Intersections of Anti-Migrant Racism and Misogyny in Turkey: An Interview with Feminist Activist Irem Kayıkçı

A banner from the 8 March 2022 Istanbul Women’s March reads Birlikte Güçlü (Strong Together). Photo: Haydar Taştan. A banner from the 8 March 2022 Istanbul Women’s March reads Birlikte Güçlü (Strong Together). Photo: Haydar Taştan.

Intersections of Anti-Migrant Racism and Misogyny in Turkey: An Interview with Feminist Activist Irem Kayıkçı

By : Irem Kayıkçı and Helen Mackreath

In the context of an ever-deepening economic crisis and entrenched political authoritarianism, the political ground for anti-migrant racism in Turkey is widening. The figure of “the migrant” has provided a common fertile ground against which various political positions have been able to mobilize, and which has helped to galvanize the ascent of far-right nationalism. Social media is one of the platforms where such racism is expressed, provoked, and escalated, often pushed by government-backed troll accounts. During the religious bayram holiday in May this year one such social media attack targeted the presence of young male migrants of various nationalities in central parts of Istanbul city, who were spending their holiday on the islands, the beaches, or the historical attractions of the city.[1] Accusations were made that migrant men were disturbing women and recording videos of them to upload online. In the previous weeks various other unverified videos claiming to show migrants disturbing women had been disseminated across social media and news outlets. Various political figures took the opportunity to attack the presence of migrants by claiming they posed the threat of sexual harassment and represented a danger to women.     

In response, on 22 May more than seven hundred women and dozens of women's organizations based inside and outside Turkey signed a statement, entitled “Women's Solidarity Knows No Borders,” opposing the use of the discourse of “women's safety” to fuel racist attacks against migrants in the country. In the context of the government’s withdrawal last year from the international Istanbul Convention to combat violence against women and rising cases of femicides and gender-based exploitation, their statement drew a direct link between patriarchal violence and racism, misogyny, transphobia, and homophobia. They wrote, “while war, destruction, and massacres are carried out for the sake of imperialist dreams, the real culprits of violence committed by men, unemployment, and the economic crisis are hidden.” The statement continues:

We expose this hypocrisy, which targets migrants by marking them as perpetrators of harassment, rape, abuse, and violence, and describes our experiences as problems created by migrants and refugees. This hypocrisy in question ignores the male-dominated system, which is the main cause of the systematic violence committed by men which we are subjected to, and constitutes an inseparable ring of aggression against our struggle for an equal, free, and non-violent life.

The text was met with a backlash on Twitter, provoked in part by troll accounts but also from those across the political spectrum who took issue with this feminist position. These responses display a range of anti-migrant, and anti-feminist, perspectives, including by those who claim the statement was “against women’s rights”; a “harbinger of sharia law”; and even that it represents “bourgeoisie women defending the migration policies of the EU and the capital’s [sic] demand for cheap labor.” These perspectives provide a valuable insight into the various ways in which racism is legitimized and reproduced, in part through the manipulation of other marginalized identities and a flawed understanding of how race, class, and gender are intersecting and reinforcing.

This interview with Irem Kayıkçı, one of the authors and signatories of the text, gives some further details about the context in which the text was written by drawing out some of the deep entanglements of sexism and racism in Turkey, particularly in public spaces.

It should be noted that the use of the term “migrant” in this context itself arguably reflects some of the sticky processes through which racialization is currently occurring in the country. There are a huge range of experiences of different migrant populations in the country (internal and external) related to nationality, class, gender, sexuality, and religion, which bring various degree of vulnerability. While men from Afghanistan and Pakistan were among those accused of harassing women and targeted by racist campaigns on social media, the use of the word “migrant” (göçmen) in the current conjuncture, whether in political rhetoric, media reports, or on social media, particularly by those taking an “anti-migrant” position, is generally understood to mean “Syrians.” This conflation between the “Syrian” and migrants of other nationalities is one of various mechanisms, including criminalization and illegalization, through which racist discourse is reproduced. Since Turkey is not a signatory to the 1967 Protocol Relating to the Status of Refugees, it has a geographical limitation which only confers the legally-recognized “refugee” status on people coming from Europe. Individuals fleeing other countries, who may be categorized as refugees under international law, are not legally recognized as refugees in the country. Syrians are uniquely legally registered under the status of temporary protection.

The use of the word “migrant” in the following interview therefore refers to international migrants who have travelled to Turkey for various reasons, from those fleeing war and persecution to economic crises; and also LGBTQI+ migrants who have fled to Istanbul city from various other parts of the country because of homophobic persecution.[2]

 Helen Mackreath (HM): What was the “Kadın dayanışması sınır tanımaz!” text issued in response to?

Irem Kayıkçı (IK): The “Women's Solidarity Knows No Borders” text was signed by more than seven hundred women and eighty-two women's organizations who oppose the spread of racist, sexist attacks, threats, and increasing chauvinism against migrants, especially that of recent weeks which has been using the discourse of “women's security.” We published a joint statement which says “No to racism, discrimination, hostility, and fueled hatred against migrants. We are on the side of the migrants.”

HM: Could you outline the perspective from which you wrote the text?

IK: We are witnessing how racism and sexism are increasing simultaneously with the increase in the number of migrants coming to Turkey, especially after the Syrian war and the Taliban's coming to power in Afghanistan, and that they go hand in hand.

Expansionism maintained by states through military policies is displacing millions of people. In addition, migration is being experienced more frequently and intensely as a result of wars, the global food crisis, the ecological crisis, and the economic crises experienced in different forms from country to country. On the other hand, rising right-wing populist policies and administrations around the world are fueling anti-migrant hostility. They have a tendency to put the blame for every problem such as the economic crisis, unemployment, poverty, and even femicides, harassment, and rape on migrants.

The Justice and Development Party (Adalet ve Kalkınma Partisi, AKP) government, which has been in power for twenty years in Turkey, lost its capacity to govern, got stuck in the mire of domestic and foreign policies, and condemned millions of people to hunger and unemployment with their daily hikes and high inflation rates, so it sought another argument to cover up the causes of their problems. Their argument was anti-migration. Although hostility towards migrants is not new, they are being turned into a useful tool for intra-state cliques in order for Erdoğan to institutionalize his one-man regime and similarly, the right-wing coalition that plans to come to power. Although the racist and chauvinistic policies prevalent in Turkey are always ready to produce such a tool, the chaotic environment in the country is now ready to produce more excuses for hostility towards migrants. 

The basis of the joint statement we signed outlines the hypocrisy of one of these excuses. Harassment, rape, and violence committed by men against women are systematic and universal. To these we are arguing that they are carrying out a conscious policy by ignoring the basis of the problems we are experiencing, using statements such as “concern for the safety of our women and girls” as an excuse to blame migrants again. Regardless of whether they are migrants, every male perpetrator of physical, psychological, digital, etc. violence towards women takes courage from the normalization of lawlessness and impunity policies in Turkey.

The text was written to highlight the hypocrisy which ignores the systematic nature of violence committed by men, which releases the perpetrators of femicide, harassment, and rape every day, and the increasingly misogynistic rhetoric produced by the government.

HM: What have the reactions to the text been? It received some negative social media attention, including from trolling accounts, which were attempting to use “feminist” arguments to attack its position.

IK: As we expected, the reactions to the text and the threats against the signatories came without delay from these male-dominated circles and accounts. Every discussion on the causes of the above-mentioned problems without an analysis of heteropatriarchy and capitalism turns into attacks against women, feminists, and women's organizations. In recent months, arguments such as nationalist feminism or Turkish feminism have started to spread more, especially from accounts and people known to be close to politicians and groups that feed on right-wing, racist, and nationalist codes.

HM: How are the entanglements of misogyny and racism manifesting themselves in Turkey? 

IK: Patriarchy is constantly reproduced everywhere, from our homes to our workplaces, from the public sphere to the media, and this is of course not independent from the policies of the political power.

Femicides are committed regularly, and most of the murders are committed by relatives, partners, or acquaintances of the women. Men killed at least 280 women in 2021, and there were 271 suspected female deaths. Since January 2022, at least twenty-two femicides have been committed every month, and suspicious deaths of women have been increasing. We know that none of the murders of women were “unsolved” or “suspected.” Men and violence committed by men are constantly in the background of those women who are portrayed as having committed suicide. Even a man you don't know on the street can say, “I was bored, I was depressed” and kill you with a samurai sword and say, “I chose her because she is a woman and because I see her as being weak.”

The perpetrators of femicide, harassment, rape, and child abuse are usually released by the men-dominated judiciary. They think, “Nothing will happen to me...I'll stay in prison for a month or two.” The AKP government's exit from the Istanbul Convention at midnight [in March 2021] and the effective implementation of Law No. 6284, gave more encouragement to the perpetrators. Women who are subjected to violence and who want to take or extend a protection order are either turned away from police stations or law enforcement forces complicate the process and cause women to give up. 

The state is also trying to punish women's associations with various excuses, close them and criminalize them. Purple Solidarity, Rosa, We Will Stop Femicide Platform are some of these associations. Political operations against every women's organization that empowers the women's movement in Turkey continue in their harshest form. The political power is trying to realize its hostility towards the women's movement and women by using the judicial mechanism as a political stick. Patriarchal and state violence go hand in hand.

Racist attacks, on the other hand, manifest themselves mostly in workplaces, neighborhoods, on public transport and social media. Migrants, who are seen as a cheap labor force, are mostly squeezed into gecekondu neighborhoods.[3] They do not have the right to free movement, or easy and equal access to education and health. In recent months, there have been increasing attacks on migrants, who have been targeted by a group of right-wing groups, politicians, and troll accounts.[4] As a result of these attacks, which have increased since last summer, three young Syrian people were burned to death in December 2021 and we started to hear news of a murder or attack happening on a weekly basis. Racism is practiced in different forms against migrant men and women. Against men, they say, “Why didn't they stay and fight in their own country?” or “They are harassing and raping our women.” Against women, they say, “They’re seducing men” or “They’re giving birth to too many children.” 

At the beginning of May, a short film, Silent Invasion, was released on YouTube which propagated the message that “Syrians will take over Turkey.” Victory Party Chairman Ümit Özdağ announced on his Twitter account that he had ordered the project, that he approved the script, and that they covered the production costs. Neither he, the journalist who produced the film, nor anyone who committed a hate crime on social media was punished and no sanction was imposed on them.

HM: What is the situation of migrant and refugee women in Turkey and how are they understood and positioned in relation to other feminist perspectives? 

IK: As of 31 March 2021, the number of registered Syrians under temporary protection in Turkey increased by 9,421 compared to the previous month, reaching a total of 3,665,946. Of these, 1,737,502 (47.4%) are children between the ages of 0-18. The total number of children and women aged 0-18 is 2,596,643 (70.8%) (mülteciler.org.tr, 2021).

According to the figures, as of the end of 2020, there are 3.6 million Syrians, 170,000 Afghans, 42,000 Iraqis, 39,000 Iranians, 5,700 Somalis, and 11,700 refugees and asylum seekers from different countries in Turkey (according to UNHCR, The UN Refugee Agency, 2020). As of mid-2020, Turkey hosts approximately four million refugees. According to the information given by the United Nations High Commissioner, Turkey is the country that hosts the highest number of refugees in the world.

It is possible to say that women and LGBTI+ migrants constitute the most vulnerable part of this population.[5] The problems experienced by women migrants include: being unregistered/undocumented, insecure and low-wage employment, forced marriage or being married informally as a second wife, being forced into marriage at a young age, not learning the language and thus not being able to adapt to social life. There is a lack of complaint mechanisms and a lack of information from public institutions about their rights. Of course, we need to look at all of these problems within the framework of gender inequality. Amnesty's report on Syrian refugees who took refuge in Turkey sheds light on the main problems which women migrant’s experience. Andrew Gardner, Amnesty International Turkey Researcher, stated in the 2014 report, Struggling to Survive: Refugees from Syria in Turkey: 

The situation is even worse for female migrants. Women migrants, who can only find employment at a cheaper rate than men, are not only exposed to more economic exploitation, but also psychological and sociological, they can be victims of various forms of violence and oppression that includes all kinds of abuse from harassment to rape, from being deported to being discredited through immorality and prostitution, and which harms human dignity. 

The government is constantly trying to create the “other” which today is migrant women and LGBTI+ persons. In addition to the policies which can exploit them, from their labor to their bodies, they have now accelerated their policies to intimidate migrants through threats of deportation, impunity for human rights violations, and attacks against Turkish women and LGBTI+ movements.

The feminist movement in Turkey gives strength not only to Turkish women, but also to migrant women and LGBTI+ persons. In the face of differentiated, deepened, and enriched needs, it is seeking to meet all of them. This is a women's movement that discovers the new, rich organizational forms that will integrate the interests and needs of women, and guarantees these with the experiences it has accumulated on the streets for years. In this context we can say that the practice of solidarity with migrants, which has become more urgent in the last period, and especially with migrant women and LGBTI+ persons, has taken a more consolidated place on the agenda of the feminist struggle. That's why, for now, the “Women Solidarity Without Borders” text is open to signatories. Meetings and forums, where we started to talk more intensely about our needs, demands, and suggestions; how we could make this solidarity network more widespread and secure; and how we can run a campaign process in both the short and long term, are gaining momentum.

HM: The question of public space, who has access to it and how it is organized and used, is a very critical one for anyone interested in questions of social equality and justice. How can we understand public space in Istanbul as being constitutive of gender and racism in terms of how different people are able to experience it? 

IK: Istanbul is the city in Turkey with the most cosmopolitan structure and history. In a country where gender inequality, heterosexism, discrimination, and now the economic crisis are so intense, Istanbul mirrors the everyday problems we are experiencing. The AKP government, which has ruled the country for twenty years and held the majority of Istanbul municipalities until the 2019 local elections, has done its best to construct and transform public spaces. All the opportunities and natural beauties of the city that should actually belong to the public are arbitrarily used for the benefit of the state, legislative, and judicial organs, and also offered to capital and the circles that supports them. With this government, Istanbul continues to change in very fast and intense ways, through concretization, the destruction of nature, and thus the alienation of people from nature and the neighborhoods they live in. The poor people, migrants, and the most oppressed segments of society, who constitute millions, are squeezed into gecekondu neighborhoods and left to more poverty. The vast majority of workers in formal and full-time jobs are sentenced to the minimum wage, and millions of workers are even working below the minimum wage.

As in the rest of Turkey, the vast majority of women in Istanbul have to work in informal, flexible, and insecure jobs. With the rapid increase in the inflation rate in the last year, women became poorer and more excluded from employment. According to the Disk-Ar May report, female unemployment was broadly defined as 30%, which remains the highest category of all unemployment types. The public sphere is now more precarious and insecure for women who are forced to find jobs in gendered workplaces, and especially for migrant women. With the normalization of the lawlessness and violence policies in the country, the male-dominated structure of the public sphere can reproduce itself more easily on the streets, in public transport, and in the workplace. Many women living in Istanbul can no longer find a house or shelter according to their own budget. They either have to live in very bad houses, far from humane living conditions, or they have to go back to their family home. The situation is much worse for women who want a divorce or want to flee domestic violence. These women are imprisoned in the cycle of violence because they do not have access to the right to shelter. 

Women feel more insecure on the streets: they cannot reach places they want or their homes because the public transport hours end early, and they cannot even walk wherever they want because most of the streets are unlit. Perpetrators of harassment, rape, and femicide are not punished. Of course, attacks on migrants also give this message of being in the public sphere: “Look! This is what happens to you if you go out: we beat, abuse, rape, and nothing happens to us.”

In Istanbul, one of the cities that experienced the harshest attacks of neoliberal policies, public kindergartens are not opened, there are not enough day-care centers, women's shelters are not opened, and the health services that the government has been proud of for years have completely collapsed. The guards who were assigned to make the streets and the public safer through the guard law enacted two years ago work as the government's militia and carry out special policies in the districts and neighborhoods where social opposition, migrants, and LGBTI+ persons live. They might raid your house just because you’re transgendered. If you are a migrant worker and earn money by hawking on the street and selling fruit, for example, they can confiscate your counter. 

HM: Relatedly, racism, class, and gender are intersecting and constituted within spaces. How is identity politics currently being manipulated, in discussions of public space and otherwise, as a means of further stoking social antagonism?

IK: Discrimination and marginalization carried out over identity politics have always been at the forefront of the arguments used in Turkey. The discriminatory policies, attacks, and unsolved murders, which were directed particularly against Kurds and Alevis since the 1990s, are now being aimed at LGBTI+ persons, migrants, and women in a similar way. 

For example, at the beginning of the pandemic, the Presidency of Religious Affairs and reactionary and conservative groups targeted LGBTI+ persons as being the cause of the pandemic. And to give an older example, there was a minister of state who said that the reason why unemployment and poverty rates were so high after the 2008 economic crisis was because women were participating in employment. The continuity of these policies and the increase in its dosage has led to the murder of more women, LGBTI+ persons, and migrants, and more usurpation of rights. 

HM: What needs to be done to create public spaces which are open and safe for all, including women, migrants, LGBTQI+ community, workers, the disabled?

IK: I will answer this question from the perspective of the concrete strengths of the women's struggle. The women's movement must also transform into a political power through the sphere of influence it has created and the legitimacy it has captured on the streets, with a feminist policy that combines different nuances. 

There is a need for a women's movement that will focus on the enormous opportunities and possibilities of the political atmosphere we are in right now, and that does not just get stuck in opposition to power. Of course, in order to gain social freedom for all oppressed segments, it is necessary to knit and organize the meeting of all social dynamics. There is a need for a programmatic unity and to walk with a common goal that will voice concrete demands that move beyond the current politics and upcoming presidential elections, from a place that will not just be stuck in the urgent needs of the present but have a wider vision. 

Democratic mass organizations that can act together in unity include feminists, women, LGBTI+ persons, migrants, and of course the working class. It is possible to weave a common line of struggle that supports and sympathizes with each other with the knowledge that the patriarchal capitalist order offers us nothing but death and exploitation. Sometimes this can show itself as a student movement that strengthens the struggle for ecology, sometimes it can be a feminist movement that empowers workers' resistance, or it can emerge as a movement of retirees claiming their right to shelter.

NOTES

[1] Bayram is the Turkish name for a national holiday, whether secular or religious. This particular Bayram was celebrating the end of the month of Ramadan

[2] A 2019 report produced by Kaos-GL Association, entitled Turkey’s Challenge with LGBTI Refugees, gives a detailed account of non-Syrian LGBTI refugees' experiences in smaller towns other than Istanbul.

[3] Gecekondu neighborhoods, literally meaning “built overnight,” are informal low-cost apartment buildings constructed in a very short time by people migrating from rural areas to the outskirts of the large cities of Turkey from the 1950s onwards

[4] As mentioned in the introduction, these attacks have largely targeted Syrians although migrants from other nationalities may be conflated within the category of the “Syrian migrant.”

[5] It should be noted that while LGBTQI+ Syrian/Afghan migrants are among the most vulnerable, there is also significant regional (and internal) LGBQI+ migration to Istanbul because it is still considered one of the safest cities in the country for queer people.

Occupy Gezi as Politics of the Body

Since the Gezi resistance started with bloodshed on 31 May, it has had an “anti-depressant” effect, as a friend of mine puts it, as much as it has been nerve-racking. During this period where each day has been prone to new crises and normalcy was completely disrupted, we simultaneously experienced the peaks of ecstasy and the depths of sorrow.

Analyzing such an intense event naturally requires taking some distance. Pending systematization, however, the vivid memory of each day impels one to put on paper multifarious ideas that resonate well with the resistance. Each morning, many bodies with sleep deprived eyes wake up in Istanbul, Ankara, Antakya, Urfa, and Denizli to take to the streets once again, after having quickly checked the latest news in the social media. They are astonished and impressed that they can still walk, run, stand up, and carry provisions for those in the parks. Exhausted bodies rejuvenate with every new threat that the government utters, and with thousands, tens of thousands of others they begin flowing to Taksim, Kızılay, Kuğulu Park, Gündoğdu, Abbasoğlu, and Yeniköy Park carrying home-made gas masks, swimmer goggles, anti-acid solutions, and whistles.

No one does or can govern these bodies. The masses that gather in public spaces are not formed by virtue of transferring tax money into the wallets of partisans. No one provides shuttle buses for them; no one gives them flags, or feeds them with sandwiches. No one assigns them the slogans they shout out during the demonstrations. Bodies that take heart from knowing that they are not alone do not count, or count on, numbers to meet with others in communal or virtual spaces. One standing man suffices for thousands of others to take to the streets. After all, “one” is also a number…

The government, whose tactlessness prompts these resisting and standing bodies to convene again and again every single day, could not have missed the significance of this body politics. These bodies naturally do have a language, even a few languages that are at times congruent and at others incongruent; however, as a whole, they constitute a politics of the body. The rage and dreams that have been embodied in tweets and graffiti since 31 May turn into material realities through the physical existence, visibility, and endurance of the bodies. If history is being rewritten, then its subject is the body.

Four of these bodies lost their lives during this war that the government has waged on society. Thousands of bodies have been beaten up: some lost their eyes, some received irretrievable injuries. Skins were burnt under the water from the cannons, “laced” with chemicals for maximum harm; lungs were choked with tear gas. Pounded arms, legs, and heads got crushed and broken. The long-term effects of the tons of chemicals dumped on bodies are still unknown. What is known, however, is that these chemicals killed hundreds of cats, dogs, and birds, and that they did harm to countless insects, butterflies, and other smaller organisms.

The apparatuses of the state, and the vehicles of death that responded to Gezi’s politics of the body, attempted to imitate the life force that they failed to extort. In response to the huge numbers that filled the parks and squares and astonished everyone without exception, they hoped to gather partisans together in scripted rallies. They began comparing head counts; they calculated representative percentages. When the calculations did not match, they increased the number of police in body armor and helmets and moved them from protest to protest. They built walls of flesh and steel against the wave of resisting flesh. When that did not work, they offered these bodies—which have been in contact with each other physically and virtually through meetings, banners, and tweets—a mise en scène of dialogue, the conditions of which were more or less already determined. They could not even wait for this attempt to yield fruit; two warnings and a command were enough to launch an assault to remove the bodies that produced an alternative sociability from the park, from the space in which physical resistance could be transformed into a life style. They freed the public space of the public. They collected all the banners, pictures, and colors one by one to erase them from social memory. They stripped all the trees, each dedicated to victims of state violence; they appropriated the barricades that were named after tens of people who had undergone physical and psychological torture, and they tore them to tatters. They destroyed the efforts to keep alive the memories of Fikret Encü, who was a victim of Roboski; Metin Göktepe, who was tortured and killed in detention; Dicle Koğacoğlu, who could not take all the sorrow inherent in this society any more; and the Surp Hagop Armenian Cemetery, which was destroyed by Turkish racism.

The only thing that remains is a politics of the body—but the bodies that produce this politics differ from what Giorgio Agamben calls “bare life.” They are not “mere” bodies that the arbitrary will of a sovereign can isolate from society, oppress unceremoniously, or push to the margins of the symbolic world. Rather, they evoke what Ernst Bloch calls “the upright man,” the collective Prometheus. Bloch writes:

Nothing is more fortifying than the call to begin from the beginning. It is youthful as long as it is; to it there belongs a young and aspiring class. It is innocent of the bad things that have happened, for it has never had a real opportunity to be guilty. When this happens, justice has the effect of a morning; it opposes itself to that eternal sickness which was handed down before it. Beginning anew is freshness through and through; it is a first if it appears completely ahistorical, and if it seems to lead back to the beginning of history….It carries the image of the pastoral mood, of the shepherd, of the simple and upright man; one can play with it even in the dark.[1]

Gezi is the struggle of disorderly bodies, those who do not have any dispositif other than their own bodies, against the death machines. If the machines are regulatory instances that follow commands and extort public spaces of mobility with force and violence, then the force they face is the resistance of life itself. Life flourishes at the most unexpected moments and places, just like weeds that crack the concrete and spring out of it. No apparatus of the state can succeed in dominating life absolutely.

The state seeks order; it can control only those whom it orders. It cannot cope with the demand of "freedom"; it has to ask questions such as “freedom for whom,” “freedom for what,” or “freedom under what circumstances” in order to tuck freedom into neat boxes. Order draws borders, fixes identities, and defines. It attempts to establish a hierarchy. By telling parents to take their daughters and sons home from the park, it both brands the resisting bodies as "children" and tries to trigger into action the nucleus of society: family. Through its rhetoric of security, it attributes the risks of its own making to the resisting bodies. It hangs its own flag or banner on the bodies that it prefers knocking down rather than protecting. It punishes those who do not obey; it uses punishment as retaliation. It operates through censorship, threats, and propaganda.

Life, on the other hand, is a constant flux. It challenges borders and moves beyond them. It opens up to circulation those spaces that are closed off due to construction; it paints such destructive vehicles as bulldozers pink; it transforms steps into tribunes, pieces of iron into wish trees, and trees destined to be cut down into monuments. It walks on highways and bridges that are closed to pedestrians. It does not like the empty and the sterile; it covers them up with banners, slogans, tents. It leaves its mark on every surface. It disrupts silence at times with pots and pans, and at other times with a tune from a piano. It plays with identities and definitions; it makes them fluid; it renders them indistinguishable. It can make fun of both itself and the established order thanks to its humor. By changing one single letter in a word, it can ridicule the heaviest of symbolisms. When the state apparatus sends a riot-intervention vehicle to pour tear gas on it, life stops to catch its breath for a while and goes right back to resisting. When a body grows tired, it gets replaced by a reinvigorated one. Life turns into thousands of fingers that tweet and take photographs when the state apparatus sends down vehicles of propaganda. It stops its wheelchair to grab the flag that fell on the ground while escaping from tear gas. It apologizes when it steps on someone`s foot while running; it calms down those who panic.

It is obvious that these bodies that fascism wants to militarize will not assume any ideological identity. When they do not drink alcohol, they ridicule conservatism; when they lie under a TOMA, they make fun of liberalism, which claims that life is the most valuable good. Orthodox Marxism cannot decide under which class struggle these "çapulcu" bodies are to be subsumed. As long as they stay in physical contact, as long as they remain as collective Prometheuses, as long as they—have to—continue the resistance, they grow accustomed to each other`s colors, languages, and genders. They disrupt the behavioral rules that ideologies and institutions expect from them. The natural or moral instinct of protection that has been attributed to mothers loses ground when female bodies participate in the resistance alongside their children. The nationalist and the Kurd exchange anti-acid solutions in gas-filled hotel lobbies. The upper-class college kid drinks the water handed over by the kid with an Anonymous mask without needing to ask what neighborhood he’s from. Soccer fans save their curses for the police rather than for their rivals.

What comes out of all this is trust, not chaos. That`s why the bodies multiply with every gush of tear gas, spaces expand with every police attack, and the quality of contact among the bodies increases with every propaganda speech. The life woven together by bodies born in Gezi is so tenacious that the government is right in fearing it. The power of these bodies stems from their capacity to mutualize endurance, rather than vulnerability (as Judith Butler envisioned they would). One would need to look into the extensive interstices of this politics of the body, rather than into macro-level discourses, to begin deciphering it.

NOTES

[1] Ernst Bloch, Natural Right and Human Dignity (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1987), 61.

[An earlier version of this article was published on 26 June 2013 on BIA ("Independent Communication Network"). The link to that version can be found here. This article was translated from Turkish by Gülfer Göze.]