Turkey’s strongman Recep Tayyip Erdoğan is not among the twelve million citizens who regularly use Spotify. At least, he has never given the impression that he spends mornings browsing playlists. Yet even for him, the platform offers something: his supporters have compiled lists of campaign songs in his honor.
Spotify has now entered Erdoğan’s orbit for a different reason. Deputy Culture Minister Batuhan Mumcu recently expressed outrage over satirical playlists, including one titled *“Songs Emine Erdoğan listens to while cleaning the palace.”He called it “provocative and morally unacceptable.” Mumcu also claimed to have found playlists mocking the Prophet Muhammad. On social media, pro-AKP voices are now demanding that the government take action against Spotify—or better yet, ban it altogether.
The outcome of the controversy remains uncertain. Turkish prosecutors, however, have already seized on a possible pretext: Spotify allegedly endangers competition in the domestic music industry. Facing these pressures, the company is reportedly considering withdrawing from the Turkish market.
This dispute fits into a broader pattern. For years, Erdoğan has tightened restrictions on free expression, shuttered newspapers, and jailed political opponents. At the same time, he traditionally left some space open: alcohol remains legal, and critical voices can still be found online. But those spaces are shrinking.
Politically, this has been visible since the imprisonment of Istanbul’s mayor Ekrem İmamoğlu. Since then, mass arrests of opposition figures have made prison an occupational hazard for critics. Erdoğan’s message is clear: he will not tolerate any transfer of power against his will.
The second front is cultural and satirical freedom. For many Turks, irony and humor long provided a refuge when politics left little room for dissent. But even this retreat is under siege.
The recent arrest of prominent journalist Fatih Altaylı illustrates the point. His “crime”: stating that Turks “love the ballot box” and once overthrew the Ottoman sultan for that very reason. Prosecutors interpreted this as a veiled threat to Erdoğan. Altaylı now sits in pre-trial detention, while his YouTube channel protests with videos showing an empty chair.
Just weeks earlier, an angry crowd attacked the Istanbul offices of the satirical magazine LeMan. Their target was a cartoon depicting two winged figures named Mohammed and Moses meeting in heaven. The magazine stressed it was not the Prophet, but Erdoğan denounced it as a “vile provocation.” The mob marched, police intervened only lightly, and in the end it was not the attackers but three of the magazine’s staff—including the editor-in-chief and cartoonist—who were arrested. The Interior Minister even publicized footage of the cartoonist’s arrest, treating him like a dangerous criminal.
In today’s Turkey, one can work as a journalist for decades, only to end up in prison overnight. Protesters caught on camera never know when charges may surface. Satirists risk mobs and police raids for a single drawing.
And perhaps soon, even a harmless playlist on Spotify could become grounds for prosecution. The palace is spotless; now, it seems, Erdoğan wants to “cleanse” the country itself.
