The man who stood

On the evening of Monday June 17, at around 6 p.m., a man walked into the centre of Taksim Square and stood.

With his bag placed at his feet, hands in pockets, the man stood gazing at the flags of Atatürk and the Turkish Republic hanging from the Atatürk Cultural Centre and scarcely blinked. As the evening wore on, others began to stand near him, in a moving gesture of solidarity but one which began, after a while, to bear suspicious resemblances to “assembly,” which police in Taksim Square have become rather tense about, to say the least.

Since police took the square back from the protesters on Saturday June 15, they have preferred to reserve the space for transit rather than permanence for any length of time. People can go about their daily business; working, shopping or running errands, but without engaging in anything so intimidating and threatening to the public order as assembling. Taksim Square has become a pale and vacant resemblance of the place it was only a few days ago, when it was filled with music, dancing and colour. The overwhelming majority of those present seemed to have come to the square not with any particular aim in mind except merely to occupy the space, peacefully and together.

The standing presented police and officials with quite a conundrum. This was clearly a form of protest, or at least abnormal behaviour, yet standing alone for a prolonged period of time evidently does not constitute any kind of criminal activity or pose an immediate threat. The reaction of the Interior Minister was that an “intervention” would only take place if the standing began to take on a character regarded as disruptive to the public order.

However, as the collection of standers continued to grow, the police lost their patience, and stepped in to detain a number of them. The justification allegedly given for the detention was that the protesters were resisting arrest by standing, which leads to a curious paradox if one were then to ask why they needed to be detained in the first place.

Erdoğan’s behaviour in recent days has been severely provocative on a number of levels. The brutal reclaiming of the square and park, by sending in police and armoured vehicles on Saturday evening was a first affront. Next came his blunt dismissal of any misconduct on behalf of the police, and the repetition of his assertion that the protesters were fundamentally violent and threatening.

These words could in themselves be regarded as a kind of symbolic violence, adding to the injuries already suffered by many of the peaceful protesters in recent weeks. And as the standing man himself pointed out, there is also a symbolic violence in denying people access to a public space, which had become a focal point for the peaceful assembly.

Faced then, with these spurious accusations, in spite of the now well-documented evidence both of police brutality and of the idyllic and peaceful nature of the protests in Gezi Park, with make-shift libraries, arts & crafts workshops & foodbanks, what is there left to do to show that one’s protest is peaceful, other than simply stand?

So why are the authorities and police troubled by this latest and very mild episode of civil disobedience?

For one thing there is the contagion factor. Not just in Taksim Square. As fast as pictures were being uploaded, people began to stand in other parts of the city and other parts of the country.

Then there is the visibility of a protest such as this, which in itself can be construed as subversive, despite the absence of sound or movement. Symbols, behaviours and postures in certain locations and in certain contexts are imbued with particular meanings.

Symbols may seem passive enough, but in the context of a struggle, they can be regarded as weapons almost comparable to others used in battles. When the Ataturk Cultural Centre was adorned with flags and banners of myriad shapes, colours and slogans, this proved intolerable for officials, who described it as an “advertising billboard for legal and illegal organisations.” Their removal was of course a pretext to move back into the square, but their significance cannot be dismissed altogether. Symbols are not the driving force behind any movement, but if they were entirely without impact, for instance on morale and determination, and as territorial markers to lay claim to a particular space, authoritarian regimes would not be so fixated on banning or removing them in favour of imposing their own.

AKM during Gezi Park Occupation...

...and after police regained control of the square

Despite having ostensibly regained control of the public space in Taksim Square and Gezi Park, this protest has shown that it may not be as straightforward as expected to repress protests and dissent through limiting access, surveillance, and at times, brute force. This is not only because the creativity and ingenuity of the protesters seems to know no bounds. The spaces in which people, especially the young, now congregate to share ideas, images and information, have become far less tangible than before. Social media now provides a space that seemingly escapes the watchful eye and heavy-handed response of the police, unlike the tangible public spaces of the local park or square. Yet predictably, attempts are now being made to gain more control over this space as well, with the government’s pledge to adopt legislation restricting the use of social media.

For a government that was so determined to put an end to the PKK conflict, which has claimed thousands of lives over several decades, often due to acts of terrorism, it would seem that non-violent resistance is regarded with just as much hostility and intolerance. Yet the suppression of peaceful protests can only damage the authority of a regime, and further endanger the lives of all its citizens, as Arundhati Roy notes in The Ordinary Person's Guide to Empire:  

"Any government's condemnation of terrorism is only credible if it shows itself to be responsive to persistent, reasonable, closely argued, non-violent dissent. And yet, what's happening is just the opposite. The world over, non-violent resistance movements are being crushed and broken. If we do not respect and honour them, by default we privilege those who turn to violent means."

Many protesters, especially when incidents of vandalism or aggression occurred earlier on, repeated the same refrain: “this is a civil resistance, this is a peaceful resistance.”

Despite the untruths of the government, and the physical suppression of the police, their determination remains unwavering, fuelled by the anger of recent events but somehow remaining calmly focused. To be seen, and to be known for what they really are. Peaceful.