Latest news with #Ekremİmamoğlu
The Guardian
2 days ago
- Politics
- The Guardian
The Turkish mega-prison that became symbol of Erdoğan's authoritarianism
Silivri was once just a getaway town. An hour's drive west of Istanbul, it was famed for its lavender, its yoghurt, and its summer houses dotted along the Marmara Sea. But to most in Turkey now, Silivri means something different: not the town, but the mega-complex a little further down the coast. This is the prison that since March has held the Istanbul mayor – and rival to president Recep Tayyip Erdoğan – Ekrem İmamoğlu, as he awaits trial for corruption – and now, the place where he has been given a twenty month sentence, in another of the litany of charges against him, for insulting and 'threatening' a public official. It started taking in prisoners in 2008. Turkish coverage at the time marvelled at the size. Here was a complex – a 'campus', in the new lingo – made of nine separate prisons, spread across almost 1m sq metres, and with a stated capacity of 11,000 people. For the on-site staff alone, there were 500 apartments, a mosque, a market and restaurant, and a primary school for their children. As one prisoner would later write, he would hear them from his cell singing the Turkish national anthem in the playground. Silivri was meant to replace the dilapidated old inner-city jails. It had, it was breathlessly reported, TV and radios in every cell, more than 2,000 security cameras, and eye retina scans for staff coming in and out. Prisoners had access to an indoor sports centre and two open-air football pitches. The mega-prison was swept into a broader narrative of the early Erdoğan years – of a country that was modernising fast. And soon events at Silivri would speak to something deeper too, and hopes that Erdoğan was breathing new life into Turkish democracy itself. For before Silivri was even completed, it began to host a series of groundbreaking trials. Prosecutors had claimed to have unearthed a series of plots among Turkey's old, secular establishment – generals and police chiefs, journalist and lawyers – aimed at overthrowing its elected Islamist government. Hundreds of them were tried at a time in Silivri, not in its courtrooms but in one of its gym halls repurposed for the task, as scores of gendarmes guarded the prison's perimeter. It seemed, for many onlookers, that Silivri was the scene of a historic reckoning with Turkey's past – of the humbling of a secular military elite who had overshadowed democracy for so long. But by the time the guilty verdicts came in 2012, many in Turkey were having doubts. The indictments, it turned out, were full of inaccuracies, typos and doctored documents. In fact, there was scant evidence that the plots had existed at all. In hindsight, the Silivri trials hinted at what was to come: the use of police and prosecutors, courts and police to go after the government's opponents. It was all accelerated in Erdoğan's second decade in power, a period marked by not only a failed coup but a state of emergency and a new constitution. A political crackdown brought the arrests of activists, journalists, lawyers, politicians and tens of thousands of ordinary citizens besides. Meanwhile, a moral panic about urban crime led to a huge increase in prison time for petty offences. Turkey's prison population began to soar. In 2002, when Erdoğan's party came to power, Turkey had about 60,000 prisoners; now it probably has over 350,000. In the Council of Europe's latest report, Turkey was said to have about as many imprisoned as the other 45 countries put together. Silivri, built to a capacity of 11,000, was most recently reported to be housing 22,000 people. It is one of the largest prisons in the world. The conditions have always been austere. As the author Ahmet Altan described – during his own imprisonment after the failed coup – occasionally in the spring, passing birds would drop flowers for their nests into his small and sunless courtyard. Once he took one and put it in a plastic bottle to decorate his cell. The next day, the officers took the flower away. Lawyers, wardens, former inmates and their families all speak of a system overstretched: of units for 21 housing nearly 50; of meals shrinking, or of mattresses having to be shared out in shifts; or, during weekly exercise sessions on Silivri's much-vaunted sports pitches, inmates trying to organise a game of football with 40 players at a time. There have always been accusations – denied by the prison authorities – of frequent beatings by guards and deliberate acts of humiliation. In a case three years ago, after an inmate died in Silivri, the prison insisted the cause was a heart attack. His family did not believe it and said his body had been beaten black and blue. The detention of inmates such as İmamoğlu tends to be different. Kept in isolation, in a unit specifically reserved for its high-profile political prisoners, few report any physical mistreatment. Instead, the punishment is the Turkish court process itself: pre-trial detentions that can last years; judges and prosecutors under intense political pressure; and even – as İmamoğlu has found out – the possibility that an inmate's lawyer might be detained too. Today, Silivri has become a symbol of how far Erdoğan is willing to go to stay in power. So much so that the prison's infamous name has found itself part of a Turkish phrase. Silivri soğuk – meaning Silivri's cold – is said to friends, half in jest, half in warning, when they say or do something political deemed to go over the line.
The Guardian
3 days ago
- Politics
- The Guardian
The Turkish mega-prison that became symbol of Erdoğan's authoritarianism
Silivri was once just a getaway town. An hour's drive west of Istanbul, it was famed for its lavender, its yoghurt, and its summer houses dotted along the Marmara Sea. But to most in Turkey now, Silivri means something different: not the town, but the mega-complex a little further down the coast. This is the prison that since March has held the Istanbul mayor – and rival to president Recep Tayyip Erdoğan – Ekrem İmamoğlu, as he awaits trial for corruption – and now, the place where he has been given a twenty month sentence, in another of the litany of charges against him, for insulting and 'threatening' a public official. It started taking in prisoners in 2008. Turkish coverage at the time marvelled at the size. Here was a complex – a 'campus', in the new lingo – made of nine separate prisons, spread across almost 1m sq metres, and with a stated capacity of 11,000 people. For the on-site staff alone, there were 500 apartments, a mosque, a market and restaurant, and a primary school for their children. As one prisoner would later write, he would hear them from his cell singing the Turkish national anthem in the playground. Silivri was meant to replace the dilapidated old inner-city jails. It had, it was breathlessly reported, TV and radios in every cell, more than 2,000 security cameras, and eye retina scans for staff coming in and out. Prisoners had access to an indoor sports centre and two open-air football pitches. The mega-prison was swept into a broader narrative of the early Erdoğan years – of a country that was modernising fast. And soon events at Silivri would speak to something deeper too, and hopes that Erdoğan was breathing new life into Turkish democracy itself. For before Silivri was even completed, it began to host a series of groundbreaking trials. Prosecutors had claimed to have unearthed a series of plots among Turkey's old, secular establishment – generals and police chiefs, journalist and lawyers – aimed at overthrowing its elected Islamist government. Hundreds of them were tried at a time in Silivri, not in its courtrooms but in one of its gym halls repurposed for the task, as scores of gendarmes guarded the prison's perimeter. It seemed, for many onlookers, that Silivri was the scene of a historic reckoning with Turkey's past – of the humbling of a secular military elite who had overshadowed democracy for so long. But by the time the guilty verdicts came in 2012, many in Turkey were having doubts. The indictments, it turned out, were full of inaccuracies, typos and doctored documents. In fact, there was scant evidence that the plots had existed at all. In hindsight, the Silivri trials hinted at what was to come: the use of police and prosecutors, courts and police to go after the government's opponents. It was all accelerated in Erdoğan's second decade in power, a period marked by not only a failed coup but a state of emergency and a new constitution. A political crackdown brought the arrests of activists, journalists, lawyers, politicians and tens of thousands of ordinary citizens besides. Meanwhile, a moral panic about urban crime led to a huge increase in prison time for petty offences. Turkey's prison population began to soar. In 2002, when Erdoğan's party came to power, Turkey had about 60,000 prisoners; now it has almost 350,000. In the Council of Europe's latest report, Turkey was said to have about as many imprisoned as the other 45 countries put together. Silivri, built to a capacity of 11,000, was most recently reported to be housing 22,000 people. It is one of the largest prisons in the world. The conditions have always been austere. As the author Ahmet Altan described – during his own imprisonment after the failed coup – occasionally in the spring, passing birds would drop flowers for their nests into his small and sunless courtyard. Once he took one and put it in a plastic bottle to decorate his cell. The next day, the officers took the flower away. Lawyers, wardens, former inmates and their families all speak of a system overstretched: of units for 21 housing nearly 50; of meals shrinking, or of mattresses having to be shared out in shifts; or, during weekly exercise sessions on Silivri's much-vaunted sports pitches, inmates trying to organise a game of football with 40 players at a time. There have always been accusations – denied by the prison authorities – of frequent beatings by guards and deliberate acts of humiliation. In a case three years ago, after an inmate died in Silivri, the prison insisted the cause was a heart attack. His family did not believe it and said his body had been beaten black and blue. The detention of inmates such as İmamoğlu tends to be different. Kept in isolation, in a unit specifically reserved for its high-profile political prisoners, few report any physical mistreatment. Instead, the punishment is the Turkish court process itself: pre-trial detentions that can last years; judges and prosecutors under intense political pressure; and even – as İmamoğlu has found out – the possibility that an inmate's lawyer might be detained too. Today, Silivri has become a symbol of how far Erdoğan is willing to go to stay in power. So much so that the prison's infamous name has found itself part of a Turkish phrase. Silivri soğuk – meaning Silivri's cold – is said to friends, half in jest, half in warning, when they say or do something political deemed to go over the line.
The Guardian
3 days ago
- Politics
- The Guardian
Erdoğan rival given prison term for threatening Istanbul prosecutor
Istanbul's mayor and Turkey's leading opposition figure, Ekrem İmamoğlu, has been given a 20-month prison sentence for insulting and threatening the city's public prosecutor, according to a court document obtained by Agence France-Presse. The case is one of a number lined up against İmamoğlu, the main rival of the country's president, Recep Tayyip Erdoğan. He is already being held over an investigation into alleged corruption. His arrest in March as part of that case triggered Turkey's worst street protests in more than a decade. Wednesday's hearing was held at Silivri court and prison complex on the western outskirts of Istanbul, where İmamoğlu has been held since his arrest. He was jailed for a year, five months and 15 days for having insulted a civil servant, and two months and 15 days for threats, the court document showed. İmamoğlu, who appeared in court, has denied all of the allegations. He says he has been targeted because of his plans to challenge Erdoğan in the 2028 presidential elections. The prosecutor had initially called for İmamoğlu to face up to seven years and four months behind bars, and to be banned from holding public office. That ban, which is imposed when a suspect gets a minimum two-year jail term, was not applied. İmamoğlu was elected Istanbul mayor in 2019 and re-elected in 2024. He was arrested on 19 March in connection with a corruption invesigation and allegations of links to terrorism. The string of charges against him could prevent him taking part in the 2028 presidential election. His arrest sparked demonstrations across the country in the worst unrest since the 2013 Gezi Park protests, which spread across Turkey and which police brutally suppressed.
Al Arabiya
04-07-2025
- Politics
- Al Arabiya
Turkish prosecutors add charges of forging diploma against jailed Istanbul mayor
Turkish prosecutors charged Istanbul's mayor Ekrem Imamoglu on Friday with falsifying his university diploma, a new case threatening more years in prison for President Recep Tayyip Erdogan's main rival, already jailed pending corruption charges he denies. Imamoglu, at the center of a sprawling legal crackdown on the main opposition party, has been jailed since March 23 pending trial. He denies the allegations against him, which his party says are orchestrated to protect Erdogan in power. His indictment over his diploma was reported by Milliyet newspaper, which said prosecutors were seeking eight years and nine months of prison time for the new charges. Reuters could not immediately obtain the document. On March 18, Istanbul University said it had annulled Imamoglu's diploma. He was detained a day later on the corruption charges, triggering Turkey's largest protests in a decade, and later jailed pending trial. His detention has drawn sharp criticism from opposition parties and some foreign leaders, who call the case politically motivated and anti-democratic. The government denies the case is political. Imamoglu is the main opposition Republican People's Party's presidential candidate in any future election. He won re-election as mayor in March last year by a wide margin against a candidate from Erdogan's ruling AK Party.
The Guardian
02-07-2025
- General
- The Guardian
Wildfires, wet Wimbledon and a feline festival: photos of the day
Uncontrolled fires rage across the grasslands in the Segarra region Photograph: Agents Rurals de Catalunya/AP People inspect the damage at the site of an overnight Israeli airstrike on a camp sheltering displaced Palestinians Photograph: Hatem Khaled/Reuters Young girls receive treatment at Nasser hospital for their wounds, sustained in an Israeli strike on a camp housing displaced Palestinians Photograph: AFP/Getty Images A woman holding her child pleads with traffickers to be let onto a small boat as it arrives on the shore already full of migrants collected from further along the coast Photograph:Hundreds of demonstrators march from Mariachi Plaza in the the Boyle Heights neighbourhood for the Reclaim Our Streets event, to denounce ongoing Ice immigration raids across Los Angeles Photograph:Supporters light up the night with mobile phones during a protest rally organised by the main opposition Republican People's party marking the 100th day since the detention of the mayor, Ekrem İmamoğlu, a political rival to President Erdoğan, on what they claim are false corruption charges Photograph:Security forces of Yemen's Houthi group destroy 19 tons of narcotics, hashish and other illegal drugs Photograph: Xinhua/Shutterstock A spectator shelters from the rain on day three of the 2025 Wimbledon Tennis Championships Photograph: Jordan Pettitt/PA Models present traditional Turkish clothing at the eighth Turkic World Women and Fashion Festival. (This image was created using a Halo FX lens filter) Photograph: Ilkin Eskipehlivan/Anadolu/Getty Images Farmers plant rice in a paddy field as the harvest season begins, with rice production for the 2024–2025 planting season expected to reach around 35m tonnes Photograph: Hotli Simanjuntak/EPA A woman paddleboards at sunrise on the Mediterranean Sea as Europe struggles with a heatwave Photograph: Nacho Doce/Reuters People gather for the second annual Cat Beauty Festival organised by the Royal Veterinary Hospital, with an aim to promote a love of animals and raise awareness about feline care Photograph: Fariq Faraj Mahmood/Anadolu/Getty Images A Buddhist devotee spins a large prayer wheel at the Boudhanath Stupa temple Photograph: Prakash Mathema/AFP/Getty Images A man sells demon masks that are put on display in homes with the belief they ward off evil spirits Photograph: R Satish Babu/AFP/Getty Images Rowers on the River Thames on an overcast, cool morning on the second day of the Henley Royal Regatta, a contrast to the first day's extreme heat Photograph: Geoffrey Swaine/Shutterstock Peppers strung on ropes dry under the hot sun before being packaged and exported abroad Photograph: Beytullah Eles/Anadolu/Getty Images A boy dances inside an empty boat, which was reportedly carrying migrants from Gambia to Spain, beached on Malibu Plage after encountering problems offshore Photograph: Zohra Bensemra/Reuters Jockeys take part in a practice event ahead of the historical horse race Palio di Siena Photograph: AFP/Getty Images A canoeist from the Kichwa community walks along the banks of the Coca River, as locals protest about what they claim to be repeated oil spills and to demand justice five years after a devastating environmental disaster Photograph: Karen Toro/Reuters A firefighter works on extinguishing a forest fire near Brandenburg, as the country was hit with an extreme heatwave Photograph: Michael Ukas/AP
