Veysi Polat, Öznur Değer, Murat Bayram ve Faruk Balıkçı, the journalists worked in Diyarbakır for years facing various pressures, assessed limitations and challenges of being a journalist in Diyarbakır.

140journos’ documentary “Şeytantepe,” about the Narin Güran murder, has reignited an old debate about what it means to practice journalism in Diyarbakır.

Throughout the 1990s, journalists in Diyarbakır and the surrounding region were victims of “unsolved” murders, detained, tortured, and imprisoned; and the distribution of newspapers was banned. While “unsolved” murders were no longer as common in the 2000s, the judiciary and law enforcement agencies made it difficult for journalists to report from the field. Arrests, forced exile, and house arrests kept journalists away from their profession; newspapers, TV channels, radio stations and websites were shut down, leaving hundreds of journalists unemployed. Journalists who have been reporting from this region for years recounted the hardships they faced and the price of being present in the field.

Veysi Polat: The reality in field is harsh

Veysi Polat started journalism on 1991 in Diyarbakır. He and his uncle, who was a reporter at Özgür Gündem newspaper, were together attacked with a gun. He had to go to İstanbul continue his profession there. Polat who worked for many years in press organizations that came from the Özgür Gündem tradition, returned to Diyarbakır after 21 years and built a local news platform called Aborî.

Polat, stating security politics, judgement processes, social sensitivities and local dinamics in Diyarbakır severely restricts the journalist’s freedom of movement, told that the reality in the field was harsh and that the space to convey that reality was limited. stated that practicing journalism in a city directly affected by the Kurdish issue, requires every news to be thought for at least few times, every sentences to be regulated, and said “Not only what you write, but also what you do not write is becomes a responsibility.”

Polat explaining the difference between doing journalism in Diyarbakır and in Western cities through the lens of “the weight of the profession,” stated that when he returned to Diyarbakır from Istanbul after 21 years, he realized that the meaning, risks, and burden of journalism had changed when the geography changed.

How is a local new is altered to another?

Polat stated that he believes information transferred from the local to the central level is often either diminished or transformed, emphasizing that this transformation often passes through political, institutional, and ideological filters:

“Especially in central media, the reflex of not harming the relationship between the institutions and government can prevent the news from being reported as it is. This leads either to overt censorship or a more sophisticated form of ‘cover-up’. As a result, the news may reflect not the event itself, but the version that the center wants to see.”

Polat reminding an example happened on 90s, “When the news of a citizen, a shepherd in the rural area of ​​Cizre, being killed in a security forces operation reached the center, it was transformed into a completely different identity and presented as ‘a PKK member neutralized in the operation.’ However, information and photographs from the field show that the truth is much more stark and shocking. The image of a person being dragged behind an armored vehicle, tied by their feet, is a document of the truth. But that image is ignored because it doesn’t fit the narrative constructed by the center. Our decision to publish it with the headline ‘Humanity is being dragged’ at that time was actually to show the truth as it was,” he said.

The reality in local is experienced more rawly and more directly, while the mainstream media often softens this harshness, and sometimes makes it completely invisible.

The Narin Güran case: Being the one who reports correctively, not just first

Polat states that how cases like Narin Güran are reported directly affects the geography, language, and framing of the news. “If a similar incident had occurred in Istanbul, the news flow would likely have proceeded in a more institutional, distant, and controlled manner,” he said. Noting that media headquarters in major cities have stronger editorial oversight mechanisms, better access to diverse sources, and faster fact-checking processes, Polat explained that in a place like Diyarbakır—where political and social sensitivities are intense—the process works differently:

“We saw reports that began as a simple missing child case in the early days evolve into a different dimension within a short time through various allegations, dark connections, and leaked information. Specifically, the leaking of certain information and documents from law enforcement and judicial sources to specific media outlets revealed a picture where relationship networks, rather than journalistic reflexes, were the determining factor.”

Polat highlighted two fundamental issues at this point: “First, the lack of a healthy distance in the relationship between the journalist and the news source strengthens a practice based on transmission rather than interrogation. This can turn the journalist into a producer of information rather than just its carrier. Second is information pollution and manipulation. Especially in sensitive cases, information served piece-by-piece can serve to direct public opinion rather than enlighten it. This creates serious perceptual confusion in society.”

Stating that both the political atmosphere and the source structure in Diyarbakır can create a ground more open to such interventions, Polat emphasized that the issue boils down to the core principle of journalism: Being the one who reports correctly, not just the one who reports first.

“Journalism was a struggle for survival”

Comparing today’s conditions with those of the 1990s and early 2000s, journalist Polat noted that Diyarbakır existed within an extraordinary atmosphere during the periods when the Kurdish issue was most intense. Describing a process in the early 90s where human rights were suspended and life was devalued, Polat explained that journalism then was not just a profession but a struggle for survival:

“People were being shot in the back of the head in broad daylight, villages were being burned, forced migrations were occurring, and enforced disappearances and torture were becoming part of daily life. Practicing journalism in such an environment was truly like wearing a ‘shirt of fire.’ The fact that on June 8, 1992, while walking from home to the newspaper office with my uncle, journalist Hafız Akdemir, we were attacked and he lost his life, is enough to explain the darkness of that era.”

Polat noted that while journalists could be massacred in the middle of the street in those years, the primary difference today is that such an overt and large-scale practice of physical elimination no longer exists. Pointing out that things are possible today that were not in the 90s, Polat said, “Thanks to digital media, news can spread much faster, and opportunities arise to make one’s voice heard through alternative channels. It is not as easy as it once was to completely blackout a story.”

Journalism is now a more heavily monitored profession

However, he explained that this situation has not eliminated pressure; rather, the methods have changed, and journalism is restricted today through different tools:

“Obstructions while following news in the field, detentions, lawsuits, long judicial processes, digital access bans, and pressures exerted through social media have come to the forefront. Direct violence has been replaced by a monitoring mechanism that appears more ‘legal’ and ‘administrative’ but has an undeniable impact. Today, while journalism is faster and more accessible on one hand, it is a profession that is more closely watched and more easily targeted on the other.”

Öznur Değer: Diyarbakır, a city that turns written fate into struggle

Öznur Değer began her career as a female journalist six years ago in Diyarbakır. For her, practicing journalism in Diyarbakır means extracting a new story from every inch of a city that has been the center of special warfare policies and state pressure since the 90s.

Değer states that Diyarbakır is a place where there is an attempt to alter the city’s sociology—politically, socially, economically, and culturally—ranging from drugs and prostitution to assimilation and moral decay. She also notes that it is a place where the consequences of the Kurdish issue manifest in their severest form:

“From children collecting scrap paper on the streets to the Peace Mothers crying out for peace; from families waiting for their loved ones in front of prisons to mothers searching for the bones of their children; from mothers keeping watch over their children’s graves so they won’t be desecrated to women arrested for shouting ‘Jin, jiyan, azadî’ (Woman, Life, Freedom) in the field—Amed is a deeply political place.”

“The journalists most obstructed by police are women journalists”

For Değer, being a female journalist in Diyarbakır means overcoming walls of fear with courageous pens:

“While many of our colleagues were massacred in the 90s just for reporting the truth, and more recently, while Nagihan Akarsel in Sulaymaniyah and Cihan Bilgin in Rojava were murdered for their persistence in the truth, we are practically shuttling between the police headquarters, the courthouse, and the prison. On one hand, we reveal the dimensions of ‘special warfare’ through our reports on the women most affected by it; on the other, we are investigated and prosecuted because of those very reports.”

Emphasizing that many female journalists, herself included, have been tried and arrested due to the stories they uncovered, Değer noted that they are also subjected to numerous restrictions:

“Our agency, JINNEWS, which serves as an example to the world as a women’s news agency, has been blocked by the BTK (Information and Communication Technologies Authority) numerous times, and its digital media accounts have been shut down.”

Değer also stated that as female journalists, they are engaged in a tough struggle against other journalists to counter the increasingly masculinized language of the press, noting that the journalists most obstructed by police in the field are, once again, women. Having worked as a journalist in Ankara for a period, Değer explained that Ankara is the place where the policies implemented in Diyarbakır are decided:

“I saw both the memory, the legacy, and the values of a people in Amed -along with the struggle to protect them- and I saw Ankara as the place where the decisions for the policies produced there are made. For me, one was a city writing a fate (giving the orders), while the other was a place turning that written fate into a struggle.”

“MKG makes the labor of women journalists visible”

In Diyarbakır, a city with a dense population of Kurdish and politically active people, Değer says the greatest solidarity network for female journalists is the Mesopotamia Women Journalists Association (MKG):

“MKG not only puts a spotlight on the difficulties, pressures, and problems faced by women journalists and prepares monthly reports on them, but it also works to establish a female language in the press and make the labor of women journalists -who are often marginalized- visible. In this sense, it transforms their experiences into solidarity by giving presence to women’s voices and colors, weaving together the organized struggle of women journalists.”

“Many facts were distorted in the Narin case”

Değer notes that the Narin Güran case has turned into a sensationalist soap opera—a result of the sociological decay bred by “special warfare.” She states, “Rather than uncovering how and by whom Narin was murdered, many journalists, especially those coming from outside, focused on allegations of a ‘forbidden affair’ between Narin’s mother and uncle, evolving the incident into a dimension that veils the truth.”

Değer argues that if the same situation had occurred in Istanbul, the identity of a child’s killer would not remain in mystery, and the judiciary would display a different, more analytical stance:

“The fact that this happened in Kurdistan and has a political background has significant impacts. Indeed, Galip Ensarioğlu’s words in the early days of the incident, which exonerated the event and potential perpetrators, remain fresh in our memory. In Istanbul, the media—which in Amed pursued tabloid sensationalism day and night—would have focused on the perpetrators. Here, many facts were distorted by prioritizing historical, cultural, and tribal factors. Instead, the incident should have been handled as a social problem from the very beginning, pursuing the truth and all the power dynamics and elements in the background.”

Stating that journalists carry historical responsibility and conscientious obligations, Değer said the only way forward is to shout the truth fearlessly.

Murat Bayram: There is a special police group in Diyarbakır that only deals with journalists

Murat Bayram began his journalism career in 2010. After years of working for both international media and outlets broadcasting from the Kurdistan Region, Bayram now manages Botan International, which provides training for journalists and produces news in Diyarbakır. According to Bayram, practicing this profession in Diyarbakır inevitably means acquiring a political identity:

“It starts with the assumption among social, religious, and other groups that you are directly a propaganda tool. Both Kurds and the government perceive you as highly partisan. They may perceive you as a potential propaganda tool or a terrorist.”

As he worked in Istanbul for a time, Bayram noted that one can blend into the crowd while following news there. In Diyarbakır, however, he noted that there is a specific police group that only deals with journalists, who are attending every press conference, photographing journalists, knowing them by name, knowing where they work, and knowing which stories they cover, and that the pressure is more intense:

“When I first started in 2010, we would go to a story with 40-50 people. With so many journalists, you didn’t stand out much. Now, when we go to a press briefing, only 3-5 cameras show up. Everyone handles their work by gathering news from social media and agencies. This causes the existing pressure to be felt more clearly.”

“The Press Advertising Agency does not support the Kurdish language”

Bayram, who also prepares reports on the structure and problems of Kurdish media in Turkey, stated that while there are over 20 million Kurds in Turkey, there is only one news agency and only four websites broadcasting daily in Kurdish. He noted that before the end of the resolution process in 2015-2016, there were 9 television channels in Diyarbakır producing Kurdish programs, with at least 4 broadcasting exclusively in Kurdish. Currently, only Zarok TV and one local newspaper broadcast in Kurdish in Diyarbakır. Pointing out that TRT has the largest presence in Diyarbakır with over 40 media representatives, Bayram said, “It is understandable that TRT exists; what is not understandable is that only TRT exists. The only television making Kurdish news programs is the state’s television.”

Bayram mentioned that the Press Advertising Agency is the biggest sponsor of local media, yet all local newspapers are exclusively in Turkish. He explained that this is because Kurdish is not among the languages supported by the agency for publishing.

“For a Kurdish media institution to survive, it needs an economic resource,” says Bayram. According to his accounts, Google Ads does not support Kurdish in Turkey, and Kurdish media cannot receive payments from the Press Advertising Agency:

“When it’s in Kurdish, you cannot receive the advertisements that the state publishes using our own taxes. Kurdish podcasts were listed among Turkish podcasts. Kurdish music is still evaluated in the Turkish music category.”

Bayram expressed that producing Kurdish content is devalued as if it were mere volunteer work: “Reporters for Kurdish media are not exempt from rent, food costs, or vehicle costs. But while they are putting in the labor, they are exempted from receiving the wages for that labor.”

Faruk Balıkçı: In local media, you are in the ‘kitchen’ of the work

Faruk Balıkçı, who began his career at Anadolu Agency, has served as the Diyarbakır representative for outlets such as Milliyet and Hürriyet newspapers, IMC TV, and Doğan News Agency. Having worked for both national and local media for many years, Balıkçı stated that Diyarbakır is the regional center for journalism. He noted that due to the impact of wars in Iraq and Syria and the long-standing environment of conflict, Diyarbakır journalists have, in a sense, become ‘war correspondents’:

“Because of its central location and being a place where news prioritized by Turkey occurs, journalists do not just do local journalism. They simultaneously do international journalism. This makes the journalists here more effective.”

Balıkçı, who previously worked in mainstream media, explained that the readership and sphere of influence change between national and local newspapers:

“When you voice a local problem or negativity, officials take it into account and correct it the next day. This is important for the local area and makes one happy from a journalistic perspective. In a national newspaper, because you report on more general news, you have to access more restricted information. But if you are a local journalist, you have to exert more effort to voice the many problems experienced in the locality or region.”

Balıkçı stated that a local journalist reporting on local issues also serves a supervisory role by pointing out shortcomings.

Explaining that a journalist working for media that appeals to the general public only produces the news, while centers like Istanbul shape it, Balıkçı said: “It’s not like that in local media. In local media, you are in the kitchen of the work. You can write and present what you see in the format you want. Nothing else touches your story.”

“In this regard, local media provides more alternatives. You are freer in local media because you are in the kitchen of the work.”