In relation to the Relay

At the writing of this piece discussions regarding the fate of the olympic torch relay are in full swing one question seems to dominate: given the recent demonstrations in several cities, notably in Paris and London, will the international relay (that envisages "to unite humanity" in preparation for the Summer Olympic Games) be suspended or not? Moreover, will such relays be held in the future?

Regardless of one's position vis-à-vis the Games and their relevance for our contemporary societies, it goes without a say that such a decision ought not to go unnoticed - what we see here is a series of "clashes" that entangle the politics and policy-making of wide range of stakeholders spanning as they do over politics, society and even sports! Tibet is, of course, central here, as is, the question of China's politics which in turn spills over to the politics of other countries towards China via (or not) the Games! One other conflict that emerges is precisely "how we are doing politics today": we have the "summits" and we have the streets. We have Monsieur Sarkozy demanding that certain "conditions" be met in order for him to attend the Opening Ceremony of the Games, we have major European countries pursuing "round-table diplomacy", we have the Tibetan diaspora communities mobilizing all over the world, we have citizens of different countries calling, amongst others, for pluralism and tolerance. And of course we have the torch which carries the Olympic flame, and not surprisingly, sets many things on fire along the way...

It matters therefore to monitor the events. Not so much for the torch- although many might find canceling the relay hard to swallow- but for the implications and actions that come along, that is, the bigger picture "behind" the torch. Whatever the outcome, whether it involves action or inaction it will be of relevance, for, the mere recognition and the pondering over the torch issue at the level of the International Olympic Committee (IOC) inevitably draws attention to questions that have long been lingering and perhaps occasionally brought to the surface but never really tackled in depth. And the latter is the responsibly of the international community.

In my view, and regardless of what the IOC will decide, there are many ways that the international community could "go about" [in dealing with the important issues] but also a danger of "not doing anything about" the issues that are at stake here by, say, opting out, covering up or perhaps by resorting to some flowery speeches or promises for "the years to come". And that would be an opportunity missed and a grave mistake at the same time. For, ultimately, what lies behind the torch, behind Tibet, behind "street and office" politics are profound questions about democracy and the meaning of this thousand-year-old term in the context of our contemporary societies. And such questions do require answers.

"The women did not accept the flowers"

My second reaction after reading a reportage in the March 5th edition of Turkish daily Sabah on a women protest in Istanbul was that the title of the article ("Çiçekleri almadılar", "The women did not accept the flowers") should figure in my next blog post. My first reaction was, of course, that I should seize the opportunity to discuss yet another facet of Turkey, one that surely affects politics but primarily speaks volumes of the society itself.

What brought 500 women in Çağlayan and another 3,000 in Kadıköy was not only the upcoming Women's Day; it was an urge to denounce discrimination and abuse of women. "Honor killings" and sexual abuse are, sadly, present in portions of Anatolia and further to the east, particularly in the countryside. Often embedded in cultural norms and traditions, such practices are in violation of both the major international human rights texts, to which Turkey is a party, and the legal foundations of the Turkish Republic as established by M. Kemal Atatürk in 1923. But Turkey epitomizes contradiction; suffice here to say that Turkey has been an early proponent of women's emancipation introducing bold social and political reforms including women's suffrage as early as 1930, much earlier than France (1945) or Belgium (1948).

Earlier, I spoke of women in the streets of Istanbul as constituting one facet of Turkey: this is because I align myself with the view that Turkey's unique combination of different and at times contradicting streams requires a cautious approach, one that acknowledges particularistic elements and thoughtfully places them in the historical and cultural context. Otherwise one risks being overly superficial. It is only wrong (and dangerous) to see just the face value of such incidents as the protest and much worse to pass judgments on Turkey's respect of human rights or lack thereof based just on fragmentary evidence.

In Turkey there is a strong kemalist secular legacy and at the same time a religious pro-Islam faction that was muted in the early years of the Republic but has successfully re-emerged in the last decades. At the same time, the cultural norms are holding strong and they vary substantially based on the region and the composition of the population. The European endeavor that Turkey has been pursuing since the signing of the Ankara Agreement for accession in 1963 has increased the scope of the European (or Western) influence: partly represented by the secular pro-modernity faction, this stream is also an entity of its own in the form of media, governmental and non-governmental institutions and monitor groups with offices in the Bosporus or the capital.

Turkey of 2007 is a state that is at the eve of presidential elections (with parliamentary elections to follow in the fall), with a moderate Islamic party, Erdoğan's "Justice and Development Party" in power, that in the view of many has failed to rise to its true potential, and yet might also win elections, and with the military still present and "watching". This is the context within which women demonstrated but one should also be mindful of legacies of the past that are echoed today: the headscarf controversy, the rise of right-wing parties, the 1997 return of Kemalists. Women demand a responsible approach to some arguably crucial issues and most importantly make their commitment clear. The symbolic gesture of not accepting the flowers that were being handed by the police emphasizes the very core of the notion that reforms must be deep, not just a "face lift". In addition, such a protest is also important because it denotes a certain sense of national unity, a concept that itself has been challenged lately: women in Istanbul called for the rights of all women even if it is clear that women of urban areas suffer less.

Having said that, it is clear that the issues that bring women in the roads this time are much less controversial than, say, the headscarf debate. The difficulty here lies not so much in mustering support -for no one really opposes such demands- but in bringing about change. And change is a difficult and lengthy process. Raising women issues -from very basic to second-tier- requires a greater "opening" that political elites and civil society must be willing to undertake and allow. Most importantly it requires going above and beyond the traditional course of action by introducing bold reforms primarily socially and legally, and later by implementing them. And this is much easier said than done, for to undertake the strenuous path of reform requires challenging at the same time established norms and respecting culture, it requires assuming political cost without jeopardizing one's power base, it requires "confronting" the people and yet engaging them in the struggle.

If Turkey in the 1930s achieved great strides with its innovative reforms, the same does not apply today when reforms are not even an option. Can women and their protest instigate and sustain the much-needed change or is Turkey, yet again, in deep need of a charismatic leader?

Links:

The original article: "Çiçekleri almadılar"
A translation in English: "The women did not accept the flowers"

From Maryland all the way...

On February 1, The Washington Post published an interesting editorial on Martin O'Malley, the incumbent governor of Maryland. A few weeks into office only, the former mayor of Baltimore is already making his voice heard: O'Malley calls for a staunch position against capital punishment - to the surprise of many who would have never predicted such an initiative based on his electoral campaign. O'Malley swift policy U-turn justifiably draws quite some attention for yet another reason: the state and the country remain divided along -at times stiff- fault lines over a number of social (policy) issues - the death penalty is only one of many controversial topics.

For what it really is, O'Malley's position is important as it constitutes an endorsement of human rights principles in what is a long struggle for the implementation of a human rights culture. Conversely, it becomes crucial in the context of the American culture as the United States is still struggling with concepts of justice attribution and punishment. One of the very few consolidated democracies that is still resorting to the death penalty as a correction method, the United States distinguishes itself from its liberal counterparts by engaging in a practice to be found primarily in nondemocratic countries, or, [to imitate a phraseology popular among US government officials,] "in countries failing to espouse liberty and such fundamental virtues". Still, the consistent use of death penalty by the world's most fervent proponent of human rights is problematic and counterintuitive in itself.

For all the controversy it may spur and all the praise it will receive, O'Malley's decision holds a further connotation as it becomes the embodiment of what "standing by one's principles" truly means. A long-time campaigner against capital punishment, O'Malley neither abandoned his core principles nor decided to hide himself behind them once in power. In a cost/benefit structured framework, O'Malley's deviation is highly dissonant to the ears of many political advisers or policy makers and perhaps even justifiably so. Yet at the same time one wonders whether the exemplary valor embedded in a courageous act, as this one, could in fact be providing with a raison d'être: to the rational scornful conclusion that rejects this line of thought one juxtaposes the alternative standpoint common to those who see corrosion and saturation in politics, corruption and individualism aspiring primarily, if not solely, to re-election - all frequent occurrences in many countries. Not surprisingly therefore one might feel inclined to give at least a chance to something different, something genuine. Against the sour taste of decadent politics, risk may acquire an unprecedented sweetness.

In the merciless battlefield we conventionally call politics, one hopes that ingenuity and initiative will be given some room to breathe. That Maryland borders congested Washington D.C. is a source of concern and a reason for hope at the same time.

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Reference

The Washington Post Editorial: A governor stands up