Nine years after failed coup, Türkiye reflects on scars and survival

Iftikhar Gilani

ANKARA, Türkiye (MNTV) — Burned-out cars encased in glass and gaping craters on major roads remain as somber reminders of a night that nearly upended Turkish democracy.

In cities like Ankara and Istanbul, these scars mark the failed yet meticulously planned coup attempt on July 15, 2016 — a night that left 350 dead, nearly 2,000 injured, and a nation forever changed.

Each year, Türkiye commemorates the date as the “Day of Democracy and National Unity,” honoring both the lives lost and the resilience shown by ordinary citizens and loyal security forces.

Veteran Turkish journalist Mehmet Öz Türk remembers that night vividly. Then editor-in-chief of Anadolu Agency’s foreign language service, Öz Türk had just returned home to the outskirts of Ankara. After dinner, he turned on the television and saw tanks rolling across Istanbul’s Bosphorus Bridge.

“I knew something was terribly wrong,” he recalled. He rushed back to the newsroom. While Ankara remained calm — unlike the city that never sleeps, Istanbul — signs of unrest quickly emerged. At the office, senior editors gathered anxiously in the corridor. The coup had begun.

For Öz Türk, it triggered memories of the 1980 military coup, when he went into hiding as a student at Ankara University. He spent nearly a decade in exile, separated from family and friends. That personal trauma came rushing back.

Within minutes, the air filled with the sounds of low-flying jets and distant explosions. Bombs hit the intelligence agency’s headquarters, the presidential palace, and the national parliament. Both Bosphorus and Fatih Sultan Mehmet bridges were shut down. Top generals were taken hostage — Chief of General Staff Hulusi Akar, Land Forces Commander Salih Zeki Çolak, and Air Force Chief Abidin Ünal among them.

Rebel officers tried to pressure Akar into supporting the takeover, suggesting he take control just as Gen. Kenan Evren had in the 1980 coup. They even offered to connect him with Fethullah Gülen, the exiled cleric and leader of the Hizmet (Service) movement based in the U.S. Akar refused. He was choked with a belt and flown to Akıncı Air Base, where other top officers were being held.

President’s narrow escape

According to Öz Türk, President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan was vacationing in Marmaris when rebel helicopters bombed his hotel just 20 minutes after his departure. Paratroopers landed nearby, but he had already flown to Dalaman Airport, his pilot evading radar by flying low and dark.

Before leaving, Erdoğan briefly addressed journalists in the hotel courtyard, urging the public to resist the coup — a message that, for unknown reasons, was never aired. Instead, at 12:23 a.m., Erdoğan appeared live on CNN Türk via FaceTime, calling on citizens to take to the streets. The effect was immediate and massive.

Speaker of Parliament İsmail Kahraman summoned lawmakers to an emergency session. Jets bombed the parliament building and opened fire on nearby government installations. In Ankara, Mayor Melih Gökçek ordered garbage trucks to block the entrances of military bases, slowing the rebels’ advance.

By 1 a.m., Erdoğan gave a second televised interview from aboard his aircraft, announcing his return to Istanbul. His plane took off at 11:47 p.m. and landed at 2:50 a.m. Despite reports that it was targeted mid-flight, a Turkish Air Force identification spared it from being shot down. Notably, a U.S.-based aviation site had publicly tracked the aircraft’s flight path, prompting early accusations of American complicity.

Fighting continued through the night. Helicopters attacked police special forces in the Gölbaşı district. The national satellite operator Türksat was bombed. Troops seized Istanbul’s Taksim Square and the terminal at Atatürk Airport. But Erdoğan’s broadcast — and the flood of people it sparked — tipped the momentum.

By 3 a.m., jets were still firing on parliament. At 3:12 a.m., Prime Minister Binali Yıldırım announced that the government had regained control. Ankara was declared a no-fly zone. Unidentified aircraft were ordered to be shot down.

At 6:30 a.m., Erdoğan appeared before a sea of supporters at the airport. “In Türkiye, governments now change only through the ballot box,” he declared. “The military cannot run the state.” He squarely blamed the coup on Gülen and his followers, alleging foreign support.

By dawn, rebel soldiers at Taksim and the Bosphorus Bridge surrendered — a rare moment in history when armed troops yielded to civilians and police. Fighting at military headquarters in Ankara continued until 8 a.m. when hundreds surrendered. The putsch had failed.

History of military interference

The 2016 coup was the latest in a series of military interventions that have shaped Türkiye’s politics. The first came in 1960 when Prime Minister Adnan Menderes was overthrown and executed. Similar takeovers occurred in 1971, 1980, and 1997.

The Turkish military, long a bastion of hardline secularism, often invoked the legacy of Atatürk to justify coups. But many analysts argue that Türkiye’s aggressive French-style secularism owes more to İsmet İnönü, Atatürk’s successor, than to Atatürk himself.

Unlike India’s more inclusive secularism, Türkiye’s model has harshly opposed religious expression in public life. Yet, ironically, it was İnönü who ushered in multi-party democracy in 1950 — a final gift, some say, to the republic’s democratic evolution.

According to journalist Furkan Hamid, Türkiye’s intelligence chief Hakan Fidan — now foreign minister — received advance warnings. He reportedly rushed to military headquarters to meet Akar and Çolak, alarming the plotters, who then moved the plan forward by five hours — a critical blunder.

One of the coup’s leaders, Gen. Semih Terzi, was killed early by Staff Sgt. Ömer Halisdemir, shattering rebel morale. Many rank-and-file soldiers claimed they were unaware of the true nature of the operation and surrendered rather than fire on civilians.

Political scientist Naunihal Singh, in his book Seizing Power, argues that successful coups depend on controlling media. But the plotters failed to seize Türksat or disrupt communications. Erdoğan’s televised appeal flipped the narrative and galvanized resistance.

At Anadolu Agency, a fax announcing the new regime arrived — but no one came to enforce it. The agency carried on broadcasting official statements and footage of resistance.

Allegations of US involvement

Months later, suspicions of foreign involvement escalated. In 2017, Türkiye issued an arrest warrant for Henri J. Barkey, a former U.S. diplomat and Wilson Center official, alleging ties to the CIA and involvement in coup plotting in Istanbul.

Istanbul prosecutors also sought the arrest of Graham E. Fuller, a former CIA analyst and deputy chair of the National Intelligence Council, accusing him of helping plan the coup.

Many Turks see a pattern: Western powers champion democracy when it aligns with their interests, but back military regimes when democracy becomes inconvenient.

Adnan Menderes, Türkiye’s first democratically elected prime minister, opened mosques and reinstated the Arabic call to prayer. He freed political prisoners, relaxed media censorship, and inspired what Time magazine called a press “as free as the breeze from the Taurus Mountains.”

But to secular hardliners, these reforms were dangerous. On May 21, 1960, a silent march by military cadets foreshadowed his overthrow. A year later, at age 62, he was hanged on İmralı Island — now renamed “Democracy Island.”

A similar fate befell Iranian Prime Minister Mohammad Mossadegh in 1953, when the CIA and Britain’s MI6 orchestrated a coup to protect oil interests. He spent the rest of his life under house arrest.

The failed 2016 coup triggered sweeping purges. Over 40,000 people were arrested, including 10,000 military officers and 2,745 judges. Nearly 160,000 civil servants were dismissed. The government accused them of ties to Gülen’s network.

Thousands of teachers lost their licenses. Military seats on key constitutional bodies were eliminated, curtailing the armed forces’ political influence.

Today, Türkiye continues to wrestle with the legacy of July 15. For many, it was a night of trauma. For others, it was a turning point — a declaration that power belongs not to generals, but to the people.