On December 19, 2000, Turkish security forces launched a massive operation entitled 'Hayata dönüş' (Return to life) in an effort to end prisoner control at a number of jails throughout Turkey, and in the process, 'save' a number of prisoners in danger of dying from hunger strikes. To be cliched, the patients were running the asylum: Members of the far-left organization, the DHKP/C (Revolutionary People's Liberation Party/Front) had wrested control of the jails from the state; wardens could no longer enter those wings of the prison controlled by the DHKP/C.
In the bloodbath that followed the ironically named 'Return to Life' Operation, 28 immates and two soldiers lost their lives before the army finally won back control over the penitentiaries.
The government quickly set about ensuring that a similar sort of event could not happen again: They placed a vast majority of the remaining prisoners in solitary confinement -- denying the prisoners rights to books, music, human contact and a number of other measures designed to break the morale of those incarcerated.
...Fast forward six years to the waning days of 2006 and the fate of one Behiç Aşçı. Behiç, a lawyer by trade, became so incensed at the continuation of the policy of solitary confinement that he chose freely to also begin a death fast, now in its 280th day.
The sight of a lawyer, wasting away in his apartment has begun to grip the nation. More progressively inclined newspapers carry his picture and the number of days he has been fasting on their front pages every day, yet government response has been slow. The justice minister, hums and haws, diddles and dawdles, convenes meetings about the problem, discusses the matter with concerned citizens, and then announces the problem will be more seriously looked at.
But while this matter remains of sad import for all concerned, we are not discussing the hunger strike today --- but rather, Saturday night's protest.
The military takeover of September 12, 1980 had a profound impact on the social history of Turkey. Distressed at seeing their children languish in torture centres in the early 1980's, the new generation of Turkish parents encouraged their children to eschew politics in the hopes of maintaining their safety; as a result, there is a generation of Turkish youth marked by a profound apathy and an inability (or perhaps wise unwillingness) to question the status quo.
Saturday night's protest was convened by about 100 concerned citizens, plus 900 tourists (of which I was a part). Like most protests in Turkey, the protestors were outnumbered by police, chicly attired in their dark blue, smuggly readying riot shields ready for a fight everyone knew was not going to occur --- the folly and futility of fighting the police had been amply demonstrated before.
The organizers encouraged everyone to sit and challenge the police -- some did so enthusiastically, others complained of leg pain and stood on the perimeter, still others discussed other matters of coming social soirees of importance, some stood in the middle and took pictures, some got sore legs after a few minutes and had to stand, some parted to let a fire engine by --- but by far the majority (of which I counted myself a part of) readied themselves for the coming revolution, for the implementation of justice by the people, for freedom, for accountability, and for equality --- provided it arrived in the next 4 minutes, so that everyone could continue to the cinema or pub there were on their way to before the revolution started.
After 4 minutes of shouting, sitting, and daring the police to attack us (instruments of the Fascist state that they are), the organizers, on their poorly amplified megaphone, proclaimed victory, took down their signs, and encouraged the assembled revolutionaries to continue on their collective ways. We who had convened congratulated ourselves briefly on the good things we had done for the previous 6 minutes, half-heartedly shouted half of our already forgotten slogan, walked past the police with the air of someone challenging the naked, unjust machinery of state terror (while the machinery of state control and terror looked worried, realizing that their special deployment would probably cut into a nice Saturday evening meal with the family), and walked excitedly to meet up with friends who weren't in the least bit worried about our lateness --- though we explained hurriedly and conspirationally that we had just participated in a protest(!).
Participation completed, slogans shouted, the revolution supported, the police cowed by our unity, we sat down comfortably and contentedly at our drinking establishments, knowing that our 6 minute detour was bringing those incarcerated perceptibly closer to freedom, and one man closer to ending his hunger strike.
...And when we awoke with our hangovers and only the vaguest recollection of protest of the night before, we were shocked to learn that we hadn't changed the world.
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