Days before Donald Trump landed in Ankara for the NATO Leaders Summit on July 7, activists in Istanbul made sure the world would see what Turkish authorities were trying to contain. A massive banner stretched across the Haliç Bridge — one of the city’s busiest crossings — reading: “Hide your children, Trump is coming.” The image went viral within hours. By then, Turkish police had already detained over 200 people to ensure the protests stayed off the streets where world leaders might notice them.
A Bridge, a Banner, and a Message That Traveled Faster Than Trump Could Land
The Haliç Bridge is not a minor landmark. It spans the Golden Horn in the heart of Istanbul, carrying thousands of commuters every day. Activists from Turkish leftist and anti-imperialist groups chose it precisely because it couldn’t be ignored — and because a banner hung over a major artery gets photographed and shared before authorities can even arrive to tear it down. That’s guerrilla activism working exactly as intended: the image spread across X (formerly Twitter), TikTok, and Bluesky long before any official response.
The wording wasn’t accidental. “Hide your children” is a provocative frame that fuses two strands of anger: the Epstein-related allegations that have followed Trump for years — and which demonstrators argue no institution has seriously confronted — and the broader accusation that U.S. foreign policy has put children in danger, particularly in Gaza. For the activists who organized this action, those two criticisms are not separate. They are the same argument about power and accountability, just applied at different scales. The history of Trump and Epstein allegations stretches back decades and remains unresolved in ways that continue to fuel exactly this kind of public fury.
200 Arrests, Tear Gas, and a Crackdown Designed to Be Invisible
The protests weren’t limited to one banner. The Communist Party of Turkey (TKP) led marches in Ankara’s Kızılay Square and in Istanbul neighborhoods including Taksim and Kadıköy, where police deployed tear gas to disperse crowds. Demonstrators carried signs reading “No to NATO,” “NATO chain will be broken,” and “Murderer USA, get out of the Middle East.” The total number of summit-related detentions climbed past 200, with more than 100 arrested in a single TKP-led march in Ankara alone.
The crackdown went further than street protests. Independent journalists were denied accreditation to cover the summit. Academics, lawyers, and at least one comedian — who had mocked President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan in a routine — were detained in what Human Rights Watch described as a “ruthless intolerance” of free speech. Turkish authorities cited anti-terror investigations, including operations targeting ISIS and far-left organizations. Opposition figures called it something simpler: a deliberate effort to hand Trump a quiet, protest-free backdrop. Miles of physical barricades were erected across Ankara to keep demonstrators pushed out of frame.
What Erdoğan Got Out of Hosting Trump
While hundreds were detained outside, the diplomatic picture inside was warm. Trump publicly stated he was attending the Ankara summit largely out of personal friendship with Erdoğan, acknowledging he might have skipped the summit otherwise. That kind of statement is a gift for an authoritarian leader under domestic pressure: it signals that Washington’s goodwill is personal, not contingent on democratic norms or rule of law.
The material stakes were real too. The summit coincided with negotiations over Turkey’s potential return to the F-35 fighter jet program and a reported $700 million deal for U.S. jet engines — moves that drew sharp criticism from regional allies, including Israel. Meanwhile, Ekrem İmamoğlu, the elected Mayor of Istanbul who has been imprisoned amid what critics call a politically motivated prosecution, remains behind bars. Erdoğan’s critics argue the warm optics with Trump serve as an international seal of approval for exactly that kind of democratic backsliding. The protesters on the Haliç Bridge understood what they were looking at. Their banner didn’t make it onto the summit’s official agenda — but it made it everywhere else.
