Yıldız Ramazanoğlu
The Turkish original of this article was published as ‘Benim kendi küçük hikâyem 2’ on 18th June 2015. The first part had appeared on 11th June.
Time flies so fast that even talking about the election results has already become passé. Yet I keep writing in the belief that there might be those who like stories. Many are the doubtlessly valuable analyses that have been undertaken; mine is simply sharing a few experiences over the use of language.
Just about the time the AKP came to power, the US launched its offensive against Iraq based on false reports about Saddam Hussain's chemical weapons. As whole cities were being razed to the ground, libraries were being set afire, and museums were being pillaged, in order to meet face to face with our brothers and sisters in the Middle East and talk about our common will and destiny, we formed the Eastern Conference initiative and set out for Damascus in 2003. For five years, Hakan Albayrak, Nuray Mert, Oral and İpek Çalışlar, Nihal Bengisu, Mustafa Karaalioğlu, Mehmet Ocaktan, Ömer Laçiner, Aydın Çubukçu, Mehmet Bekaroğlu and many other friends too numerous to count got together to keep touring neighboring countries like Egypt, Lebanon, Iran, and Syria, where we conducted interviews and wrote articles. Htant Dink was one of the founders of the group, and when we went to Yerevan with him as our guide, it was Dink who became our shield against some rigidly hostile attitudes that confronted us. I've sought to recount all that in my Bağdat Fragmanı book [The Baghdad Fragment].
Hrant was our fellow traveler in the cause of regional peace. We were greatly saddened when he was shot, and all of us repeatedly wrote and spoke about it. But is it normal that while Hrant regarded all those trips and friendships as some of his most memorable life experiences, those who have appropriated him should see fit not to remember and mention them? And what can it mean when none of our articles is included in Tuba Çandar's compilation of articles about Hrant Dink?
In the meantime, contemporaneously with the Eastern Conference many civil society organizations upholding peace against aggression and occupation in the Middle East had come together to form the Global Peace and Justice Coalition. Together with liberal and leftist groups, the IHH, Mazlum-Der and Özgür-Der were also part of this coalition. We organized innumerable demonstrations and meetings. We took two buses to Incirlik in order to protest the existence of this American military base. In a sense, we were strengthening the AKP's hand so that it could adopt an anti-imperialist position. Those who took part in large rallies to prevent parliament from empowering government to allow US soldiers to be deployed in and to enter Iraq from Turkey were also volunteers for the coalition. And in the end, the decree did not pass.
Then during the 12th September 2010 referendum on constitutional change, all those people who had been saying that they were against a constitution that was the legacy of a military coup did a radical turnabout to quickly create a "No!" front. Others with common sense, however, argued that as a new constitution was needed, whilke partial changes would be enough a yes vote would still strike at the heart of military takeovers and hence might open the way for a new constitution.
When Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdoğan met with literary people as part of the AKP's democratic opening initiatives, he patiently listened to around sixty people for six hours and kept taking his own notes. He was saying that what was new in our lives was the will, courage, and determination to reach a solution, as well as a new approach to government that upheld change over maintaining the status quo. Here was a prime minister capable of embracing and conversing with all sorts of writers including those who were critical of him. I too had humbly taken the floor to give voice to the Saturday Mothers' sorrows, asking him to lend an ear to these mothers who for years had been meeting in front of Galatasaray High School every week on the same day and the same hour with pictures of their lost children or spouses. Surely others must also have drawn attention to this issue, but I would count myself happy if I have had anything to do, however little, with the PM coming together with these mothers and families shortly after at Dolmabahçe, and meeting and talking with Berfu Ana to share in her grief. Nevertheless, they keep hoping to be able to find at least the bones of their lost ones to this day.
In the meantime, the Initiative to "Say No to Military Coups" had already succeeded in having old and bearded uncles from Ümraniye march side by side with women from Nişantaşı in the cause of a freer, more egalitarian, more just Turkey. It would be highly educational to go over the pictures of these protests and demonstrations that used to start in front of Galatasaray High School. Both Cengiz Alğan and Şenol Karakaş should have lots of them.
Also around this time, we had formed the "We look out for each other" initiative, where women from different tendencies; from academic, artistic or literary circles; from various professions; from among leftists and Islamists; from different beliefs and ethnicities came together and decided to look out for each other against all forms of discrimination and violence targeting women.
By the time the 2011 general elections rolled around, women were fed up, for it no longer seemed possible to accept that women covering their heads should be deprived of the right to stand for election. But since, unlike Europe where elections revolve around competing nuances and projects, elections in our country always seem to assume existential dimensions, and since therefore these elections too were seen as a matter of life and death, I would have to admit that initially, the prevailing mood was to remain silent yet again.
One midnight shortly before the elections, Neslihan Akbulut from the Association for Women's Rights Against Discrimination (Ak-Der) called and said that they had drafted a statement and were going to launch a campaign for "no votes if no covered candidates." When she asked if I too could make it to Taksim in the morning (was it to the Hill Hotel?), saying no was out of the question. In the morning, I was at the press conference with all my heart and soul. Who wasn't there around that table? Özlem Yağız, Hidayet Şefkatli Tuksal, Hilal Kaplan, Fatma Çiftçi, Cihan Aktaş, Hasibe Turan and so many other women who for years had labored for this cause.
We were then left truly speechless in the face of the language that some columnists began to use against our campaign. I don't want to name names, for it is the underlying mentality that matters. There sprouted a discourse of "these women and those women, stupid thoughtless women, some women, white spies, senseless women, people that are being manipulated by deep forces, why now, the timing is significant, those that have been tricked, who is it that is making you talk." Against all this, the ad hoc group of "Women coming together" that had launched the initiative published another statement saying that their appeal was to all parties, and that they were not going to retract their call for right and justice.
Let us grant that this was a crisis, but even if that were the case, it was badly mismanaged. It could have been approached in a way that acknowledged our basic demand, and then if there were other circumstances obstructing it explaining these in a more constructive, seeing and understanding kind of way. Instead, they sought to discredit the women involved. With regard to how a majority of the Islamic community regarded women who had emerged from among them to go on writing and producing ideas, it was truly a bitter experience.
On the evening of 28th December 2011, TSK [Turkish Armed Forces] aircraft bombed and killed thirty-four innocent people, most of whom were underage. A court case was started, which however was later closed with a nully being entered on the grounds that "there existed no reason to require bringing public charges against [military] staff that had fallen into an inevitable mistake." Then the initial statements that came from the government further shattered people's hearts. The Interior Minister was accusing those very young people who had lost their lives, and some media organs that have recently taken to glorifying the victims were busy finding ways to explain how those who had died were actually guilty of getting themselves killed.
When a few of us from the "Women coming together" initiative traveled over icy roads to meet the Roboski mothers and fathers, desperately seeking in a hurry to convey our condolences and to hold their hands, we had difficulty looking them in the face. We had had to wade our way through knee-deep snow to climb up to the graveyards. The earth was covered with colorful plastic flowers. They were looking for any kind of apology from the state, from the government; for a few words that might just slightly console their hearts. I am talking about believing, practicing people who performed their daily namaz prayers and read the Koran. I am saying this not in order to discriminate, but because it might help in identifying with them. Their only crimes were extreme poverty, having been chased from another village by having had their fields burned, and in this remote corner of the land where there was nothing else to do, engaging in mule-back (should we say knife-edge) trade with their relatives on the other side of the border. But so, did those who claimed to be defenders of the Roboski people think of suspending their New Year celebrations? Of course not; New Year was once more giddily celebrated while we kept grieving at home devastated by the shock of what had happened. A national mourning should have been declared to put an end to all the celebrating — for when should we mourn if not in such situations? Emine Erdoğan and [Family] Minister Fatma Şahin paid a visit to Roboski, and of course this was important, but as far as I know it was not enough to heal their wounds.
The Gezi Park at Taksim was under the jurisdiction of the Greater Istanbul Municipality provided it was maintained in public service. On 27 May 2013, we came to know of a project to reconstruct the Artillery Barracks which had once stood there (with a view to restoring and recovering history), or according to other rumors to build a shopping mall or else luxury residences. This happened precisely at a time when people were clearly beginning to demand a more participatory kind of democracy, when clear signs of distress and discontent were in evidence, and as voters wanted to keep speaking their mind even after the elections. Those worried about the possible destruction of the single green area in the vicinity set up tents to watch over the park; then when their tents were set afire, people of all tendencies and walks of life rushed to Taksim Square — and we know what then happened, and how the impossibility to communicate escalated in uncontrollable fashion. Here we were able to see all too clearly how the language used on both sides was capable of orienting the masses. Rather than single-labeling and shelving Gezi, it would be more useful to tackle it under twenty or thirty different headings, analyzing it calmly so as to be enable everyone to draw important lessons from this all-too-costly experience.
A few months later, when we went to Brussels as a group of academics to meet and talk about Turkey with EU parliamentarians, Gezi was virtually the only item on the agenda. I remember that they seeking first to understand if an AKP without Tayyip Erdoğan, and second whether a Turkey without the AKP might be possible. At the end of the day, a PM who subscribed to Islamic values was not to their liking. They voiced their concerns about the judiciary and the press. On the other hand, as the Swedish diplomat Ingmar Karlsson argues in his book on Islam and Europe, hostility to Islam and Muslims affects even those Europeans with the greatest common sense. Will it be possible for Europe, where racism and the tendency to treat Islam as a race are on the rise, to build a bridge with the Islamic world that is based on sincerity and good will and which passes through Turkey? The EU's enlargement rapporteur Maria Eleni Koppa cited support for the overthrown leader Mohamed Morsi and discord with Israel as evidence that we were drifting from bad to worse. When İdil Elveriş from our delegation asked for the removal of visa restrictions as a good will gesture, the response of Marc Pierini, head of the EU's Turkey delegation, was to propose to increase the number of Erasmus students from Turkey. They have their own calendar, their own mental outlook. In a way it is true that Europe is self-seeking and unprincipled.
But then, is it possible to solve our problems by blaming Europe or other outside forces for everything? What matters is to start by assuming our own responsibilities. And that has to do with creating a new language. Just before the elections, a member of those groups of "wise men" [set up to sound society out on the Solution Process — tr. note] was saying during a chat that in case of a favorable court decision the Artillery Barracks had to be built without any loss of time. As far as he was concerned, it was only not stepping back from any initiative, promise or undertaking that the Unshakable Will could keep manifesting itself to the public. But can there be any greater power than being a man of principles, and upholding right and justice?
In contrast, Mustafa Kutlu has recently written an open letter to the president in the daily Yeni Şafak asking him to give up on rebuilding the Artillery Barracks regardless of the court decision. He states that this would be tantamount to "killing a nightingale for its flesh" while emphasizing that his article has nothing to do with Gezi.
People appreciate a gentle language that is constructive, unifying, and based on good will. Nobody wants to be scolded, or to be praised while others are being scolded. Or at least, this is how not a few people think.
In the Berkin Elvan case, too, apart from the failure to find the culprit, wounds made by words went very deep. was not found, the language wounds also went quite deep. Supposedly in the name of protecting the AKP's achievements and sticking to the main road, some people of the "plus royaliste que le roi" sort have sought to silence and condemn very many well-educated, devout, thinking and dissenting young people, accusing them of snobbery, an inferiority complex, and toadying to others.
Who then are those whose words are said to have lost their value, who are constantly being accused of treachery, of being ungrateful, or of forgetting the past? None other than the idealistic children of men and women who have been through countless struggles and paid a high price for the Islamist cause.
Being pigeonholed from the outside is even worse than physical violence. In the same way that all the evil words pronounced against us in the past (which I do not want to repeat here) had a deadly effect, all the various snubbing, condescending, dichotomizing pejoratives about "these and those" resonating through society have had an unsettling mental effect on the young people in question. Even if they continue to support the AKP, with a "yes but it is not enough" sort of attitude.
In the Kurdish question, too, there have been breaking points that could be the subject of another article. The HDP has been contradicting itself all the time, and has not taken a single positive step forward. Nevertheless, they have been able to come out on top through the language they have created. Is this not worth studying?
Yet again, shouldn't we also look at the language of those who have reservations about language? During Gezi, some people kept deliberately clanging pots and pans under other people's windows without a thought for infants or elders. This led to a feeling of being terrorized that has yet to be overcome. The entire country got stuck on a single incident, but that speculation does not change the fact that many young women were actually verbally or physically harassed.
More recently, women from the Women and Democracy Association [Kadın ve Demokrasi Derneği] came to Tarsus to follow the Özgecan case, and like all other women's groups or organizations wanted to read out their statement in public. They were subjected to a physical aggression which cannot possibly be explained. It cannot be glossed over in any way. Additionally, tens of thousands of women who have recently come to feel relatively emancipated continue to live in the fear of a return to the old days of oppression based on the "those who provide vs those who receive service" distinction.
A government that has opened its doors to everyone from Aleppo to Kobanî is not shown any appreciation whatsoever. It is treated as if it has done nothing to remember with gratitude. This unfairness extends to pretending that it has not paved the way for the Solution Process. All this is very disheartening.
The social media is full of a hate and lynching campaign which keeps insisting that "you will be brought to justice, just wait and see." This is why pious people cannot voice their inner criticisms, and why they feel silenced. This is why many things we have been trying to say have been covered up on the grounds that that this is not the time, that all pieces have yet to fall into place.
However, these elections ought to make us face up to the new demands of young people who have transcended the wall of fear and who do not feel themselves bound by the weight of the past. Prioritizing stability is more the job of those who are middle-aged and above. Young people prefer to talk freely, to express themselves, and to take risks — over maintaining stability.
What this country needs is for a constructive founding language to be built. A language where nobody disregards the other, where we can all distance ourselves from challenges of the "just how many were hurt" or "who are you anyway" sort. A language that treasures touching a single person's heart. May it spread from tongue to tongue.