COMMENTARY: Turkey arrests 225 people ahead of the NATO summit — and its allies look the other way

Turkey is too valuable to be criticized

The reasoning behind the West’s silence is crystal clear. Turkey controls the Bosporus and Dardanelles straits, a strategic gateway between the Black Sea and the Mediterranean. It hosts the Incirlik Air Base, used by U.S. forces. It is the only NATO country to maintain active diplomatic relations with Moscow while remaining in the Alliance—a mediating role that facilitated, among other things, the Black Sea grain transit agreements in 2022–2023 and negotiations regarding Ukrainian prisoners of war. Ankara is, in diplomatic terms, “indispensable.”

This pragmatism has a history. NATO has always had to contend with members that did not fully adhere to its stated values: Greece under the colonels, Portugal under Salazar, and Turkey after the military coups of 1960, 1971, and 1980. The Alliance’s logic has always been that the strategic umbrella takes precedence over the democratic agenda. But there is a threshold beyond which this calculation becomes an endorsement. And arresting 225 people to “clean up” the streets before a summit crosses that threshold.

What the Silence Tells Autocrats Around the World

The problem of Western silence extends beyond Turkey. It sends a global message: democracies set aside their values when strategic interests are at stake. This message is being read in Moscow, Beijing, and Tehran. It is being read by all governments that are watching how the West reacts—or fails to react—to human rights violations among its allies. And what they see is considerable leeway. If Turkey, a NATO member, can arrest 225 opponents without triggering any public reaction from its allies, what signal does that send to regimes that do not enjoy this strategic protection?

The issue is not about punishing Turkey or threatening its place in the Alliance. The issue is speaking out, loudly and on camera, about what is happening. Benjamin Ward has said it. HRW has said it. Amnesty has said it. Democratic governments, however, have remained silent. And this collective silence comes at a cost—to the West’s moral credibility, to the 178 people in pretrial detention in Ankara, and to all those who still believe that democracies keep their promises.

When democracies remain silent about mass arrests among their allies, they prove right all those who say that their rhetoric about freedom is just hot air. I don’t have a simple solution to offer. But I refuse to pretend that this silence is acceptable.

A military alliance that also aims to be democratic

NATO was founded in 1949 on two pillars: collective defense against Soviet aggression, and a commitment to the democratic values enshrined in its preamble. These two pillars have always been at odds with one another. Collective defense requires reliable allies, not necessarily model democracies. And since 1949, the Alliance has consistently prioritized strategic reliability over democratic consistency. But there is a difference between tolerating imperfections and condoning systemic regression.

What President Erdogan’s Turkey represents in 2026 is more than an imperfection: it is a deliberate shift toward a model of government where the opposition is criminalized, independent media are muzzled, and public gatherings are banned on demand. In this context, holding a NATO summit in Ankara without expressing the slightest reservation about the conditions under which it is taking place sends a strong message—the wrong message.

Ukraine is watching, and it understands

There is a cruel irony in this picture. Ukraine has been fighting since 2022 for its right to exist as a democracy. Its soldiers are dying for an ideal that many others, in the very same West they are defending, seem ready to set aside as soon as strategic interests come into play. Zelensky, who aspires to join NATO, must look at the treatment of Turkish dissidents and ask himself: exactly what kind of Alliance would he be joining? An Alliance of democracies—or an alliance of raw geopolitics?

This is not a rhetorical question. It shapes NATO’s long-term legitimacy as a political project. If the Alliance cannot hold its member states to a minimum standard of respect for fundamental rights, it loses what sets it apart from other purely transactional security pacts. And that distinction—that moral edge—is precisely what has allowed it to survive 75 years of crises.

Zelensky is fighting to join NATO. But the NATO that met in Ankara in July 2026 accepted without a word the detention of 178 people in its host city. That contradiction cannot be resolved with mere rhetoric about democracy.

Underlying Tensions: Trump, Erdogan, and the Future of the Alliance

The Ankara summit on July 7–8, 2026, is taking place against a backdrop of multiple tensions within the Alliance. Donald Trump, back in the White House, has repeatedly reminded European allies that they must shoulder a greater share of the defense burden. He has labeled certain members “free riders” on U.S. security. In this context, NATO’s ability to enforce governance standards on its members is even weaker than usual—because the agenda is dominated by defense budgets and cost-sharing, not by human rights.

Turkish President Erdogan, for his part, knows exactly how to use his position. He negotiates his support for NATO candidacies—as was the case with Sweden and Finland—in exchange for concessions on bilateral issues. He plays both sides: a formal ally of the West, a trading partner of Russia, and a self-proclaimed mediator in regional conflicts. This ambiguity gives him considerable leverage—and makes it very difficult to challenge him publicly.

The 70,000 police officers: a show, not a security measure

The deployment of 70,000 police officers in Ankara for the summit is, in itself, a message. It says: this city is under control. It says: no one will come to disrupt the official narrative. It tells accredited journalists—those who were allowed in, not Cumhuriyet and Sozcu, which were excluded—that they will cover whatever the government chooses to show them. It is a perfect example of the modern police state: no batons visible on television, but dissidents have already been in jail for two weeks.

Amnesty International has denounced this measure as an “unjustifiable attack” on freedom of assembly. The governor of Ankara has decreed a ban on all public demonstrations from June 28 to July 10—twelve days of total prohibition in the capital of a country with 85 million inhabitants. And no one in allied capitals has officially protested. Not even as a formality.

70,000 police officers for a summit that talks about democracy. The dissonance is so glaring that it would be comical—if 178 people weren’t in prison at the same time.

When Complicity Becomes Routine

There is a threshold in the relationship between democracies and their authoritarian allies where silence ceases to be discretion and becomes a form of complicity. This threshold is never clearly crossed, never officially. It is crossed bit by bit, arrest after arrest, journalist after journalist being barred from their work. And one day, we look at the big picture and realize that democracies have slowly normalized practices that they claim to condemn in their adversaries. Russia imprisons journalists: a global scandal. Turkey imprisons 21: polite silence. The difference is the NATO badge.

This double standard has real consequences. It undermines the West’s credibility in international forums where human rights issues are debated. It provides ammunition for Russian and Chinese propaganda, which are quick to highlight the contradictions of democracies. And it betrays the thousands of Turks—journalists, lawyers, activists, teachers—who resist, day in and day out, an authoritarian drift, hoping that their Western allies will not abandon them. These people exist. And they see this silence.

The Limits of a Transactional Approach

The transactional relationship with Turkey makes sense. It also has its limits. By constantly making concessions on values to preserve strategic interests, Western democracies risk emptying the very structures they defend of their meaning. NATO is not just a military defense pact: it is also—or at least it was—a community of states sharing fundamental values. If we allow this dimension to erode without reacting, we end up with a purely military Alliance, devoid of a moral compass, guided solely by the calculation of immediate interests. That would be a victory for Putin, who has always dreamed of seeing democracies betray themselves.

Turkey is expertly playing on this tension. It knows its allies need it. It takes advantage of this to push the boundaries. And every time the allies remain silent in the face of a new crackdown, the bar shifts a little further. By 2026, that bar now stands at 225 arrests before a summit, with no reaction. Where will it be in ten years, if nothing changes?

There is no such thing as a transactional relationship without morality—or rather, when transactional interests override morality, they ultimately destroy the very value of the relationship. Ankara’s allies should keep this in mind.

HRW, Amnesty: The Counterbalance Provided by NGOs

Amid this government silence, nongovernmental organizations have played their traditional role: speaking the truth when diplomats remain silent. Human Rights Watch published its report on June 25, 2026, documenting the arrests in detail: names, occupations, dates, and legal proceedings. Amnesty International described the crackdown as “unjustifiable.” These organizations have neither armed divisions nor diplomatic leverage—but they have the credibility that comes from rigorous reporting, and that is invaluable.

The problem is that their influence on democratic governments has waned. In today’s political climate—dominated by the rise of populism, hybrid threats, and an obsession with security—reports from HRW and Amnesty are more easily ignored than they were twenty years ago. Governments know that media coverage will be fleeting, that public opinion will move on to other issues, and that strategic allies—Turkey foremost among them—will still be there tomorrow. This is the cynicism of our time, and it is thriving.

Excluded Journalists: Censorship Through Accreditation

The denial of accreditation to journalists from Cumhuriyet, Sozcu, and T24 deserves special attention. These three publications are among the few independent media outlets still active in Turkey, resisting constant pressure. Excluding them from the NATO summit in their own capital is not a logistical detail: it is overt political censorship. And the fact that foreign delegations did not demand the presence of these media outlets—or at least did not make that demand public—speaks volumes about the state of press freedom as a diplomatic priority in 2026.

A journalist barred from a summit in his own city, for political reasons, with the silent endorsement of twenty-nine allied democracies: that is the true record of Western diplomacy in Ankara that week. Official statements will speak of unity, solidarity, and deterrence. They will not mention Yıldız Tar in detention, nor the reforestation volunteers from the TEMA Foundation who did not plant any trees this month.

A free press is the last bulwark against abuses of power—including among allies. To let it be excluded without protest is to accept that the summit is taking place in a theater whose backstage has been cleaned out. That’s not NATO. That’s a staged performance.

A NATO Application in the Face of the Alliance’s Hypocrisy

Zelensky wants to join NATO. He has repeated this in every speech, at every summit. Ukraine meets conditions that Turkey no longer meets: free elections held even in times of war, a pluralistic press operating under bombardment, and a civil society of remarkable vitality. And yet, it is Ankara that sits at the table, while Kyiv knocks on the door. This irony has practical implications: it tells Ukrainians that NATO membership does not depend solely on democratic excellence. It depends on the geopolitical calculations of existing members. These calculations can change. But they do not change by magic: they change under pressure.

That is why what is happening in Ankara in July 2026 should be seen by Kyiv as a warning, not as a model. Ukraine does not want to join an Alliance that looks the other way when its members detain reforestation workers. It wants to join an Alliance of values—and for that to be possible, this Alliance must first rediscover its own values. These are two interconnected struggles. Refusing to see them as such is to set oneself up for future disappointment.

Pressure as the Only Language Understood

Human rights organizations have spoken out. The independent media outlets that were able to cover the event have done their job. One question remains: Will a coalition of democratic governments one day publicly tell Ankara that this level of repression is unacceptable? Not in a statement buried among twenty paragraphs, but clearly, at a press conference, in front of the cameras? The answer, for now, is no. But precedents exist—the European Union has, in the past, been able to make trade relations contingent on progress on fundamental rights. This mechanism isn’t dead. It’s just on hold.

Turkey knows exactly what it’s doing. Every arrest is a test of its allies’ tolerance. 225 people arrested, zero public reaction: the test is complete. Next time, the number could be higher. This is how red lines disappear—not by official decision, but through silent erosion.

Ukraine deserves a NATO that keeps its promises. For now, it is watching an Alliance that bows to Erdogan with a smile. That spectacle does not inspire confidence—and it would be right not to trust it.

Values are not optional

I am not asking NATO to expel Turkey. I am not asking its members to sever diplomatic relations with Ankara. I am asking for something simpler—and at the same time more difficult: the truth. To state publicly, on behalf of the allied democracies, that mass arrests on the eve of a summit are unacceptable. That denying accreditation to independent media runs counter to the Alliance’s values. That silence itself is a form of complicity.

Such a statement is possible. It would not destroy the Alliance. It would not jeopardize the Incirlik military bases or control of the Bosphorus. Democratic governments have mechanisms for saying uncomfortable things to their allies while maintaining functional relations. What they lack is the political will to do so. And this lack of will, in 2026, in the face of a Turkey that imprisons its opponents in its capital before the eyes of the world’s cameras, is a moral capitulation that should not be allowed to pass without a word.

The 178 people in prison deserve to have their names spoken

The war in Ukraine has brought the defense of democracies back to the forefront. It has shown the cost of indifference in the face of authoritarianism—in Ukrainian lives, in destruction, and in the displacement of millions of people. This lesson should shape our perspective on what is happening in Turkey. The 178 people placed in pretrial detention in Ankara in June 2026 are not victims of war—but they are victims of the same principle: that a government can crush the opposition when it deems its political survival to require it. And that the democracies around it prefer to remain silent.

The NATO summit in Ankara on July 7–8, 2026, will produce press releases, handshakes, and photos of smiling leaders. In a few days, Yıldız Tar may still be in prison. The journalists at Cumhuriyet will not have covered the event in their own capital. And the allies, for their part, will speak of unity and freedom. This is the paradox that is slowly eroding the West’s credibility—and it deserved to be named.

Ankara’s record cannot be summed up by official photos alone. It also includes 178 pretrial detentions, journalists barred from their own capital, and the deliberate silence of democracies that should have spoken out. I refused to contribute to that silence.

Signed, Maxime Marquette, columnist