A protestor holds a placard displaying a portrait of Berkin Elvan after the announcement of the death of the teenager on March 11, 2014, in Ankara. (Adem Altan/AFP/Getty Images)[/caption]One of the thousands who gathered on crowded Piyalapaşa Avenue on March 12, I bid farewell to Berkin Elvan’s body as it was carried out of the Alevi temple. The “Little Prince,” as he has fondly come to be known, brought all segments of society together when he passed away after 269 days in a coma at the age of fifteen, weighing only thirty-five pounds.
Berkin was hit in the head by a gas canister when he went out to buy a loaf of bread during the Gezi Park protests in June last year. He is the eighth person to die from injuries sustained in those weeks of violence. The police officers responsible for firing the canister that led to his death have not been identified.
Following his funeral, the crowd marched through the commercial district of Şişli, carrying his coffin and tombstone, to reach the Feriköy cemetery. As I walked past the Şişli Mosque, a woman in her thirties grabbed me by the arm and asked me to help her.
Shattered glass glazed the street. Two vandalized public buses and a water cannon, spray-painted with the words “thief” and “murderer,” stood nearby. At first I assumed the woman was hurt, then I noticed the white helmets through the broken glass of the bus windows: policemen were hiding behind the vehicles. The woman who grabbed me was trying to form a human barricade to protect them.
She whispered that in such politically charged moments, men are more aggressive toward each other but they do listen to women. The crowds passed by as we stood hand in hand, protecting the police.
An hour earlier, walking along a highway to reach Şişli, protesters took down the ruling Justice and Development Party (AKP) flags hanging outside the party’s campaign offices. Perhaps in reaction to this defiance, a fire truck belonging to the AKP-led Istanbul Municipality recklessly swerved toward the demonstrators. Shrieks grew louder as the vehicle maneuvered through the crowd, this time driving backwards.
Today, many Turkish people feel that the wrongdoings of the AKP go unpunished. They say the party’s abuses of power are not being investigated and murder cases are being covered up. The corruption scandal that broke on December 17 has further fired this frustration.
Thousands attended Berkin’s funeral because he had become a unifying symbol of innocence in the face of injustice. Following Berkin’s death, Levent Üzümcü, a renowned Turkish actor, remarked that the country was now polarized into two camps: those with and those without a conscience. Though a harsh judgment, the reactions of AKP politicians to Berkin’s death have shown little compassion or regret.
Şamil Tayyar, an AKP deputy, endorsed a tweet suggesting Berkin might have been taken off life support deliberately to create chaos just in time for the local elections. Former EU Minister Egemen Bağış labeled the protesters “necrophiliacs.” The prime minister, Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, refrained from expressing his condolences. He had to attend a rally in the southeastern town of Siirt, where he reminisced about the time he was imprisoned for reciting a poem in the same city in 1997. On Wednesday he asked the crowd: “Did I kill anyone? Did I steal something?” Around the same time, one of the most popular slogans at Berkin’s funeral was: Hırsız! Katil! Erdoğan: Thief! Murderer! Erdoğan.
Despite the protests and the corruption scandal, Erdoğan is confident that his support base remains intact. Throughout the numerous challenges to his rule, Erdoğan has insisted that what matters is the ballot box. He has even suggested that an AKP win at the local elections would translate as a vote of confidence for his government and somehow find it innocent of the corruption charges. Yet this majoritarian viewpoint is what drives people to protest. Putting the ballot box above the law and seeking the approval of the majority to validate injustice are now signatures of AKP rule. Unless Erdoğan takes a step back to understand the people’s demands, the discontent is likely to prove increasingly unmanageable.
All views expressed in this blog post are those of the author and do not necessarily represent the views of, and should not be attributed to, The Majalla magazine.
