I know the title is very cliché. But for a very cliché regulation, a very cliché title seemed appropriate. When Russia introduced a foreign agent law in 2012, it claimed that the purpose was to register those who received support from abroad and thus to record who might be under foreign influence. At first, the law concerned those engaged in political activity, but later it was expanded to cover the media as well. By 2022, the Russian government added the vague and open-ended concept of “being under foreign influence” to the law, allowing it to declare any person or institution as a foreign agent for any reason.
As the cherry on top of this authoritarian cake, the Russian government also gained the authority to prevent anyone it designated as a foreign agent from running for any elected position. In short, Putin built a legal foundation over twelve years that gave him the authority to push all his opponents out of competition legally if not lawfully.
In Türkiye, the rumors about such a law began in government-controlled media. The proposal first entered the public agenda through a news article in Yeni Şafak titled “Penalty for agents of influence is coming” and continued to be discussed for days in other pro-government outlets under the same label. Yılmaz Tunç, the Minister of Justice, whose main function seems to be repeatedly declaring that “Türkiye is a state of law,” claimed about five months later that they were not preparing an agent of influence law but merely a regulation on espionage. He did not feel the need to explain why he had remained silent throughout the five months of debate.
Tunç argued that the purpose of the bill was merely to ensure that crimes committed with espionage intent would also be punished as espionage. When the text of the bill was released, it became clear that we were not dealing with a registration system for foreign agents, as seen in some other countries, but rather with a law that introduced a new espionage offense into the penal code. The bill stipulated punishment for those who committed crimes “against the security of the state and against its internal or external political interests in line with the strategic interests or instructions of a foreign state or organization.”
The draft contained excessively broad and vague concepts. Terms such as “political interests of the state,” “strategic interest,” or “instruction” were left entirely undefined. This ambiguity placed the determination of who might be considered a “spy” solely at the discretion of the political authorities. Rather than serving as a measure of transparency, it created a pretext for arresting more individuals on the basis of ambiguous wording. So what exactly constitutes state security or political interests? For example, could not wanting the Turkish president to be re-elected be considered acting in line with the strategic interests of a foreign state? Are the members of the girl band Manifest spies simply because their videos were blocked on the grounds of national security? Are those who criticize the government for its ongoing trade with Israel during the massacre in Gaza to be labeled as spies? If this law passes, who will decide what counts as the internal or external political interests of the Republic of Türkiye? As with the disinformation law, will it simply mean whatever the government chooses it to mean? Any prosecutor could accuse virtually anyone of espionage for almost any legal activity.
In a climate where even relations with the Council of Europe, of which Türkiye is a founding member, and with the European Union, for which it is a candidate, are portrayed as evidence of criminal conduct, it is very clear what purposes this law would serve. Even bringing Türkiye’s ongoing arbitrary detentions before the European Court of Human Rights could be considered contrary to Türkiye’s “internal political interests.”
Even in Russia, which has hardly experienced democracy, this was only possible through a legal framework built over twelve years. In Türkiye, the government wanted to create such an arrangement at once to declare anyone it wanted a spy and arrest them.
Look, they have it too!
Government-controlled media did everything it could to portray this law as perfectly normal. Anadolu Agency, for example, reported that there were similar laws in countries such as the United States, the United Kingdom, Germany, and Australia in an effort to justify the bill. Interestingly, although the Anadolu Agency report also mentioned Russia and Georgia, the map it used did not mark those countries, as it sought to conceal the fact that the regulations there served anti-democratic purposes, just like the draft in Türkiye. The underlying assumption was that emphasizing such regulations as “also present in the West” would make the bill appear legitimate.
There is a clear distinction between the laws in countries such as Russia and Belarus, which aim to criminalize and brand as traitors anyone who speaks about democracy and human rights, and the bills in countries that follow their path, such as Hungary and Georgia, on the one hand, and the laws in liberal democratic countries on the other. For example, in the United States, the regulation criminalizes the failure to disclose if you represent a foreign power. This regulation does not leave “being under the influence of another state” as a vague definition. The Russian-style foreign agent regulation, on the other hand, specifically targets civil society organizations, media outlets, and opposition figures through ambiguous terms. It can even label anyone who receives a small donation from abroad as a foreign agent and punish them for not registering.
Another difference lies in the terminology. The expression etki ajanı (“agent of influence”), frequently used by circles around the AKP, was not chosen by accident. In 1972, KGB Chairman Yuri Andropov spoke of the need to fight агентами влияния (“agents of influence”), coining a concept that served to accuse anyone who interacted with foreigners or held liberal views of being a traitor. In the regulation adopted in Russia in 2012, the expression иностранный агент (“foreign agent”) was chosen. Although its literal translation is the same as foreign agent in U.S. law, the term does not correspond to the same meaning. In English, “agent” simply means “representative,” clearly referring to the activity itself. In Turkey, as in Russia, however, it carries a negative connotation and primarily evokes the word “spy.” In fact, in the Turkish Language Association dictionary, the first meaning of the word ajan (agent) is “spy.” In short, this is not a neutral designation but an accusation. For precisely this reason, the term “agent of influence” has been so frequently used in the media.
Another peculiarity of the intended regulation in Turkey is that the text of the proposal was kept secret until it reached the parliamentary commission, leaving the public to debate the issue only based on rumors. By contrast, the European Union has been discussing a draft regulation on foreign influence since 2019. In Turkey, however, the law was pushed forward without open debate, in a manner incompatible with democratic standards.
Why then?
There is a phrase I often use when discussing many legal regulations in Turkey: “If things were going well for the government, we would not be talking about this.” The restrictive and criminalizing measures introduced in every sphere where legitimate opposition might exist are no coincidence. For example, the “Disinformation Law,” which granted the government the authority to determine what constitutes the truth—much like Orwell’s Ministry of Truth—was not coincidentally rushed through parliament in the middle of the night. Over the past three years, this law has repeatedly been used to silence opposition voices or to prevent the exposure of the government’s own disinformation.
Similarly, the Internet Law, turned into a Frankenstein’s monster, has given numerous institutions the authority to block access to websites without court approval, in ways that defy rational explanation. Access blocking has now reached such a point that, whereas banned sites once displayed a notice indicating which authority imposed the ban and under which decision number, today we frequently encounter web pages that are simply inaccessible, with no explanation whatsoever, leaving us uncertain whether any competent authority ever issued a lawful order. In addition, the government slows down access to social media platforms whenever it anticipates rising criticism, again under the pretext of “national security.”
If this bill becomes law, it will pose a serious threat to civil society organizations, the media, and even opposition parties. As we saw in Russia, any media outlet publishing content that displeases the government could be branded an “agent.” The mere stigmatization created by the word “spy” would be enough to push many politicians out of the race.
The fate of the proposal
The bill was withdrawn on both occasions it was brought before parliament, following public pressure and the efforts of the opposition. Yet this is not enough. Nothing demonstrates being under the influence of foreign powers more clearly than attempting to impose on Turkey a Russian-style foreign agent law of the kind seen in states orbiting Moscow. What Turkey needs to do is to discard this proposal once and for all and ensure that it is never revived.