From a ‘Foreign Agent’ at İstanbul’s Gezi Park

Gezi Park, June 11^th 2013. Resistance, Day 14^th.

 

As many, I had the honor to live Gezi’s life. As many, I looked at history into the eyes. As many, I am proud to be part of it.

 

As many also, I got scared... I got scared to see their Gezi, our Gezi, fade away. I got scared to see this marvelous community of solidarity turn into a vulgar festival for tourists and citizens only seeking for « lovely » pics, free camp site and food.

 

In spite of the flow of curious and profiteers, despite the growing number of flags from all political hues, I found myself hopeful again.

 

Gezi has not fallen asleep and solidarity, sharing and mutual assistance still stand for its pillars. 

 

In the morning of day 14^th, the squadrons of repression have started their fighting again. With their gas first, they attempted to stifle the wind of freedom that had been blowing across Taksim for many days. With their water hoses then, they tried to drown the recovered liveliness of Istiklal and its adjacent streets.

 

After a long ban, café terraces had flourished anew in every corners (I can still remember that bunch of cops striding ahead a truck on the big avenue, wrenching tables and chairs adorning the side streets...) All over the place, street sellers had settled with fruits of all kinds, pots of basil, and so many other things (the necessary tools to all good resistant, for instance... A panoply made of gas mask, diving goggles, helmet, whistel etc.). For nearly two weeks, jubilation had impregnated each cobblestone of the avenue.

 

From all this, nobody died Mister Prime Minister. Could it be said the same for the orders you have been giving since May 31^st in the name, supposedly, of citizens’ security?

 

Gezi hasn’t remained the story of a struggle between the trees and another symbol of the capitalist monster; in the beautiful city you’re killing slowly to seduce tourists and their money.  All those people who now number many thousands are asking you to leave office for a lot of reasons.

These people are tired to have their history covered with concrete, to feel their brains washed with your history watching profit and gain prevail over humane.

 

I heard from your media that some dangerous individuals settled in Gezi, threatening and disturbing tourists and foreigners walking around. Having lived among the seven hills for a year, I have never found a safer place than Gezi. I am sure that the foreign students which your agents have taken into custody will soon confirm my testimony. 

 

I know no « terrorist », no « provocator » who plant trees, create free and shared libraries, even veterinaries.

 

I know no « barbarians » creating corridors of human chains, for the wounded to reach safely ambulances through a panicking crowd.

 

The terrorists that I met this morning were dressed in black, wearing helmets, shields and weapons.  I saw their engines of war, driving over the city’s heart. I breathed in the white clouds of their hatred; I got disoriented by their sound grenades. As many others I ran, escaping wounds.

 

Mister Prime Minister, after that much police brutality committed on your behalf, how can you still be surprised by some violent answers from my Gezi counterparts? Burning vehicles, graffiti covering the city’s walls, broken windows and thrown paving stones; these are the sole reflection of disdain you have shown. 

 

You might be convinced that truth and reason dictate your actions. As for me, I have met many wises in Gezi. None of them give support to violence. That violence Mister Prime Minister, is all yours, endorse it.

 

You might be convinced that those wises, those « çapulcus », are just a bunch of fools. Let me tell you about those men I met, who were voting AKP a few years ago. Don’t you see your electorate is slowly walking away and joining Gezi?

 

Of course you might manage – at some point – to strangle this « marginal » of a park; you might eventually tear off its heart. But you shall be informed, at least, that the trees have already won. If Gezi dies tomorrow, the war you declared on it won’t be lost. The Çapulcu people have shown the world what brotherhood and solidarity mean for Turkey.  If Gezi dies tomorrow, it will remain as an example for the world.

 

That world is watching you. The marginal is you. Gezi’s apology.

 

A Çapulcu wishing you to find peace and reason anew.