I meet Ahmad Hassan, 28, beside the burned-out municipal truck he uses as headquarters at the center of Taksim Square in Istanbul, Turkey. Above him the Egyptian flag he had carefully folded and carried with him on the plane from Cairo, Egypt, flutters in the wind. Hassan is part of small group of revolutionary Arab pilgrims who have come to Turkey to use their experiences fighting during the Arab Spring against a Turkish government that unseasoned young Turks see as increasingly authoritarian. “The Turkish people have no experience of revolution,” Hassan says. “They run like animals from tear gas.” “Gas is no problem,” says his friend Sami Said, a fellow Egyptian. “They must use cola,” he adds, in reference to household items known to battle the effects of teargas. Hassan laughs. “Or yogurt. Did you see them trying to wash their faces with water? I respect Turkish people, but I mean, like, they have a lot to learn.” What started as a small demonstration against the destruction of a public park in the center of Istanbul has grown into a nationwide insurrection of discontent against Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdoğan and his Islamist Justice and Development Party (AKP). Monday saw relative calm in Taksim with protestors showing no signs of heeding their prime minister’s threats of an impeding clampdown. Many demonstrators are, for the moment, returning to their work week. “In Egypt we had the same beginning,” Hassan says of Turkey’s young revolution. “It started in Tahrir Square and now it will start in Takism. I lived this story. I feel it. It’s the same story but different people. The same square, the same free food. Just the language is different.” When Hassan saw the images of protest on television in his Cairo home, he immediately recognized the parallels to his experiences in Egypt, when in 2011 a popular diverse movement of demonstrations, marches and civil disobedience overthrew the regime of Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak. Hassan, a proud Muslim, equates Erdoğan and his AKP not to the despotic Mubarak but to Mohamed Morsi and the Muslim Brotherhood, the party that took power after the Egyptian Revolution. “I don’t like Muslim parties because they try to use our religion for politics, and politics is dirty—leave religion with Allah,” Hassan says. Turkey has long been a beacon for the Arab world. Throughout the Arab Spring it was raised up as something to aspire to by both the American and Turkish capitals. From soap to soap operas, in breezeblock Baghdad homes and terraced Beirut apartments, Turkey’s social and financial reach reverberates throughout the Arab World. Istanbul is the Middle East’s New York: A cultural, economical and social hub that draws millions of Arabs to visit the city each year, from Syrian refugees to Gulf royalty. A decade of Erdoğan’s unyielding top-down conservative governance has mirrored a nascent Muslim Brotherhood’s centralization of power in Egypt. Both countries have seen an emergence of hostility to their Islamist ruling parties. Unhappy with the situation in Egypt, Hassan took leave from his job as an export manager in a textile factory to show to travel with two Egyptian friends to Istanbul. “In Egypt our position is so hard,” Hassan says. “ I’ve come to say don’t let Muslim Brothers stay in power.” If angry demonstrating Turks can change the leadership of Turkey, Hassan believes that Turkey can truly become a model for the Arab World. “A revolution means free people, modern people. It’s not easy to do, but it’s possible. God willing, they can do it here.” Amid the angry, boisterous Turkish protesters who occupied Taksim Square for more than a week, Hassan and his friends are now welcome fixtures, part compatriots and part novelties to the diverse knots of anti-government protestors, from Kurds to Gay rights activists. “Ben Misirliyim,” Hassan says in phrasebook Turkish to the throngs of curious Turks who approach him. I am from Egypt. It is a proud statement in a famously nationalistic country whose people have long looked down on Arab countries as nations they define themselves against. “Call me an Arab if I’m lying,” and “I’m eating like an Arab [with hands]” are popular Turkish idioms. But Hassan, smart, sharp and funny, is loved and admired by the mess of humanity that has become Taksim Square. Turks flock to him and often ask to pose for photos. Non-Turks also come to pay their respects: Syrians, Sudanese and even Israelis. Not all Turks, however, are happy to see Hassan and his friends. “Taksim is not Tahrir,” says Gulcin Undemir, a 29-year-old Turkish yoga instructor. “We are strong enough to take care of ourselves. It makes people anxious seeing others getting involved.” As darkness falls on the city, Hassan moves toward a donated tent in Gezi Park to get some sleep. The protests here have reached an anxious calm as demonstrators who have occupied the city’s central public spaces for more than a week expect a police crackdown in the coming days. Hassan assures us that he will remain.
Posted on: Tue, 11 Jun 2013 09:41:57 +0000
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