A Turkish Armenian Romantic Is Cut Down Too Soon

A year ago I was in Turkey when a tragically grave event happened the significance, of which I was to slowly come to understand. A journalist was killed on the streets of Istanbul. His name was Hrant Dink. The man, his ideals, and some of his writings can be read here. I saw the news reports of his murder on television at work, but it really did not mean very much to me at the time. One of my colleagues who was a young teacher from Britain was a little concerned about any unrest that might possibly occur. He apparently knew who this journalist was who was cut down by a bullet outside his office.

Hrant Dink was one of the most prominent figures of the Armenian community in Turkey. His vision was as brilliant, correct, and beautiful as Martin Luther King's. Like Dr. King, he was gunned down by a fanatic. For decades Turkey has been dealing with demons both self-imposed and imposed from without. One of its' biggest demons is the controversy over the Armenian Genocide which occurred in 1915. The events are well documented from a number of sources, not just Armenians but from westerners, including American missionaries and even Arab eyewitnesses. This is an extremely thorny subject in Turkey which can get you prosecuted under the infamous Article 301 of the Turkish penal code. Dink's belief in the Genocide is what got him murdered in the end.

Being American and with our lack of media coverage of many important figures outside our borders, I had never heard of Hrant Dink until his death. I was very familiar with the topic of the Armenian Genocide, however. Since 2003 when I first traveled to Turkey, I had developed a love and an identification with the Turkish people. I felt, how could it be possible that such nice, hospitable people could be some of the offspring of barbarous murderers? Many Turkish people are grappling with the issue too of what I now believe happened in their history. I do not blame the current generation for what happened, but I blame those in the current generation who cry out repeatedly that Turkey is always the innocent victim, that Turkish history is stainless and totally glorious, and that Turkey's only issues is the racism it is subjected to from outside. I have people whom I care about in Turkey, TURKISH people. I do NOT want Turkey to fall apart.

When Dink was killed, I received a text message from my Turkish boyfriend, "I sad because they killed Dink." (sic) At the time, I wondered, "Who the heck is Dink?" My knowledge of him began to grow on the day of his funeral. I had to cross one of Istanbul's main streets in the heart of the city on my way to work. That day, I saw something I had only witnessed on news reports on TV. There were hundreds of armed and shielded riot police, busloads of more and more were coming in, and personnel carriers with water cannon were all creeping down that wide street. Thankfully, Dink's funeral turned out peaceful, but the scars remain one year later.

Turkey is not a free society. There are unwritten codes of conduct that people know and adhere to even though places like Istanbul seem slightly more European than Middle Eastern.

One thing that will always live with me are the beggars I saw in the streets of Istanbul day after day. I gave them money whenever I could. When I did not, I feel terribly guilty and uncaring.

Though some try to cover up Turkey's problems, I have friends who talk in general terms about the difficulty of living that country. I feel so powerless and bad for them, and from my end I try to do what I can, but it is not enough for them, the beggars, the system that is keeping Turkey only half alive and looking more and more like another place with less and less of a bright future.

One year after the murder of Hrant Dink, Turkey is still reeling as this article on BBC News online shows.

Like my Turkish boyfriend wrote me in a recent e-mail, "You know Turkey now." I do.