We landed at Atatürk International early last Friday with the impression from American media that Turkey was falling apart. But much of what we experienced this past weekend in Istanbul contradicted that narrative. We were left wondering whether the political situation is really a crisis, and, if so, what kind it was. We set out to talk to Turks beyond the media filter, trying to find out how they viewed things.
From the airport our cab made it to the Eyüp Sultan Mosquealso popularly called Abu Ayyub Ansaris mosque after one of the Prophet Muhammads companions whos buried beside itjust at the beginning of the call to prayer. When Haroon first visited it 21 years ago, hardly a soul was to be found. When Wajahat first visited 16 years back, there were only a couple of women in hijab, or headscarf. But on that morning, hundreds, including many veiled women, showed up over an hour before the congregational services, on a weekday no less, to hear recitations of the Quran and collectively pray. Times change and so does Turkey.
Gezi Park, in Taksim Square, is the epicenter of the recent protests. A plan to bulldoze the park inspired spontaneous demonstrations against the government for numerous grievances, including Prime Minster Erdogans alleged abuse of power, his regimes arrests of journalists, his Islamist agenda, and his push for a new constitution that will concentrate power in an expanded presidency. But on Friday night we marched up Istiklal Street, which leads to Gezi Park, to see Man of SteelAmericas latest superhero blockbusterand saw a different picture.
Sure, there was plenty of graffiti and a few protestors in Guy Fawkes masks. But there was also the typical array of tourists, Wajahat was solicited several times to attend Turkish clubs that play Eurotrash techno music, and vendors engaged in theatrics enticing us to buy traditional Turkish ice cream. In other words, the usual. Where was the crisis? Where were the police? How could it be that just blocks from Gezi Park, clubs were full, karaoke bars overflowed, and tourists thronged at cafes and restaurants?
Over the next day, we spoke to folks in Fatih and Eyüp, more religious and conservative neighborhoods. The story was far more nuanced than the simplistic struggle of radical secularists against authoritarian Islamists. These practicing Muslims said that Erdogan had simply gone too far. Turkeys a Muslim country, they said, but also a democracy. They complained, for example, that the governments potential peace agreement with the Kurds was long overdue. They showed sympathy for protesters and concern about Erdogans drift towards authoritarianism.
Most politicians are corrupted by either money or power, said a religious Turk, Erdogans drug is power. A cab driver told us: Only God and Muhammad are perfect. Erdogan wants to be a Sultan. That was the most succinct case for Islam and democracy wed ever heard.
Naturally we had to check out the protests. The taxicab dropped us off near Taksim, closed off by police barricades. Riot police were out in force, including plain-clothes policemen strategically placed in the crowds. But protesters still gathered in clumps, testing boundarieswe sought them out, as well as locals who lived and worked in the area.
The protesters were mostly young, wearing bandanas, gas masks, goggles and carrying water bottles. Hardly terrorists, as Egemen Bagis, Turkeys EU representative, described them: [The police] will intervene against anybody who tries to enter Taksim Square, [treating them] as a terrorist.
They were frustrated, angry, and defiantKemalists mostly, perhaps minority representatives of the fading order. When asked why they were protesting, they passionately issued a litany of reasons: For freedom, for freedom! The Prime Minister is a dictator. He is intolerant. He is divisive; he uses us vs. them, secular vs. religious language. He is corrupt and commits human rights abuses.
