For a long time, his name was on everyone’s lips in Türkiye. That has now changed. Mentioning it today could lead to unpleasant consequences: Hakan Şükür, THE football hero of the Bosphorus. Football reporter Alper Bakircigil from the broadcaster TRT experienced this firsthand while commenting on the Morocco vs. Canada match during the 2022 World Cup. Morocco scored an early goal through Hakim Ziyech, prompting Bakircigil to remark that it evoked memories of the most significant game in Turkish national team history in 2002. Back then, Hakan Şükür scored just 11 seconds into the third-place playoff against South Korea, still the fastest goal in World Cup history. Bakircigil was replaced at halftime by a colleague.
Today, Hakan Şükür, once Türkiye’s most celebrated footballer, is a persona non grata, having fallen out of favor with President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan.
A recent interview with Şükür, aired in Europe, has caused a stir. Since leaving Türkiye, he has only given one interview to The New York Times. Now living in Palo Alto, near Apple’s headquarters, Şükür’s decision to speak to a German TV crew might seem surprising at first. However, Germany is home to the largest Turkish diaspora, ensuring his message would reach an audience that could understand and relate to it.
The term “fall from grace” is apt for Şükür. He isn’t just one of many popular Turkish footballers; he stands above them all. Şükür remains the most successful striker in the history of Galatasaray and the Turkish national team, scoring 51 goals for his country. His achievements in Turkish football remain unmatched: leading Türkiye to a third-place finish at the 2002 World Cup and winning the UEFA Cup with Galatasaray in 2000, the only European cup victory for a Turkish club.
However, Şükür’s career was quintessentially Turkish—he never truly found his footing abroad during stints with Torino, Inter Milan, or Parma. This made the admiration for him back home and among the Turkish diaspora all the greater. Yet, the man once called Kral (“the King”) is now officially ostracized. Galatasaray, the club synonymous with his name, erased all traces of him from its history, expelling him in 2017.
Hakan Şükür is an outcast. In the TV documentary featuring the interview, his story is described as having Shakespearean dimensions: the national hero turned pariah, cast out after falling afoul of the powerful. Initially, Şükür had close ties with Türkiye’s political elite. His political career mirrored his footballing one: meteoric. Erdoğan’s ruling AKP party exploited Şükür’s popularity, leveraging his status as a national icon akin to Johan Cruyff. However, this alliance was short-lived. By late 2013, Şükür resigned from the AKP, citing its hostile stance toward the movement of cleric Fethullah Gülen.
His association with the Gülen movement proved his undoing. Turkish authorities accuse Gülen of orchestrating the failed 2016 coup, which claimed over 300 lives. While Şükür’s opposition to Erdoğan’s regime might seem heroic, the Gülen movement itself is controversial, advocating a reactionary vision of society and seeking to transform Türkiye’s secular state.
Caught in the machinery of politics, Şükür’s once-close relationship with Erdoğan turned into bitter enmity, with severe consequences for him and his family. In the documentary, Şükür explains that life in Türkiye was made unbearable for him, prompting his departure in 2015. Soon after, he was accused of insulting Erdoğan—a charge he denies. “I’ve committed no crime,” Şükür asserts. “I merely exposed them by refusing to side with them.” The relentless pursuit of Şükür serves as a stark warning: if even a figure of his stature isn’t safe, no one is. For Erdoğan’s critics, Şükür symbolizes the regime’s unforgiving crackdown on Gülen sympathizers post-coup.
Talking about Şükür has become taboo—not only in Türkiye but also in Germany. None of his teammates from the 2002 World Cup team, including prominent names like Ümit Davala, Yıldıray Baştürk, and İlhan Mansız, have commented on his plight. In a Berlin-based survey, while some respondents fondly recalled Şükür’s footballing achievements, none dared to discuss his political entanglements.
Legends already swirl around Şükür. A persistent rumor claims he now drives for Uber to make ends meet, though this is untrue. He works for a renowned online retailer, and while Turkish authorities have likely seized his domestic assets, there’s no evidence to suggest he is impoverished. Nevertheless, Şükür has lost nearly everything. If he were an ancient figure rather than a contemporary one, his story might already be irretrievable for historians.
A return to Türkiye remains unthinkable for Şükür, at least as long as Erdoğan is president. Şükür revealed in the documentary that he was offered amnesty if he publicly expressed regret for his actions. He refuses. “I try to stay upright,” he says. “Even if I had to justify myself before the largest crowd in the world with a noose above my head, I would take that step.”
