To see what democracy looks like when its institutions are under threat and its very survival is in question, we came to Istanbul. The streets were filled with supporters of President Erdogan, who’s been riding a wave of popularity that has kept him in power for 15 years. For a while, he was the face of a hopeful, modern Islam, an outlier in a region torn by conflict and tyranny. But over the past two years, he’s jailed tens of thousands of dissidents — professors, lawyers, journalists, anyone he wants — without trial. Now he’s called snap elections, hoping to return to office with more power than ever before. His critics fear he’s driving Turkey toward a dictatorship, that Turkey will be synonymous with Erdogan. Ahmet Sik was one of Turkey’s most fearless investigative journalists. Then, Erdogan’s government jailed him, twice. He was released in March, but he could end up back in prison. In the meantime, he decided to run for an opposition seat in Parliament. Erdogan supporters are mainly pious and conservative working-class Turks. They tout him as their champion — a kid from one of Istanbul’s blue-collar neighborhoods who thrust Turkey forward and unleashed a booming economy. That sense of collective accomplishment — it’s lifted Erdogan to become a symbol of national pride. Many people here see Erdogan as a moderate advocate of Muslim values who managed to push out the secular elite that had ignored the country’s religious majority for decades. His party is hosting a sundown meal for Ramadan in the streets. Among many reforms, Erdogan expanded religion in school curriculums and allowed women to wear headscarves in official institutions. “This is my choice, first of all. This is a freedom. They give it to me. This is our right to have it.” But for every Turk who praises Erdogan’s reforms, there’s one who will tell you that there is a disturbing subtext. Dissent is not tolerated. This is Yaren, a college freshman who was in prison for two months along with 13 other classmates, for attending a protest on campus. Yaren isn’t alone. We visited the newsroom of Cumhuriyet, Turkey’s oldest newspaper and one of the last independent voices in the country. In recent years, Erdogan has been one of the most prolific jailers of journalists in the world. Fourteen of Cumhuriyet’s executives and journalists were convicted of aiding terrorism. They’re out jail now, pending appeal. But they’re back at work, determined to expose the government that’s been trying to silence them. As the opposition tries to defy Erdogan, its greatest advantage right now is a sudden downturn in the economy. We traveled to Ordu, a village on the Black Sea, to ask ordinary people how they’re faring. More than 20 percent of the world’s hazelnuts ship from this one corner of the country. Muvaffak Aydemir, a farmer, said the slump is leaving him empty-handed. Later, Muvaffak went to a Farmers’ Union meeting to debate who to support in the upcoming election. Their frustration, echoed in small towns across the country, is shaking Erdogan’s rural base. To a country at a crossroads, Erdogan’s message about the future sounds either promising or terrifying.