London and Turkish Revolution- Trafalgar Square by Ozlem Altuner

People who gather in Trafalgar Square want Recep Tayyip Erdogan government to leave the political scene. Everyone shows how fed up they are with the dictatorship. A Kurdish man in his fifties chants “The brotherhood of the folks!”, and everyone Kurdish, Turkish, and all others from all around the world join him, and repeat “The brotherhood of the folks!”. There is a great unity against the oppression. Nobody wants to see violence, and as the crowd gets bigger, somebody with the Turkish flag wants to sing the Turkish national anthem. Immediately they are rejected by the group in the middle, who are apparently Kurdish. Feeling betrayed many Turkish people go away from the main group, and start protesting there. I go with them and sing the Turkish national anthem. I feel betrayed just like them, as I don’t understand why people in the middle don’t let them sing the Turkish national anthem when this was indeed a protest about Turkey.

 Can you think of living in England but not singing God save the Queen? Not everyone likes the Queen, however, when there is an event of national importance people in the UK unite under their national anthem whether they are from Ireland or Zimbabwe.

As the time goes on, these two groups don’t unite. Everyone’s hearts are broken. We think, “is it the picture we are going to see after the Revolution? Are we going to be always divided like this?”. In order to stop this madness, I go to the old Kurdish man who was chanting before. I tell him as I point at the Kurdish group, “You look like somebody that they would listen. Can you please go and tell them to let that group sing the national anthem, so that we can all be together?”. I was expecting him to agree immediately, very naively. 

He says “No, that anthem is a fascist anthem, stating Turkish people are over everyone.” I resist, “But, you don’t have to sing it. Let that group sing the anthem, and then you can sing whatever you want. In this way we can all stay united.” As he puts me off, another man approaches. He looks in his fifties too, and he speaks while his body is shivering, showing some sort of sickness. Looking quite shaken, he says “Do you know that I have been tortured? Do you know they were torturing us making us sing that anthem. I am not going to sing it, and I won’t let it to be sung.” I see no point for further argument, as I see a man whose life has been stolen from him. His eyes are not eyes any more, they are lost. These eyes lost their belief.No faith. No hope. Nothing but anger is there.  His eyes pester my heart as I know that he suffered a lot. But I know we have to be together as a group if we want a unified resistance.  I say with one last effort “I have never been tortured, I wasn't even born at that time. Can’t you try to forget it, and can we unite altogether?”. 

My last words make him angry, quite rightly. I can only say, “ What can I say? I don’t know how you feel, I have never been tortured. I’m so sorry.” A tiny girl looking in her twenties approaches, and pulls him away. I can’t blame him. I can’t try to change his opinion. He has every right to feel the way he feels. However, I do understand the other group’s feelings too. They would feel that they are betraying their country if they join the Kurdish group without singing the national anthem of Turkey. Hopelessly, I see what is awaiting us after the revolution. A divided country. As I start to cry in total hopelessness, the girl who took the man away from me comes back. She has this beautiful face, with her dark short hair, and a piercing on her eyebrow. She speaks with determined brown eyes, “Look, I understand you. I am Kurdish." She points at the man just left me, says "I know where they are coming from, they have suffered a lot, but I understand what you want to do and I appreciate it.” I tell the girl, “If we don’t forget the past, we will never unite. We have to find a way, us, the new generation. We have to forget some of this pain...from both sides... if we want a democracy for all.” She smiles, and sees that I was shaken by this event, she puts her hand on my shoulder, “Don’t worry, I understand you. We, the new generation will unite against all violence.” I can’t hold it any longer, so I just hug her. This total stranger, this tiny girl that I have never seen before, becomes the closest person to me in the whole world...While we were hugging, we say things each other silently, that we understand each other...that we will unite against all tyrants... all dictators... all fascists...against all violence whether we are Turkish or Kurdish, or anyone else...We say we are the future of Turkey in harmony, in peace.

Londra ve Devrim: Kitleler "SIDDETE HAYIR" diyor, Ozlem Altuner 1 Haziran

Hyde Park- Marble Arch

Türkiye'den Devrim haberleri geldiğinde, Londra'daki vatandaşlar olarak buna inanamadık ve gösterilerin bir iki gün içinde son bulacağını düşündük. Şimdi ise hepimiz Devrim'e yürekten inanıyoruz. Türk milleti artık ne kendi hükümetinden ne de devletinden korkmaktadır.

Türkiye'deki değişik etnik gruplardan pek çok kişi, dünyanın her yerinden gelip onları destekleyen arkadaşlarıyla 1 Haziran Cumartesi günü Marble Arch'ta buluştu. Herkes müthiş bir neşe içinde, bayraklarını sallayıp, marşlar söyleyip, dans etti. İngiliz polisi Türk çocuklarıyla gülümseyerek fotoğraflar çektirdiler. Herkes insanlığa ve geleceğe yeniden inanmaya başlamış, çok cesur hissetmekte ve bu heyecanlı havayı solumaktaydı.

Bu Devrim'in en önemli özelliği tamamen şiddete karşı olması. Bütün gruplar, hatta ezeli rakip takımlardan  futbol taraftarları bile beraber, birbirlerine sarılıp duygularını paylaştılar.Bütün gruplar ve politik partiler diktatörün gitmesi için çağrıda bulundular. Barışçı direnişin parçası olan tüm gruplara, Londra'daki bu gösteride yer verildi. 

 Abdullah Öcalan'ın posteriyle PKK'lı bir grup alan içine girdiğinde ise, bu resim içine kabul edilmediler ve polis eşliğinde uzaklaştırıldılar. 

 O gün Marble Arch'ta pek çok Kürt vatandaşımız vardı, peki neden PKK destekçileri bu gösteriye kabul edilmedi? Bunun tek sebebi PKK'nın şiddeti, direnişin tek yolu olarak görmesidir. Kürt halkı, Türk kardeşleriyle beraber Türkiye'deki değişime inanıyorlar. Ancak, şiddetin Türkiye tarihinde daha çok sorundan başka bir şey yaratmadığını biliyorlar.Hem Kürt halkı hem de Türk halkı dostlarını ve ailelerini şiddet yanlısı görüşlere şehit verdiler. Şimdi, bu devrim,herkese "Barışçı bir şekilde direnildiğinde, neye inanırsanız inanın, kim olursanız olun bizimlesiniz!" diyor. Türkiye'nin halkı artık kaynağı kim olursa olsun ŞİDDETE HAYIR diyor- Türk, Kürt,  polis, Başbakan gözetmeksizin, şiddeti savunan herkese karşi. Türkiye'de muhteşem bir değişim görmekteyiz. İlk kez, tüm sınıflar, tüm gruplar ve ideolojiler beraber şiddeti durdurmak için çabalıyor.

London and Revolution: Crowds chant "NO VIOLENCE", 1st of June by Ozlem Altuner

Hyde Park- Marble Arch

When we first heard the Revolution news in Turkey, we all thought that was unreal and the demonstrations would end in one or two days. Yet, we now know that Revolution is really happening. Turkish nation is not scared any longer from its government and its state.

Many Turkish people, together with others from all around the world, gathered together in Marble Arch on Saturday. Everyone was in joy, waving their flags, chanting marches, singing, and even dancing. British policemen were posing with Turkish kids, and their parents, a huge smile on everyone’s face. The atmosphere of enthusiasm was everywhere, people were feeling very brave, they were starting to believe in humanity, and the future.

One important thing about this Revolution is that, it is absolutely against violence. All groups, even football fans (arch enemies from Galatasaray-Fenerbahce-Besiktas) were together, stating their feelings while hugging each other. All groups, and political parties got together for telling the dictator to step down.

All groups who supported a peaceful resistance were welcome in this demonstration. When there was a group from PKK with their flags with their leader Abdullah Ocalan, they were not accepted in this picture. There were many Kurdish people that day at Marble Arch. But why the PKK supporters were not accepted? 

The reason was their insistence on using violence as a means for resistance. Kurdish people, together with Turkish believe in the change in Turkey. However, using violence has caused nothing but more problems in Turkey throughout its history. Both Turkish and Kurdish people have lost many of their friends, and families due to that type of understanding. Now this resistance shows that as long as you resist peacefully, you are welcome among them. People of Turkey do not tolerate violence whether it is coming from Turkish, Kurdish, police or even from their Prime Minister. Now, we are seeing a great change in Turkey. A civilian resistance from all classes, all backgrounds, all ideologies are joining in harmony in order to stop the violence.

People have killed their fear of authority - and the protests are growing- by Ece Temelkuran

"Well, we are just filling light bulbs with paint," said my friend, a cafe owner in Cihangir, the Soho of Istanbul. Speaking to me on the phone, she sounded as relaxed as if she was baking an apple pie. "You know," she continued, "the only way to stop a TOMA is to throw paint on its window so that the vehicle loses orientation."

My friend, who was completely uninterested in politics until six days ago, had never been in conflict with the police before. Now, like hundreds of thousands of others in Turkey, she has become a warrior with goggles around her neck, an oxygen mask on her face and an anti-acid solution bottle in her hand. As we have all learned, this the essential kit to fight the effects of tear gas. As for TOMA, that is the vehicle-mounted water cannon. To paralyse it, you either have to put a wet towel in its exhaust pipe or burn something under its engine or you and a dozen others can push it over. This kind of battle-info is circulating all over Turkey at the moment. It is like a civil war between the police and the people. Yet nobody expected this when, six days ago, a group of protesters organised a sit-in at Istanbul's Gezi Park to protect trees that were to be cut down for the government's urban redevelopment project.

Ten years of arrogance

The protests that have now engulfed the country may have begun in Gezi Park in Taksim, the heart of Istanbul. It was never just about trees, but the accumulation of many incidents. With the world's highest number of imprisoned journalists, thousands of political prisoners (trade unionists, politicians, activists, students, lawyers) Turkey has been turned into an open-air prison already. Institutional checks and balances have been removed by the current AKP government's political manoeuvres and their actions go uncontrolled. On top of this growing authoritarianism, the most important reason for people to hit the streets in support of the Gezi resistance was the arrogant tone of the Prime Minister, Recep Tayyip Erdoğan. Even on Sunday, when millions of people were joining the demonstrations, he called the protestors "looters". Throughout his tenure, his rhetoric has been no different. He has repeatedly called his political opponents "alchoholics, marginals, sniffers, bandits, infidels". His mocking sarcasm has become his "thing" over time, and even some of his closest colleagues accept that "he no longer listens to anyone".

Then, there is the fear. This kind of thing is hard to report in a prominent newspaper. That is perhaps why the international media have not reported that the fear of government and the Prime Minister has been growing even among non-political people. You can easily hear your grocery shop man saying "I think my phone is tapped". The mainstream media has not covered it, but we have read reports on social media about people being arrested for making jokes about the government. That is perhaps why for the past two days every wall in Taksim Square is full of curses against the Prime Minister. The public is enjoying the death of the "cruel father figure" with the most sexist curses I have ever seen in my life. And I have seen some. But there is a more important component to the protests.

Killing the fear

As a writer and a journalist I followed the Egyptian and Tunisian uprisings. As I wrote at the time, Arab people killed their fear and I saw how it transformed them from silent crowds to peoples who believe in themselves. This is what has been happening in the last six days in Turkey. Teenage girls standing in front of TOMAs, kids throwing tear gas capsules back to the police, rich lawyers throwing stones at the cops, football fans rescuing rival fans from police, the ultra-nationalists struggling arm in arm with Kurdish activists. . . these were all scenes I witnessed. Those who wanted to kill each other last week became - no exaggeration - comrades on the streets. People not only overcame their fear of authority but they also killed the fear of the "other". One more important point: the generation that has taken to the streets was born after the 1980 military coup that fiercely depoliticised the public. The general who led the 1980 coup once said: "We will create a generation without ideology". So this generation was - until last week.

Dangerous questions

"So this is the media that we've been hearing the news from over the last twenty years?" That was the question asked by one young man on Twitter, as he watched a television journalist keep silent while the Prime Minister branded protesters "a bunch of looters". The young man has been on the streets peacefully protesting for the last six days, so now he has many suspicions about what's been happening in his country all this time. Maybe the Kurdish people are not "terrorists". Perhaps the journalists thrown in prison were not plotting a "coup" against the government. All those jailed trade unionists may not be members of a "terrorist organization" after all. All those university students in prison, were they innocent like he is? Questions multiply.

As I write, Istanbul, Ankara - Turkey's capital - Izmir and Adana are burning. Massive police violence is taking place. And in my middle class Istanbul neighbourhood, like many others, people are banging on their frying pans to protest. People are exchanging information about safe places to take shelter from police, the telephone numbers of doctors and lawyers. In Taksim Square, on the building of Atatürk Cultural Center, some people are hanging a huge banner. There are only two words on it: "Don't surrender!"

Ece Temelkuran is a Turkish journalist and author. Follow her on Twitter@ETemelkuran

OCCUPY GEZI: POLICE AGAINST PROTESTERS IN ISTANBUL POSTED BY ELIF BATUMAN

Gezi Park is a small rectangle of grass and trees just north of Taksim Square, in the center of European Istanbul. Separated by concrete barriers from a particularly congested traffic circle, it doesn’t have a lot going for it in the way of charm or landscaping. But it does have trees—six hundred and six of them, according to some reports—which makes it a distinct space in the heart of one of the world’s fastest-developing cities.

Last year, Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdogan announced that Gezi Park would be levelled to make room for a reconstruction of the Halil Pasa Artillery barracks, which had been built there under Sultan Selim III, more than two hundred years ago; the reconstructed barracks would then be converted into a shopping mall. On May 28th, a peaceful demonstration convened in Gezi Park to protest the bulldozing of the first trees. The weather was, and continues to be, beautiful. But over the course of the week, Occupy Gezi transformed from what felt like a festival, with yoga, barbecues, and concerts, into what feels like a war, with barricades, plastic bullets, and gas attacks.

Just before dawn on Friday, police raided the demonstrators’ encampment with tear gas and compressed water. Several people—twelve, according to Istanbul’s governor Hÿseyin Avni Mutlu, though participants say the number was higher—were hospitalized with head traumas and respiratory injuries. Twitter was flooded with images of violence, including one of a protester on his or her knees using a sign that read “CHEMICAL TAYYIP” as a shield against a police hose. Ahmet Sik, an investigative reporter who spent much of last year in jail, had joined the protests only to get hit in the head with a police gas canister.

Nearly every slogan chanted on the streets right now addresses Erdogan by name, and Erdogan hasn’t been talking back much. On Wednesday, he told protesters, “Even if hell breaks loose, those trees will be uprooted”; on Saturday, he issued a statement accusing the demonstrators of manipulating environmentalist concerns for their own ideological agendas. It’s hard to argue with him there; there’s little doubt that the demonstrations are less about six hundred and six trees than about a spreading perception that Erdogan refuses to hear what people are trying to tell him. In recent weeks, he has overridden objections to the construction of a controversial third bridge across the Bosphorus, to be named after a sultan considered by some Turkish Alevis (members of a religious minority combining elements of Shi’ia Islam and Sufism) to be an “Alevi slayer.” Earlier this month, thousands of unionized Turkish Airlines workers went on strike to protest the firing of three hundred and five other unionized Turkish Airlines workers for participating in an earlier strike. The original workers were not rehired. Last week, he passedanti-alcohol laws, which outraged many secularists as well as the national beer manufacturers. On May Day, peaceful demonstrations were quashed by riot police with tear gas and hoses. Looking back, it seems inevitable that a larger uprising was to come.

So it wasn’t that surprising when yesterday’s court decision to suspend, at least temporarily, the construction at the park, failed to put an end to the demonstrations. At midnight, the street where I live was gas bombed. Demonstrators in gas masks and goggles marched below the windows, cheering “Spray! Spray! Let us see you spray!” Pepper gas poured through the open windows and immediately filled my seventh-floor apartment. Around one, a tremendous racket broke out as people all over the city started beating on cymbals, pots, pans, and metal street signs; I saw one man looking around in vain for a stick, and then cheerfully starting to bang his head against a metal storefront shutter.

I got in touch with members of Çarsi, the leftist fan club of Istanbul’s Besiktas soccer team; I’dwritten about them for the magazine in 2011. They had come up with a new slogan: “Give us 100 gas masks, we’ll take the park.” I asked Ayhan Gÿner, one of Çarsi’s senior members, what he had to say to New Yorker readers. “Çarsi is the last barricade. Çarsi keeps alive the hopes of the people in the resistance of Gezi Park,” he told me. “This resistance has inspired the leaders of Galatasaray and Fenerbahçe”—rival Istanbul soccer clubs—“to come together. Damn American imperialism to hell.” Fifteen minutes later, I got another text: “Pepper gas is the Besiktas fan’s perfume. Nobody can intimidate us”; and, shortly after that, “We are the soldiers not of the imam, but of Mustafa Kemal” (referring to Ataturk, the founder of the secular Turkish Republic).

This morning, forty thousand demonstrators are said to have crossed the Bosphorus Bridge from the Asian side of the city, to lend support in Taksim. Hundreds of backup police are reportedly being flown into Istanbul from all around the country. The conceptual artist Sibel Horada came by my neighborhood to pick up the gas mask she usually uses for casting polyester; she told me she ran into an old high-school friend who had dressed for the protests in shorts and Speedo swimming goggles. (“He had obviously never clashed with the police before.”) Shortly afterwards, she reported that police had briefly removed the barricades at Taksim and let the demonstrators in—then turned back and attacked them. On my street, spirits seem to be high. Someone is playing “Bella, Ciao” on a boom-box, and I can hear cheering and clapping. But every now and then the spring breeze carries a high, whistling, screaming sound, and the faint smell of pepper gas.

http://www.newyorker.com/online/blogs/newsdesk/2013/06/occupy-taksim-police-against-protesters-in-istanbul.html?mbid=social_retweet

48 cities of Turkey - 90 separate protests.

 In Turkey people are protesting for their fundamental rights. There are thousands on the streets in different cities of Turkey. These people are subject to continuous and brutal force by the Turkish police. The Turkish media is ridiculously silent. The police are beating and poisoning the people and there are soap operas or documentary on penguins on Turkish TV channels. The Prime Minister spoke today and said that we are (the protesters) are just a bunch of plunderers. He ordered the media to keep silent thus people are communicating via social media like Facebook, Twitter.