Türkiye has been shaken by a wave of anger in recent days – but this anger is being directed at an unexpected target: its own brands. In recent days, the arrest of Istanbul Mayor Ekrem Imamoğlu has been met with protests by some groups who view it as an unjust decision, leading to demonstrations across Türkiye. The public exercised their democratic right to protest, crowds took to the streets, but certain groups caused tense encounters with the police, damage to public spaces and the unfortunate defacement of a historic mosque. In the midst of this upheaval, Republican People’s Party (CHP) leader Özgür Özel called for a boycott of Turkish brands – a decision that has sparked intense discussion and divided opinions.
On the surface, the boycott might appear as a striking response to recent events. However, a deeper look uncovers a puzzling contrast: while attention to global tragedies like the loss of lives in Gaza has been limited, this campaign now could place pressure on Türkiye’s economy in the name of domestic protest. This tension invites questions – not only about the approach’s potential impact, but also about its broader implications.
Boycotts have historically served as a tool for economic and social influence, seen in efforts across the world to challenge powerful entities or policies. Their effectiveness, though, depends on well-defined goals, careful coordination and widespread backing – elements that seem less clear in the current call to action.
Focusing on local Turkish brands differs from, for instance, global campaigns targeting firms linked to conflicts like Gaza’s, where the intent and scope are more sharply defined. This move, by contrast, comes across as a sudden response, one that struggles to tackle the deeper issues facing Türkiye or offer a solid path forward.
Instead of uniting people around a clear plan to address the country’s challenges, this approach leans toward a less direct form of protest that lacks a vision for progress. It risks wearing down a population already stretched thin by rising costs and uncertainty, without promising real outcomes. It also stirs unease: some may embrace the boycott as a stand, while others – perhaps unable to join due to practical limits – feel sidelined or judged. Rather than bringing people together, this effort could create unintended gaps, leaving broader questions about its purpose and impact unanswered.
The economic effects of focusing on Turkish brands are hard to ignore. Companies like TRT, Espressolab, D&R and Ülker aren’t distant corporations with murky agendas; they’re local businesses, rooted in the efforts of Turkish workers and supporting countless families. Targeting them doesn’t just ripple outward – it directly impacts the people who depend on these enterprises for their livelihoods. In a country already navigating economic challenges, this approach raises concerns about jobs, stability and a domestic market that many see as a point of strength.
This stands in contrast to global efforts, such as those against brands like Starbucks, McDonald’s and Coca-Cola, which have been linked to conflicts like Gaza’s. According to Anadolu Agency (AA), those campaigns have cut sales by 15%, showing how a unified, clear boycott can carry weight. Here, though, the focus on Turkish brands seems detached from those wider efforts. If the aim is to respond to Imamoğlu’s arrest, it’s unclear how pressing Espressolab, a Turkish coffeehouse chain, fits into that picture. And if it’s about a larger sense of fairness, it’s worth asking why similar energy wasn’t as visible for Gaza’s losses. This difference between past silence and present action prompts questions about intent and consistency, even if answers remain elusive.
To shift a deeply rooted political landscape, any group needs more than just a spark of frustration – it requires a clear and inspiring plan for what comes next. The focus on boycotting local brands doesn’t seem to deliver either. It hints at a broader challenge within Türkiye’s opposition: a struggle to find a cohesive strategy or a fresh perspective. Instead of shaping ideas to tackle the country’s urgent needs – like economic stability, governance or unity – the approach has leaned toward actions that divide as much as they draw attention. This feels less like a guiding vision and more like a short-term move, aimed at the moment rather than the future.
While global activists focus their efforts on corporations tied to human rights concerns, Türkiye’s opposition has chosen to direct its frustrations inward, presenting a domestic boycott as a meaningful stand. However, this approach raises important questions. Why should a single political arrest justify economic pressure on local businesses? Such inconsistencies risk weakening the credibility of the movement and diverting attention from more constructive forms of civic engagement. Meaningful change comes from well-founded critique and practical solutions – not from actions that ultimately strain the livelihoods of ordinary citizens.
Now, as the boycott unfolds, Türkiye is witnessing an attempt at a silent protest: CHP leader Özgür Özel's call for a one-day consumer boycott, inspired by the Saraçhane protests. While this movement targets local brands in the name of justice, it risks channeling frustration into symbolic outrage rather than driving meaningful change. Despite its loud debut, this initiative offers little promise of lasting impact. For those already grappling with economic hardship, a one-day consumption pause is neither a worker-friendly measure nor a practical strategy. Notably, while employees of local brands like Ülker bear the consequences, global corporations – often the true targets of scrutiny – remain untouched.
Türkiye’s current unrest calls for more than fleeting gestures – it asks for a thoughtful, steady effort to channel public unease into something lasting. Focusing on local brands doesn’t seem to fit that mold; it’s a move that could strain economic stability without clearly shifting the broader situation. To find solid ground – both within the country and beyond – there’s a need to step away from such uncertain tactics and build an approach that resonates with people’s shared hopes.
The takeaway seems straightforward: meaningful change comes from bringing people together with a clear direction, not from actions that pull them apart. By turning attention to open conversation, practical ideas, and a steady focus on fairness – whether at home or abroad – a stronger way forward could take shape. For now, this boycott stands as a puzzling echo: loud in its fury, yet hollow in its reach.
