Open Letter from Young Academicians to Prime Minister Erdogan

The letter below speaks for itself. It was signed by over 3.000 people.

Dear Mr. Prime Minister,

We, as the youth and academics of this country, of Muslim, Christian, Jewish, Zoroastrian, Alawite, Shafi’i, religious and nonreligious, atheist and agnostic backgrounds, all joined with a firm belief in secularism, find your recent remarks about raising a religious and conservative youth most alarming and dangerous. 

The assassination of Turan Dursun because of his beliefs and ideas, attempts to lynch Aziz Nesin, massacres of Maraş and Sivas, and most recently the assassinations of Father Santoro and the workers of Zirve Publishing house, are still fresh in our memories. It is against this background of events that a speech which only serves to divide people on the basis of religious affiliation, and targets atheism, to which hundreds of thousands of Turkish nationals adhere, as the root of all evil, is all the more unacceptable. We would therefore like to remind you that it is your primary duty, as the Prime Minister, to be impartial to all segments of the society, and that this is the fundamental rule of democracy.

We further condemn your speech which served only to hurt and humiliate the children that live on the streets in Turkey (stigmatised with the media-catchphrase of ‘thinner-addicted children’), who already live under harsh conditions and who are subject to abuse. The plight of these children is not due to a lack of spirituality, as you have implied, but is caused by the deep-rooted social and economic problems of our country, to which you have served as Prime Minister for a decade.

Dear Mr. Prime Minister,
Your foremost duty and responsibility is to make sure that all citizens have equal access to a system of education that is essential in bringing up future generations capable of critical thinking, who prioritise love for humanity and nature; and to make sure that conditions required for a dignified and honourable life are accessible to all.

Finally, we, as signatories to this petition, would like to express our concern for over hundred journalists, thousands of politicians, Busra Ersanli and more than five hundred students, who are imprisoned as of this writing. We sign this petition to break through this sphere of fear, and we are ready to face the consequences.

With all our respect,
SIGNATORIES

A book is born

A book is born

For months on end now I have been writing and rewriting my latest novel. Finally it’s ready to meet the world. I’ve sent it to an agent in New York, who’d said she was interested. There is still a long way to go before it is actually published, but a writer’s life is kind of lonely. There’s none of the instant gratification and feedback I used to get after filing a story as a journalist. So finishing a manuscript (at least a presentable draft) is a big moment that I wanted to begin sharing with readers like you.

Unlike my first novel, Happy Hour, a Dutch-language thriller set in Holland which deals with child prostitution, the new book draws on my 21 years of living and working in Turkey. The heroine is Kim Ashley, an American journalist who gets posted to Turkey, and sets herself the difficult task of showing her readers that there is more to the Muslim world than terrorism; that in fact, Muslims are normal people like you and me. Kim has this perspective because she lived in Turkey as a child. Her father was a doctor who volunteered to work in the poor east of the country. He was murdered, however, by armed left-wing radicals in the political turmoil of the late seventies. Kim wants to find out more about his death, which was never properly investigated. At the same time she must satisfy her editor back in Boston, hungry for stories about Islamic radicalism. Kim finds herself drawn deeper and deeper into a Muslim sect, while on a personal level she struggles with the demons of her past. The two stories intertwine and come to a thrilling climax.

Dirty Dog

My cleaning lady recoiled in horror when our new little puppy greeted her with endearing enthousiasm. In my Dutch society a dog becomes part of the family, but her Muslim religion tells her that dogs are dirty animals.

The dog’s mouth is considered to be particularly unclean, so she also refused to touch its bowls. This belief is said to have its origin in the times when the Jews were still in Egypt. It was apparently custom to throw the bodies of dead people out over the city walls where wild dogs would tear them apart and eat them. Not a pleasant sight, I assume.

The Koran, in fact, is in two minds about dogs. On the one hand it sustains this ancient Jewish horror of canines, on the other hand Prophet Mohammed had a dog of which he was very fond. The cleaning lady warmed up at her third encounter. When our puppy was again turning crazy circles around her, she exclaimed: “yes, I like you too, but I’m not allowed to touch you!”

chewing on my glove. Naughty dog!

So it was with apprehension that I took our little Sophie along to have a coffee with a friend in one of the fancy café’s in downtown Istanbul. Before I entered I put her in a carry bag. She loves that, and fell straight asleep. The “oohs” and “aahs” of two waiters alerted me after half an hour that she had woken up. They begged me to let them stroke her, and play with her, which of course I did. Relaxed, I ordered another coffee and continued chatting.

Just as I took my first sip, one of the waiters came again. “Couldn’t we tie the dog up outside?” he asked. “Actually it’s forbidden to have dogs inside.” Annoyed, I asked him why, since that was the case, he’d let me order more coffee. He bent his head and explained that some customers had just complained, but I could finish my coffee if I wanted. The lady at the till gave the dog a good cuddle before she let us go.

When I went to a take-away to get some food for me and my husband I expected to have to remain outside while waiting for my order to be cooked. But the owner ushered me and my little dog inside. Within a
minute Sophie was surrounded by cooing men, all looking down at her with giddy smiles on their faces.

“What an intelligent dog,” the owner marveled.

“A lot cleverer than Murat,” the man behind the grill joked, whereupon the owner summoned the waiter in question to come and admire his rival.

I walked away, all smiles, but then, as we turned the corner of the street, I heard a howl behind me. “Wait!”

Oh, no, I thought, did she pee inside after all?

“Sophie! Wait!” In his white apron a waiter came skidding around the corner, his hands stretched out. “Sophie! Please!” he screamed. He held a piece of unleavened bread in front of him, in the middle of which
lay a few morsels of grilled liver. “This is for you, Sophie,” he panted with an apologetic smile to me.

Grinning, I walked home. The instinct to look after animals is strong. Indeed, in Turkey, many neighborhoods have their own pack of street dogs, which are fed by the local people and inoculated by the municipality. We just can’t help loving man’s best friend, it seems, whatever religious conventions decree.

And Sophie? Well, she loved the liver and declined all other food for three days. And she still turns crazy circles around every waiter she sees.