Written by, Avital Livny
i cried quietly on the boat over to taksim tonight. having spent a few hours earlier today in gezi park, strolling around and chatting with the folks gathered there, i was struggling to understand the inhumanity of the police attack on such a peaceful demonstration.
by the time we had docked in kabataş, my sadness and confusion had turned to anger, and i was eager to climb the hill and stand shoulder to shoulder with friends and strangers against this brutality. an avowed pacifist, i knew i would throw no stones, i would go on no offensive. my only intention was to demonstrate my human right to stand in solidarity, to chant slogans, to clap my hands in the air, to peacefully protest.
we gathered on sıraselviler blvd in cihangir. quite a few yards ahead was one of the police's water cannons, but we reasoned that we were in a safe place, along the route the ambulances take in and out of taksim square. (indeed, we stopped our chanting every few minutes to cheer on the brave EMTs as they shuttled the injured out of harm's way and to the hospitals. sadly, there were so many ambulances - going back and forth, empty and then full - that i easily lost count.) there were rumors of clashes in harbiye and that the police were coming up from both sides of istiklal. but things felt relatively calm where we stood, like we had found the one safe public space in the entire area in which we could peacefully protest.
but we were wrong. before long, and without provocation, the tear gas came, raining down on us. the crowd responded as usual: calling out 'slowly' and 'don't run' and walking calmly but relatively quickly to try to get clear of the police attack without causing a stampede ahead. but the police didn't want us to react calmly. before we knew it, the water cannons were on our backs and noise bombs flashing to our sides. but remarkably - incomprehensibly - no matter how fast we ran, we couldn't seem to get clear of them. they were literally chasing us - a group of peaceful protesters trying our very best to show (by running away) that we meant no harm. but they meant harm. they intended not only to scare us but also to injure us, whether by hitting us with pressurized water or tear gas canisters, or by causing the exact stampede we were trying so hard to avoid.
i cried quietly on the boat home from taksim tonight. something in me felt broken. call me naive if you'd like, but i'm not sure i believed something like this existed before tonight, before i saw it for myself. violence in the face of non-violence. the absence of a public space to express our collective yet peaceful discontent. the disrespect one human can show another when they refuse to recognize that they are, in essence, equals.
i am struggling tonight to hold onto the beauty and signs of collective strength i have witnessed during these past weeks - the solidarities formed in gezi park, on the streets of istanbul, and all across social media platforms. i still want to believe in the basic goodness of humanity. but something in me broke tonight. and so i know this night will be a dark one in my personal history; and i worry that it will be a dark night in turkey's history as well.
non-turkish and non-turkish-speaking friends: if you haven't already done so, please take the time to educate yourselves about the situation here. take the time to contact your local consulates and elected representatives to demand that somebody be held accountable for this unwarranted violence. demand that there be public spaces in which people can come together to peacefully protest. demand that human rights - nay, human decency - be respected. we need your help.
i cried quietly on the boat over to taksim tonight. having spent a few hours earlier today in gezi park, strolling around and chatting with the folks gathered there, i was struggling to understand the inhumanity of the police attack on such a peaceful demonstration.
by the time we had docked in kabataş, my sadness and confusion had turned to anger, and i was eager to climb the hill and stand shoulder to shoulder with friends and strangers against this brutality. an avowed pacifist, i knew i would throw no stones, i would go on no offensive. my only intention was to demonstrate my human right to stand in solidarity, to chant slogans, to clap my hands in the air, to peacefully protest.
we gathered on sıraselviler blvd in cihangir. quite a few yards ahead was one of the police's water cannons, but we reasoned that we were in a safe place, along the route the ambulances take in and out of taksim square. (indeed, we stopped our chanting every few minutes to cheer on the brave EMTs as they shuttled the injured out of harm's way and to the hospitals. sadly, there were so many ambulances - going back and forth, empty and then full - that i easily lost count.) there were rumors of clashes in harbiye and that the police were coming up from both sides of istiklal. but things felt relatively calm where we stood, like we had found the one safe public space in the entire area in which we could peacefully protest.
but we were wrong. before long, and without provocation, the tear gas came, raining down on us. the crowd responded as usual: calling out 'slowly' and 'don't run' and walking calmly but relatively quickly to try to get clear of the police attack without causing a stampede ahead. but the police didn't want us to react calmly. before we knew it, the water cannons were on our backs and noise bombs flashing to our sides. but remarkably - incomprehensibly - no matter how fast we ran, we couldn't seem to get clear of them. they were literally chasing us - a group of peaceful protesters trying our very best to show (by running away) that we meant no harm. but they meant harm. they intended not only to scare us but also to injure us, whether by hitting us with pressurized water or tear gas canisters, or by causing the exact stampede we were trying so hard to avoid.
i cried quietly on the boat home from taksim tonight. something in me felt broken. call me naive if you'd like, but i'm not sure i believed something like this existed before tonight, before i saw it for myself. violence in the face of non-violence. the absence of a public space to express our collective yet peaceful discontent. the disrespect one human can show another when they refuse to recognize that they are, in essence, equals.
i am struggling tonight to hold onto the beauty and signs of collective strength i have witnessed during these past weeks - the solidarities formed in gezi park, on the streets of istanbul, and all across social media platforms. i still want to believe in the basic goodness of humanity. but something in me broke tonight. and so i know this night will be a dark one in my personal history; and i worry that it will be a dark night in turkey's history as well.
non-turkish and non-turkish-speaking friends: if you haven't already done so, please take the time to educate yourselves about the situation here. take the time to contact your local consulates and elected representatives to demand that somebody be held accountable for this unwarranted violence. demand that there be public spaces in which people can come together to peacefully protest. demand that human rights - nay, human decency - be respected. we need your help.
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