An empty chair was watched more than 1.3 million times, liked over 200,000 times, and drew more than 21,300 comments in just one day. In the back­ground, the voice of his assistant Emre recounted how Turkish veteran jour­nalist Fatih Altaylı—who had once sat in that very chair—was arrested. Altaylı’s story of arrest resem­bled Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s Chronicle of a Death Foretold;¹ everyone knew what was coming, but no one could prevent it, just like Santiago Nasar’s murder in the story. It had long been expected for some time that Altaylı would be detained, based on posts expressing discomfort with him and even threatening him on social media, Turkey’s new oracle that predicts—and polices—futures.

But why did prosecutors arrest Fatih Altaylı now? The answer lies in the view count of that empty chair. “The popularity of positions, persons, or programs that have undesirably attracted attention is perceived as a threat” (Werber et al. 2023), especially when the popu­larity of Altaylı, a main­stream figure, who dares to criticize the govern­ment. The photo below illus­trates the rising costs of undesired attention and the threat that popu­larity poses, while also affirming the legitimacy of academic comments (Berk Esen 2025) on the transition from compe­titive authorita­rianism to hege­monic authorita­rianism in (old) Turkey and (new) Türkiye.

Before delving into the details of the broad­cast and the subse­quent events that led to the investi­gation, it is first impor­tant to briefly intro­duce veteran jour­nalist Altaylı’s career in order to grasp the magni­tude and implica­tions of his deten­tion within Türkiye’s media land­scape and so its politics. One of the most recog­nisable authors and veteran jour­nalists in Turkish main­stream media, Fatih Altaylı has held influential roles across major news­papers and tele­vision channels for over three decades. Starting his career in the 1980s, he worked for the country’s largest main­stream media groups including Doğan Holding (Kanal D, CNN Türk, Show TV), and later served as editor-in-chief at Ciner Group’s Habertürk. He also became a house­hold name as the host of the political debate programme Teke Tek (One on One). He resigned from Sabah in 2007 after the contro­versial TMSF take­over and left Habertürk in 2023, citing concerns over press freedom. Since then, he has continued his jour­nalism indepen­dently via YouTube and other digital plat­forms, advo­cating for critical, uncensored broad­casting. Altaylı’s recent sharp commen­tary and critical stance toward the govern­ment frequently sparked public debate and drew strong reactions from various political circles. His state­ments often led to legal investi­gations, though in most cases, he was acquitted.

So, what did Altaylı say that led to his being charged with threat­ening the Presi­dent, even though Turkish criminal law contains no article explicitly titled “threat­ening the President”, and despite the absence of any physical act? In his program between 26:53 and 29:42 minutes, he commented on a poll in which 70 per cent of respon­dents said they would not vote for Erdoğan to serve as presi­dent for life. (The full speech is at the end of this article.²) In summary, he high­lighted the Turkish people’s historical commit­ment to demo­cratic elections, citing evidence from Ottoman history. However, this 3-minute talk was cropped to 36 seconds, and only these sentences were circu­lated: “This is the percen­tage I was expecting. Only a portion of AKP and MHP voters would approve of such a thing. Look at this nation’s past … This is a nation that strangled its sultans. It is no small matter that Ottoman sultans were killed, strangled, and made to look like they committed suicide.” The spark was lit when the President’s Chief Advisor, Oktay Saral, shared a video of Fatih Altaylı’s state­ment, saying, “Altaylıııı! Your water started to warm up.” Initially, on X/Twitter and social media, many govern­ment-aligned accounts criticised Altaylı’s edited video. (The phrase “water has warmed up” refers to the washing of a dead body before burial.)

In fact, Altaylı’s arrest followed a now-familiar pattern seen in cases involving govern­ment critics: A figure with a large follow­ing or in an influen­tial position shares a social media post, pro-govern­ment accounts amplify the issue through a hashtag campaign, legal complaints are filed with the prose­cutor’s office, or the prose­cutor’s office takes up the case and files a lawsuit, then politi­cians inter­vene, and depending on public response and circum­stances, the indivi­dual is initimi­dated or arrested. The only difference in this case was that the state­ment was made so openly by someone very close to the president.

Several veteran Turkish journalists have migrated to YouTube as a new medium after being fired or forced out of main­stream media channels. Altaylı also continued broad­casting with his own YouTube channel after resigning from the former main­stream media outlet, Habertürk. With years of experience, fame, recog­nition, and an important network, the prominent indepen­dent jour­nalist and editor became the most-watched commen­tator with his programme Fatih Altaylı Yorumluyor (Fatih Altaylı is Commenting) within a year, with 1.5 million followers and hundreds of thousands, some­times even millions, of views per video. According to the October YouTube Rating Report (prepared by the Media Monitoring Centre), Fatih Altaylı, Yılmaz Özdil, Nevşin Mengü, Özlem Gürses, and Cüneyt Özdemir—all former main­stream jour­nalists—were the top five most-watched Turkish jour­nalists on YouTube (Marketing Türkiye, 2024).

Despite aggressive efforts—including changes in media owner­ship, the dismissal or arrest of jour­nalists, hefty adver­tising budgets, and punitive measures by regu­lators like RTÜK—state-aligned outlets failed to gain the desired atten­tion, reputa­tion, trust, and popu­larity they sought. These findings indicate that popu­larity and audience trust stem from organic public appeal, not through top-down regula­tions or institu­tional interven­tions (Werber et al. 2023). Partisan media outlets continued to lose brand credi­bility, including the state-owned TRT. In contrast, news YouTubers such as Now TV, Cumhuriyet, Sözcü, Halk TV, and NTV emerged as the most trusted sources, reflecting the domi­nance of critical outlets favoured by govern­ment opponents (Reuters Institute Digital News Report, 2024). The complete demise of main­stream media, combined with the migration of veteran main­stream jour­nalists to YouTube, has drawn much of the Turkish audience away from tradi­tional media. On digital media, like YouTube, they encounter different opinions and reconnect with once-prominent figures who are now being silenced.

As in all regimes built on political polari­sation and societal fragmen­tation, the regime’s biggest enemy seems anything main­stream—whether in media, politics, art, science, and even pop songs, popular TV series, or a YouTuber—because main­stream can appeal to everyone. The AKP’s first strategy was to attack and change the owner­ship of main­stream media and then convert them into pro-govern­ment propa­gandist media.³ The govern­ment placed particular emphasis on tele­vision as the primary source of news for Turkish viewers until 2020. Following the Gezi protests, govern­ment control over main­stream media became more apparent, main­stream media effectively ceased to exist, and indepen­dent jour­nalism in legacy outlets nearly disappeared.

Altaylı was such a mainstream figure. During the Gezi protests, he hosted then-Prime Minister Erdoğan on his debate program Teke Tek to discuss the demon­strations. Following the protests, when several other jour­nalists were dismissed for covering the events, fellow YouTuber-journalist Cüneyt Özdemir ques­tioned why Altaylı did not resign, despite reportedly opposing these dismissals by the Habertürk manage­ment. In response, Altaylı defended himself, arguing that, even though most media outlets were pro-govern­ment, some degree of resistance within the system still had value and that indepe­ndent jour­nalism should remain. He stated that he had not personally fired any jour­nalists and cited the critical tone of his own columns as evidence. Ultimately, though, he too resigned in 2023.

Altaylı’s mainstream credentials, combined with his unflinching criticism of the govern­ment policies on issues such as the peace process with the PKK, foreign affairs, domestic affairs, and the economy, made him a powerful voice in the public sphere through YouTube and social media, but a threatening and undesir­ably popular figure in the eyes of the regime. Combined with his close and parti­cularly critical coverage of the İmamoğlu case, these factors signifi­cantly unsettled the govern­ment. Altaylı persis­tently drew attention to Erdoğan’s strongest rival, Ekrem İmamoğlu, by critically exposing the political motiva­tions behind corrup­tion investi­gations and the annul­ment of İmamoğlu’s university diploma, despite the regime’s efforts to erase him from public memory.

Altaylı has also leveraged his fame and financial resources into real influence by providing a platform for opposing critical voices, even offering editorial and technical resources to jour­nalists committed to press freedom and investi­gative reporting. Recently, he supported the Onlar channel—founded by investi­gative jour­nalists who left Halk TV—by providing editorial and technical backing under his Teke Tek Medya. In addition, Altaylı’s intellec­tual back­ground and broad interests in science, history, art and sports, as well as his extensive network of well-known figures in these fields, allowed him to produce main­stream programmes on a wide range of topics outside politics, thereby reaching diverse audiences and gaining influence among different segments of society. These factors, combined with his high-profile image, made Altaylı a strategic target to maxi­mize the chilling effect on dissen­ting voices, as “the chilling effect—an act of discourage­ment—has proven to be an effective way of deterring public intellec­tuals and other citizens from voicing their opinions in the public sphere” (Eide 2019: 227). Unlike niche forms of popu­larity, main­stream popu­larity targets a broad public across different segments of society—therefore, any punish­ment directed at a main­stream figure signifi­cantly amplifies the chilling effect and its reach.

The unpopularising or silencing, in other words: censor­ship and control tactics, have not ended with the deten­tion of Altaylı. Within 24 hours after Fatih Altaylı’s arrest, the Turkish media watch­dog RTÜK (Radio and Television Supreme Council) demanded a broad­casting license fee from Altaylı’s YouTube channel—a measure with no clear legal basis. The channel was given 72 hours to apply for a RTÜK licence, other­wise access to the channel would be blocked. You may be wondering, ‘What is a licence for YouTube?’ This “internet-broadcast” licence costs roughly ₺926,000 (€20,700), lasts ten years, involves heavy bureau­cracy, and even requires conver­sion into a joint-stock company—a burden beyond most YouTube creators. No clear criteria exist; so far only three oppo­sition voices—Cumhuriyet, İlker Canikligil’s FluTV and the newly jailed Altaylı—received such notices, while large pro-govern­ment channels were untouched, under­scoring the selective appli­cation. Treating YouTube like tradi­tional radio or TV stations gives the regulator lever­age to fine, suspend or block online content, dis­regarding the platform’s distinct, more informal publishing culture. Legal experts warn that the eye-watering fee, opaque enforce­ment and sweeping editorial control create a chilling effect on inde­pendent jour­nalism and freedom of expression in Türkiye (Özer 2025). This manoeuvre not only sets a dange­rous prece­dent for indepen­dent digital jour­nalism but also reflects the regime’s attempt to domes­ticate dissent by turning structural obscurity and bureau­cratic ambiguity into tools of suppression. Next, the Centre for Combating Disinfor­mation, operating under the Presidency, issued a state­ment on Altaylı’s detention, declaring his remarks “a clear threat” referring to the President, and accusing critics of “mani­pulating public opinion.” Instead of merely countering disinfor­mation, the insti­tution appeared to pre-empt legal judgment, under­mining judicial indepen­dence. This suggests a new kind of authori­tarian information politics—where facts are proclaimed rather than debated.

Altaylı’s arrest is not just about one journalist; it is about the boundaries of free expression in today’s Türkiye. “The popular trans­forms every­thing that attracts the atten­tion of many and justifies its popu­larity through this atten­tion.” (Werber et al. 2023). As Türkiye enters a new phase of hege­monic control, the rising popu­larity of digital dissenters might not only be a source of hope but also a contested battle­ground. Journalist Ismail Saymaz noted that Altaylı could have remained in the industry by producing apolitical content or by assimi­lating into the system, as some other former jour­nalists have done. Yet despite his financial security and the option to avoid politics, Fatih Altaylı’s decision to speak out reflects undeni­able courage. Neither prison nor the bureau­cratic pressure and censor­ship have have silenced him. From Silivri Prison, he sends daily letters through his lawyers that chronicle life behind bars while still delivering sharp commen­tary on Turkey’s political agenda. Those letters are read aloud by his assis­tant Emre on Altaylı’s YouTube channel—an empty chair on screen, but a full-throated voice in the back­ground. In doing so, Altaylı subverts the old warning “Silivri is cold,” a phrase meant to evoke fear and self-censor­ship, into a message of resilience. His dispat­ches offer a humane—and often wry—portrait of the inmates, the conditions, and the rhythms of prison life, folding resilience and an unexpected zest for living into every dispatch. From a cell, not a news­room, Altaylı reminds us that jour­nalism can still speak loudly. Unless it is confis­cated, Fatih Altaylı’s empty chair—vacated at the height of his popularity—may one day be remem­bered in a press freedom museum as the highest-rated seat in Turkish broad­cast history.

„Cumhurbaşkanını tehdit suçlamasıyla gözaltına alınan Fatih Altaylı tutuklama talebiyle hâkimliğe sevk edildi“, in: T24, 23 June 2025. URL: https://t24.com.tr/haber/cumhurbaskanini-tehdit-suclamasiyla-gozaltina-alinan-fatih-Altaylı-tutuklama-talebiyle-hakimlige-sevk-edildi,1246066.

Eide, Elisabeth (2019): „Chilling effects on free expression: Surveillance, threats and harass­ment“, in: Elisabeth Eide, Risto Kunelius and Minna K. Kaarle (eds.):Journalism and the Nordic Model. Oslo, pp. 295–312. DOI: https://doi.org/10.23865/noasp.64.ch16.

“Ekim ayının reyting şampiyonu gazetecileri belli oldu”, in: Marketing Türkiye, October 2024. URL: https://www.marketingturkiye.com.tr/haberler/ekim-ayinin-reyting-sampiyonu-gazetecileri-belli-oldu/.

Esen, Berk (2025): “Parlamenter sistem için yol ayrımında mıyız? | Berk Esen | Çavuşesku’nun Termometresi ÖZEL #255”, in: Daktilo1984 YouTube Channel [Video], 26 May. URL: https://www.youtube.com/live/x4eO3VzebaA.

“Ex-mainstream journalists dominate Türkiye’s YouTube audience”, in: Türkiye Today, June. URL: https://www.turkiyetoday.com/business/exmainstream-journalists-turkiye-63738/.

Özer, Eray (2025): “Beş soruda Fatih Altaylı’dan talep edilen RTÜK lisansı: Kim, nasıl ve neden almak zorunda?“, in: T24, 25 June. URL: https://t24.com.tr/yazarlar/eray-ozer/bes-soruda-fatih-Altaylı-dan-talep-edilen-rtuk-lisansi-kim-nasil-ve-neden-almak-zorunda,50456.

Reuters Institute for the Study of Journalism (2024): Reuters Institute Digital News Report 2024. URL: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1qdcPbzp1CfCqXc5iN1Az_NC8odlrOxN6/view.

Saymaz, İsmail (2024): “BİR AÇIĞI ARANIYORDU! İsmail Saymaz'dan gündemi sarsacak 'Fatih Altaylı' sözleri!”, in: Halk TV YouTube [Video], 26 June. URL: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8fH3pnTIO8M.

Saymaz, İsmail (2025): “KIRMIZI PAZARTESİ ROMANI GİBİ... İsmail Saymaz'dan Fatih Altaylı'nın tutuklanmasına bomba yorum!”, in: Halk TV YouTube Channel [Video], 25 June. URL: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MwTtLX-mjo4.

Werber, Niels, Daniel Stein, Jörg Döring, Veronika Albrecht-Birkner, Carolin Gerlitz, Thomas Hecken, Johannes Paßmann, Jörgen Schäfer, Cornelius Schubert, and Jochen Venus (2023): “Getting Noticed by Many: On the Transformations of the Popular“, in: Arts 12, 39. DOI: https://doi.org/10.3390/arts12010039.

¹ Unsurprisingly, Ismail Saymaz had used the same literary metaphor in a program on YouTube, as everyone knew what was coming.

² Fatih Altaylı’s speech cited as grounds for investi­gation (T24, 2025 June 23, online here).
On his YouTube channel, Altaylı responded to the question, ‘They asked the public whether the president should remain president for life. Seventy per cent of the public was against it. What do you think of this percentage?’ with the following answer:
This percentage is exactly what I expected. Because, apart from a significant portion of AKP voters and a portion of MHP voters, no one would approve of such a thing. You can be angry with the Turkish people for various reasons, you can be angry with the way they vote, with their voting habits for a variety of reasons. You may not agree with them. You can even get very angry and say things like “barrel-headed” or “belly-scratching men,” as some people do. Those are their own opinions. But you cannot say this: “Brother, the Turkish people love the ballot box. They want power to be in their own hands. They like the idea of being able to change their father if they put him there.” This is not a new thing. Look at its past. I’m not even talking about its recent past, look at its distant past. This is a nation that strangled its sultan. When it didn’t like him, when it didn’t want him. This is a nation that booed its sultan. It’s no small thing that Ottoman sultans were assassi­nated, killed in plots, or strangled, or made to look like they committed suicide. That is why, when you look at it that way, this people can give up every­thing or appear to have given up, but they do not like having their right to choose taken away from them and their right to determine who will determine their destiny taken away from them forever. That is why those who dream of estab­lishing a true dictator­ship here will never be able to do so.
Just when they think they have estab­lished it, they realise that they have not. On the contrary, it is not in their interest or in the interest of the country. We can see this very clearly. This does not mean that 70% of the country hates Tayyip Erdoğan. Of course, some people in the country do not like Tayyip Erdoğan, and some may even hate him, but 70% of the country does not hate Tayyip Erdoğan.
But 70% of the people, my brother, we gave you authority, but we don’t want you to turn it into a dynasty, stay there for life, and even­tually hand it over to your son, son-in-law, or nephew. When you look back at history, you see that the Turkish people have never wanted this. The Turkish people have some­thing. Hold on. I matter. You’re there because I love you. You’re there because I’m satisfied with you. You can’t boss me around. Seventy percent of the Turkish people feel this way. And that’s what they’re showing.
(Translated by Deepl)

³ The change of ownership started by the take-over of Sabah by TMSF and sales to the pro-government group Albayrak (Erdogan’s son-in-law’s family) and completed by the sale of Turkey’s biggest media group, Doğan Media, to a pro-government conglo­merate, Demirören Holding after imposing a record tax fine ($2.5 billion), against the Dogan Media Group.