*Our final days in Turkey were a lot more eventful than anticipated. With all planned adventures behind us, the last few weeks figured to be full of packing, preparations, emotional processing, and goodbyes. Borrring. This land of intrigue and escapades would not drift so quietly out of our lives. Politics - this dirty word we try not to use in our household - confronted us and those around us in a big, big way.
Any political discontent or unrest was either absent or simmering beneath the surface during our time here, from what we could tell. People grumbled, but Turkey had a stabilized air to it that separated it from the surrounding countries in recent years. They embrace the democratic system, the secularism, the modernity that Mustafa Kemal Ataturk brought to this country some ninety years ago.
Then at the end of May the incidents in Gezi Park and Taskim Square roused the placid populace, the begrudgingly patient oppressed. What initially appeared to be an excitable reaction revealed itself to be a deeper, more complex, united expression of a democratic public whose voice had been increasingly ignored and defied by its politicians in recent years. The government who grew more and more powerful leading up to the protest over a mall boiled over into a frightening regime as if the protestors ripped the democratic mask off its authoritarian leaders.
Although the observations above are largely speculative and observational, they paint the portrait of the Turkey we suddenly found ourselves in these last few weeks - a Turkey which was unfamiliar and volatile. I'm not a newsman or political analyst, so I can only truthfully describe my reactions and feelings to the events. My perspective as an American expat in Adana during the people's rise against Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdoğan .
Here are some entries and excerpts from my journal:
01 June 2013
My good, good friend was shot by a tear gas bullet today. He is fine. He's pursuing police brutality or at least freedom in the face of police brutality. Is he following his heart and standing for his convictions or living the romanticized anarchist's life? Am I a horrible friend for questioning? The other reigning thought is how can we have a peaceful, pleasant day and be oblivious to the struggle surrounding us? Are we so naive? or just cautious? or self-centered? Like it's their freedoms so it's not our problem? We're just the privileged Americans so we don't have to stand up for our 'rights' which are actually privileges that many others are deprived of. On one hand, of course I need to protect my wife and myself to get us home again in one piece, but shouldn't I help the person in need before myself? I know I'm not educated enough about the situation to know how to help whom, but I want to care, to love others more than myself. Yet I go to sleep. I do nothing. People are living under a certain type of oppression all around me and I do not wish to be indifferent. I will pray. That must be enough for tonight.
02 June 2013
It is weird being amidst the protests. I say 'amidst' but 'on the fringes' is more appropriate. We were walking in the park tonight and we heard protestors rallying in the open area nearby but out of sight so we decided to head home. We went up onto our roof and watched the group from the park marching in lines with candles or torches or something. Then we went to look on the other side of our roof and there were police in each of the intersections around our building. They weren't in riot gear or anything. People passing by them were mainly peaceful. But there was also a group of young men - essentially boys - who were shouting as they walked down the middle of the street. They almost turned around when they saw the police, but then crossed and walked on the far sidewalk, with much less bravado. Upon passing the police, one of the boys started taunting the officers and insulting them in a cowardly way as he waited to be held back by his friends to prove how tough and defiant he was. To me, those are some of the villains of these protests as much as the abusive police in the news. Then we saw apartments throughout the skyline flickering their lights and heard the clanging of pots and pans and the clacking together of spoons. It feels like we're experiencing something historic and momentous. Turkey hasn't had a public outcry of this magnitude in the last five or six years that the people we know have been here. We watch and listen with excitement, fear, expectancy and wonder.
We want people to have a voice, to be heard, to stand up for what they believe, but we pray against the types of revolution that have been raging around the world during this 'Arab Spring.' So far, it's seemed that those uprisings have had such poor results, that they lead to great destruction, violence and chaos. They only seem to add to problems rather than solve any of them. I pray for no extended, violent, bloody struggle of opposing, obstinent parties in Turkey. I want peace and freedom and love for people. If protests lead to those in any way, good. If not, I fear them and what they may bring. Sadly, selfishly, I also hope things remain under control so we can leave the country in eleven days. I'm a little ashamed to recognize that concern feels more immediate and important to me than the welfare and outcome of the oppressed people in Turkey. My selfish heart.
Even while writing this I was interrupted by a loud boom, followed by a further eruption of general noise. We both climbed out of bed to look out the window and see fireworks lighting up the night sky. They were being shot from the stadium just a few blocks away so they filled most of the sky before us in our window. We could feel the sounds hit us. Across the street a woman who came onto her balcony to inspect the noise began cleaning as the fireworks were out of her view. She splashed buckets of water over her balcony floor, splashing the families passing underneath with the filthy runoff. On a momentous night night like this, I have the urge to document everything just as I experience it. I don't want to forget a a thing and I want to be able to share it with anyone who wants to know.
03 June 2013 - Afternoon
Ten days from America and my anxiety is rising. I'm really worried about the future of this country's protests and the police's responses. It seems like all signs are pointing to worse violence and potential fighting. I can't help selfishly looking out for my wife's and my self-interests. The news, the pictures, the talk in the office is real. This is how I imagine most revolutions begin. Built-up, quiet, lingering discontent is sparked by a smallish event. People react and authority acts back. Excitement, enthusiasm, even fun stir the air. You're in the middle of this moment, everyone is thinking, "Are we really doing this?!" Early press and momentum establish the protests as 'legitimate.' By now, the wheels are in motion and the battle is started, before everyone can actually decide: do we want a war? It's too late to back away. My colleagues are already saying, "If it comes to civil war, so be it." The authorities are wrong, but they obviously are not going to admit it or back off. The people see not fighting as a victory for the oppressors. Recent years have shown these problems don't resolve. Everything gets messier. The whole country fights against itself, often with more than two sides. The world doesn't know how or whether to help, so several countries take sides, acting in their best interests. Stalemates occur, but not ceasefires. Bloody, interminable stalemates where no one wins and everyone loses. But to back down is seen as losing, letting the other side win. If our side can't win no one will win. If you hit me I hit you back. Blood vengeance signs everyone's contract to the last breath. I don't see how this can end well.
Night
I spent much of today worrying about things I can't control. That sure sounds like a lack of faith. I wonder if that's how I try to take action when I don't know what else to do. I feel I should do something, but don't want to jeopardize our safety so I worry and mull over the situation all day. I think prayer would be a lot more faithful and effective...
04 June 2013
We had a nice, quiet day off work. The protests the night before were peaceful which gave us a sense of assurance and safety. I know I should be seeking the Lord for that assurance and safety and not need external factors to contribute...
05 June 2013
In one week I will go to bed, wake up, and get on a plane. This journey within my greater journey will close...
06 June 2013
I don't know what it is but I really don't want to journal this evening. Sometimes I just get the feeling like I'm not interested in what's going on in my mind. Not that it's ever particularly profound, but in theory I believe it's a useful way to pay attention to life. But on a night like tonight I want to skip it and just read. I don't want to consider how I'm interacting with the world. I simply want to float off until sleep and go through to tomorrow. In a time and place where so many important, incredible things are happening (aren't they always, really?) I just want to cruise along to bed. I'm fine. That's enough. Is that remarkable apathy, or is it appropriate not to struggle to explore deep significance every day? Not that I ever find it or look very hard. This matters, though.
According to my version of reality, the emotional rise and fall in my entries closely followed the energy and activity levels of the revolution as it happened in Adana. The protesting continues with a certain posture of hopelessness and defeat. There is enough support and/or power to re-elect P.M. Erdoğan even if the vote were today. The conflict is becoming more religious, more political, and less humanitarian in nature. Although so far, from my limited perspective, the protestors have behaved in the most effective way afforded to them (remaining mostly peaceful, bypassing a media censorship by using social media to publicise their cause internationally), it seems that the government will be allowed to proceed as it did prior to the conflicts, barring international intervention. As the waves of this huge moment in modern Turkish history quickly turned to ripples, so too has my consciousness and concern ebbed. The potential for the political situation to personally impact me subsides and I refocus on my own life. In a year of much personal growth, it's clear there is still a lot of room for more.
Here are some pictures and links to things that I didn't photograph or write:
A video from the protests in Adana
*This post has been sitting on my computer for a few days in order to avoid any potential consequences in Turkey and to avoid unnecessary worrying by our family and friends. The situation in Turkey has undoubtedly changed in various ways since I wrote this, but I believe this accurately represents my perspective at the time.
