Rachel Dink's Eulogy for Hrant Dink

Hrant Dink's wife Rakel Dink delivered the most beautiful eulogy at yesterday's funeral. I have translated it, very clumsily, into English. The translation does not really do any justice to the original, which you can access here. There is another [abridged] English translation here.

Letter to the Lover

Rakel Dink, January 24, 2007

It was given to me to partner my chutak*. I am here today, much pained and honored. We are in a lot of pain today, me, my children, my family and you. Today this silent love gives us a little strength. Helps us rejoice a little despite our mourning.

In the bible, in Johannes 15/13, it says “Greater love than this no man hath, that a man lay down his life for his friends.”

Dear friends, today we say farewell to my body’s other half, my lover, my children’s father, your brother. Without disturbing or disrespecting those on the left, on the right, in the front, in the back…without chants, without banners, we walk in silent respect. Today, with this silence we will make a great noise. Today is the first day the deep pits start seeing the light.

Whatever his age, 17 or 27, whoever was the murderer, I know that once upon a time they were a baby. Nothing can be accomplished without questioning the darkness that turns a baby into a murderer...

He was made greater by his love…

My siblings! He was brought here because of his love for truth, for transparency, for friendship. The love that made him stand up to fear also made him greater.

They say he was a great man. I ask you “Was he born great?” No. He was born just like us. He was not made from the heavens. He was of the soil. A decaying body just like us. But, his living spirit, his work, his tone, the love in his eyes, the love in his heart made him great. A man cannot be inherently great. He becomes great through his actions. He was a great man. Because he thought grand. He spoke grand. By coming here today, you all thought grand. You spoke volumes with silence. You are great too.

He has made this day a milestone for Turkey. You are his seal. With him headlines, with him conversations, with him bans have changed. Nothing was taboo or untouchable for him. What he said flew out of his heart. He paid a great price. Worthwhile futures come with loving "Hrant"s, believing in "Hrant"s. They are not attained by hate, by insults, by privileging blood over blood. One rises by seeing the other as himself, respecting other as herself, by treating other as he would want to be treated.

My siblings! They have separated him from the earthly home paradise he created with the help of Jesus. They made him spread his wings toward the heavenly and everlasting paradise. They made him open his wings towards heaven before his eyes were tired, his body was aged, before he was sick, before he had his fill of loved ones.

Only love is allowed in there. We will come there too my love. We will also come to that unmatched paradise. Only and only love is allowed in there. Love that is superior to the languages of men and angels, love that is superior to prophets, love that is superior to knowing all the secrets, love that is superior to the kind of faith that will shake mountains, love that is superior to giving everything one has to charity, to giving up one’s body to the fires--only and only love will enter that paradise. There, that love will live together forever with real love. A love that is jealous of no one, a love that covets no man’s property, a love which kills nobody, a love which looks down upon no one, a love that privileges one’s brother over oneself, a love that fights for one’s brother’s rights, a love that the messiah had and that was spilled unto us.

My love, who could forget what you have written, what you have done, what you have spoken? Which darkness can shroud that, my love? Who could make us forget what has happened and is happening? Can fear make us forget, my love? Can life, can oppression? Can the pleasures of the world, my love? Or is it death that will make me forget, my love? No, no darkness will ever make me forget, my love. I too have written you a love letter, my love. The price I pay is too heavy, my love. I can only write because of Jesus, my love. Let us give him his due, my love. Let us give everybody their due, their right, my love.

You were separated from your loved ones. Separated from your children, from your grandchildren. He was separated from all of you. You were separated from my bosom.
But you were not separated from your country, my love.

*[violin in Armenian]

In Memoriam: Hrant Dink September 15, 1954- January 19, 2007

Last Friday, one of the better people in the world was murdered.

Hrant Dink was someone who had every reason to be angry, to be resentful, to hate the world, to the despise the country he grew up in. But he always chose reason over hate, understanding over fanaticism. There are so few people like him - he was intelligent enough to think for himself, brave enough to speak out, generous enough to believe in a better future. How many people do you know who have all those qualities? People who can read without becoming cynics, people who can debate without becoming demagogues, people who can feel without becoming bitter?

One of the handful of Armenians left in Turkey, he grew up in an orphanage. I cannot even fathom the kind of slights he'd had to endure during his life. He often talked about one in particular that he took to heart: at the end of his military service, everyone in his unit was promoted except him, because he was an Armenian. Deeply hurt, he cried in a back room for two hours.

He studied zoology and philosophy. Later he ran the Armenian orphanage he himself grew up in. Then the State took that away. So he started a newspaper-Agos. He wanted the Armenian community to open up to a dialogue with Turks. He thought if he could just reason with the Turkish nationalists, they would understand. Answering the charge that Armenians had land claims, he said: yes we do - we want to be buried in these lands.

To that end, he would tirelessly show up in talk shows, and debate every kind of crazy fascist masquerading as a historian out there. Here's an excerpt from the most recent of those debates over Article 301, which makes insulting "Turkishness" a crime [my translation]:

Hrant Dink: Let me say something at this point. I have listened to everything Mr. Savas has said, and I understand him. I understand what he is talking about and from what he is saying about Armenians have these sorts of aims, they have done these sorts of things, that they continue the genocide today etc. etc.-these sorts of claims, I choose not to get offended by, even though I am Armenian. I just want to say that-I do not take that as an insult.

Ozcan Yeniçeri: You may not.

Hrant Dink: So right now I...

Ozcan Yeniçeri: The fact that you are not insulted has to do with your mental and psychological state. The fact I am [insulted by the genocide claim] has to with my culture and values. This is very clear, like when somebody calls your father a murderer...

Hrant Dink: That is a correct observation. Let's call this culture, in other words, what I have and what you cannot tolerate, democratic values.

Ozcan Yeniçeri: Why do you say that? Do you have exclusive rights to democracy?

Hrant Dink: Not by any means. I am just calling it a respect for democracy.

Ozcan Yeniçeri: Stop trading on democracy. This is a misplaced concept-selling democracy. Democracy is a good concept. Everybody likes it. So you claim it for yourself, so you can call the other side antidemocratic, fascist etc. There is no other way.

Hrant Dink: I've never used those terms. Never said such things.

Ozcan Yeniçeri: No you haven't but those things follow. That is what is implied in these books.

Hrant Dink: That is what you perceive. I never use those terms.

Ozcan Yeniçeri: If you start an argument with prejudice, nothing good will come out of it.

Hrant Dink: I agree 100 percent.

Ozcan Yeniçeri: Do not build unnecessary walls between you and us. If you start talking about genocide, blood, hate, revenge, we cannot talk to you. In order for me to shake your hand, you have to acknowledge that we have been living together for at least a millennium, that there have been both good and bad days, that the bad days have been very few, that we have mostly acted well and tolerantly -- there were Armenians in my home region too, and there were very cordial mutual relations, intermarriages and so on for hundreds of years. You cannot pretend this history does not exist and only focus on the last two years.

Hrant Dink: No that is not what I am doing. I know about that history. I agree with what you say. But what we are debating here is 301 and tolerance. It all comes down to tolerance, and you have admitted that you disagree with me on that.

Hrant Dink: You have admitted that you cannot tolerate it. That is what you said.

Ozcan Yeniçeri: That is correct. If someone calls your father a murderer...

Hrant Dink: This is all I ask: be a little more tolerant, and all these problems will be over.

Ozcan Yeniçeri: We have shown enough tolerance.

Hrant dink: Well, please show more, what is the harm? This country will be a better place for it.

Article 301 is what Hrant Dink was found guilty under. He had written that the Armenians should let go of the "Turkish poison" in their veins and focus on Armenia's future. For that sentence he was found guilty of insulting Turkishness, but his sentence was suspended. The charge really hurt him. He was murdered before he could see it overturned by ECHR.

Here is his last column where he talks about the horrendous ordeal, but in his ever optimistic and generous way:



Like a nervous pigeon: my unsettled state of mind

Hrant Dink

At the start, the investigation launched against me by the office of the State Prosecutor in Sisli on the charge of "demeaning Turkdom" did not worry me. It wasn't the first time. I had already had a similar case brought against me in Urfa. In 2002, at a talk I gave at a conference held in Urfa, I had said that I "am not a Turk ... I am an Armenian and a native of Turkey [Türkiyeli]." And because of that, I had been fighting a charge of "demeaning Turkdom" for three years.

I wasn't even following the hearings. I paid no attention. Lawyer friends in Urfa were pursuing the matter for me and attending the hearings in my absence. Even when I went to the State Prosecutor's office in Sisli to give a statement, I was not concerned. In the end, I trusted in what I had written and in my intentions. When the prosecutor evaluated not just that one sentence, which by itself was meaningless, but the entirety of what I had written, he would easily understand that I had no intention of "demeaning Turkdom" and this comedy would come to an end.

At the end of the interrogation I was certain that there would be no case opened. I was sure of myself.

But what a surprise! A case was opened.

Again, I did not lose my optimism.

So much so, in fact, that when I was interviewed live by telephone for a TV program, I told the lawyer Kerinçsiz who had denounced me that "he shouldn't get too excited, this case would not result in any punishment for me, and if I were to be sentenced, I would leave the country." I was sure of myself, because in fact in my writings I had no intention, no aim of demeaning Turkdom---none whatsoever. Those who read all of the columns that I had written would be able to understand that quite clearly.

As a matter of fact, that is precisely what the committee of experts [bilirkisi] appointed by the court, consisting of three faculty members from Istanbul University, stated in the report it submitted to the court.

There was no reason for me to worry, at some stage or other the case would certainly be dismissed.

"O grant me patience," I kept on sighing.

But it was not dismissed.

Despite the expert report, the prosecutor insisted that I must be punished.

And thereupon the judge decided to sentence me to six months' imprisonment.

When I first heard the news of my conviction, I found myself under the bitter pressure of the hopes that I had been nourishing during the course of the case. I was astonished... My disappointment and my refusal to accept this were boundless.

For days and months I had been holding out, saying, "Just wait and see until the judgement is issued and I am acquitted, and then then you will see how sorry you will be about all you have said and written."

At every court hearing, it was repeated in newspapers, in press commentaries, in TV programs, that I had said "Turkish blood is poisonous."

On each occasion, I was made a little more famous as an "enemy of the Turks."

In the corridors of the court building, fascists assaulted me with racist curses.

With signs and banners, they rained down insults on me. Each time, the hundreds of threats coming in by telephone, e-mail, and by the post increased a bit more.

To all of this, I sighed "O grant me patience," and continued to hold out, waiting for the verdict of acquittal.

When the verdict was announced, the truth would certainly become apparent and these people would be ashamed of what they had done.

My only weapon was my sincerity.

But now the verdict had been issued and all my hopes lay in ruins.

What's more, I found myself in the most distressing situation possible.

The judge had issued his verdict in the name of "the Turkish nation" and had legally inscribed me into the court records as one who has "demeaned Turkdom."

I could endure anything, but it was impossible that I should endure this.

As far as I was concerned, for a person to demean the people he lives with because of ethnic or religious differences was racism, and totally inexcusable.

Thus it was in this mental state that I gave the following statement to the press and media colleagues who were waiting ready at my door, wanting confirmation as to "whether or not I would be leaving the country, as I had previously said I would":

"I will consult my lawyers. I will apply to the Supreme Court of Appeal for a reversal of the verdict, and if need be I will also go to the European Court of Human Rights. In the event that I am not vindicated by any of these, I will leave my country. Because in my view someone who has been convicted of such a crime has no right to live together with his fellow countrymen." When I uttered these words, I was once again emotional, as always. My only weapon was my sincerity.

Black humor

Amazingly enough, the same deep power that sought to isolate me among the people of Turkey, and to turn me into a target, found a pretext in this statement of mine as well, and opened another case against me, this time charging me with trying to influence the verdict. Furthermore, while all the press and other media had carried this statement, the one on which they fixed their eyes was the statement in Agos. Thus it was the board of Agos and I who were charged with trying to influence the verdict.

This must be what they call "black humor."

I am a person accused of a crime; who has more right than the accused to seek to influence the verdict?

But see how funny it is, the accused was now charged with seeking to influence the verdict.

"In the name of the Turkish state"

I must admit that I have reached a point where I have to a great degree lost confidence in the "system of justice" and the concept of "law" in Turkey.

How could I not? These prosecutors, these judges, are they not people who have studied at the university and have graduated from faculties of law? Is it not to be expected that they have sufficient capacity to understand what they read?

But alas this state's judiciary is not independent, as so many statesmen and politicians have not hesitated to state openly.

The judiciary is not there to protect the rights of the citizen, but to protect the state.

The judiciary is not on the side of the citizen, but is under the direction of the state.

As a matter of fact, I am completely certain of this: even though the verdict passed on me states that it was issued "in the name of the Turkish nation," it is very clear that it was not a judicial decision issued "in the name of the Turkish nation" but "in the name of the Turkish state." Thus, though my lawyers were going to apply to the Supreme Court of Appeal, what guarantee was there that the same deep power that had decided to put me in my place would not be influential there as well?

And in any event, were the judgements issued by the Supreme Court of Appeal always the right ones?

Was it not the same Supreme Court of Appeal that had signed off on the unjust decrees that took away the properties of the charitable endowments of the [non-Muslim] minorities?

Despite the efforts of the chief prosecutor, we did indeed apply, and what happened?

The Chief Prosecutor of the Supreme Court of Appeal stated, just as had been affirmed in the experts' report, that there was no evidence of a crime, and wanted to acquit me, but the Supreme Court of Appeal found me guilty all the same.

However sure I was of what I had written, the Chief Prosecutor of the Supreme Court of Appeal must have been equally sure of what he had read and understood, for he objected to the verdict and referred the case to the Judicial General Assembly.

But, what can I say, the great power that had resolved to put me in my place, and which likely had made its presence felt at every stage of my case through machinations I'll never know, once again was active behind the scenes. As it turned out, the Judicial General Assembly, by a majority of votes, also decreed that I had demeaned Turkdom.

Like a pigeon

This much is clear: those who have tried to isolate me, to make me weak and defenseless, have, in their own fashion, achieved what they wanted. Even now, by the cumulative effect of the filthy and false information that they have disseminated to society, they have created a sector of society that perceives Hrant Dink as one who "demeans Turkdom," and whose number is by no means small.

The message log and memory of my computer is filled with lines full of rage and threats, sent by fellow citizens from that sector.

(Let me note here that I found one of these messages, originating in Bursa, to represent a particularly clear threat, and passed it on to the State Prosecutor's office in Sisli. To this date, I have received no response.)

How real or unreal are these threats? In truth, that is something I cannot possibly know.

For me the real threat, and the one that is really unbearable, is the psychological torture I have to live through by myself.

"What are these people now thinking about me?" This is the question that gnaws at my mind.

It's unfortunate that I am more readily recognized nowadays than I used to be, and that I sense more often people casting glances in my direction, saying "O look, isn't he that Armenian?"

And as a reflex, I wind up tormenting myself.

This torture is in part curiosity, in part worry.

One part is alertness, one part is being frightened.

I feel just like a pigeon...

Just like it, I am in a constant state of keeping my eyes out, looking left and right, in front of me and behind me.

My head is just as mobile... and just as ready to swiftly turn at a moment's notice.

Here is the price for you

What did Foreign Minister Abdullah Gül say? What did Justice Minister Cemil Çiçek say?

"Come on, there's really nothing about Article 301 that deserves to be exaggerated so. Is there anyone who has been convicted under it and sent to prison?"

As if the only price to pay would be to enter prison...

Here's the price for you... Here's the price for you...

O ministers, do you know what kind of price it is to imprison a human being in a pigeon's fright... ? Do you know... ?

Have you never watched a pigeon?

That which they call "Life or Death"

It's not an easy process I am living through... and which we are living through as a family.

There have even been moments when I have seriously thought about leaving the country and moving far away.

Especially when the threats have been directed at those closest to me...

At that point I have always felt helpless.

This must be what they call a question of "life and death." I could have kept on resisting of my own free will, but I had no right to endanger the life of anyone close to me. I could be a champion on my own behalf, but I could not claim the right to play the hero if that meant bringing danger upon anyone else, let alone those close to me.

In hopeless moments like these, I have gathered my wife and children around me and taken refuge in them and had my greatest support from them. They put their trust in me.

Wherever I would be, they would be there too.

If I said "Let us go," they would come, if I said "Let's stay," they would stay.

To stay and resist

Well, if we were to go, where would we go?

To Armenia?

Well but how would someone like me, who cannot abide injustices, put up with the injustices there? Would I not wind up in even greater trouble there?

As for going to Europe to live, it's not for me.

I'm the kind of person who, when I go to the West for three days, on the fourth I am writhing with discomfort, missing my country and saying "let it be over already so I can go back." What would I do with myself there?

Too much comfort would have discomforted me.

Above all, it is not in my nature to leave behind a "boiling hell" behind and flee to some "ready-made paradise." I'm the kind of person who seeks to turn the hell in which he is living into paradise.

To stay in Turkey and to keep on living here was both our true desire and something that was required by the respect we have for the thousands of our friends, both those we know and those we don't know, who are fighting for democracy in Turkey and who have come forward to support us.

We would stay and resist.

It may be that one day we would be forced to go, but... We would set out just like those in 1915 did... Like our forefathers... Without knowing where we were headed... Walking on the roads they trod... Feeling the torment, living the pain...

With that kind of blow dealt by fortune we might leave our homeland. And we would go, not to a place chosen by our hearts, but where our feet would take us... Wherever that was.

Scared and free

My wish is that we will never, ever be forced to live through such an abandonment. In any case, we have too much hope, too much need not to.

Now, finally, I am applying to the European Court of Human Rights.

I do not know how long this case will take.

All I know is that whatever happens, at least until the case is concluded I will continue to live in Turkey, and from that I derive some degree of comfort.

If the court rules in my favor, no doubt I will rejoice even more because that will mean that I will never again be compelled to leave my country.

Probably 2007 will be an even more difficult year for me.

The court proceedings will go on, new ones will begin. Who knows what sort of additional injustices I will have to confront?

But while all these things happen, there is this truth which I will count on as my guarantee.

Yes, I may find myself trapped in the nervous mental state of a pigeon, but I know that in this country people do not harm pigeons.

Pigeons continue to live their lives, even in the midst of cities, amidst crowds of people.

Yes, a bit frightened but to the same degree also free.

---

(Hrant Dink's article translated by András Riedlmayer)

I am not someone who cries often. But I think something broke inside me on Friday.

Orhan Pamuk

Expressed it much better than I ever could have:

In my books I have described in some detail how this basic fact evoked a Checkovian sense of provinciality, and how, by another route, it led to my questioning my authenticity. I know from experience that the great majority of people on this earth live with these same feelings, and that many suffer from an even deeper sense of insufficiency, lack of security and sense of degradation, than I do. Yes, the greatest dilemmas facing humanity are still landlessness, homelessness, and hunger ... But today our televisions and newspapers tell us about these fundamental problems more quickly and more simply than literature can ever do. What literature needs most to tell and investigate today are humanity's basic fears: the fear of being left outside, and the fear of counting for nothing, and the feelings of worthlessness that come with such fears; the collective humiliations, vulnerabilities, slights, grievances, sensitivities, and imagined insults, and the nationalist boasts and inflations that are their next of kind ... Whenever I am confronted by such sentiments, and by the irrational, overstated language in which they are usually expressed, I know they touch on a darkness inside me. We have often witnessed peoples, societies and nations outside the Western world – and I can identify with them easily – succumbing to fears that sometimes lead them to commit stupidities, all because of their fears of humiliation and their sensitivities. I also know that in the West – a world with which I can identify with the same ease – nations and peoples taking an excessive pride in their wealth, and in their having brought us the Renaissance, the Enlightenment, and Modernism, have, from time to time, succumbed to a self-satisfaction that is almost as stupid.

For the full text of his Nobel acceptance speech, see here.

Raki

Ok, I know I promised a post about Muslims' tendency to protest against perceived insults, but I will save that rather depressing topic for another post. 'Tis the season, after all, and I think more festive posts are in order.

In case you are headed to Turkey or Istanbul for the holidays like me, you might want to learn more about an aspect of Turkish culture that does not get enough respect. I am talking about our national alcoholic beverage of choice, raki, and the raki culture.

First, for those who are entirely unfamiliar for Turkey, a few general tidbits: Turkey is predominantly Muslim, but produces large quantities of alcohol for domestic consumption. The alcoholic beverage sector used to be a state monopoly (with the exception of beer and wine) but this has changed in the last decade or so. Now private firms, foreign and domestic, are free to compete in this sector. Just to give you an idea of the size of the market, the domestic production of alcoholic beverages in the first 9 months of 2006 was 795.3 million litres. Most of this is beer: 743 million 83.2 thousand litres. However, the second on the list is not wine, but raki: 24 million 870.7 thousand litres. Wine comes third with about 20 million. Now consider that Turkey's population is about 70 million (including children and people who do not drink alcohol).

Anyway, leaving aside beer, raki is clearly the drink of choice for most Turks. What is raki you might ask? It is an anise flavored hard liquor distilled from grapes (45%). It is remarkably similar to the Greek ouzo. There are different varieties of raki, depending on whether it was distilled from dry grapes or fresh grapes and how it was barrelled and so on. However, if you are a newby, you probably won't be able to tell the difference. Most Turks still stick with what used to be the state brand: Yeni Raki, and that is what you will find even in the most remote corners of the country.

Raki has its own culture and drinking etiquette. First of all, it is not a stand alone drink, an aperatif or an after dinner drink. It should be consumed sitting down and not mixed with other drinks. Raki has its own table (raki masasi). Or, I should say, if there is raki, there should be a table, and on that table there should be little plates of food (meze) that accompany the raki.

The point of drinking raki is not getting drunk. The point rather is to get to a state of mild inebriation so that the conversation around the table will flow more smoothly and freely. Everything can be and should be discussed around a raki table: politics, religion, philosophy, literature, sports etc. If it is a successful evening, people will sing old melancholic songs at some point.

The way to drink raki is in tall skinny glass. You pour in the raki first (1/3), then dilute it with water (1/3), at which point it will turn cloudy, and add ice (1/3). Another tall skinny glass is filled only with water. Because the goal is not getting drunk but maintaining a state of mild tipsiness for the duration of the evening , which should ideally last many hours, you drink raki very slowly. There is no magic formula but you should be taking a sip about every 3-4 bites food and chasing your sips with water every now and then.

In the old days only men used to drink raki and it was the wives' duty to set up a proper raki table home at home complete with several mezes. Nowadays both men and women participate in this culture, at least in the Western part of the country. The restaurants that deliver raki tables are called meyhanes (similar to the Greek ouzeri). Istanbul has a very vibrant meyhane culture and offers a wide variety of choice. There are streets of meyhanes: most tourists are familiar with Kumkapi. Another one that is more frequented by Turks is Nevizade, which is a side street off of Istiklal. An excellent meyhane located in Nevizade is Boncuk, which specializes in Armenian mezes along with the more traditional Istanbul classics. Another one is Imroz, which has a Greek flavor.

If you are into eating and drinking, I recommend that you try to partake in this culture in Istanbul. But if you are going to do it, you should try to do it right. Eating at a meyhane is not about romance. It is about conversation. And while the food is usually excellent, it is not about the food either. The food is there to accompany the raki, which is the lubricant for conversation. It is pretty poor form to go to a meyhane and try to drink something else besides raki (The Greeks have retzina-pine gum flavored cheap white wine-which is the only thing that might be somewhat acceptable as a substitute, but that is not available in Turkey anyway). If you do not want to drink raki or alcohol, drink water. Others might disagree on this, but I think it is an insult to raki to drink something else at the raki table (Not that anybody will say anything to you-it is just a matter of etiquette). The mezes are in the middle of the table and are there to be shared. It is also poor form to go to a meyhane and order your own plate of food. And the meal is not to be rushed. It should last several hours at least. First: cold mezes, second: hot mezes, third: main course (if there is still room), fourth: desert/fruit, fifth: Turkish coffee. This is how it should be done.

Oh, a final note: if you've never tasted raki before, chances are you will hate it when you try it for the first time. However, if you follow my instructions and consume it the way it is supposed to be consumed, by the end of the evening, it will have grown on you. I guarantee it. Best of luck and Serefe!

His Holiness

So, as might you have heard, the Pope is in Turkey. And boy, must he regret what he said earlier about Islam being a violent religion. Because Pope Benedict XVI has been acting really out of character since he stepped foot in the country.

First, he said that Islam is a peaceful religion, composed of logic and reason.

Second, he said he wants to see Turkey and the EU together.

Third, when he was leading the mass in Virgin Mary's chapel in Ephesus, he started it out with a Turkish sentence.

Fourth, he waved the Turkish flag after the mass.

Fifth, he said he likes and respects Turks.

Finally, he has been smiling all the time.

This is all very bizarre. I think what happened is that the Vatican was so afraid something might happen to the Pope in Turkey that they did not send the real Pope. They sent a clone or someone who looks like him. But they haven't fooled me at all. The constant smiling and the flag waving has given it away.

In all seriousness, what is going on? The purpose of this visit was not to placate Muslims but to forge stronger ties with the Ecumenical Patriarch of Constantinople (Istanbul). Is it because of the protests over his earlier remarks? Up until this point he has been generally critical of Islam and has opposed Turkey's EU membership. Did he have a change of heart? Or is he making nice just to get through the trip?

All of this makes me think that an analysis of Muslims' proclivity to protest any kind of perceived insult from the West is in order. That will be my next post.

Animal Rights II

My previous post has prompted Ivan from the EHDKD blog to leave a nice comment. This is a blog maintained by some dedicated animals rights activists in Turkey who are documenting the abuse and the neglect that goes on in some municipal shelters. Furthermore, they are trying to hold the Istanbul municipality and the contractor in the neuter/release project (AIG) accountable for some really egregious behavior. If you care about animals, please check out this blog.

Animal Rights

About a year ago, I happened to be watching Animal Cops (a show I do not watch frequently because it is too upsetting). The episode was set in Detroit, and at one point two animal cops entered a seemingly abondoned house to find two dogs living in the dark and filthy basement. It turned out that the previous occupant of the house was now homeless, but was still bringing scraps of food to these dogs every now and then. The dogs were completely accustomed to living in the dark, in filth, and were not at all socialized to human contact. They only relied on each other. Anyway, the cops managed to rescue these dogs and brought them to the shelter. So far so good, right? Well, for some reason what happened next really struck a nerve with me. It was decided that the dogs were too wild to be adopted and they were both put to sleep, i.e. killed.

It is this sort of thing that worries me about what will happen when and if Turkey catches up with Western norms of animal (pet) management. And this is what I want to talk to you about today.

Obviously, the situation in Turkey for animals we deem as pets -cats and dogs- is not ideal. I have no statistics, but I would venture to guess that fewer households have pets in Turkey compared to Western Europe and the US. Cats are definitely more common as pets. Dogs have been used as watchdogs and shepherd dogs in rural areas for a long time, but their entry to homes has been mostly limited to westernized and urban centers. There is a certain notion in Islam that dogs are unclean. So you won't find a dog living in the home of a practicing Muslim person (Muslim prayers require meticulous cleanliness). However, more and more secular city Turks have come to think of dogs as companions (and some as status symbols) so the numbers are increasing.

On the other hand, strays are very common, both in rural and urban areas. Stray dog packs have been an issue in Istanbul throughout history. In the beginning of 20th century, the Ottoman Sultan had all the dogs in the city rounded up and dumped on a nearby island. This story makes me wince every time I hear of it.

Nowadays though, I often observe a symbiotic kind of relationship between the city and the strays. Take a walk early morning or late evening, and you will see butchers, shopkeepers, housewives putting out plates of food and scraps for the neighborhoods' cats and dogs. You see old, rugged working class guys get a smile on their face when they see the neighborhood dog or cat show up in front of their store. It is as if these "pets" are communally owned. When our neighborhood dog Zagor was hit by a car, the patrons of the actors' cafe he used to hang out by all chipped in for his surgery and rehabilitation costs.

As things stand, most municipalities in Turkey do not have the resources to fund animal shelters. (Here's a notable exception [Only in Turkish unfortunately, but pictures speak louder than words-This is a no kill shelter]). What they do instead is to capture stray dogs, neuter/spay them, and release them back. A tag in the ear will tell you that the dog has been through this process.

I am of two minds on this issue. On the one hand, life on the streets is not easy, especially for dogs. It is difficult to find food, and chances of getting hit by a car are high. When it rains or snows, I often think of how miserable it must be for the street animals. On the other hand, I feel like this kind of approach gives these animals a fighting chance to live. Most of them would be put to sleep if Turkish municipalities had more money and could adopt the Western approach to animal management.

An interesting and unintended consequence of this difference between Turkey's and the West's approach to animals can be observed on the streets of Bodrum. Bodrum is a resort town on the Aegean coast of Turkey, especially popular with British tourists. For awhile now British tourists have been renting or buying long-term vacation homes there. When we were in Bodrum two years ago we observed that most of the street dogs there were not of the regular varieties of mutt you see in Istanbul, but were actually breeds: poodles, terriers and what have you. We were surprised by this so we asked around. What we were told was that some British tourists had been leaving their pets behind at the end of the vacation with the idea that these dogs might survive on their own in Bodrum (which I guess is preferable to the alternative of dropping them off at the pound back in the U.K.).

I wish people everywhere were more responsible with their pets. And if you ever decide to get a pet companion, please do not pay for one from a pet store. Save one from the shelter. If you really wanted to be charitable, you could adopt a friendly street dog or cat from Turkey. Our vet in Istanbul was running a program where he was placing friendly abondoned pets in German homes.

For the moment, I am selfishly happy that dogs and cats are part of the urban landscape in Istanbul. When I am in the US, I have to make do with squirrels.