Turkey has a rich history of military coups. The most recent one, the July 15 so-called coup attempt, seems to be a synthesis of previous interventions, indicating that its orchestrators had studied history carefully. In several aspects, the events of that night resemble the coup of March 12, the 31 March Incident, and even the Sheikh Said Rebellion. Yet, what unfolded that treacherous night bears the closest resemblance to the “June 15 Janissary Revolt,” which ultimately led to the abolition of the Janissary Corps.
In my view, the history of Turkish despotism can be divided into four main periods. While Sultan Mahmud II can be seen as the architect of the first era, President Erdoğan represents its most recent embodiment. Since the collapse of Erdoğan’s regime would signal the end of this authoritarian tradition, various shadowy networks entrenched in Anatolia have aligned themselves behind him and are fiercely fighting to sustain his rule.
Tyrants strive to eliminate anything or anyone they perceive as a threat to their power and future. To achieve this, they devise insidious and treacherous plans and are unhesitant to shed blood. Even their own siblings are not exempt from this violence. At the very beginning of his reign, Mahmud II had his brother Mustafa murdered, fearing that he might one day ascend to the throne. He killed the man he called “brother,” then wept crocodile tears over his corpse.
Throughout his reign, Mahmud II spilled vast amounts of blood but never found peace. The more unrest he experienced, the more violence he resorted to. He was both ambitious and incompetent. He viewed the Janissaries—the backbone of the Ottoman army—with perpetual suspicion and fear. He was determined to rid himself of these “putschist” soldiers and establish a military order absolutely loyal and obedient to him. As long as the Janissaries remained, peace in the palace was impossible. Poor Mahmud failed to grasp that the root of coups lies not in the army, but in failed governance.
The history of the Janissaries is actually filled with honor and achievement. But times had changed. Empires were giving way to nation-states. The Industrial Revolution had taken place, and traditional weaponry had long been replaced by modern arms. In short, the Ottoman Empire, unable to adapt to the changing conditions, was suffering one defeat after another. Although the real culprit was the palace, blame was consistently placed on the Janissary Corps.
Sultan Mahmud deliberately provoked the Janissaries, pushing them into rebellion. Like his predecessor Selim III, he had developed an obsession with them — they had to be abolished at any cost. In 1826, he founded the Eşkinci Corps, composed of soldiers selected from within the Janissary ranks. It was widely understood that the Eşkinci Corps was intended to replace the Janissary army. As soon as the new unit began training, rumors spread throughout Istanbul that the Janissary Corps would soon be dissolved. As a result, on June 15, 1826, the Janissaries revolted.
This was not a coup attempt. It was merely an effort to make their voices and demands heard by the palace. Yet the incident was portrayed as a coup and presented Mahmud II with a historic opportunity — the chance to eliminate the Janissaries forever and build a new army loyal to him. Consulting with statesmen and religious scholars who had fled to the palace, the sultan decided to go to war with the Janissaries — effectively declaring a civil war. The Sheikh al-Islam issued a fatwa in support.
As artillery units prepared for battle, town criers spread distorted and inflammatory information throughout the city to incite the public. Rumors were circulated that the Janissaries had assassinated the grand vizier and numerous government officials. At the same time, the Sacred Banner of the Prophet was raised, summoning Istanbul’s Muslim population to gather beneath it. This symbolically framed the Janissaries as a religiously alien and illegitimate force. The psychological groundwork for a massacre had been laid. Along with the troops mobilized against the Janissaries, weapons were distributed to civilians, who then marched under the sacred banner toward the Janissaries.
The Janissaries, however, did not attack anyone. They simply waited. They did not take any action against the people — even though, had they wanted to, they could have shed much blood. Eventually, artillery fire was launched on the Janissary barracks, and civil war erupted. Caught off guard and unable to mount a counterattack, the Janissaries panicked and fled in confusion. They were hunted down and brutally massacred by soldiers and armed civilians wherever they were found. Sound familiar?
Mahmud II saw these developments as a divine gift and issued a decree abolishing the Janissary Corps. The event was dubbed the Auspicious Incident (Vak’a-i Hayriye) — a so-called fortunate event that involved the extrajudicial killing of thousands of soldiers. Thus began a new era that would ultimately result in the invitation of Russian forces to Istanbul.
Whether by nature or due to the political tradition that shaped him, Recep Tayyip Erdoğan has always regarded the Turkish Armed Forces as a constant threat to his personal power and political future. It’s also important to consider the psychological imprint left on him by operating in a political climate dominated by military interventions. His resentment toward the army—fueled by events like the February 28 postmodern coup and the April 27 e-memorandum—was deep and personal. On top of that, he faced a looming threat from numerous corruption files, such as the notorious 17/25 December investigations, sitting on dusty shelves. For all these reasons, Erdoğan felt he had to neutralize the TSK.
In this light, the events of July 15 should be seen not as a failed coup, but as a partially successful operation to dismantle the Turkish Armed Forces—engineered by Erdoğan himself, in collaboration with then-Chief of General Staff Hulusi Akar and National Intelligence Organization (MIT) Undersecretary Hakan Fidan. If one looks at what happened that night, the preparations leading up to it, and the aftermath, it becomes clear: this was a deliberate sequence of operations targeting the Turkish military. Remove any stone along the path that led to the coup, and Erdoğan is underneath it. There was no genuine coup plan on July 15—there was a plan to destroy the military.
In the days leading up to July 15, pro-Erdoğan media outlets worked actively to prepare the public for a coup narrative. But it wasn’t just the public being prepared—Erdoğan himself had been laying the groundwork meticulously. These preparations fell into two categories: those within the TSK and those outside it. The internal preparations were naturally coordinated by Hulusi Akar. The civilian and paramilitary arrangements, disguised as civilian movements, were carried out by Erdoğan’s most trusted confidant, Hakan Fidan.
On July 14 and 15, a series of meetings involving the MIT chief, the Chief of General Staff, force commanders, and the Special Forces commander were effectively the final touches on the plan. In parallel, MIT’s Hakan Fidan also met with the then-head of the Directorate of Religious Affairs, Mehmet Görmez, and Syrian opposition figure Moaz al-Khatib, shaping the final act of the night’s events.
Incredibly, even a legal framework was devised to legitimize the supposed “military movement” and remove hesitation among the soldiers involved. On July 14, 2016—just one day before the coup attempt—Erdoğan reinstated the EMASYA Protocol, a military-security coordination agreement previously abolished in 2010 for laying the legal foundation for coups. Even more telling, Law No. 6722, passed on June 23, 2016, was hurriedly published in the Official Gazette while Erdoğan was supposedly on vacation. Surely, Erdoğan did not revive EMASYA so the military could stage a coup against him. Rather, he needed it to legitimize the “revolution” he had planned for July 15. The law gave soldiers the authority to intervene in terror incidents without needing the permission of provincial governors—a detail that helps explain why many units believed they were responding to a terror threat when they left their barracks that night.
The sequence of events suggests that three separate operations were planned for the night of July 15.
It is well known that factions within the TSK include both NATO-aligned and Eurasianist groups. The plan took advantage of the rivalry between these factions. Operations were orchestrated to set them against each other during a supposed coup. Some military units were placed under NATO-aligned commanders, others under Eurasianists. These two groups were deployed at different times, with the aim of provoking confrontation — effectively laying the groundwork for a civil war.
Had this plan succeeded, a third stage would have been launched: Erdoğan would have activated his own military and paramilitary forces to carry out a final “coup,” completing his purge of the TSK and building a new army of his own — just like Mahmud II had done.
On the night of July 15, Hulusi Akar’s infamous remark — “We moved it up” — explains why part of the NATO-aligned officers were sent out in the evening and the Eurasianists later that night. The goal was to trigger panic in both camps and provoke them to act against one another. Because within the Turkish military, whichever faction initiates a coup traditionally eliminates the opposing group — as seen in the coups of May 27 and March 12.
Multiple provocations were launched that night to trigger violent clashes within the TSK. From orders to shoot down aircraft to plans to sink navy ships and bomb military units, a horrifying series of instructions was given. These orders often came not from authorized military figures but from civilians or unauthorized personnel — all of whom were part of the broader plan that was unfolding. The goal was clear: to ignite a full-blown internal conflict within the military, and potentially a nationwide civil war. What if, for instance, the 1st and 2nd Armies had come to blows? Fortunately, disaster was averted due to the restraint and judgment of TSK personnel.
Meanwhile, the Eurasianist faction gained the upper hand. By appearing to align themselves with the police and civilian protesters, they quickly suppressed the confused and disoriented soldiers who had been deployed earlier in the evening. The situation began to shift in their favor.
Now, consider this: would a shift in military power toward the Eurasianists — who Erdoğan has long viewed as a major threat to his own political survival — really be something he desired? Wouldn’t it make more sense for him to continue playing these factions against each other? Especially when so many plots like the Sledgehammer (Balyoz) coup plan were still unresolved? It seems more likely that the rise of the Eurasianist faction was an unintended outcome of July 15 — one Erdoğan neither foresaw nor wanted.
Now, let’s examine the preparations Erdoğan made for what can only be described as a revolution — much like the one Khomeini led in Iran.
Just as Mahmud II raised the Sacred Banner to mobilize the public, Erdoğan summoned the people into the streets by having the call to prayer (sela) recited from mosque minarets across the country. The Directorate of Religious Affairs had made the necessary preparations in advance, and the imams executed the plan flawlessly. Through this maneuver, ordinary Turkish soldiers — Mehmetçik — were portrayed as enemies of Islam, paving the psychological groundwork for the lynchings that would follow that night.
Trucks loaded with sand had been staged ahead of time, ready to block the entrances to military barracks. The drivers, too, were on standby. When the time came, they moved swiftly to seal off the barracks, following orders to the letter.
In any real conflict, it is almost unthinkable for an unarmed civilian to even pass by a police station, let alone storm the headquarters of the military. Yet on the night of July 15, armed and trained paramilitary units disguised as civilians attacked key military installations like the General Staff building and hunted down soldiers. On the Bosphorus Bridge, they slit soldiers’ throats and threw their bodies into the sea. These actions were not spontaneous. They were the result of careful planning.
For example, retired officer Nevzat Tarhan — a close associate of Hulusi Akar and a man who once gave seminars to SADAT, widely regarded as Erdoğan’s secret army — openly discussed on live television how civilian groups had been organized to confront the military. As the head of the ASDER association, he described how its members had taken to the streets that night and carried out coordinated actions. His statements confirm that extensive preparations had been made in advance.
Erdoğan had also ensured that governors and police officials loyal to him were ready. Weapons and ammunition were pre-positioned for distribution to civilians, to be used against the military. Just as Mahmud II armed the public against the Janissaries, Erdoğan’s apparatus was lighting the fuse of a potential civil war.
There were also execution lists. Individuals across all state institutions had been cataloged. From the judiciary to the military and the police, anyone who could pose a threat to Erdoğan’s revolution had been marked. It is likely that some of these individuals were intended for execution in the event of full-scale conflict. When civil war failed to materialize, these lists were repurposed as purge rosters. For those who find the word execution excessive, I suggest revisiting the videos from that night — those calling openly for massacres.
This article has grown long, but we must not forget the critical role of Anadolu Agency during that period. More sophisticated than Mahmud II’s town criers, the agency served as a modern psychological warfare tool — spreading disinformation, amplifying emotional agitation, and fueling a carefully managed propaganda campaign. For example, it published photos of tortured generals, an unmistakable display of intimidation and humiliation.
And just as the Bektashi Sufi order was banned following the dissolution of the Janissary Corps, the Gülen Movement shared a similar fate after July 15. Did members of the movement play a role in the events of that night? The available evidence suggests that some individuals affiliated with the Gülen community were indeed involved — both among those who participated in the attempted coup and those who helped prevent it. This makes it difficult to argue for a coherent, institutional connection. In my view, certain Gülen-affiliated civilians recruited by intelligence agencies dragged some of the military personnel they knew into this dark plot.
In conclusion, it is clear that Erdoğan has not abandoned his ambition to neutralize the Turkish Armed Forces. Unable to eliminate the TSK entirely, he settled for a more pragmatic outcome: purging the NATO-aligned officers while deferring his battle with the Eurasianist faction. This was the short-term gain. NATO itself has acknowledged the purge of its sympathizers within the Turkish military. As a result, the TSK has lost its credibility as a trusted partner within NATO.
After July 15, the arrest of hundreds of generals, the near-total purge of the staff officer corps, the closure of all military academies, the dismantling of numerous barracks, and the granting of legal immunity to those who beheaded conscripted soldiers that night — all point to the continuation of Erdoğan’s war against the TSK. Legal privileges have since been extended to civilians who may participate in future operations against the army, and the structure of military service has been radically altered. Erdoğan’s campaign against the TSK is far from over. In fact, almost every day, more officers are arrested. His rhetoric against the armed forces — designed to stir public hatred — deserves a study in itself. There are thousands of examples of this language being used to turn the people against their own army.
Nine years have passed since the so-called July 15 Coup Attempt, yet Erdoğan’s fear of the military has not subsided. Even at the beginning of this year, he introduced two extraordinary new measures concerning the TSK: from now on, he will personally determine how long officers remain at their ranks and when they are eligible for promotion — and even the retirement age of the force commanders will be decided by him.
Over the past decade, the TSK has effectively been pushed back by 30 years — both in terms of military technology and in the dwindling presence of officers trained in NATO doctrine. The military has become so weakened that it now suffers double-digit casualties even during simple cave operations.
Although Erdoğan has failed to build a fully loyal military of his own, he has succeeded in transforming the TSK into a fragmented, anonymous institution filled with rival factions and distrustful officers.
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