Death by Driving – Not a Sweet Ending!
I remember sitting in the front seat of my dad’s two seater sports car alongside my sister, with my brother squashed in between ours and my father’s seat. No seatbelts - no problem. The police never stopped us. Nobody shook their heads in dismay or disgrace. Did anyone even notice? That was 1980.
More than 30 years on and the same action would be deemed barbaric - in Europe that is and most likely any other western country. But not Turkey. Not even on the European side is due respect given to seatbelts.
By the mid-eighties in London, government campaigns hit the screens with the same impact as a head against a windscreen and people started to wear their seatbelts in the front. By the nineties the law changed again – people were now required to wear them in the back. By then I was in my late teens: experienced enough to have a rough understanding of how the system worked but not mature enough to understand that I was not immortal. It wasn’t until the hard hitting goverment campaigns did I, along with my peers and a vast majority of other’s from all generations, start to respect the law laid out to protect its people and begin to wear seatbelts in the back too.
One of the campaigns that most affected me was a commercial that showed a family in a car: the mother in the driver’s seat, daughter in the passenger seat and son sitting in the back seat behind the mother. Both the mother and daughter were wearing seatbelts, but the son was not. The happy family scene came to a sudden halt when a car hit them from behind and the son’s face smashed into the back of the mother’s head. The frame showed the boy silently in shock, his nose and mouth covered in blood. This image was not nearly as traumatic as the terrifying screams from the daughter, who unscathed from the accident and held firmly in place by her seatbelt, looked towards the mother. The fear in the daughter’s eyes pierced my heart, bursting my immortal bubble – the mother was dead.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4SEy_FCJlpk&NR=1
From there after drivers began to ask passengers to wear seatbelts. People began to take responsibilıty. Lives were saved.
In crashes, unbelted rear passengers increase the risk of belted front seat occupants' death by nearly five times!
Over the years, in the UK there have been numerous campaigns to educate the public on the dangers of drink driving, not wearing seatbelts, using unlicensed cabs, and using mobile phones whilst driving; resulting in lives being saved, less injuries, murders and rapes. The effect of being in a culture where the law is enforced , coupled with the information to back up the benefits of this law enforcement, led to the evolvement of another level of maturity - something which is missing in Turkey.
Recently I was in the back of a car wearing my seatbelt. My five year old student was next to me refusing to wear his. I was shocked when his guardian didn’t insist, making the claim that if an adult was by his side then they could hold onto him. I have no idea where this guardian got the notion that I was a superhero: fast and strong enough to hold onto the child in the event of a crash whilst driving at speeds exceeding 80 KMH.
On a number of occasions I have seen children wandering in the back seat as if it were a playground, babies sitting loosly in the arms of their carers and nobody wearing a seatbelt. Often the same image would show the driver talking or texting on the phone, perhaps even over the drink limit.
Drink driving is just another driving violation that many people ignore, especially if they have the means to pay off the police. The fact that you can pay off the very people who are there to enforce the law makes a mockery of it.
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing one day when a man whose child I tutored, casually mentioned in front of his son, that he got stopped in his car by the police on a random spot check. These spot checks rarely happen in the UK, and I wonder why that is. Would it be considered an infringement on people’s rights , or is it that the police have other more professional means for getting their bonus?
This parent had money and lots of it. His car was flash, and I suspect in this case, the police saw dollar signs. The parent was stopped and given two choices : 1) to take the breathalyser and risk being fined the standard 1000 YTL (500 Euro) if he was over the limit; or 2) pay the policeman 500 YTL (250 Euro) to not take the breathalyser. The chances of him walking off without having to pay a thing were slim since he HAD been drink driving , so he paid the officer. It sickened me to think that his or any other persons (or peoples) lives were only worth 500 YTL.
Six months down the road, and I became the vomit I so eagerly criticized when I rode in a car with a driver I knew had been drinking. It was a Land Rover, so I felt safe. I was drunk, so I felt immortal. In truth, I was just stupid. We got stopped by the police and this time I was not surprised when my friend paid off the officer and we went tipsily on our way. By the time I got home the whole drama had sobered me up somewhat, and I was furious wıth myself.
The idea of drink driving seemed so ancient to me. Of course it does still happen in Europe, but it is not looked upon lightly. Turkey is way behind on this one.
One driving violations which is slowly being more and more condoned in both Europe and America, is driving whilst using your mobile phone. But I guess in a country like Turkey where drink driving hasn’t been tackled after all these years, then driving whilst using your mobile phone never will.
It horrified me that after three years of living here how easily I (albeit reluctantly) accepted these violations to the point of no longer being shocked by them. What was even worse was that I became apathetic and just like the majority of the Turkish people, did not actively do anything to challenge it.
I was only reminded of the shocking quality of these violations when friends from the UK came to visıt me and were exposed to the hazards of driving or being a passenger in a car in Istanbul. Most recently when some friends of mine arrived from London and took a taxi from the airport to my house, they told me how they had been frightened for their lives as there were no seatbelts in the back, the driver drove like he was a participant in the game console ‘Need for Speed,’ and to top it off he was texting whilst driving. During the journey one of my friends (a London turk like myself ) suggestively questioned the safety issue at hand, whereupon the taxi driver brushed him off sayıng, he did it all the time; it wasn’t dangerous. Only when my friend insisted, did the driver put his phone down. But he did not slow down.
Nobody seems bothered by any of these driving violations in Turkey, which leads me to believe that when you have grown up with something a certain way, it starts to appear normal. Even things that don’t feel right or you know are dangerous, you accept.
I too accepted it, continuing to live here and do nothing to change it, until I suffered first hand for not exercising my duty to make this country a better and safer place.
Two weeks ago I was in a car accident whilst in the back of a taxi that had no seatbelts. The driver was doing the mandatory breaking the speed limit drive and miscalculated a turning. We crashed into the barriers, and I was flung around the car like doll, my head smashing through the opposite passenger seat window. The whole window shattered and my head got cut and bruised. Thankfully, even though I needed stitches, I was not seriously hurt.
My grateful response to being let off lightly turned to anger when I realised that had I had the option to wear a seat belt, I would have and would not have suffered a head trauma. The fact that there are seatbelts in the back of cars , not made available in taxi cars (as they are often inaccessibly hidden behind the seats) infuriated me. For a long time I felt I had no choice - but I do have a choice.
I decided to try to investigate by asking the taxi drivers, why the seatbelts were hidden . All of them came up wıth the same answer, ‘Nobody uses them, so what is the point. ‘ They also added that is was the passengers who complained that they are inconvenienced by the seltbelts.
With my stitches newly removed, these comments only added insult to injury. So really, what are my options? To not ride in taxi’s? Or should I do something more, like campaign to have the right to be protected. But to whom?
The truth is I just don’t know where to begin. All the people I talk to tell me it will amount to nothing in a country where so may human rights are at odds. There is so much injustıce, and to make matters worse people are not empowered by the very nature of being in a corrupt, injust system, to believe they can make a difference. But surely where lives are at stake, it is worthwhile to make the effort.
Personally, I would like to see the law changed in Turkey so that people are required to wear seatbelts in the back of cars. But then again without the enforcement of that law, if this did happened would it make a difference?
To this day I would take a guess that less than fifty percent of drivers in Istanbul wear seatbelts in the front, when the law already requires them to do so.
The change has to come from the people themselves. They need to be shocked just like I and many others were by the advertising campaigns that the UK government enforced to educate its people to the dangers of driving violations. The Turkish government also have a duty to do this.
‘The fundamental purpose of government is the maintenance of basic security and public order. It is an organization, machinery, or agency through which a political unit exercises its authority, controls and administers public policy, and directs and controls the actions of its members or subjects’ ( Wikipedia). In some sense it could be compared to a parent figure. If the parent acts responsibly and in the best interest of the child, then one hopes that the child grows up healthy and balanced.
But what happens when the parent is negligent? Then children are often forced to take matters into their own hands, often without the proper resources , guidance and information. They don’t learn to make good choices for themselves. Life is just harder and though hardship can often inspire innovation, it is questionable when lives are at stake.
Having come from a culture where people have the power to influence government – where the ‘parent body’ listens and reacts to make positive change, it hurts living here, AND I have the choice to leave. I have the priviledge of knowing another way; I have the belief that I can be a part of a process of change – something my dear Turkish comrades do not have.
Ultimately in Turkey the government is the negligent parent, not educating or protecting its children. Furthermore it is guilty of silencing its children with the fear of punishment and dehumanisıng them wıth the stripping of their rights. All of this amounts to abuse. So much needs to change at a core level. There is much work to be done. Who is going to do it?
Are you?
PS. If anybody still needs convincing that seatbelts save lives, then see this hard hitting advert :
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e6Qhmdk4VNs&feature=related
Tuesday, 30 March 2010
Friday, 19 March 2010
Firestarter
Firestarter
The proverb: “It is unwise to bite the hand that feeds you” is one I have found to ring true; however there are occasions where I believe that it is necessary to take a large bite if you trust that there will be an evolvement during the healing process that culminates in an improvement in the matters that led you to bite.
Nevertheless, I have always admired the robustness of my friends who are able to knuckle down, keep their focus and stay in a job, home and neighborhood for longer than six months, without ever biting the hand that feeds them
This has not been the case for me. At times I question whether this fighting spirit makes me a fool or a hero? After all there is something to be said about said about being humble that I have yet to grasp. Perhaps I never will since I can only live and breathe in a place where, I am firstly free to have an opinion and secondly, have the avenue to voice it. Needless to say I am a nightmare in the workplace. Where most people keep their heads down and mouths shut, I challenge every piece of injustice with as much vigor as Joan of Arc - from something seemingly trivial as lunchtime regulations to the more serious offence of victimization in the work place.
As a consequence I feel that part of my life purpose is to go into a workplace and start a fire; the effect gets everybody hot under the collar and makes those who have been unwilling to act, do so. However, nobody wants to get burnt alive, and people with a need to protect themselves from truth and change, want me out. Normally that’s when I have to leave, having pissed off the well-established system and people within it, who were quite comfortable hiding under the fire blanket that I rip away. No immortal, the flames begin to burn me too - rarely have I been appreciated for my frank honesty and passionate sense of integrity, which compels me to invoke others to react.
It was after one such forceful evacuation that I found myself in Turkey, where I have adopted the same philosophy to work as I have towards my attitude towards this country.
I love Turkey (just as I loved the many organizations I worked for). The diversity of the monoculture is invigorating; the exciting, scandalous, powerful, history of this nation brings out the warrior in me; the diverse environmental landscape fulfills my visions of magical lands; the artistic influences paint pictures in my mind and move my heart to its beat; the cultural mixes of meandering timescales mixed into the melting pot of today’s date, bring the past and present into the moment; the food, ahh yes the food and finally and most importantly, the passionate people who battle on, despite the
incongruence of political lies and corrupt systems. A people who are teetering on the edge of possibility, and like a ripe fruit are about to burst and spread the seed of what it is to be Turkish all around the world.
It is here in Turkey that I have found love in a man, seen the rawness of all human emotions (as people wear their hearts on their sleeves) and have come to understand and appreciate the sanctimony of family life. It is this country that has stirred me up and somehow had the effect of poking my fire.
No longer a person with romantic notions of one day perhaps going for my dreams, I am now living them. Somehow I have grown into my skin, and I have the energy of this land and its people to thank for that (as well as my Beloved Guru, who drew me to be here).
And it is with this need and passion that I write, often critically about this wondrous place. Like in the workplace I cannot keep my head down and mouth shut, and it is precisely because I give a shit that I can’t - because I want the best for myself and those around me. I want to give back what it is I have received. My very being here begs me to do so.
A combination of my heritage and environment has contributed to the way I relate to Turkey. As a hot Arabian in a cold land, I spent nine months of every one of my growing years in the inner city of London (at times in a pulp fiction lifestyle) and three months in the serenity of Cypriot life. This led to the exposure of vastly different cultures and environments, which then allowed me to draw comparisons and see the beauty and the beast in each place. On a personal level the beauty and the beast within were also exposed: “Where ever you go, there you are.” (Adi DA Samraj)
My desire is to grow, and to be in an environment that promotes that growth. If I see something not in line with that or an issue or dynamic, which somehow is an obstacle, I will endeavor to challenge it - to somehow remove it. The only power I have are my words and my passion – my desire for Turkey to move out and be a force to be reckoned with in the world.
Does this make me an antagonistic, a troublemaker, or a brave warrior? I guess that depends on whether you are offended by me biting the hand that feeds me…
The proverb: “It is unwise to bite the hand that feeds you” is one I have found to ring true; however there are occasions where I believe that it is necessary to take a large bite if you trust that there will be an evolvement during the healing process that culminates in an improvement in the matters that led you to bite.
Nevertheless, I have always admired the robustness of my friends who are able to knuckle down, keep their focus and stay in a job, home and neighborhood for longer than six months, without ever biting the hand that feeds them
This has not been the case for me. At times I question whether this fighting spirit makes me a fool or a hero? After all there is something to be said about said about being humble that I have yet to grasp. Perhaps I never will since I can only live and breathe in a place where, I am firstly free to have an opinion and secondly, have the avenue to voice it. Needless to say I am a nightmare in the workplace. Where most people keep their heads down and mouths shut, I challenge every piece of injustice with as much vigor as Joan of Arc - from something seemingly trivial as lunchtime regulations to the more serious offence of victimization in the work place.
As a consequence I feel that part of my life purpose is to go into a workplace and start a fire; the effect gets everybody hot under the collar and makes those who have been unwilling to act, do so. However, nobody wants to get burnt alive, and people with a need to protect themselves from truth and change, want me out. Normally that’s when I have to leave, having pissed off the well-established system and people within it, who were quite comfortable hiding under the fire blanket that I rip away. No immortal, the flames begin to burn me too - rarely have I been appreciated for my frank honesty and passionate sense of integrity, which compels me to invoke others to react.
It was after one such forceful evacuation that I found myself in Turkey, where I have adopted the same philosophy to work as I have towards my attitude towards this country.
I love Turkey (just as I loved the many organizations I worked for). The diversity of the monoculture is invigorating; the exciting, scandalous, powerful, history of this nation brings out the warrior in me; the diverse environmental landscape fulfills my visions of magical lands; the artistic influences paint pictures in my mind and move my heart to its beat; the cultural mixes of meandering timescales mixed into the melting pot of today’s date, bring the past and present into the moment; the food, ahh yes the food and finally and most importantly, the passionate people who battle on, despite the
incongruence of political lies and corrupt systems. A people who are teetering on the edge of possibility, and like a ripe fruit are about to burst and spread the seed of what it is to be Turkish all around the world.
It is here in Turkey that I have found love in a man, seen the rawness of all human emotions (as people wear their hearts on their sleeves) and have come to understand and appreciate the sanctimony of family life. It is this country that has stirred me up and somehow had the effect of poking my fire.
No longer a person with romantic notions of one day perhaps going for my dreams, I am now living them. Somehow I have grown into my skin, and I have the energy of this land and its people to thank for that (as well as my Beloved Guru, who drew me to be here).
And it is with this need and passion that I write, often critically about this wondrous place. Like in the workplace I cannot keep my head down and mouth shut, and it is precisely because I give a shit that I can’t - because I want the best for myself and those around me. I want to give back what it is I have received. My very being here begs me to do so.
A combination of my heritage and environment has contributed to the way I relate to Turkey. As a hot Arabian in a cold land, I spent nine months of every one of my growing years in the inner city of London (at times in a pulp fiction lifestyle) and three months in the serenity of Cypriot life. This led to the exposure of vastly different cultures and environments, which then allowed me to draw comparisons and see the beauty and the beast in each place. On a personal level the beauty and the beast within were also exposed: “Where ever you go, there you are.” (Adi DA Samraj)
My desire is to grow, and to be in an environment that promotes that growth. If I see something not in line with that or an issue or dynamic, which somehow is an obstacle, I will endeavor to challenge it - to somehow remove it. The only power I have are my words and my passion – my desire for Turkey to move out and be a force to be reckoned with in the world.
Does this make me an antagonistic, a troublemaker, or a brave warrior? I guess that depends on whether you are offended by me biting the hand that feeds me…
Wednesday, 17 March 2010
"This is Turkey" or "Burasi Turkiye"
“This is Turkey”
Anyone that has lived in Turkey for longer than the honeymoon periods of three months has probably heard the statement: “This is Turkey,” used to defend any form of antisocial behavior. A magical statement, which can be used in any one number of situations; somewhat like the multidimensional popular phrase in India: “anything is possible in India’.
However, the major difference between the Indian and Turkish phrase is that the Indian phrase has a quirky and endearing quality to it, which can be applied to off the wall good things happening as well; thus overriding any frustration that may arise from the Western need to know everything! On the contrary, the Turkish phrase is a one-way statement, only voiced when something negative about the Turkish style should be deemed as excusable.
Now this phrase pops up everywhere and unlike many things within this diverse culture, the use of this statement is not socio economically categorised; everybody and I mean everybody uses it to excuse any number of undesirable attitudes or behaviors from: corrupt policing; queue bashing; unexplainable and sudden holes in the roads; digging up of pavements in lue of an election; numerous driving violations; abuse of poor people; back handers; tax evasions; rudeness; intolerance to difference and reactions against anybody trying to prevent a person doing as they want, regardless of the legal law or the law of respecting one’s fellow man.
Thus, Turkey operates under its own system where people live with a ghetto fear and are afraid to challenge each other, as they will inevitably be met with a “you can’t tell me what to do” attitude from the men, whose ego suddenly grows into Don Vito Corleone (The Godfather), where the risk of being punched, shot or stabbed is a real possibility.
This attitude affects both sexes and so not to be dismissed are the Cruella de Vil women, who with their dagger eyes and venomous tongue attack, can be equally horrifying.
This negative, cultish and secluded standpoint where everybody thinks they are above being straightened out and too special to be interfered with, perpetuates the negative behaviors by the mere ignoring of them. And then like the icing on the cake, the whole thing is sweetly excused with, “Oh well this is Turkey,” often said in a tone, resonating pride; somewhat like a naughty child’s satisfaction at having antagonized the adult.
Perhaps it is my Western upbringing that makes me find this intolerable, or maybe it goes deeper, since my blood line is Arabic in nature, and though I was not bought up in this culture, I am in extrinsically karmically and familiarly linked to it. Whatever the reason I cannot help but try to understand with a deeper motivation to change the acceptance of this phrase. Thus, I have questioned the underlining messages within that statement, which seem to be saying we (Turkey) are above other laws; we (Turkey) are different.
The idea of difference is associated with the ego; every being has this need to be special and separate. But what happens when a whole nation’s identity is bound by this ego? What created it and what perpetuates it? In part I wonder if it is has anything to do with pride left over from when Turkey had control of the world during the Ottoman Empire, and whether Turkey still has a need to exert that authority by holding onto the ego of that time.
This notion of separateness is of course universal but in this case, where the belief that Turkey is great; no matter what it does, whom it beats, suppresses, oppresses, or violates; it becomes a tool for control, coveted by glorified nationalism, which then breeds the statement: “This is Turkey.”
On a larger scale then, could it be possible that this statement is an adolescent rebellion against global unification? Or is it simply part of the mindset that acts like a gel to bind the people of Turkey: a country that has a lost identity.
If the latter is true, then has the lack of a national identity led to Turks becoming selfish bullies with little scruples? There is no doubt that life in Turkey is hard. The economy is unstable; the world associates it with the problems of the Middle East; people are not free to move around and be integrated with the rest of the world unless they are rich. It is difficult for the masses of public to get visas, and there is a general mistrust of Turkey; the barbarians of the past that have no major riches to exploit in the present.
One is led to believe that if Turkey had masses of oil supplies then there would probably be a Western influenced war here too. The truth is that Turkey does have these rich petrol resources but they are not using them…why? That question needs a whole other article to be discussed.
Certainly Western tourists do not report that Turks are selfish bullies with no scruples; it is quite the opposite. Foreigners are always astounded with the hospitality from the Turks (which some cynics would argue is as a result of Turks adoration with the West). Time and time again I have heard visitors say that the Turkish people are inherently warm hearted, but when you have been here long enough you also learn that amongst that there is contrary glitch: a lack of respect for each other which bleeds out into the culture as a whole.
One of the reasons why, could be that the government is less invested in social welfare, and so there is an ‘each for their own’ policy amongst the Turks. The desperate struggle and the fear that perpetuates, creates a divide that enhances separateness and breeds a lack of respect.
It is no surprise then that as a result of this lack of respect that “This is Turkey,” a statement that relieves the individual and the nation of their social responsibilities towards humanity, has become a spoken part of the culture that forms a secret (cultural) code with the same power as a ‘get out of jail’ card*.
On a more profound level this phrase has intrinsically become an umbrella to cover many dilapidating cultural codes.
One such cultural code is even reinforced by the law in article 301, which prohibits publicly "insulting" Turkish National identity. This silencing of the human voice is probably one of the subtlest but effectively disempowering and destructive modes of disabling Human Rights of individuals.
The banning of ‘YouTube’ (as a result of article 301) is just one public example of the mass censorship that Turkey imposes and people just accept by saying, “Oh well this is Turkey.”
There are many other examples of abuses of rights, accepted under the umbrella of cultural codes (and not entrenched in the law) protected by the, “This is Turkey” phrase; one of which is the attitudes towards women, who, in Turkey are considered to be second-class citizens (especially in the marital home) and in effect not culturally given the same human rights as men.
The biggest question burning on the tip of my tongue is: why do Turks accept this? Sadly, I believe that the Turks belief that they cannot change things makes them just accept it. “This is Turkey,” is a just a desperate resolution to the many unsolvable problems; it is the only logical resolution. In effect the phrase does act as a ‘get out of jail’ card - quite apt for a nation where corruption is a given.
In honoring the very real limitations, I would still insist that If Turkey wants to actually reach its potential rather than just accept that it’s a cliché that it has yet to, (another well known statement) then the Turks have to stop saying: “This is Turkey” and start to want something better. Without that vision or hope it can never materialize.
I have often wondered if there is a resistance to change since the individual and national ego of the addiction to the existing pattern, is much more comfortable (a ‘better the devil you know’ mentality) and less challenging than breaking a pattern and really being out there.
If it is true that Turks belief that ‘Turkey is great’ and vehement protection of their country, creates the idea that greatness comes from being different and forms the illusion of an identity, which Turkey struggles with, then why shouldn’t that difference be something positive? Shouldn’t they be the best at something? Then again perhaps it is this reason, which keeps the statement: “This is Turkey” so alive; Turkey has rarely been the lead (not since the Ottoman days). There have been some exceptions: Galatasaray winning the UEFA (a great footballing achievement) and Orhan Pamuk (who ironically won the Nobel Prize after he had been summoned to appear in court for the violation of Article 301 of Turkey's criminal code). With perhaps a few other exceptions Turkey has rarely matched its counterparts. Thus, Turkey has always been a runner up (or a follower rather than a leader), yet the real potential to be winners is there.
Therefore, this leads me to ask another question: is this country so used to being second best that they are actually afraid of success and what that change might bring? Or is Turkey under the influence of a more powerful Western country, which benefits from Turkey remaining as the underdog?
You decide. But from me, here is one last morsel of food for thought…The very repetition of this phrase reinforces the Turkish ness to the Turks that this is their country; it is great; it is Turkey. On the contrary, I would beg to differ and argue that their reluctance to change actually makes them chicken**.
Note*: ‘get out of jail card’ from the Monopoly game a card that enables the player to get out of jail.
Note**: chicken (slang) means coward
Anyone that has lived in Turkey for longer than the honeymoon periods of three months has probably heard the statement: “This is Turkey,” used to defend any form of antisocial behavior. A magical statement, which can be used in any one number of situations; somewhat like the multidimensional popular phrase in India: “anything is possible in India’.
However, the major difference between the Indian and Turkish phrase is that the Indian phrase has a quirky and endearing quality to it, which can be applied to off the wall good things happening as well; thus overriding any frustration that may arise from the Western need to know everything! On the contrary, the Turkish phrase is a one-way statement, only voiced when something negative about the Turkish style should be deemed as excusable.
Now this phrase pops up everywhere and unlike many things within this diverse culture, the use of this statement is not socio economically categorised; everybody and I mean everybody uses it to excuse any number of undesirable attitudes or behaviors from: corrupt policing; queue bashing; unexplainable and sudden holes in the roads; digging up of pavements in lue of an election; numerous driving violations; abuse of poor people; back handers; tax evasions; rudeness; intolerance to difference and reactions against anybody trying to prevent a person doing as they want, regardless of the legal law or the law of respecting one’s fellow man.
Thus, Turkey operates under its own system where people live with a ghetto fear and are afraid to challenge each other, as they will inevitably be met with a “you can’t tell me what to do” attitude from the men, whose ego suddenly grows into Don Vito Corleone (The Godfather), where the risk of being punched, shot or stabbed is a real possibility.
This attitude affects both sexes and so not to be dismissed are the Cruella de Vil women, who with their dagger eyes and venomous tongue attack, can be equally horrifying.
This negative, cultish and secluded standpoint where everybody thinks they are above being straightened out and too special to be interfered with, perpetuates the negative behaviors by the mere ignoring of them. And then like the icing on the cake, the whole thing is sweetly excused with, “Oh well this is Turkey,” often said in a tone, resonating pride; somewhat like a naughty child’s satisfaction at having antagonized the adult.
Perhaps it is my Western upbringing that makes me find this intolerable, or maybe it goes deeper, since my blood line is Arabic in nature, and though I was not bought up in this culture, I am in extrinsically karmically and familiarly linked to it. Whatever the reason I cannot help but try to understand with a deeper motivation to change the acceptance of this phrase. Thus, I have questioned the underlining messages within that statement, which seem to be saying we (Turkey) are above other laws; we (Turkey) are different.
The idea of difference is associated with the ego; every being has this need to be special and separate. But what happens when a whole nation’s identity is bound by this ego? What created it and what perpetuates it? In part I wonder if it is has anything to do with pride left over from when Turkey had control of the world during the Ottoman Empire, and whether Turkey still has a need to exert that authority by holding onto the ego of that time.
This notion of separateness is of course universal but in this case, where the belief that Turkey is great; no matter what it does, whom it beats, suppresses, oppresses, or violates; it becomes a tool for control, coveted by glorified nationalism, which then breeds the statement: “This is Turkey.”
On a larger scale then, could it be possible that this statement is an adolescent rebellion against global unification? Or is it simply part of the mindset that acts like a gel to bind the people of Turkey: a country that has a lost identity.
If the latter is true, then has the lack of a national identity led to Turks becoming selfish bullies with little scruples? There is no doubt that life in Turkey is hard. The economy is unstable; the world associates it with the problems of the Middle East; people are not free to move around and be integrated with the rest of the world unless they are rich. It is difficult for the masses of public to get visas, and there is a general mistrust of Turkey; the barbarians of the past that have no major riches to exploit in the present.
One is led to believe that if Turkey had masses of oil supplies then there would probably be a Western influenced war here too. The truth is that Turkey does have these rich petrol resources but they are not using them…why? That question needs a whole other article to be discussed.
Certainly Western tourists do not report that Turks are selfish bullies with no scruples; it is quite the opposite. Foreigners are always astounded with the hospitality from the Turks (which some cynics would argue is as a result of Turks adoration with the West). Time and time again I have heard visitors say that the Turkish people are inherently warm hearted, but when you have been here long enough you also learn that amongst that there is contrary glitch: a lack of respect for each other which bleeds out into the culture as a whole.
One of the reasons why, could be that the government is less invested in social welfare, and so there is an ‘each for their own’ policy amongst the Turks. The desperate struggle and the fear that perpetuates, creates a divide that enhances separateness and breeds a lack of respect.
It is no surprise then that as a result of this lack of respect that “This is Turkey,” a statement that relieves the individual and the nation of their social responsibilities towards humanity, has become a spoken part of the culture that forms a secret (cultural) code with the same power as a ‘get out of jail’ card*.
On a more profound level this phrase has intrinsically become an umbrella to cover many dilapidating cultural codes.
One such cultural code is even reinforced by the law in article 301, which prohibits publicly "insulting" Turkish National identity. This silencing of the human voice is probably one of the subtlest but effectively disempowering and destructive modes of disabling Human Rights of individuals.
The banning of ‘YouTube’ (as a result of article 301) is just one public example of the mass censorship that Turkey imposes and people just accept by saying, “Oh well this is Turkey.”
There are many other examples of abuses of rights, accepted under the umbrella of cultural codes (and not entrenched in the law) protected by the, “This is Turkey” phrase; one of which is the attitudes towards women, who, in Turkey are considered to be second-class citizens (especially in the marital home) and in effect not culturally given the same human rights as men.
The biggest question burning on the tip of my tongue is: why do Turks accept this? Sadly, I believe that the Turks belief that they cannot change things makes them just accept it. “This is Turkey,” is a just a desperate resolution to the many unsolvable problems; it is the only logical resolution. In effect the phrase does act as a ‘get out of jail’ card - quite apt for a nation where corruption is a given.
In honoring the very real limitations, I would still insist that If Turkey wants to actually reach its potential rather than just accept that it’s a cliché that it has yet to, (another well known statement) then the Turks have to stop saying: “This is Turkey” and start to want something better. Without that vision or hope it can never materialize.
I have often wondered if there is a resistance to change since the individual and national ego of the addiction to the existing pattern, is much more comfortable (a ‘better the devil you know’ mentality) and less challenging than breaking a pattern and really being out there.
If it is true that Turks belief that ‘Turkey is great’ and vehement protection of their country, creates the idea that greatness comes from being different and forms the illusion of an identity, which Turkey struggles with, then why shouldn’t that difference be something positive? Shouldn’t they be the best at something? Then again perhaps it is this reason, which keeps the statement: “This is Turkey” so alive; Turkey has rarely been the lead (not since the Ottoman days). There have been some exceptions: Galatasaray winning the UEFA (a great footballing achievement) and Orhan Pamuk (who ironically won the Nobel Prize after he had been summoned to appear in court for the violation of Article 301 of Turkey's criminal code). With perhaps a few other exceptions Turkey has rarely matched its counterparts. Thus, Turkey has always been a runner up (or a follower rather than a leader), yet the real potential to be winners is there.
Therefore, this leads me to ask another question: is this country so used to being second best that they are actually afraid of success and what that change might bring? Or is Turkey under the influence of a more powerful Western country, which benefits from Turkey remaining as the underdog?
You decide. But from me, here is one last morsel of food for thought…The very repetition of this phrase reinforces the Turkish ness to the Turks that this is their country; it is great; it is Turkey. On the contrary, I would beg to differ and argue that their reluctance to change actually makes them chicken**.
Note*: ‘get out of jail card’ from the Monopoly game a card that enables the player to get out of jail.
Note**: chicken (slang) means coward
Tuesday, 9 June 2009
Chauvenistic or Chivarly
“Chauvinistic or Chivalry”
SMASH! BANG! WALLOP! I wished that these had just been sound symbols from a cartoon but instead they were real sounds of a man publicly beating a woman on the street in Istanbul, as pedestrians just walked on by.
It was one of those occasions where I wished I’d never given up Karate at the age of twelve after only four lessons, so I could heroically intervene and stop the one sided beating. Instead I resorted to praying out loud to god: “Where the hell is Mr. Miyagi now? And then of course succumbing to asking the men in my vicinity, to help me, to help her. However, I was not prepared to hear their answer, which was that that it was probably a spouse fight, so there was nothing that they could do. The gasp that flew out of my mouth stunned them as much as my reaction to their unwillingness to act. It was at that point that they realized that I was a foreigner and so added an explanation. What these potential humane beings claimed was that they had no right to help. I was shocked that they could use that word “right” to defend their position. An ironic perception and abuse of the word “right.” But there I was, witness to a cultural law that supports men’s rights to own, possess and do whatever they want with their wives, as opposed to defending the women’s rights from abuse.
After a few seconds the woman arrived by my side and I asked if I could help her in some way. The men, who had been unwilling to help, had the cheek to look at her, upon which she informed them that it was a fight with her husband. They duly responded by nodding knowingly and saying, “Your husband? Oh ok,” like that was supposed to make everything all right.
Within the exchange of those two sentences it became very clear to me that there was a cultural code to this nation that I was completely unaware of. Having not grown up in Turkey, I had different values and beliefs ingrained in me, so I was not given the means to even begin to understand this code; just like they were not given the right to live by my European code.
Regardless of codes, it begged the question: how can something as monstrously outrageous as a public beating from a husband to his wife be culturally accepted in a country that wants to join the EU? It made me see the darker side of chauvinism that I had already been exposed to in smaller, subtler doses, here in Istanbul, but which I had come to accept as part of a macho society where women are second class citizens.
It could be argued that chauvinism at any level is destructive, but what amounts to chauvinism? Is opening the door for a lady chauvinistic behavior, with the presumption that a woman is not strong enough to do it herself? Or is she just far too precious to open a door? Could it be that gesture somehow benefits men, who can look at the women’s arse when she walks ahead of them…Or is it an act of chivalry?
Most women (from varying cultures) at some point in their lives have been guilty of having the desire of being rescued by a gallant prince, and I have seen the most hardened of ladies melt under the charm of a chivalrous gesture from a man. But I wonder in a chauvinistic society at what point chivalry just becomes a cover.
Therefore, the flipside to that horrific cultural code of behavior that I witnessed between the sexes are other cultural codes, which on the surface appear to benefit women but which I question the deeper meaning of. For example in Turkey men are expected to pay for the women and the women allow them that privilege. What is the intrinsic message here? By a man paying for a woman, is he buying her? Or owning her? What is the payback? Is it that in the beginning he gets a kiss? Then sex? And what after that – a woman’s rights? It sounds a little dramatic but these cultural codes feed each other in the power steaks where the man is the T-Bone and the woman the giblets.
In Europe the empowerment of women has led to men relinquishing that “chivalry or chauvinistic” (depending on your view point) gesture of paying for the woman; a rather interesting notion don’t you think?
…So, how much is a black eye worth these days? A starter, main meal, or just a dessert?
SMASH! BANG! WALLOP! I wished that these had just been sound symbols from a cartoon but instead they were real sounds of a man publicly beating a woman on the street in Istanbul, as pedestrians just walked on by.
It was one of those occasions where I wished I’d never given up Karate at the age of twelve after only four lessons, so I could heroically intervene and stop the one sided beating. Instead I resorted to praying out loud to god: “Where the hell is Mr. Miyagi now? And then of course succumbing to asking the men in my vicinity, to help me, to help her. However, I was not prepared to hear their answer, which was that that it was probably a spouse fight, so there was nothing that they could do. The gasp that flew out of my mouth stunned them as much as my reaction to their unwillingness to act. It was at that point that they realized that I was a foreigner and so added an explanation. What these potential humane beings claimed was that they had no right to help. I was shocked that they could use that word “right” to defend their position. An ironic perception and abuse of the word “right.” But there I was, witness to a cultural law that supports men’s rights to own, possess and do whatever they want with their wives, as opposed to defending the women’s rights from abuse.
After a few seconds the woman arrived by my side and I asked if I could help her in some way. The men, who had been unwilling to help, had the cheek to look at her, upon which she informed them that it was a fight with her husband. They duly responded by nodding knowingly and saying, “Your husband? Oh ok,” like that was supposed to make everything all right.
Within the exchange of those two sentences it became very clear to me that there was a cultural code to this nation that I was completely unaware of. Having not grown up in Turkey, I had different values and beliefs ingrained in me, so I was not given the means to even begin to understand this code; just like they were not given the right to live by my European code.
Regardless of codes, it begged the question: how can something as monstrously outrageous as a public beating from a husband to his wife be culturally accepted in a country that wants to join the EU? It made me see the darker side of chauvinism that I had already been exposed to in smaller, subtler doses, here in Istanbul, but which I had come to accept as part of a macho society where women are second class citizens.
It could be argued that chauvinism at any level is destructive, but what amounts to chauvinism? Is opening the door for a lady chauvinistic behavior, with the presumption that a woman is not strong enough to do it herself? Or is she just far too precious to open a door? Could it be that gesture somehow benefits men, who can look at the women’s arse when she walks ahead of them…Or is it an act of chivalry?
Most women (from varying cultures) at some point in their lives have been guilty of having the desire of being rescued by a gallant prince, and I have seen the most hardened of ladies melt under the charm of a chivalrous gesture from a man. But I wonder in a chauvinistic society at what point chivalry just becomes a cover.
Therefore, the flipside to that horrific cultural code of behavior that I witnessed between the sexes are other cultural codes, which on the surface appear to benefit women but which I question the deeper meaning of. For example in Turkey men are expected to pay for the women and the women allow them that privilege. What is the intrinsic message here? By a man paying for a woman, is he buying her? Or owning her? What is the payback? Is it that in the beginning he gets a kiss? Then sex? And what after that – a woman’s rights? It sounds a little dramatic but these cultural codes feed each other in the power steaks where the man is the T-Bone and the woman the giblets.
In Europe the empowerment of women has led to men relinquishing that “chivalry or chauvinistic” (depending on your view point) gesture of paying for the woman; a rather interesting notion don’t you think?
…So, how much is a black eye worth these days? A starter, main meal, or just a dessert?
Thursday, 21 May 2009
Lady Savages
Lady Savages
Imagine that you are at a bar with your boyfriend and a girl at the opposite end of the bar sizes you up, “Ok” you say to yourself, “that’s expected; it must mean I look hot tonight.” Then she makes eyes at your boyfriend, “Hmmm” you say, at the same time grateful that he ignores her somewhat, so that you are able to accept it as tolerable; you expect it to not go any further. But, then to your utter surprise as you leave, she makes an unexpected maneuver by practically vaulting over the bar like Catwoman and making a leap for your boyfriend, accosting him and requesting his telephone number. And this time your response is “What the f..k! That’s Outrageous.” Now in London the girl would probably be bitch slapped but in my case I was far too shocked by her outlandish maneuver to even raise my hand.
It’s well known that women compare themselves; size each other up and measure through some absurd dimension their level of attractiveness against another woman’s. It’s everywhere but never has it been so apparent to me as it is here in Turkey; where I would be putting it mildly to say that they are like savages.
I tried in vain to understand the Istanbul women: the jealous, competitive, cutthroat, guarded women, who rarely returned my smile or reciprocated my attempt at being courteously friendly; whether it be in a queue at a supermarket; standing at the traffic lights or in the changing rooms stores. Why were they so protective, judgmental and hideously unhidden about it?
I concluded that it was because of two major reasons: firstly these beautiful women are as ferocious as fighting dogs because quite frankly there aren’t that many decent men around (sorry guys but this is a complaint I hear all the time and never from the men about women.) Therefore, the gloves are out, as the women will con, twist, lie, deceive and fight till the bloody end to get their pick before they reach the ripe old age of 30, where they are no longer considered to be of prime quality.
Secondly, in a country with suppressed sexual attitudes, there is an accepted level of adultery, which doesn’t, seem to have diminished since the Ottoman days. Thus, women are under constant threat from each other, and yet it’s a self-perpetuated drama through their acceptance of the male’s presumed egoic and biological need to sow their seed. It amazed me but I found that no matter whether I was talking to a friend from the village or from Turkey’s high society, they were all saying the same thing, which in effect was that: “Men are men, and they are going to f..k around.”
This is not an attitude exclusive to Turkey but sadly a universally coined phrase; however the difference is in the West, men are not excused by it. Turkish women need to wake up to this and rather than being so vile with one and other, they should build on the strength of women’s solidarity.
In my experience there is a stark difference to the way non-Turkish women and Turkish women receive me, and this reminder has popped up time and time again. The most recent example to cite was when I was smiled at by a lady and just knew that she couldn’t be Turkish. Even though she had the look of a striking Turkish beauty, her eyes didn’t dissect me with the sharp edge of Hannibal Lector’s knife. Instead, she was approachable with a welcoming smile and a confidence, which put me at ease. She was an Italian; let me add a beautiful Italian lady in her late 20’s?
It’s a natural human phenomenon that this rivalry amongst same sexes exists, but in my experience there is a certain level of respect, which is missing amongst Turkish women. This observation has also been made by a number of non-Turkish women, and so I wonder if the mere acknowledgement of it perhaps reveals the hidden tendency of all females.
If that is the case, then how different are Turkish chicks to the rest of the females? Under the niceties of our Western upbringing, are we just cloaking the deeper traits of our own savageness by temporally retracting our claws? Or are women in the West really more civilized?
I am not sure of the answer to these questions but I do know that to be on the receiving end of that primordial behavior doesn’t feel nice. However, it’s difficult to change a code of behavior in a culture whose acceptance of it reinforces it. Therefore, what are my options? Do I dare adopt a “If you can’t beat em join em,” policy? Or should I be more mature and Instead of judging the women decide to grow from relinquishing the drama?
I aspire to the second option with the belief that perhaps being amongst the savages is the best place for my human and spiritual development, and with that the humorous thought occurs to me that it’s possible that if I stay in Turkey long enough and surrender my reaction, then I could be that much closer to being on the path to enlightenment… Hmmm, now that is one good reason to completely clip my claws.
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