Only Power Rules

It’s a crisp, clear evening on November 16, 2011. Twenty-nine year-old Mülkiye Demir couldn’t be happier as she speeds through the narrow cobblestoned streets of Istanbul’s central Beyoğlu neighbourhood on the back of her friend’s motorcycle.

Mülkiye is excited because tomorrow she’s getting married. She’s also happy because earlier that day she sold a large order of books at her job in the Mesopotamia Culture Centre, known by its Turkish acronym, MKM. The left-leaning MKM promotes Kurdish culture and its bookstore sells highbrow works of literature and political philosophy.

Suddenly Mülkiye and her friend are pulled over by an unmarked police car. She’s nervous because the police have recently been arresting a lot of people she knows, but she’s not scared because she knows she’s done nothing wrong. The police ask for their IDs and take them into custody without explaining why.

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Return to an Istanbul Smouldering

“Kendinizden utanın!” I scream at the battalion of riot police, momentarily losing all semblance of journalistic objectivity. “Shame on you!” They resemble fascist astronauts with their black uniforms, white helmets, glass visors, and gas masks. Many of them are practically children. I’d finally lost my temper after a blast of pressurized water from the hulking TOMA water-cannon truck nearby soaked me and my camera and launched my phone from my hand.

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