On Edward Snowden, Gezi Park, and the American Constitution

*

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.^[1}

(The Constitution of the United States of America, The First Amendment)

When the Constitution was thus perfected and established, a new form of government was created, but it was neither speculative nor experimental as to the principles on which it was based. If they were true principles, as they were, the government founded upon them was destined to a life and an influence that would continue while the liberties it was intended to preserve should be valued by the human family. Those liberties had been wrung from reluctant monarchs in many contests, in many countries, and were grouped into creeds and established in ordinances sealed with blood, in many great struggles of the people. They were not new to the people. They were consecrated theories, but no government had been previously established for the great purpose of their preservation and enforcement. That which was experimental in our plan of government was the question whether democratic rule could be so organized and conducted that it would not degenerate into license and result in the tyranny of absolutism, without saving to the people the power so often found necessary of repressing or destroying their enemy, when he was found in the person of a single despot.

(John T. Morgan.  Introduction to Democracy in America by Alexis de Toqueville)

*

I have been following, for a few weeks now,

the demand for an equal voice

being made by a segment of the Turkish population.

Having lived in Turkey for four years,

I have my own feelings and opinions about this.  

In fact, this is what I posted

on my personal Facebook page a week ago

about this:

I think it is very important for the Western world to understand why the problems in the Islamic world are our problems, too. And problems in Turkey should concern us a lot. Yes, I lived in Turkey, for four years, and there I met some of the most gracious people in the world. One of the skills I have admired in Turks is their ability to straddle two worlds . . . to live in the margins, so to speak, and to do it graciously and with integrity. They live in a country that is in both Asia and Europe; indeed, Istanbul is probably the only city in the world that straddles two continents. Geopolitically, they are at the crossroads between the Islamic world and the Judeo-Christian world. When I was living there (1999-2003) the Turks took that role very seriously. Right after 9/11, the Turkish government made attempts to host meetings of world leaders from both sides of the divide; in fact, the crossroads city of Istanbul was the site of such gatherings, and the Turks acted as moderators and translators, between the West and the East, between the secular world and the Islamic world. This is the role that Turkey can and must assume, and this is why they are a very important ally to all of us.

The current Prime Minister, Erdoğan, assumed office during my final year there, and every time I have returned since 2003, I have noticed more rigidity. Specifically, I have been back to Turkey four times since I moved back to the States, and yes, each time I've noticed an increased imposition of a more repressive Islamic state. The second last time I was there, in 2008, when I went to visit the Blue Mosque in Istanbul, I was wearing long pants, sandals and a short sleeved t-shirt, but I had brought my own scarf to cover my shoulders and head, which I always do when entering a mosque. I was taken aside by two men, who gave me about four pieces of cloth, and they demanded that I cover myself completely. That would have never happened in 1999, or 2003. . . I noticed them doing this to many foreign women. When I was there in 2012, I was armed and ready with plenty of scarves whenever I went into a historic mosque.

The founding rector of Başkent University, where I worked in Ankara, Prof Dr. Mehmet Haberal (who is also an internationally known surgeon), is still in jail; he was placed there because of his supposed involvement in Ergenekon, "an alleged clandestine, secularist ultra-nationalist organization in Turkey with possible ties to members of the country's military and security forces." (see wikipedia entry on Ergenekon). It appears that academics, media people, or anyone who poses a threat to the current government ends up being accused of being part of Ergenekon. I'm certain my Turkish friends could correct me on this, and I hope they do.

I tell you these things because I think they may help exemplify how Turkey has changed and is changing. The protesters are indeed demanding more than a park, and Erdoğan's belittlement of their demands is symptomatic of a pathological denial.

The most important thing to remember, though, is that Islam itself is not the offender. It is a beautiful religion when practiced purely, as are the other two monotheistic religions, Judaism and Christianity.

My thoughts, prayers, and supports go out to all my friends in Turkey, as they seek to have their voices heard.

*

I really can't say any more about that here.  My feelings remain the same.

But in the world I live in today, Turkey has been eclipsed by

another story, where someone has dared to practice free speech,

in the land where free speech was the first right

granted by the Constitution:

It is very difficult for me to not make a connection between these two 

news stories, and to see how the first illustrates

the possible outcome of the second.

When I moved to Turkey, I felt there was a fundamental

difference between the U.S.A and Turkey,

and that difference lay in the Constitution of the United States.

Such a hallowed document.

But while there, I began to suspect that it was beginning to become

hollow.

In Fall of 2002, I was teaching a course

on American Social and Political Systems.

This, in itself, is kind of funny, because that is not at all

my area of expertise.  However,

our American historian had skipped town,

and I was told to teach this course.

I insisted that I couldn't.

"You're American, aren't you?"

they said,

"you can teach this course."

I decided to base the course on the Bill of Rights,

and to have my students analyze the

different constitutional amendments,

in terms of their historical context and

the ideology they promoted.

While I was doing this,

the war drums were beginning to sound.

Although the then current American president

was claiming that an invasion of Iraq was

the last alternative 

to his aggressive rhetoric towards Saddam Hussein,

anyone who took a trip down to 

the Eastern Mediterranean coast of Turkey

saw the U.S. war ships that were already anchored  in the Mediterranean,

waiting for that last alternative.

My students were very upset about the impending attack.

One day, they told me that they were certain

that George W. Bush would just call for

an invasion,

and I, in my naivete said:

"He can't do that.  We have a system of checks and balances in our Constitution

that require that he get permission from both Houses of Congress

before he does that."

My students laughed at me and said:

"Constitutions can be changed."

I insisted that wouldn't happen.

Well, we know what happened then:

(Notably, another political slight of hand happened

in Turkey when Erdoğan came to power,)

*

Since the 1920's, the Turkish Republic has been based upon

a truckload of reforms ushered in by Mustafa Kemal Atatürk.

It is quite overwhelming to read the litany of reforms

that he ushered in, in the course of a 

1927 speech that lasted about five days,

called "Nutuk," but often

now referred to as "The Great Speech."

In this speech he declared all of the reforms that would usher inhis new Republic,

among them was freedom of the individual.

Turkey's attempts, ever since then, to maintain this Western-style nation have been frought

with turmoil, because these reforms, which were all enacted,

were layered upon an Islamic Empire that also housed the Caliph of the Islamic World.

(Regretably, one of Atatürk's reforms was to get rid of the Caliph,

which, in my humble opinion,

was not a political choice that he had the right to make.)

Atatürk's reforms, then, were very much an experiment,

which was not without flaws,

but it was an experiment none-the-less,

and a Great One too.

Perhaps what we are witnessing in Turkey is either

an attempt to prolong and strengthen the democratic experiment

he ushered in.

Or perhaps it is an indication of how long

such an experiment can last

in a culture where the historical precedent is for something else.

*

In the meantime,

in the U.S.A.,

my heart goes out to Edward Snowden.

Edward Snowden has practiced

freedom of speech,

and dared to give 

freedom of information

to all Americans.

It is true; some may claim him a traitor,

and our government,

like the Turkish government,

may use their power over public discourse

to frame him as such.

Some may claim him a hero,

a man who is testing the extent to which

the American Experiment

is still valid.

His voice may be the first

among many voices

to demand our own

freedom of speech,

and privacy.

Others may think him mad.

He is painfully logical and honest,

and placidly so,

as he talks of his decision,

in the same way a madman

may painfully, logically, even honestly,

rationalize a crime.

But honestly,

I love him for it.

Edward Snowden knows he will become a cultural icon

for doing what he has done,

and for admitting that he did it.

The question is,

and the question we must all face in the U.S.A.,

politicians and citizens alike,

is:

what will he represent?

I dare say, 

the United States Constitution

demands that we make the right choice

about how history will write

about Edward Snowden.

zaman

Blood Red Pants

(from Google search page, thanks.)

*

On 9/11/2001,

I was living in Turkey.

I had just returned from

My summer with family in the States.

Only a week previous,

We had celebrated my youngest brother’s wedding

In New York City.

With our new-found family members
(my sister-in-law’s Greek family,

The kind generous people

Who welcomed me so warmly

This past summer)

We had taken the Circle Line Cruise

And enjoyed the Manhattan skyline,

Complete with

Twin Towers.

( photo by Makropoulos )

What a happy day that had been for me,

To be with my whole family,

In New York City,

One of my favorite cities

In the world.

I had lived three and a half very happy years

In that city

While I completed coursework

For my Ph.D., and

I had my own relationship with the

World Trade Center:

One summer I had done temp work in one of the Towers,

For a month or so

On around the 64^th floor,

In a bustling stock trading office.

I don’t remember the name of the place.

But I remember the people,

All frenetic, some struggling

To find a human moment

In the bustle of the day.

I remember being amused

By the high-stakes game they were playing,

But only really wanting to watch.

I knew that if I tried to participate,

I’d probably destroy something,

Like somebody’s

Fragile fortune.

I remember my lunch breaks, too,

Sitting out in the heat,

Under the creaking,

Looming

Monoliths,

Eating my simple sandwich

Every now and then wishing

One of the besuited men

Would take a shine to me

And invite me to lunch.

(But I was newly married then, so I played it safe,

wearing non-descript cotton

dresses

and hose.

In the heat,

That’s right.

I wore hose.)

My other memory of the Towers

Was a daily one:

I would step out of my

East 9^th Street apartment building

And head West

To my classes.

Crossing 1^st Avenue, I could look down

And see them in the distance.

They became my beacon,

My guide,

My reminder that I was headed

In the right direction.

It was very hard to live in New York City

And not have a relationship

With the

Twin Towers.

( guardianchronicle )

* *

( alibaba)

On 9/11/2001,

I was living in Turkey.

I had just returned from

Shopping

In the streets of Ankara.

I loved the new red pants

I had bought

That hugged me

Like hose.

But as pants,

They were far more sexy

Than hose.

Blood red pants.

I still have them.

I came into my apartment,

Turned on my TV,

Always set

On CNN,

And

Without looking,

Went to the bedroom

And put on my

Blood red pants.

(photo by Makropoulos)

They were very sweet,

Indeed,

And made me smitten

With my own ass.

Returning to the other room,

I saw it:

My lovely city

New York

An aerial view

An airplane flying

Low

And colliding

With a Tower.

Like so many others,

I thought it was a hoax at first,

But then,

I saw the next plane.

When the first Tower

Crumbled,

I too

Crumbled

To the ground,

Sobbing,

And suddenly

Very alone, and very frightened.

I could see very clearly

How the massive

American Ship of State

Now had a gaping hole

Torn right into its water line,

And all I could think was:

Now all the passengers,

Those US Citizens,

 on board that massive

Ship of State that they thought

Was the Love Boat

Have a clear view of the rest of the world.

What will they see?

They could, if they dared, see very clearly

The position America had come to assume

In the rest of the world.

They could, indeed, if they dared, look closely

At the now imperiled vessel

In which they had blissfully

Floated for nearly a century

And recognize

That it was not the Love Boat after all,

But rather,

A Battleship.

And they could apologize and get on with mending their wounds,

Everyone’s wounds.

Or

They could get really pissed

And fight back

And keep pretending they are on the

Love Boat

When in fact the more they fought

(the more they fight)

The more the rest of the world

Would see their concealed weapons

More clearly,

And watch how frantic they would all become

As the still damaged

Ship-Of-The-American-State

Began (and begins) to slowly sink

Into

The Sea of History.

Seriously,

That’s what I thought.

Sometimes my brain

Waxes quite poetically.

If you haven't noticed by now.

* * *

On 9/11/2001,

I was living in Turkey.

I had just returned from

The U.S.A.

I had brought some gifts

For my building’s

Kapacı,
(door man, building manager, maintenance man)

A lovely always-smiling man

Named

Salaam.

Which, by the way,

Means “peace”

If you didn’t know that.

It’s often part of a greeting.

I had bought with me a bag full of gifts

For his children,

And he had been so shocked

When I handed them to him.

(In my then very modest Turkish,

I had asked him,

before I left,

how many children he had,

or I thought I asked him that.

After a confused expression, he answered
“altı” – six

So I had brought back a bag full of

Six little stuffed animals.

I later learned he had two

Children,

And the oldest was

Six, and the question I had posed

Was actually

“How old is your child?”)

Salaam was always smiling at the door of the building,

Or working in the grounds, making them a fabulous garden.

His beautiful wife

Aylın

Would bring me homemade food
when she had extra.

After the events of 9/11/2001,

Salaam brought me flowers,

And wished me and my country
a quick healing.

People in my building who I did not know

Stopped me in the elevator and on the stairs,

And said they were deeply sorry

For the attack on the

Twin Towers.

That was not, they said,

The true Islam.

Within the year that followed,

When my apartment was broken into

Salaam took personal responsibility for it,

And did all he could to make the building secure.

My neighbors paid to have my door fixed;

They gave me money and food until

I could stabilize myself.

In my independent American Way,

I was embarrassed
and told them
they didn't have to do that.

But a neighbor explained to me

That the moment I moved into their building,

I became a member of their family,

Their community,

And they felt it was their duty

To help and protect me.

It was, this woman said,

The Turkish way,

The True Islamic way,

Not like what happened in New York

On 9/11/2001.

( brewed coffee )

It is 9/11/2010,

And I live in America.

And somewhere

In Florida,

A preacher,

A religious man

A man whose job it is to train his people

Ethically

About the true nature of God,

And the Peaceful,

Forgiving,

Self-Effacing

Teachings of Jesus Christ

Has threatened to  burn

The Koran –

And I say to you

That man is Not a True Christian.

He should go move

Into a working class apartment complex

In a Muslim country

And see

What a true Christian 
Is supposed to act like.
 

Another cat referral

I have more to say
about the topics I've been writing about, but today
I spent time with my cats.

Sometimes it's the best thing to do.

Anyway,

I invite you to read the story of my deaf Turkish cat, Pişi.  It's actually a story about me, and one of the rather extraordinary challenges I faced during the first year I lived in Turkey.  As with all the stories on these blogs, it goes backwards.  And as with many entries by me, it has four parts. 

It's a good story, with a relatively happy ending.

http://pisisqueak.blogspot.com/

More to come, though, on cats, palindromes, creation, and all that other good stuff. . . .

so I have this talking cat. . . .

There's nothing like self promotion, right?

So I'm going to redirect this blog for the day to my other blog, where I think Makropoulos was possessed by the spirit of a cat. . . .


Here's a key or two on the language:

Pişi is a jellicle cat that lets me live with her.  What's a jellicle cat?  Follow this link to a poem by  T.S.Elliot, especially his Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats, or brush up on the musical Cats.  Sorry, that was a trick sentence; it actually had three links in it, if you include the video that follows:




Squeak is a jellicle cat, too, but  Pişi is the more demanding cat.  That doesn't mean she's stronger, though.

I'm the Big-Two-Legged-One.

Pişi is also deaf, and came back to the U.S.A. with me when I moved back here, after living in Turkey for four years.

And here is some of her story:

http://pisisqueak.blogspot.com/