Travel bans, house arrests, and the obligations to sign in that must not be overlooked... Judicial supervision measures have turned into “invisible prisons” without physical bars for journalists in Turkey. Journalists describe the professional and personal impacts of this stranglehold that restricts their freedom of movement

CANAN COŞKUN

While judicial supervision may appear on paper a form freedom as an alternative to detention, in practice, it has become a heavy burden that restricts a journalist’s freedom of movement and isolates them from their profession and social life. This measure is not limited to travel bans or the obligation to sign in at a police station. Restrictions such as not leaving a specific residential area or not visiting designated places or regions create a situation of covert limitation.

Moments when these restrictions reach absurd levels remain etched in memory. For example, as the author of this compilation, I faced a similar “restriction” order in November 2019. We were there to investigate the death of Rabia Naz, who died under suspicious circumstances in the Eynesil district of Giresun in 2018. While our investigations were ongoing, we were detained, and a peculiar decision was issued against me: I was prohibited from approaching the home of a witness, who had manipulated the case by repeatedly changing his statement. There was also a travel ban preventing me from leaving the country. Even after this ban, which lasted until 2022, was lifted, I never returned to Eynesil or even Giresun. Judicial supervision serves not only as a “precaution” but also as a method to crush a journalist’s investigative spirit.

What do the data say?

The “Expression Interrupted” reports on journalist trials also lay bare the toll of this pressure over the years. According to the reports, in the first quarter of 2024 (January–March), judicial supervision measures were imposed on at least 19 journalists. In the second quarter (April–June), this number increased, with 32 journalists facing judicial supervision measures.

The second half of 2024 was a period in which, in terms of press freedom in Turkey, not only freedom of expression but also the most fundamental right—the right to life—suffered severe blows. The deaths of journalists Cihan Bilgin and Nazım Daştan on 19 December in northern Syria as a result of a drone attack demonstrated the extent of the risks on the ground. Colleagues who reacted to this situation and journalists reporting on events in the region faced judicial harassment in the form of detention orders and judicial supervision measures. In the third quarter of the year (July–September), judicial supervision obligations were added to the cases of many of the 118 journalists on trial.

The 58 detentions recorded in the final quarter of the year marked the highest quarterly figure on record at the time of the report’s publication. During this period, journalists such as Özlem Gürses and Nevşin Mengü became targets of investigations initiated on the grounds of their reporting and were subjected to judicial supervision measures. While Gürses was placed under house arrest for a period, Mengü was also barred from leaving the country.

It can be said that judicial supervision measures systematically paralyzed journalists’ ability to move in the first quarter of 2025. Journalists Seda Selek and Serhan Asker, along with the channel’s general manager Suat Toktaş and program hosts Kürşad Oğuz and Barış Pehlivan, who discussed Istanbul Metropolitan Municipality (İBB) Mayor Ekrem İmamoğlu’s statements regarding the İBB investigation on Halk TV’s live broadcast, became targets of the judiciary. During this process, while journalist Toktaş was jailed, Selek, Oğuz, Pehlivan, and Asker were released under judicial supervision.

İBB operations were also carried out in the first quarter of 2025, and public reaction to the operations was attempted to be suppressed through detentions and imprisonments. Journalists also bore their share of the brunt of this wave. According to the report, at least 10 journalists were subjected to judicial supervision measures in the first three months of 2025. During this period, journalist İsmail Saymaz was detained and subsequently placed under house arrest over his reporting and social media posts during the 2013 Gezi Park protests.

During the same period, while a commission established under the Turkish Grand National Assembly was conducting studies on democratization and the Kurdish issue, large-scale operations were also carried out against the Peoples’ Democratic Congress. In this operation, three journalists were imprisoned pending trial, while journalist Ender İmrek was placed under house arrest for months.

The intensifying pressure during this period also affected international media workers. The deportation of BBC’s Mark Lowen on 26 March 22025, on the grounds of “lack of accreditation,” and the imprisonment of Swedish journalist Joakim Medin around the same time on charges of “membership in a terrorist organization” and “insulting the president” are prime examples of this pressure.

Behind these figures regarding judicial supervision measures lies the harsh reality of the difficulties journalists endure to practice their profession, whether they are required to sign in at the police station or are unable to step outside their own doors. Journalists Tuğçe Yılmaz and Suzan Demir, who have been required to sign in at the police station for over a year, and Furkan Karabay, who has turned his four walls into a newsroom, described how this silent punishment paralyzes daily life, the psychological burden it imposes, and how it affects professional reflexes.

Tuğçe Yılmaz and Suzan Demir were detained along with seven other journalists during a raid on their homes on 26 November 2024 by the Eskişehir Chief Public Prosecutor’s Office for writing copyrighted news stories, and were taken to Eskişehir. Following the prosecutor’s interrogations, they were released under the conditions of an international travel ban and a requirement to sign in at the police station once a week. The condition of reporting to the police station once a week continued for over a year before being lifted. The travel ban, however, remains in effect.

Furkan Karabay, on the other hand, was released from prison in December 2025 where he had been held for the third time over the news articles he wrote, but was detained again in January 2026 for the same reason. The prosecution requested that Karabay be placed under judicial supervision this time, and the court placed him under house arrest. Two months later, the house arrest was lifted.

“My reporting and my vacations were disrupted”

- How did your visits to the police station to sign in affect your time and work schedule as a journalist?

Tuğçe Yılmaz: Starting in December 2024, I was required to sign in at the police station closest to my residence every Monday. I made arrangements accordingly for my workplace, as I had to ensure I did not forget to sign during the day. So, a routine developed: When I set out for work in the morning, I would stop by the police station before boarding the ferry. Unfortunately, the process dragged on so long that the police officers started joking with each other, saying, “The journalist lady is here,” and even asking, “Haven’t you finished signing yet?” or “Don’t you have an indictment yet, journalist lady?”

During this process, of course, both the news stories I wanted to cover outside the city and the vacations I could take using my annual leave were disrupted. Whenever I had to leave the city, I absolutely had to return to Istanbul by Monday, and this had become a real ordeal for me.

“It turned into a costly situation”

Suzan Demir: I would go on Mondays to sign in. Of course, the start of the week meant the agenda was a bit more hectic, or I had my own personal matters to attend to. Since I worked freelance, Mondays were always a race against time for me.

I would have to go to such a remote police station to sign in that if I walked from my home, I would have to climb a hill for half an hour. If I took the bus, I would have to transfer twice. It was in such a remote spot, and because of that remoteness, I was constantly forced to pay for transportation. Because I went there year-round. Sometimes I would go through the area near Karacaahmet Cemetery, and sometimes that area was not safe. So, I had to pay for transportation there too. It was a situation that caused me extra expenses for an entire year. In the last month, the police station moved, but that location was not much closer either.

I tried not to miss signing in even once, but I forgot once and came home. It was a lapse of concentration. I had rushed to catch a taxi to go sign in.

“In our profession, we need to connect with people”

- What kind of test was it for a journalist to be kept under “house arrest” for a long time, maintaining contact with the outside world only through screens? Did the four walls of the house turn into a newsroom or a place of isolation?

Furkan Karabay: Being under house arrest or in prison is not an obstacle to doing our job. Of course, the political regime aims to prevent journalists from doing their jobs by imprisoning them or isolating them, but in the face of this, we try to stand our ground by doing our jobs as best as we can. Even while under house arrest, we woke up and went to sleep with the news. In fact, while under house arrest, I prepared more detailed, in-depth reports. Because you have to turn crisis periods into opportunities. However, in our profession, we need to connect with people, and being confined at home prevents that.

“A constant watchful eye”

- Does the judicial supervision measure not only restrict you but also the news you cover? How do you assess this situation?

Tuğçe Yılmaz: At first, it is naturally not possible to completely escape the presence of a constant watchful eye. This situation inevitably affects your behavior, your plans, and even your daily routine.

However, after a while, you get used to the weight of that feeling or at least learn to live with it mentally.

On the other hand, the national agenda and global developments do not really allow you to impose limits on your work anyway. Even if you try to set your own boundaries, reality often spills over those boundaries. For example, the PKK announces it has laid down its arms, or other colleagues of yours are drawn into legal proceedings with similar, baseless allegations. Naturally, the news imposes itself.

How can we even define the boundaries? On one hand, the news covering required by the profession; on the other, the constantly shifting and hardening political atmosphere—these make our boundaries both fragile and blurred.

“Doing the job right”

- As soon as your house arrest was lifted, you went to cover the İBB trial sessions in Silivri and have continued to follow the case. When the house arrest order was lifted, what did you feel professionally with your first step outside the door?

Furkan Karabay: While under house arrest, we were somehow producing news based on case files, but we could not attend the court hearings. For a reporter, not being able to cover the Aziz İhsan Aktaş and İBB trials—among the largest political trials in Turkish history—was a major shortcoming. Therefore, after the house arrest order was lifted, we attended the hearings in Silivri. It was an exciting situation professionally, and it was satisfying to do my job on the scene.

“I used to attend festivals after signing the agreements”

- Did the judicial supervision measure ever hinder your work?

Suzan Demir: I had trouble scheduling programs on Mondays. I had trouble going anywhere. I am also a film critic and attend film festivals in Adana, Ankara, and Antalya. During the year I signed the petition, I wanted to be included in the festival programs starting from Monday onward. Since more than half of Turkey is under judicial supervision, they did not find it all that strange. Whenever I had to travel outside the city, I absolutely had to return before Monday.

I could not go on vacation either. There were economic constraints as well, but at least I tried to attend the festivals. Even when I visited my family, I had to return before Monday. So, this was always a situation that spoiled my fun.

“I cannot attend conferences and panels abroad”

- How does the ban on leaving the country affect your professional life? How does the restriction on travel rights affect your social life outside of work—for example, have you been unable to participate in programs like overseas vacations?

Tuğçe Yılmaz: Of course, it has an extremely negative impact. Despite the lack of concrete evidence regarding the allegations against us, the court panel insists on not lifting our travel ban, which is a judicial supervision measure.

Consequently, even though I have received invitations to numerous conferences and panels held abroad related to my profession and areas of interest over the past two years, I have not been able to attend. This results in both financial and emotional losses for me.

The practical restriction of my professional activities is one of the most challenging aspects of this process for me.

For example, one of the stories I most want to cover right now is observing firsthand how the Turkey-Armenia Normalization Process is resonating in Armenia. However, I cannot do so because my judicial supervision measure, whose end date remains uncertain, is still in effect. What I have been through is frustrating, but it is starting to seem funny to me now. For instance, the only living being in my house with a passport right now is my dog, Cuba.

The increasing number of judicial supervision cases since 19 March

- Were there any specific things that stuck with you from the police station where you went to sign in? How did they treat you?

Suzan Demir: They did not treat me badly at all. Because there were so many judicial supervision cases.

They did not even check which case I was from. The police recognized me by then; they did not ask for ID, for instance. After we were detained and released, the 19 March process began, and the number of judicial supervision cases skyrocketed. When I first started going, there were not that many people. I could observe this increase because my arrival and departure times overlapped.

“Whether we are shut down or imprisoned…”

- How did being imprisoned first, and then confined within the four walls of your own home, affect your writing reflex? While in prison, you conveyed what was happening to your readers through stories. You continued writing even while confined in your own home. Was there a difference between the two?

Furkan Karabay: Of course, there are differences. But whether we are shut down or imprisoned, we try to do the work we believe is right in one way or another. While in prison, I thought I could best convey the prison and the inmates through storytelling because I could not access the information and documents needed for producing news reports. That is why I tried to inform people through stories. Even while under house arrest, I did my best to inform the public through the files I had access to.

“I have put my overseas projects on hold”

- Did the ban on leaving the country hinder your work?

Suzan Demir: I cannot even consider participating in a project abroad right now because of this restriction. Even though it has not directly prevented me from participating in a specific program, I have put those future plans on hold. While it does not affect the present, this ban is affecting my future.

The final hearing in the case leading to the judicial supervision took place a few days ago, and the hearing was postponed for six months. Having to wait another six months, seeing this process drag on this long, and feeling restricted for another six months naturally takes a psychological toll. We are waiting in a state of uncertainty. We do not know when the case will end. This case will continue to hang over our heads like the Sword of Damocles.

Invisible prisons

In Turkey, “judicial supervision” measures are increasingly replacing traditional detention methods. However, this shift does not signify an improvement but rather a systemic change. Judicial supervision has evolved from being an alternative legal measure to detention into an “invisible prison” model that the state uses to keep the number of “political prisoners” low on the international stage, thereby mitigating reactions from the outside world and reducing the costs of the case. While appearing “free” on paper, under this model, the journalist is effectively confined within four walls, unable to go out, travel, or practice their profession. Although judicial supervision appears to have removed physical bars, it operates as the most cost-effective and “invisible” means of keeping the press under control through the psychological and professional constraints it imposes.