Browsing Facebook at home one Saturday, Bilgin Ciftci saw a post that made him chuckle. It was a montage of images of Turkeys President Recep Tayyip Erdogan placed alongside Gollum from The Lord of the Rings. In the first, the president and the shrivelled inhabitant of Middle-earth shared a look of astonishment. The second showed both figures wide-eyed with wonder. In the third, Erdogan gnawed on a chicken drumstick while Gollum bit into a scaly fish.
Ciftci, a doctor from the western town of Aydin, clicked share and thought no more of it. But a few weeks later, he was summoned to see the police and charged with insulting the president a criminal offence in Turkey. He lost his job at a public hospital and became trapped in a legal ordeal that has so far dragged on for more than 18 months. At one stage, the judge appointed a panel of Tolkien experts to advise whether Gollum should be deemed good or bad (they ruled that he is good at heart).
Amid the absurdity, there was another, darker layer to the story. When he shared the meme, Ciftci, 48, believed he was only showing it to those in his private Facebook network. But the police had a screenshot of his page. They had not hacked his account or snooped on his computer. The truth was far more unsettling: he had been betrayed by someone he knew. Ciftci deduced that the culprit was the husband of one of his relatives. When he called up to confront him, the relative first denied it and then hung up the phone.
Ciftcis ordeal reflects something bigger happening in Turkey, something that could come straight from the pages of a dystopian novel. On an almost weekly basis, stories emerge of friends, colleagues and even spouses reporting each other for a catalogue of offences. This has become a phenomenon in our society, says Ciftci from a café near Aydin courthouse, an institution now more familiar than he could ever have imagined. There are people who are more royalist than the king. They become citizen informers.
In todays Turkey, in which opposition parties are toothless and all major media outlets brought to heel, realms such as the teahouse, the lecture hall or the Facebook newsfeed are harder to control. For several years the government has routinely urged elected neighbourhood officials to keep tabs on those in their local area. Increasingly, these calls have extended to ordinary citizens, too.
Government critics warn that the perils of false or illegitimate complaints are compounded by the state of Turkeys judicial system. Prosecutors and judges are terrified to drop cases for fear of themselves being branded terrorists. Many of their critical or independent-minded colleagues have already been sidelined or replaced with loyalists.
The anthropologist Jenny White has noted the fixation in Turkish political culture with the traitors out to destroy the nation, the selfless heroes ready to vanquish them and the macho, paternalistic bigman leader who will guide them in this struggle. These concepts tap into deeply ingrained fears that internal and external enemies are bent on the countrys destruction. The longer Erdogan has remained in power, White argues, the more he has fallen back on such tropes, developing an extreme cult of personality in which he is presented as the heroic saviour of his people. Critics, meanwhile, are savaged and scapegoats cultivated and attacked as traitors.
https://www.ft.com/content/6af8aaea-0906-11e7-97d1-5e720a26771b