The fine black stone Ottoman gateway of the Karavanserai Hotel was just the same: guarded by two antique stone lions, the reception desk tucked away to the left of the door, the 18th-century Diyabarkir courtyard shaded with trees, the cool ground-floor rooms lining the square with their mottled black and white-striped walls. A quarter century ago, the hotel owner had knocked on my bedroom door – the one directly across the square from the gate – and behind him stood two men in black leather jackets. “I am sorry to bother you, Mr Fisk,” he said. “But some policemen are here to talk to you.”

Today, this was a hotel gone to seed. Back in 1991, foreign correspondents and aid workers ate and drank amid twinkling lights under the trees. But there were no more candles on the tables, no more dinners served beneath the trees. In fact, no more dinners served at all.

The bedroom I was shown to was unwashed. Dirty sheets lay on the floor. No self-respecting Turkish policeman would dare accost a foreign journalist in this grubby place today. Nor dare, I suspect, linger in the street outside – although there was a police vehicle idling at the end of the street where the local constabulary could hide behind their armour.

Even the police station round the corner had changed. When I was hauled in here 25 years ago, a lonely copper stood outside. Today the place is ringed by barbed wire, armed guards and sheets of iron anti-rocket screens. The menacing Turkish police who interrogated me all night with rubber coshes in their hands (some of them now in retirement, no doubt, a few perhaps no longer alive) have turned into armed sheep. The PKK have seen to that. No cop would wander the streets of Diyabarkir on his own today.

But those 25 years contain some lessons. The journey between then and now passes through a familiar narrative of Turkish repression and Kurdish revolt, of Turkish military indiscipline and pride, to outright army mutiny. Refugees lay, as always, at the heart of the story: depopulation, flight, hunger, fear.

In pictures: Turkey launches operation in Syria Show all 9 1 /9 In pictures: Turkey launches operation in Syria In pictures: Turkey launches operation in Syria Turkish tanks driving to the Syrian-Turkish border town of Jarabulus yesterday AFP/Getty In pictures: Turkey launches operation in Syria Turkish-backed gather on the outskirts of Jarabulus, Syria, ahead of an offensive on 24 August 2016 Reuters In pictures: Turkey launches operation in Syria Turkish army tanks make their way towards the Syrian border town of Jarabulus, Syria August 24, 2016 Reuters In pictures: Turkey launches operation in Syria Turkish soldiers return from Syria to Turkey with tanks after a military operation at the Syrian border as part of their offensive against the Islamic State (IS) militant group in Syria, Karkamis district of Gaziantep, Turkey, 25 August 2016 EPA In pictures: Turkey launches operation in Syria Turkish army tanks and Turkey-backed Syrian opposition forces move toward the Syrian border as pictured from Karkamis, Turkey, AP In pictures: Turkey launches operation in Syria Turkish tanks on their way to the Turkish-Syria border during an operation against Isis on 24 August 2016 EPA In pictures: Turkey launches operation in Syria Syrian opposition fighters being transported during preparations to enter Jarabulus in Karkamis, Turkey, on 24 August 2016. EPA In pictures: Turkey launches operation in Syria An air strike hitting Isis-controlled territory near Jarabulus, near the Turkish border, on 24 August 2016. EPA In pictures: Turkey launches operation in Syria A Turkish army tank and an armoured vehicle stationed near the border with Syria. Turkish media reports say Turkish artillery has launched new strikes at Isis targets across the border AP

It was an emergency American helicopter flight to a remote mountain region called Yashilova packed with refugees that brought about my own little drama all those years ago. Turkish troops had been stealing blankets and food from thousands of refugees fleeing the vengeful legions of Saddam Hussein’s army after the 1991 Gulf War, when we urged the Kurds and the Shiites to rise against the dictator and then left them to the gallows and Iraq’s execution squads. It was a disgraceful episode in which British Royal Marines objected to the looting and ended up pointing their rifles at their Nato allies. The Americans intervened just in time.

I wrote up this extraordinary story for The Independent’s front page. And the Turks were very, very angry.

I have to say now – all those years later – that I have always had a soft spot for the Daily Mail. For, however much I may rage against its vile and racist pages, the Mail’s man in Diyabarkir ran to my door when he saw the cops, pushed them aside when they told him to clear off and jumped in his car to chase me to the police station when I was arrested. The Indy’s local man unheroically high-tailed it to Istanbul when he heard of my arrest. But the Mail man even stormed into the police station to demand my release. Which is how our mates should behave towards us.

But now to the interesting bit. A police inspector (no less) demanded to know why I had written such disgraceful things about the Turkish army (because they were true) and if I had taken any photographs of the event (no, but I didn’t tell him that). Unknown to me – this lasted until past four in the morning – the Turkish government had already decided to punish the Marines for their audacity by deporting the entire unit from Turkey. They were “redeployed” to the “safe zone” of northern Iraq. But what the cops wanted from me – an exhausted embassy second secretary from Ankara translating through the night while vainly pleading with me not to answer any questions – was an admission that I had defamed the Turkish army.

There would be a trial. Defaming the Turkish military was a crime. So I thought this should be a court hearing with a difference. I knew what my defence would be. “My father always told me that Mustafa Kemal Ataturk was one of the titans of the 20th century,” I told the inspector. “I believe my father was right. Unfortunately, some of your soldiers at Yasilova did not obey the high standards and principles set by Mustafa Kemal Ataturk, the founder of the Turkish nation.”

It was enough. No court would want to hear me defending Ataturk against the thieves of the Turkish army. The word “deport” began to be muttered inside the police station. And so it came to pass. I was put on a flight from Ankara to Frankfurt next day.

Syria’s Kurds stand at a crossroads in the region’s history

So when I returned to Diyabarkir a quarter century later, on 9 October 2016 to be precise, a few thoughts raced through my mind. The place was a closed military area, banned to journalists without a special pass – I followed the time-honoured tradition of seeking no such permission – and Diyabarkir air base was still roaring with Turkish fighter-bombers. Back then, they had patrolled the skies over Turkish Kurdistan while American jets patrolled the skies over Iraqi Kurdistan. Now the Turkish planes were taking off to bomb Turkish and Syrian Kurdistan. The great Iraqi tormentor, Saddam Hussein – the Butcher of Baghdad himself – was never Turkey’s enemy. Nor, today, is Isis. Nor, I think, is Syrian President Bashar al-Assad.

The Kurds are Turkey’s enemy, just as they always were. Back then, there was butchery between the PKK and the army in the remote villages of Kurdistan. Today, there is butchery between the same two groups in Diyabarkir and Cizre and Nusaybin, and the other Kurdish cities of south-eastern Turkey.

But more important, back then, was the supposed dignity and equally supposed honour of the Turkish army. To call them thieves was apostasy. You could be put on trial for that – or, if you were lucky enough to be a foreigner, deported. But these same untouchable soldiers are today locked up, their generals beaten in prison, their officers about to stand trial for their lives after participating in the attempted July coup against the Turkish president.

In pictures: Turkey coup attempt Show all 17 1 /17 In pictures: Turkey coup attempt In pictures: Turkey coup attempt Turkish President Erdogan attends the funeral service for victims of the thwarted coup in Istanbul at Fatih mosque on July 17, 2016 in Istanbul, Turkey Burak Kara/Getty Images In pictures: Turkey coup attempt Soldiers involved in the coup attempt surrender on Bosphorus bridge with their hands raised in Istanbul on 16 July, 2016 Gokhan Tan/Getty In pictures: Turkey coup attempt A civilian beats a soldier after troops involved in the coup surrendered on the Bosphorus Bridge in Istanbul, Turkey, 16 July, 2016 REUTERS/Murad Sezer In pictures: Turkey coup attempt Surrendered Turkish soldiers who were involved in the coup are beaten by a civilian Reuters In pictures: Turkey coup attempt Soliders involved in the coup attempt surrender on Bosphorus bridge Getty In pictures: Turkey coup attempt Supporters of Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan wave flags as they capture a Turkish Army vehicle Getty In pictures: Turkey coup attempt People pose near a tank after troops involved in the coup surrendered on the Bosphorus Bridge in Istanbul, Turkey, 16 July, 2016 Reuters In pictures: Turkey coup attempt Turkish soldiers block Istanbul's Bosphorus Brigde Getty In pictures: Turkey coup attempt A Turkish military stands guard near the Taksim Square in Istanbul Reuters In pictures: Turkey coup attempt Pierre Crom/Twitter In pictures: Turkey coup attempt Turkish soldiers secure the area as supporters of Recep Tayyip Erdogan protest in Istanbul's Taksim square AP In pictures: Turkey coup attempt People demonstrate in front of the Republic Monument at the Taksim Square in Istanbul Murad Sezer/Reuters In pictures: Turkey coup attempt Turkish soldiers detain police officers during a security shutdown of the Bosphorus Bridge Reuters In pictures: Turkey coup attempt Turkish Army armoured personnel carriers in the main streets of Istanbul Getty In pictures: Turkey coup attempt Chaos reigned in Istanbul as tanks drove through the streets EPA/TOLGA BOZOGLU In pictures: Turkey coup attempt Turkish President Tayyip Erdogan speaks to media in the resort town of Marmaris Reuters In pictures: Turkey coup attempt Supporters of President Erdogan celebrate in Ankara following the suppression of the attempted coup Reuters

It is Turkey that has changed. The Kurdish-Turkish conflict – briefly and brilliantly lit by the chance of peace two years ago – goes miserably on. But Turkey’s army is now a broken force, its country contaminated by its constant interference in Syria, its supplies to Islamist rebels, its dirty secret trade deals with Isis and its equally secret weapons smuggling for the CIA.

The largest army in Nato is now led by a man who is cosying up to Vladimir Putin (after shooting down one of his aircraft and paying the literal price), but this may be a wise idea since that same largest army in Nato could probably not withstand a single Russian division.

No wonder, as the world snarls and cries its crocodile tears for eastern Aleppo and accuses Russia of war crimes – I saw a BBC reporter on World Service television this week actually referring to Russian “crimes” in true Cold War mode – scarcely a word of criticism passes the lips of Turkey’s president. There are, of course, quite a lot of little Aleppos scattered around south-eastern Turkey right now. No tears for them, of course; no talk of “crimes” by the BBC.