Coup Attempt in Turkey and “Democracy Watch”: A Personal Account of the Situation

In my opinion, the July 15, 2016 ‘hyper-real’ prime-time coup attempt already occupies a significant place in Turkish history, as well as the World history of coups. For the first time, a president addressed his nation through the image of his image, and for the first time in Turkey, after President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan’s address, civilians went out on the streets to resist the military takeover. On July 21, the ongoing State of Emergency was declared, but Erdoğan and his government still invited people to “occupy” public spaces in “resistance” to the coup attempt, for what was later called “Democracy Watch” gatherings, under the notions of “togetherness” and “unity.” In this text, I try to describe and discuss my own observations, during the night of the coup, as well as the following two weeks.

The Night of the Coup Attempt ///

Some of us found out about the incident during their commute, some others were already at home getting ready for a lazy Friday night. I was personally in a bus back home, just crossing the Bosphorus Bridge and seeing the confrontation of the army with the police. People following social media, on the other hand, had quite a different experience of the coup attempt, reading observations and seeing random photographs of soldiers, police, and explosions in Ankara, than those watching on television the presidential declaration on public channels, or the call for “democracy” and “resistance” on a private one.

I wasn’t the only one experiencing the night with an acute sense of reality, trying to explain the situation I’m in to my family/friends in cities other than Ankara or Istanbul, to those without access to the internet, television, mobile phone relay or mosque. Beyond our realities, the coup attempt was certainly not news in the Kurdish cities, whose residents were already in an on-going war between the State and the PKK.

A significant turning point happened when Erdoğan appeared via Facetime on live television, calling people to take the streets to “defend democracy.” This, followed by several SMS sent “on the behalf of the President,” and the calls from the mosques, triggered massive gatherings by the governmental party supporters, who stopped the tanks and the soldiers. Social media were rapidly flooded with images of people taking over tanks, and others, of tanks shooting and crushing people. Many of us waiting at home experienced an intense mixed feeling while watching the people on the street. On the one hand, we certainly admired their courage to face the army, on the other hand, the demonstrations in the streets appeared to us as angry, violent, masculine, intolerant and authoritarian, similarly to the attitude of Erdoğan over the last years.

Just before Erdoğan’s landing in Istanbul, two tweets were particularly remarked: one from Stratfor releasing the flight route of the Erdoğan’s plane, and another one claiming that planes took off from the US army base in İncirlik. We also heard the sonic booms of the fighter jet planes breaking the sound barrier close to the ground. Windows shattered, many of us lost perception of our bodies; some even had partial strokes. Soon after landing, Erdoğan held a press meeting at Atatürk Airport, which had just been taken back by the loyalist army, stating that this even constituted a perfect opportunity to clean the military from those who attempted the coup in the light of the upcoming great gathering of the government and the army in August. Once again the potential use of internet, media and social media proved to be an important game changer. The way that Erdoğan was able to respond via Facetime on a private television channel, the SMS that we received enjoining us to take the street were for me the most significant elements of that night.

Democracy Watch ///

During the evenings that follow this dreadful night, people kept on going out to the streets and public squares. Taksim square, as the main public space of Istanbul was, once again, the stage of the major Democracy Watch gatherings, even if Erdoğan normally avoids using this space for his rallies, and despite the fact that there has been a continuous ban on rallies on this square for the recent years. The Turkish flag was the most important common element of Democracy Watch, in addition to some songs and anthems. The gatherings that I personally witnessed were the ones in Taksim and Beşiktaş, where the Metropolitan Municipality allocated temporary spots for free water and food distribution, as well as mobile public toilets. Public transportation was also free during these days. Anthems, songs, multimedia shows, people on stage reading poems, telling heroic stories, reading statements and leading people to repeat after them in a way that somehow recalls the military. But contrary to what I had expected, the gatherings created scenes of picnic and recreation, more than demonstration, and women and children were the dominant figures of the gatherings.

I did not feel that I belong to these crowds, as their conversations and their body language were reinforcing nationalist and conservative narratives. However, I was genuinely curious about these gatherings and what motivated the people’s presence; yet, I also kept in mind those who did not join them. These meetings had the potential to bring everyone together, but they failed by displaying a constructed identity that was solely based on being Turkish and Muslim. On the other hand, a research about the people who attended the demonstrations showed that most of those attended were workers of various sectors.

“Democracy and Republic” was the name of another rally organized the following weekend by the center-left party (Republican People’s Party).  It brought together some other parties, although many leftists and seculars refused to join, thinking that it would constitute a form of allegiance to the President and AKP when considering how rapidly a rally was allowed to take place on Taksim, on the contrary to past attempts of gathering by the labor party or LGBTQI movements, which were forbidden in the last years. A 10-point Taksim declaration was read out loud, which emphasized the democratic principles against the coup, dictatorship, partisanship, revenge, and in favor of secularism; the social state, the separation of powers, and bringing the conspirators to justice, but resolutely against torture.

The “Forum against the Coup” in Üsküdar, on the Anatolian side of Istanbul constituted an interesting exception. People from with different political opinions and lifestyles, who didn’t necessarily support Erdoğan, yet positioned themselves resolutely against the coup, gathered, knowing that such a position was not necessarily a contradiction, and that they their meeting could promote communication and develop a common understanding.

When attending some of the Democracy Watch demonstrations, many of my thoughts went back to the 2013 Gezi resistance. Three years ago, the occupation managed to temporarily cancel conceptual dichotomies and social categories, allowing us to look at ourselves through the others’ eyes. Gezi was a space where every individual or group confronted and accepted the other’s identity, creating a space of common(s). Gezi protests managed to bring together different perceptions, opinions and knowledge and allow all to participate. The same thing cannot be said about the demonstrations of Democracy Watch.

The tents set up at Gezi Park during Democracy Watch constituted another contrast with the Gezi protests and, more generally, with the various forms of the Occupy movement. During the Occupy protests in the world, tents were used in order to create a temporary space of autonomy and common(s), a tertiary collective space of “here and now,” beyond the dichotomies of the public and private, the state and the citizen.

In fact, both Erdoğan’s and the Demonstration Watch’s verbal and visual language appropriated the language of Gezi. In his SMS to the people the President asked to “occupy” public spaces in favor of democracy and “resistance” against the coup. The monumental poster on Atatürk Cultural Center’s façade: “Sovereignty belongs to the Nation.” (a statement that is actually famously attributed to Mustafa Kemal Atatürk himself), provided a significant contrast with what had been the mark of pluralism through the numerous posters displayed on the same façade during Gezi protests (see photographs above). Another slogan, “Everywhere Tayyip, everywhere Erdoğan” was an appropriation of a Gezi one: “Everywhere Taksim, everywhere resistance.” These slogans are also the worrying signals of a militarizing nation, but most of all, we might be approaching a point that Erdoğan will mean Turkey and Turkey will mean Erdoğan.

The occupation of Gezi park was self-organized and choreographed. No one directed the crowd to the park, no one told it what to do in the park. There was an immense diversity and pluralism. This was maybe the crucial significance of Gezi. On the contrary in the case of the more recent demonstrations, the main motivation for people to take to the street and occupy public spaces was the call of a single man.

The sounds of the aircraft are still in my ears, and I cannot stop thinking about the people in Diyarbakır, Mardin, Homs, Aleppo, and other places; all live daily with such a terror for a long time now. I also can’t stop asking myself if there is place in Turkey for people like us to be free, the religious minorities, the Syrians, the Kurds, the LGBTQI, etc. But then I have to ask where can we go? With the accelerated changes towards the worse every day, I keep wondering how can we combine our existences in this world?