated smuggling networks. These claims remain disputed by Turkish authorities but illustrate the depth of controversy surrounding Ankara’s regional role.


Economic undercurrents shaped public sentiment. Bloomberg reported that the lira depreciated sharply in 2016–2017, inflation rose, and tourism faltered after a series of terror attacks and the coup attempt. Erdogan’s construction‑driven growth model drew praise for infrastructure gains but criticism for patronage and debt risks. The lavish presidential complex in Ankara, reported by the Guardian to have cost more than half a billion dollars, became a symbol for opponents of alleged waste, while supporters framed it as fitting for a modernising state. Economic strains touched the middle class and poorer households, narrowing the government’s room for manoeuvre and raising questions about whether an executive presidency could deliver stability without deeper reforms.


Inside the military and bureaucracy, Erdogan’s consolidation accelerated after 2016. The purges, reorganisation of command structures, and reductions in the military’s political influence were portrayed by pro‑government media as the fulfilment of civilian supremacy, a long‑standing goal since the era of military tutelage. The Economist argued that centralisation of appointments risked eroding institutional independence. Yayla’s controversial assertions about state complicity with extremist networks added fuel to critics’ arguments that Erdogan’s consolidation was less about stability and more about shielding power.


The referendum campaign itself revealed how divided Turkey had become. Erdogan’s allies argued in rallies covered by Anadolu Agency that executive leadership would break policy deadlocks and better confront security threats. Opposition leaders from the CHP and HDP warned that the amendments would dismantle checks and balances. International observers from the OSCE and Council of Europe raised concerns about media access, emergency‑rule constraints and allegations of irregularities, while Turkish authorities defended the legitimacy of the vote and rejected external criticism.


Looking ahead from 2017, analysts in the Financial Times suggested that the new system could keep Erdogan at the apex of power for an extended period, while also hard‑wiring political polarisation. The Washington Post noted that Erdogan’s core supporters, often in Anatolian provinces benefiting from infrastructure and social spending, embraced the changes as necessary for national strength. Minorities and secular urbanites tended to see the reforms as closing democratic space. Foreign Affairs and Brookings scholars warned that erosion of independent institutions would make future crises harder to manage and compromise investor confidence.


A balanced assessment recognises both the grievances driving calls for strong leadership and the dangers of overreach. Turkey faced real security threats, a traumatic coup attempt and geopolitical pressures that made executive decisiveness attractive to many voters. Yet enduring stability in complex societies typically requires credible institutions, judicial independence, press freedom and pluralist politics. The referendum delivered a political outcome but not necessarily a consensus. As Turkish newspapers across the spectrum reflected, the durability of the new order would depend on whether those wielding expanded powers could demonstrate restraint, rebuild trust and deliver results in the economy and security without silencing legitimate dissent.


In narrative terms, 2017 was a hinge year that reframed the state. It brought supporters the promise of a streamlined presidency and opponents the fear of entrenched dominance. It tethered domestic debates to regional conflicts and a shifting global order. And it left a question hanging over Turkish politics that observers in Reuters and BBC News repeatedly posed: can a system built to deliver stability avoid the pitfalls of hyper‑centralisation, or will it exhaust the very social resilience it seeks to preserve?