Right before the standup comic Deniz Goktas poked fun at the president in a special, he warned the crowd he was about to say something unpleasant, cleared his throat and made a face as if he might get in trouble. It’s a move you’ve seen from countless American comedians, but since this took place in Turkey, the stakes were different.
One week after he released his special on YouTube in June, Goktas, 32, was jailed for, among other crimes, insulting the president, Recep Tayyip Erdogan.
Cracking down on comedians has become increasingly common around the world. Jokes put a Russian comic in prison and a Chinese one under investigation. Then there’s the government pressure in this country that was widely considered to be behind ABC’s decision to briefly take Jimmy Kimmel off the air.
But Goktas is probably the biggest star to do jail time for comedy this year. “Dead Sea,” his second special, racked up 15 million views (you can see it with English translation). He has toured the world and performed at the New York Comedy Festival, speaking Turkish to sold-out crowds. His standup style will be recognizable to American comedy fans: Mischievous, wry political satire that finds unexpectedly personal angles on hot-button political topics. Think the relaxed vibe of Jerrod Carmichael with the satirical edge of Jon Stewart.
After three months in a jail cell near inmates like a famous folk singer and a journalist who had cheered Goktas’s arrest (“I spent my time trying not to empathize with him but it was hard because he was my neighbor”), he stood trial last week. He delivered a boldly passionate defense of free speech and the role of standup comedy in a free society along with a granular argument for his innocence. He cited Lenny Bruce, explaining how the American performer was prosecuted in 1964 for a comedy routine, then received a posthumous apology from the governor of New York nearly four decades later.
Goktas described his jokes about the president as mild. The “unpleasant” one involved him complimenting Erdogan on transitioning from a “shy dictator” to one newly confident and at peace with himself.
He was convicted and sentenced to 19 months in prison. But Goktas was released and given the chance to appeal. On Tuesday, in his first interview since getting out of prison, he spoke with The New York Times on a video call with the help of a translator, Enes Uysal, his manager.
He talked about life in prison, where he wrote 20 minutes of new material that he hopes to put onstage next year, and sounded optimistic about his appeal, but not so much that he didn’t pass on a few questions about specific jokes. Goktas also described how the arrest changed his perspective and about what message he was trying to send with his court statement. Here are edited excerpts from our conversation.
When you received your sentence, what was your first thought?
I wasn’t expecting to be released so it was an enormous relief. Everyone who read my defense statement — my lawyers and the people around me — told me it could keep me in jail a little longer. My priority was not to get out as soon as possible.
What was the aim of your message?
I didn’t want to be apologetic. Freedom of speech is not only an issue here. In most parts of the world, people are afraid of punishment or public backlash when they speak. I wanted to give an example to other people who do comedy. You can speak freely. You don’t have to be scared. Spending three months in prison is terrible, but I wanted to demonstrate that it isn’t something an artist can’t handle in defense of a principle.
You said, “What happened to me increased my belief in my work.” Why?
As I got bigger and more established, I had more to lose. I started self-censoring my work. That bugged me. The people who came to my shows — students, retirees — were more courageous in their daily lives while I was becoming more cowardly. That made me feel like a hypocrite. There is a song I loved — it plays during the closing credits of my special — about a poet who sold out. It felt bad that it was relatable. To feel better about myself, I returned to saying whatever I found funny regardless of the consequences. It might be a bit romantic, but my first day in the cell, I slept the best sleep of my life.
Are you more or less worried now about making jokes onstage?
Hard question. Let me think about it. In my personal life, I’m a bit afraid and socially awkward. I’m not courageous. But throughout this process, my self-doubt disappeared. I tasted this confidence that I didn’t have before. And now that I had that taste in my mouth, I don’t think I could live without it. It felt good.
You performed this material all over Turkey for three years with no trouble. Why do you think the government got involved now?
There is a difference between live audiences and the ones that see your clips online. That’s the universal difference. Turkey’s past wasn’t particularly free either, but there were comedians on mainstream television doing material much more harsh than mine. They had their problems as well, but there wasn’t this level of consequences about doing jokes. If they heard my jokes, they would find them soft. The tolerance has declined significantly in recent years. In a strange way, there’s something encouraging about it. If leaders can be this fragile about jokes, it’s a sign of the power of comedy.
Were there any dark moments in jail where you regretted the special?
Not even one second. It was the period of my life when I felt the least lonely.
One comment I saw on YouTube below your special was from a Turkish person saying, “This makes me feel like I live in a free country.”
That captures what I was trying to achieve. Through every joke, gesture and moment of irreverence, I wanted to remind the audience and myself that the things I was talking about were ordinary. I worked carefully on the casualness.
What can comedy do to fight authoritarianism?
I think it’s limited. It can offer empathy and motivation. It can maybe give people courage to speak. But that’s it. No more. Psychological support.
In your special, there’s a giant replica of your head sitting behind you.
I wanted to show a head that is cut off, like with a guillotine, because the show is built around death and censorship.
You do talk about dissidents in prison and suggest at one point the government might be watching. Does the fact you were arrested prove the premise of your joke about the president becoming less of a “shy dictator”?
I’d rather not answer, but there’s an answer to that in my defense statement.
You mentioned Lenny Bruce in your statement. What lesson do you take from his comedy?
Being true to yourself. I see in him the feeling of a mischievous child, that lack of restraint, which is one of my favorite things about comedy.
After Bruce’s arrest, he turned comedy shows into analyses of his court cases. Some thought it hurt his comedy
I didn’t know about this. But one of the first things I wrote in my diary in prison is: Don’t talk about this case in my shows too much.
Have American comedians besides Bruce inspired you?
Doug Stanhope. He was one of the first comedians translated into Turkish. He could fill a big theater here. George Carlin is the other one. The first standup bit I watched was Stanhope on nationalism. After Carlin and Stanhope, I listen to Louis C.K. and Mike Birbiglia, Sarah Silverman, Joe List, Jerrod Carmichael.
Why do governments go after comedians?
Comedians are supposed to play with boundaries. Other artists can do their job without touching those subjects. Ultimately, I don’t think they’re only going after comedians. They want to silence everyone.
Have you followed the news about the. U.S. government putting pressure on late-night shows like “The Late Show With Stephen Colbert”?
Yes.
Do you see parallels with crackdowns in Turkey?
I struggle to draw a connection between America and Turkey. . American comedians seem much freer to me. But maybe in the future, there could be similarities between us and you guys.
American comedians often complain about cancel culture and the chill of attacks online.
I don’t want to brag, but we have cancel culture — and jail.
How has this experience changed you?
It’s a little early to say. But I thought about this on the inside. Sometimes, life isn’t just about doing things that make you happy. You can be fulfilled by things as simple as sleeping, drinking tea. And even in the worst situation, you can feel free.
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