They targeted our memory, our quest for justice

 
The troika of pillory-judgement-assassination is an ancient tradition that has successfully been carried out in these lands numerous times.  Anyone who writes, thinks, speaks out, or seeks the truth is first pilloried and targeted by the media, by the mobs on the street, by “paramilitary” organisations. Then they are tried for “treason”.
 
The judiciary obediently carries out its duty. Rulings blacklist the person in question, labelling them “an enemy of Turkey”, “a terrorist”.  That person is then besieged, suffocated, and society is thus convinced of the need for their destruction.  Once society’s approval for the destruction of the target has been obtained, the trigger is pulled.
 
One morning, when we wake up, we hear that that person has been killed. We are prepared for this death. The death comes as no surprise; we had all predicted it. God knows this is something the Turkish state does well. And it doesn’t do it quietly but shouts it from the rooftops. It leaves no question as to the perpetrator. It doesn’t want us to be surprised, to have any doubts. It leaves no room for any other possibility. Nor does it make artful plans worthy of a detective story. It just kills. And it does so openly.
 
It wants us to see, in order to frighten us, show us our place and make us thankful to be alive…
 
That was how it was with Hrant. And also how it was with Tahir Elçi. They were pilloried for their writings and ideas, they served as pawns in the shows of the judiciary, they were targeted and – once we were ready – they were killed.
 
While standing in front of the Four-Legged Minaret, speaking out against Diyarbakır suffering the same fate as Aleppo, against the region suffering the same fate as Syria, Tahir Elçi was murdered in front of our very eyes with a single bullet to the head.
 
He was an incredible lawyer, a pacifist, a defender of the people and, most importantly of all, a Kurdish intellectual who sought the truth. Unlike most Kurdish political figures, he mastered the Kurdish language.
He gave such importance to bringing Kurdish into the public sphere that he also spoke of the plight of the Four-Legged Minaret in Kurdish.
 
The target was our hearts, our conscience, our memory.
 
Just as they targeted Hrant to wipe 1915 from our memories, they targeted Tahir Elçi for the same reason: to erase our memories. Tahir Elçi was the seeker of justice for the events of the ’90s; he was their memory, their witness, their victim…
 
The story began when, watched by millions, Tahir Elçi expressed his opinion on a television programme. He was among those who best understood the value of freedom of expression. He was among those who fought for freedom of expression. He was among those who paid the price. Unlike many political figures he spoke his ideas bravely and directly, explaining their scientific/objective justifications.
 
 
He came to the rescue at a time when academics, lawyers, journalists and politicians were stuck on the definition of “terrorism”, when they were unable to make objective evaluations, and when they tended to paid homage to the government. He made a brave objective observation on a popular television show. He spoke his mind. He cleared the way for freedom of thought.
 
One of the reasons for his murder was that he, a respected, successful and effective lawyer, had torn down the state’s barriers before the eyes of millions.
Looking us straight in the eye, Hrant had said, “There was a genocide,” and, “Sabiha Gökçen was Armenian.”
 
Tahir Elçi said, “Even if some of the PKK’s acts have a terrorist character, the PKK is an armed political movement.”
 
These words were a slap in the face for a state that has devoted its entire existence to the denial of the genocide and of Kurdishness.
 
These words are unsettling for the state.
 
And do you realise the effect they had on the millions who grew up on the official state ideology?
 
Do you realise what a bombshell these words were for millions of people who were made to face the truth?
 
In this country there is a huge price to pay for speaking the truth.
 
Tahir and Hrant both knew this.
 
So too do we.
 
The script was written in front of our very eyes; the curtain rose and the play began.
 
We knew the actors too: The media, the judiciary, the state.
 
We knew it the minute we saw the headlines.
 
Their deaths came as no surprise; we had all predicted them.
 
We couldn’t protect Tahir Elçi. Just as we were unable to protect Hrant.
 
We are sad. We are angry. We are responsible.  
 
It is for this reason that we need to cling on to their truths even more firmly. We must patiently continue our struggle to break down the barriers to freedom of expression, we must continue our quest for justice, and we must keep our memories alive and strong.