Gender and sexual minorities are not just increasingly targeted by the state in Turkey – they are isolated by opposition groups that purport to champion democratic values. Ilker Kalin argues that the isolation of LGBTQ+ activists weakens democracy, and plays into the hands of repression
In recent years, the Turkish government has escalated its campaign against LGBTQ+ communities. The government’s declaration of 2025 as the Year of the Family is more than symbolism: it institutionalises heteronormativity and vilifies queer existence. A draft law proposal, prepared by the government, could, if passed, go so far as to criminalise LGBTQ+ identities.
This Pride Month, peaceful marches were once again met with police violence and mass arrests. Social media accounts of Kaos GL, the oldest and largest LGBTQ+ rights organisation in Turkey, were blocked. As these examples demonstrate, the state’s war on queer citizens is rhetorical and physical.
And yet, amid this repression, the LGBTQ+ movement has responded not with silence, but with visible, resilient defiance. Activists insist that this is not the Year of the Family, but the Year of Resistance. They raise their voices not just for themselves, but for democracy. Unfortunately, they are often left to do so alone.
Last December, I conducted a series of interviews with LGBTQ+ activists in Turkey. While government repression was, unsurprisingly, a recurring theme, an equally strong concern was the silence of the democratic opposition.
'I don’t know what’s worse: the government’s policies or the opposition’s silence', said Irfan Değirmenci, journalist and activist. Other interviewees echoed this feeling of abandonment. 'I expect the state to be against us and I am ready to fight back', one said, 'but I don’t know what to do when people who are supposed to stand with us turn their back'.
'I don't know what's worse: the government's policies or the opposition's silence'
Irfan Değirmenci, journalist and activist
Despite being on the frontlines of collective dissent in Turkey, from the Gezi Park protests to university occupations, LGBTQ+ activists often receive little to no solidarity in return. My fieldwork suggests this silence is not incidental, but structural and strategic.
Opposition parties and NGOs often want to appear inclusive without alienating the 'mainstream' public. As one activist put it: 'They’re okay standing with us, just not too close'.
Their support for LGBTQ+ rights is typically tokenistic, confined to individual statements or backroom meetings. 'They’re just being politically correct', said one activist. 'Solidarity requires action, not just performance.'
Many opposition figures view LGBTQ+ rights as a secondary issue; something to be addressed 'after democracy is restored'. With the opposition itself facing shrinking space for freedom of expression and increasing repression, they often treat queer rights as a distraction or a luxury.
But this perception reflects a fundamental misunderstanding of how struggles for freedom and rights are intertwined. Marginalised groups are often the first to bear the brunt of authoritarianism, and their exclusion only weakens the broader democratic movement.
Heteronormative assumptions are deeply embedded in Turkey’s political culture, including within opposition groups. Political parties and civil society organisations often marginalise women and LGBTQ+ members internally, setting a precedent that makes meaningful external support for queer communities unlikely.
While there are good examples of solidarity with LGBTQ+ groups, they remain rare. Instead, the broader trend seems to overlook the gendered face of democratic backsliding and how gender and sexual repression are central tools, rather than by-products, of autocratic regimes.
LGBTQ+ exclusion is not just a moral failing, but a strategic one. When opposition groups fail to defend the most vulnerable members of dissent movements, they weaken the broader cause for democracy, and reinforce state repression.
Authoritarian regimes understand this well. They use identity politics to fracture resistance, isolate minorities, and shift public debate. The more splintered the opposition, the easier it is to control.
When opposition groups fail to defend the most vulnerable members of dissent movements, they reinforce state repression
During Pride Month in Turkey, while LGBTQ+ people faced bans, police violence, and arrests, most of the democratic opposition remained silent. But this is not the case elsewhere. In Hungary, despite government efforts to suppress Pride, the Mayor of Budapest publicly backed the march, and called on Hungarians to 'stand together for freedom, dignity and equal rights'. On 28 June, tens of thousands marched in defiance of Viktor Orbán’s anti-LGBTQ+ agenda. That solidarity sent a powerful message: queer rights are human rights; defending them strengthens democracy for all.
In Turkey, the absence of such unity enables the government to frame LGBTQ+ rights as niche, 'westernised', or out of touch with 'ordinary citizens'. As false as this framing is, it works when those who claim to stand for democracy fail to challenge it.
Standing with LGBTQ+ activists does more than protect one group; it helps defend democratic space for all. When the opposition in Turkey begins to unite around rights and beyond identities, there will be more reason to hope for democracy.
Standing with LGBTQ+ activists does more than protect one group; it helps defend democratic space for all
Such solidarity breaks the authoritarian logic of fear, division, and scapegoating. It shows that people can take a stand on defending democratic values without becoming trapped in the identity divisions that authoritarian regimes exploit, whether these are based on gender, sexuality, ethnicity, religion, or political ideology.
Opposition groups in Turkey must come to terms with this: you cannot pick and choose whose rights you defend, and still claim to fight for democracy.
This blog piece draws on interviews conducted for the project LGBTQ+ Participation and Polarization Within and Outside the Collective Dissent in Turkey, funded by the International Peace Research Association Foundation's Peace Research Grant Program
