'Don't speak, don't film': Journalist arrests fuel fears for democracy after Turkey protests

It was early morning on 23 March when the police came to Yasin Akgul's door in Istanbul – while his children were still in bed. Just hours before, the Turkish photojournalist had returned home from covering mass anti-government protests. Now he was a wanted man.

"I went to the door and saw there was a lot of police," he says. "They said they had an arrest order for me but gave me no details. My son was awake, and I couldn't even tell him what was happening as I didn't get it myself."

Akgul, 35, has seen "plenty of action" in more than a decade as a photojournalist with the AFP news agency – from war-torn Syria to IS-controlled Iraq. On home soil in Turkey, he has been beaten by the police several times while taking pictures, he says - including on World Peace Day – and has been detained "so many times".

But being arrested at home was a first.

"A chill fell over the house," he tells us. "In my work, at the protests, I have seen a lot of violence, and tear gas, but having the police in my home, I felt more afraid."

Akgul was one of seven journalists arrested in dawn raids. All had been covering the protests sparked by the arrest of the city's opposition mayor, Ekrem Imamoglu – the main political rival of Turkey's long-time leader, Recep Tayyip Erdogan.

The protesters say the mayor's arrest over corruption charges, which he denies, is politically motivated – an attempt to end his hopes of becoming the country's next president.

The authorities had banned the protests but had been unable to stop them.

Akgul is facing charges of "taking part in illegal rallies and marches". He says the aim is clear – to stop others taking pictures of the biggest unrest in Turkey in more than a decade.

He was in the thick of it – gas mask on – when he took some of the most iconic images of the night.

His photos show a man dressed as a whirling dervish (a dancing mystic) being pepper-sprayed by a line of riot police – striking images of a battle for the soul of Turkey that went around the world, before landing him behind bars.

"This message is to all the journalists," he says. "Don't shoot (take pictures), don't speak, don't film. They are making other journalists afraid that if they go back into the field, they could face the same thing." The fact that he works for an international news agency, AFP, makes that message even louder, he believes.

It has been received and understood.

"After we were arrested, many freelance journalists could not shoot the next day. Everyone was afraid," he told us, sitting on his couch at home with his wife Hazal by his side.

Their three-year-old daughter, Ipek, lay on the couch, holding her father's hand. Their son, Umut, eight, listened on, wearing a Harry Potter-style hat and glasses.

Akgul believes those arrested were carefully chosen – among them seasoned photojournalists. "They are trying to remove us from the front lines," he says.

Plenty of his friends – fellow journalists - have already removed themselves, leaving Turkey because they faced charges or feared they would.

For now, his family is among many here worrying that they could be torn apart by the courts. The government says the judiciary is independent. Human rights groups say judges are under political control, and Turkish democracy is being eroded, year on year.

President Erdogan – who has many loyal supporters - retains a tight grip on the levers of power. He says the protests are "street terrorism" and accuses the opposition of leading "a movement of violence". He has predicted that the demonstrations will wane.

Maybe. Maybe not.

As Yasin Akgul was being released from prison on the morning of 27 March, the BBC's Mark Lowen was being deported from Istanbul, after 17 hours in detention. He was given papers saying he was "a threat to public order".

The authorities later said – after the BBC reported the story – that he had been deported because he lacked accreditation.

It's not only journalists who are at risk. One of the mayor's own lawyers was detained briefly "on fictitious grounds", according to a social media post that Ekrem Imamoglu sent from his cell in a high security prison.

His legal team fight on, but they too are feeling the chill.

"The right to a defence, I think, is sacred. It's part of a fair trial that your lawyers should feel comfortable and safe," says Ece Guner, who is both a lawyer, and an adviser to the mayor.

"It would be a lie to say that no-one is worried, to be honest," she tells us, "but we still feel we have a duty to our country to say the truth, to preserve democracy, and the rule of law."

Where does Turkish democracy stand now? Some here fear it's on its last gasp.

In the past two weeks or so – since the protests began on 19 March - around 2,000 people have been detained, according to Turkey's interior ministry.

Many of those are students and members of Generation Erdogan – those who have only known the 22-year rule of Turkey's long-time leader. Arresting them sends another message.

"It's a huge warning to young people, a loud and clear warning – don't get involved," says Emma Sinclair-Webb, Turkey Director for Human Rights Watch.

She says the government has also been "lashing out in all directions against perceived opposition" from any quarter, not just the mayor's Republic People's Party (CHP), which is the main opposition party here.

"Public bodies are under threat," she says. "If they speak out and use their voices with authority, there is an attempt to stifle them immediately."

She expects that the coming months will see continuing attempts to limit the protests, and "render them invisible".

That won't be hard given the government's extensive control of the media here. The huge demonstrations held so far didn't lead the bulletins on state TV and pro-government outlets, and when they were shown the protesters were referred to as terrorists.

The most recent rally - last weekend - attracted several hundred thousand people, at the least. The opposition claims more than two million people attended.

Some families brought several generations with them to hear calls for change under a warm sun. We saw the usual heavy police presence but this time there was no tear gas, or rubber bullets. This rally was not banned.

Among the throng we met Alp, 32, who said he had come to defend democracy while there was still time. We didn't ask for a surname – many protesters prefer not to give theirs. He said he was concerned about the risk of arrest.

"The police are collecting students, and women and working people like us," he said.

"So, all of us are in danger right now. But we have to stand up. That's our only choice. If we don't do anything, if we just watch, the battle is lost already."

The opposition is promising to keep up its protests and its campaign on the streets. It's pressing for presidential elections to be brought forward from 2028.

Opposition polls suggest President Erdogan would lose to Imamoglu – if he were freed from jail and able to run as a candidate.

The president himself should not be able to run - as he is already in his second term - but there's speculation here that he could try to change the constitution.

The opposition insists there will be weekly protests from now on. If so, it looks certain that the arrests will continue.

It's unclear if Yasin Akgul's case will go to trial, but the charges against him remain. Despite the danger he hopes to keep telling the story here.

"Someone needs to do this job," he says, "and I think I am one of those people."