I wrote for the Guardian about the silly demonisation of Turkey by Brexiteers

Screen Shot 2016-08-25 at 16.34.31

I was truly ashamed to be British in the run up to the Brexit vote. Living in Turkey, watching the Turkish people be used as a reason to leave the EU was, well, just really embarrassing. I wanted to show Britain how ridiculous it sounded, and incidentally soon after the vote it was admitted that most of the claims (including the Express headline) were false (shocker). The comments on this piece were also predictably awful (never look below the line!), xenophobic, nasty, but the guy who insisted on believing I was Polly Toynbee – as pointed out by several of my friends – did give me a chuckle. 

The unedited version is below or the shinyer finished product here.

 

The Brexit debate has become an all too real version of the time a woman turned a pro-EU leaflet into a game of Cards Against Humanity, accept every single one of Vote Leave’s answer cards say ‘Turkey’. What happens if we stay? Turkey. What is the biggest threat to the UK? Turkey. I drink to forget…? Turkey.

 While Turkey has had more than its fair share of troubles of late and has a long way to go, the vast majority of the ire from leave campaigners has been pointed directly at the Turkish people. The entire of Turkey’s 78 million population, who are mostly criminals, terrorists and gangsters, are preparing to relocate to the UK on the off chance we’ll stay and they will, by some miracle, achieve accession sometime soon. This is quite something considering fears of a Cyprus veto and when only 10% of the population even own a passport.

Turkey’s high birth rate will mean four million extra Turks by 2020 say Vote Leave, and “we can expect to see an additional million people added to the UK population from Turkey alone within eight years.” Within ten years this will cost maternity wards £400m they say, offering no clue as to their workings out. A statistic from a Vote Leave survey warned that 16% of Turks “would consider” moving to the UK on EU accession, but what that means is a whopping 84% wouldn’t even entertain the idea – that’s quite embarrassing when you think about it.

With Turkey considering its own feelings about the EU, imagine if they talked about the threat of us staying in the same way?

“Considering the rate at which Britain’s population is ageing,” they might say, “and based on the 2.5 million Brits who holidayed in Turkey last year, we expect to see our coastal regions destroyed by swarms of Britain’s elderly escaping their chronic bad weather problem. Since the EU will no doubt force us to join the European Health Insurance Card scheme, the strain on our free healthcare alone will be unbearable.

“A life of microwave meals and alcohol abuse means liver problems our health infrastructure just doesn’t have the resources to cope with. Within a year they’ll have eaten all of our biscuits. Are we really going to allow one of the fattest nations on earth have free reign of our hospitals? Their fat teenagers attend our free universities? Already some five million Brits live abroad and as anyone who’s ever been to the Costa del Sol will tell you, the problem is they just don’t assimilate.”

And who could blame them? A predominantly Christian Britain will bring forced Christmas with them. Our Islamphobia will, of course, push Turkey’s young people to becoming radicalised. Let’s not even get started on the threat of troubles starting up again with northern Ireland — if that flares up again, how do they know the 1.8 million residents won’s use it as an excuse to move to Turkey?

“Violent crime is up,” the newspapers might cry, “and they don’t have enough spaces for prisoners so they could ship them all here – they did it to AUSTRALIA.

“They will flock here, force women to wear high heels to work, if they wear anything at all, and the vast majority will expect wages so high they will force hardworking Turks out of the job market.

“We are talking about a people who not just eat pork, but whose prime minister engages in sexual activities with it. A country whose most famous entertainers are allowed to touch children. Whose royal family… who have a royal family.

“There is nothing but a ‘pourous’ ocean between them and the US – how can they protect us?

“They are rude, their men like to get drunk, put on dresses and fight each other. They will never speak the language.

“If the UK remain in Europe, there will simply be no Turkey left to enjoy the benefits the EU will bring.”

As someone who lives in Turkey and has been welcomed, even as that most threatening of all migrants: an economic one, I am ashamed. Brexit really has brought out the worst of British. Get over yourselves! During the eight months or so I taught English, I asked my students if they’d like to live in the UK. Without exception they said no — it’s expensive and racist.

Turkish people are not symbols of an approaching migrant apocalypse. Politicians, government figures from superior, everyone-wants-to-live-there Britain vilifying a whole people for political gain? Sounds like you have more in common with our Ottoman brethren than you thought.

I wrote about Erdogan’s use of Europe’s lese-majeste laws for the Guardian

Screen Shot 2016-07-27 at 16.09.34

Again, still catching up on updates. I wrote in March about how the Turkish Prez was using outdated and often largely forgotten about lèse-majesté laws in order to silence critics in Europe, but how it was actually backfiring. It prompted several countries to rush through changes and abolishments of the laws, therefore actually scoring an accidental victory for freedom of speech. You can read the published version here or the unedited one below.

***

It seems as though hardly a day goes by without Turkey’s President Recep Tayipp Erdoğan and his sense-of-humour free Justice and Development Party (AKP) government having a go at someone. Over the past few weeks, their spectacular ability to take offence and ping out accusations of ‘spy!’ and ‘terrorist!’ at anyone within reach has grown such momentum that the renowned Do-Not-Insultan has now turned his thin-skinned, pointy-finger towards free speech in Europe.

Since Angela Merkel’s decision to approve a prosecution request for comedian – although admittedly, not a very funny one – Jan Boehermann for his ‘insulting’ song Erdowie, Erdowo, Erdoğan, the Turkish president has been capitalising on his success. It seems he is actively targeting other European countries that, like Germany, still have outdated, and often near forgotten about, lèse-majesté laws.

Similar to Turkey’s Article 229, which concerns defamation of the president, these ‘injured majesty’ laws make it a crime to insult rulers or heads of state. They often include other ‘friendly’ leaders, too – a probe under section 103 of Germany’s criminal code prohibits “insulting organs or representatives of foreign states”.

Turkey recently attempted to utilize the Dutch version of the law, requesting that Turks working in The Netherlands snitch on each other. A leaked email from Rotterdam’s Turkish Consulate General to Turkish organisations operating in the country appeared to ask them – although the consulate insists it was all just a misunderstanding – to report back on anyone who had insulted either the Turkish president or the Turkish state.

Dutch-Turkish journalist Ebra Umar was then arrested on holiday in Turkey after someone reported her for tweeting sections of a column she’d written for the Dutch Metro criticizing the email. She compared it to practices used by the Dutch arm of the Nazi Party during WWII, which probably hit a nerve after the media furore that surrounded a speech from Erdoğan in January that appeared – another misunderstanding – to cite Hitler’s Germany as an example of effective government.

Dutch comedian Hans Teeuwen could be prosecuted, too. When asked about the Boehermann case in an interview he claimed that Erdoğan used to be a “boywhore” in an Istanbul brothel and that the leader still owes him a blowjob.

Switzerland has a lèse-majesté law and the Turkish government this week demanded the removal of a photo of a boy from an exhibition in Geneva that associated Erdoğan with his death – he was killed by a tear gas canister fired by police during the 2013 Gezi Park anti-government protests. The Swiss government rejected the demand, but if you live in Italy, Spain, Denmark or Norway, you might want to watch your back.

Erdoğan’s attempts to silence his critics often have the opposite result – there are few better instances of the Streisand-effect (when an attempt to hide something actually results in far more publicity) than the time Lord of the Rings director Peter Jackson waded into the debate over whether a Turkish doctor had shared a meme that compared Erdoğan to Gollum, for which he faced prosecution, or far friendlier Sméagol. It resulted in the little-seen images being shared by news outlets across the globe. Attempts by the Tall Man – a nickname used by the president’s supporters, and with a well-concealed snigger, his detractors – to flex his muscles beyond Turkey’s borders and have a go at freedom of speech in Europe have also backfired.

Outrage at the use of laws that were, until now, rarely used outside of Thailand, has caused European countries to scramble to rid themselves of the lèse-majesté. On Thursday, Germany’s Justice Ministry completed a draft to abolish its version. Chancellor Merkel had previously promised the law would be removed by 2018 as a result of the embarrassing Boehermann affair and the furious debate over freedom of speech that followed, but it’s been fast tracked. The draft included the statement: “the idea that foreign state representatives need special protection against insults does not accord with the era.”

The Dutch government, too, has said it will reform its old law. Just last year there were calls for it to be removed after an activist faced prosecution under the lèse-majesté for saying “fuck the king” when he was arrested for protesting. Erdoğan’s current taste for the law, however, has prompted Dutch MPs to push for a removal, and quickly. The justice minister said the constitution should not be a “museum for out-of-date articles”.

In Switzerland, repeal of the law has been called for by politicians from both sides of the political spectrum in the wake of the Böhmermann case. Former cabinet minister Jean-Christophe Schwaab said: “The fact that you can be prosecuted for insulting a foreign head of state here in Switzerland reminds me of the Middle Ages”.

I wrote for the Guardian about the lack of sympathy for terror attacks in Turkey

 

Screen Shot 2016-07-19 at 15.50.15

OK…. I haven’t updated anything for ages. I wrote this for the Guardian in March following the bombing of the central square in Ankara after a spate of horrible attacks here. I was very affected by this bomb and unfortunately things don’t seem be getting much better. Turkey is going through a very dark period.

I was chuffed to see the piece got so much attention and so much support was offered to those affected. I was saddened to see the nasty and vitriolic comments that went below the line and on social media – people who cannot separate the difference between individuals and the state. Many of those who died were barely old enough to vote, yet people who seemingly have very little understanding of Turkey (but believe they know it all after reading a couple of news stories) decided the victims somehow deserved what happened to them because the commenters don’t like Turkey’s president. They talked as though the dead had some responsibility to carry for the actions of their government. Logic and humanity were absent.

It is no surprise really that Turkey later became a major excuse given for Brexit, that the Turkish people were dehumanised in order to scare Brits into a vote. This was yet another example of a mass failure of logic.

You can read the final piece here or the unedited piece bellow. 

 

On Sunday evening, a bomb exploded near a bus stop at a busy transport hub in central Ankara. At least 37 people died and many more were injured, innocent people who were just trying to get home had their lives literally blown apart. It’s the third high-fatality attack on the Turkish capital since October, meaning that in five months this welcoming – if often a little boring – city has seen more blood spilled by terror than many cities do in a lifetime. Yet where was our ‘Je suis…’ moment?

After the Paris attack last November, some Turkish schools had mourning ceremonies that lasted a full day. Buildings sported the Tricolor flag, people lit candles in solidarity with the victims and hung pictures in condemnation of the senseless violence. This was despite the fact that, when a similar number of people were killed at a peace rally in Ankara the month before, the ripples were hardly felt by the rest of Europe. No BBC reporters broke down in tears. No Facebook app was launched to convert profile pictures into Turkish flags.

While the circumstances of the various attacks in the two cities were very different – Ankara has been subjected to three suicide bomb attacks while Paris’s attacks in January and November last year were largely carried out by gunmen – it’s hard to say that this alone could cause such widely different shows of support. If Sunday’s bomb had instead been in Piccadilly Circus, the closest London equivalent to Kizilay in Ankara, or New York, Berlin, the world would be talking of nothing else. So why not Ankara?

“Is it because you just don’t realise that Ankara is no different from any of these cities?”; a friend (of a friend) James Taylor wrote in a Facebook post that went viral. “Is it because you think that Turkey is a predominantly Muslim country, like Syria, like Iraq…?”

Britain has a love-hate relationship with Turkey. In tourist polls of the most popular destinations, sights, people, it often paradoxically appears as both one of the most and one of the least liked places. It continues to teeter on the line between East and West, making it hard to understand – a muslim country with increasingly conservative values that also has its sights set on the EU. Yet geographically, Turkey is Europe’s neighbour and politically Turkey has long been an ally, of sorts, to the West. It is not the only place to have seen its tragedies paid little attention by the rest of the world, but it feels like the most Western.

“Contrary to what many people think, Turkey is not the Middle East. Ankara is not a war zone, it is a normal modern bustling city, just like any other European capital,” said Taylor. The fact that violence in Turkey has been on the rise since the cease-fire between state forces and the Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK) came to an abrupt end is undeniable. So is its proximity to Syria. Yet despite the heavy presence of armed police, Ankara is not a war zone, there are no tanks on the streets or barrel bombs being dropped.

Perhaps the lack of sympathy for the city comes from pure ignorance. When I first moved to Ankara 18 months ago I was asked by friends and acquaintances if “they have chairs in Ankara, or does everyone sit on cushions on the floor?” and if I would be “allowed to walk down the street on your own as a woman?” Most frustrating, and common of all, was “Are you sure Ankara is the capital, because I’m pretty certain it’s Istanbul?”

More people have been killed in the three attacks on Ankara than were in the multiple attacks on Paris. Many of the people killed may have been muslims. They may not have been from one of Europe’s sexiest cities, but their killing at the hands of terrorists still deserves our solidarity. As Taylor asks, “You were Charlie, you were Paris. Will you be Ankara?”

I interviewed trainers from TV show Dogs Might Fly for the Guardian

Dog with plane joystick

I interviewed the trainers from Dogs Might Fly, a TV show that aims to show how lovely rescue dogs can be with the right care and attention while, yeah, also teaching them TO FLY A PLANE, for the Guardian. Read it here or unedited version below.

 

Can a dog fly a plane? And, if it could, would you go as far as to, say, get in a plane that a dog was piloting? Probably not. However, Victoria Stilwell, one of eight dog experts on new six-part SKY 1 show Dogs Might Fly, would. Despite being a nervous flyer she can “confidently, 100% say yes.”

The show, presented by Jamie Theakston, will see 12 rescue dogs, handpicked from shelters across the country put through their paces in a series of challenges designed to highlight their extraordinary abilities before three luckily finalists graduate to doggy flight school.

So how in the name of dog do you attempt to train a canine for aviation? “A dog is a ground-based quadruped, so they’re not designed for flying – as humans aren’t,” understated Mark Vette, an animal psychologist on the show. Dogs “don’t have arms and hands – they’ve got four legs – so there were some issues with dexterity: how would they manipulate the yoke and the controls, and how they would sit up comfortably?”

“We went through some pretty challenging experimentation… The [Civil Aviation Authority] were adamant that we minimise changes to the plane. A big challenge was set, and that’s what the series is about.”

Although tight-lipped about the details of the process, the trainers did reveal the key attributes they looked for – confidence, a strong ability to read human signals and a dog who is, as Stilwell puts it in language more normally associated with City headhunters, “willing to go the extra mile, to problem solve and to investigate how to work something out for themselves – that’s the kind of dog you want flying a plane.” The muttley crew include Shadow, a Staffordshire bull terrier who was just hours away from being put down by the council when the team discovered him. He was, according to Stilwell, “really good at unlocking [doors] and then pretending he hadn’t done anything wrong.” He was such a top notch Houndini that during his audition he escaped twice before auditionbombing the other hopefuls.

“The crew were chanting ‘who let the dogs out’,” said Charlotte Wilde, a trainer who has supplied animals for Harry Potter and Pirates of the Caribbean. “Shadow also found love at the airfield – hopefully you’ll see in episode six – and has already taken a small part in a shoot… Hollywood here he comes!”

Then there’s Wilf, a 22-month old collie cross, who Stilwell, star of dog behavioural show It’s Me or The Dog, said: “Loved eating water”. “He loved his paddling pool and would dive in trying to eat the water instead of drinking it.” Spike, a terrier-mix, was “brilliant at not doing any of the challenges set for him and instead was really intent on licking everybody’s faces, all the crew. You’re trying to get the shot and he’s just in your face having a fabulous time.” And, when working with dogs, there’s always one that “takes a dump somewhere right in the middle of the beautiful set.”

Challenges include an aviation-themed theatrical show with puppets (yes, really, really, really) – the dogs operated puppets through a series of specially designed platforms. We can also look forward to the “rock performance of a lifetime”.

“You’ve got to make sure that the dogs don’t mind sound,” said Stilwell. “You do these tests to see if the dog can be around a drum kit.” The dogs are rewarded for touching markers with their paws and noses before moving onto important things such as drum pedals. Not every dog, however, has the skills to be the next Ginger Barker or a Phil Collie. One of Stilwell’s favourites, Spot, a “wonderful” Beagle-mix, is “the funniest dog you’ll ever meet.” “She wasn’t that adept at playing the instruments so she was a backing vocalist. You teach the dog to sway, one paw to the other. It’s so cute.”

The dogs also had time to chill out in their luxury Sussex countryside pad, The Dog House, where it was no dog’s life. “As well as their very own Dog Studio,” said Wilde, “there were sofas and comfy dog beds. Although the dogs didn’t learn how to operate the Aga unfortunately. Or the bathroom.”

“They were treated like royalty,” added Stilwell. “They had the highest quality food, delicious treats, their own groomer and 24 hour vet care.” Bar the odd scuffle, the housemates got on too, which is refreshing for reality TV.

We’ve seen a pooch in space and now, just 59 years later, are we about to see the world’s first dog pilot? “I can’t tell you because I think it might be quite surprising,” said Stilwell. “Watch the show and you’ll see and you’ll go ‘wow’.”

– Dogs Might Fly goes out on Sky 1 at 19:00 on Sunday 28th February

– All of the dogs featured on the show have since found permanent loving homes.

I was shortlisted for The Columnist writing competition

ghosting

Back in September I was extremely chuffed to be shortlisted for The Columnist, a competition that used to be run by the much-missed arts charity IdeasTap but has now migrated to Hiive (a great network for creative professionals). I made the last ten, and seen as there were 490 entrants I was smiling for ages. This was my entry:

 

“Saturday.”

This is the last message I sent to my best friend before she turned into a ghost. She didn’t die, but our friendship did and now I wish I’d said something more meaningful.

Ghosting is when someone cuts you off dead – the ultimate silent treatment. Your calls are ignored, your texts left unread and, if you’re as unbearable as me, you might even find yourself full-on digitally blocked (even Linked in – I’m not going to late-night stalk your endorsements). Like the dad who goes out for cigarettes and never returns, my friend went full Houdini on me – poof, and she was gone.

There are times when disappearing into the ether is the only way to deal with a ghoul, I get that. Who could blame Vladimir Nabokov’s Lolita for pulling an Irish goodbye on Humbert Humbert? It doesn’t get much more creepy than a 36-year old man who obsesses over a 12-year old girl, even before he starts bribing her for sexual favours.

Lolita escapes Humbert’s ever tightening-grip by doing a jib from a hospital and it worked, for a couple of years at least. Today, she’d probably instead have to delete her Snapchat and get damn busy with her location settings, but still, this is an extreme case. Most of us – and thankfully, I include myself in this – are not paedophile sex pests.

Bff or worst-date-ever, most people deserve a bit of explanation. Yet 11% of Americans admitted to ghosting someone they were dating in a YouGov survey last year. There is a sense that, through an illusion of exclusivity, ghosting is not just about ducking out quietly, but in fact a kind of self-elevation.

In Ali Smith’s book There But For The, reluctant dinner party guest Miles Garth slopes off upstairs between the main course and dessert. He locks himself in a spare room and refuses to come out. Ever. In doing so he becomes not just a source of desperate intrigue to the remaining guests, who gather around the door trying to find out what they can about Miles, but to the whole country. He becomes a minor celebrity, not just conspicuous in his absence, but tantalising in his mystery.

In short, unless someone poses you a serious threat, ghosting is all a bit look-at-me, don’t-look-at-me juvenile. How far can people-erasing go anyway? You can’t delete people from the real world or your brain. We’ve seen it in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, in Black Mirror, even Red Dwarf, and it never ends well.

I was a good friend (honest) – the sort that always remembered to hold the tomato in sandwiches and to put wine in the fridge. Yet now I’m left picking over every word, every time I mentioned a day of the week, and wondering how it could’ve been taken the wrong way. Besides, there are few greater pleasures in life than calling an arsehole an arsehole. If we ghost everyone who pisses us off, what joy will be left?

I wrote about no platforming in UK universities (and why it sucks) for the Huffington Post

No platforming, Huffington Post

I wrote a piece for the Huffington Post about no platforming in UK universities because in real life, students, you can’t just unfriend people who annoy you. It’s an update of an old blog post that you can read here, or the published version here

I started university when I was 24, almost 25. Having left school at 15 with no qualifications, I knew nothing about education and wasn’t really sure what to expect, but I had expected to be challenged. Not just academically, but politically. I had this notion – fuelled, no doubt, by various on-screen depictions of the political fervour of uni campuses of yore – that university was this feisty environment populated by politically passionate folk in whacky clothes, where radical debate and experimentation were high on the agenda.

What it turned out to be, however, was a place of wet sensitivity where girls – and boys – in Ugg(ly) boots experimented with baking. To put it frankly, after years of pining for higher-education my fellow students were boring and the only controversial debate that took place was about which canteen to buy lunch from.

It didn’t surprise me then, to see my university, Bath Spa, in the red-zone in Spiked magazine’s Free Speech University Rankings (FSUR). Spiked examined the policies and actions of British universities and students’ unions, ranking them on their commitment to free speech using a traffic-light system: red for universities or unions that have banned and actively censored ideas on campus, amber for “chilled free speech through intervention”, and green for institutes that have a hands-off approach.

 Just to preempt any snarky comments about ‘rubbishy’ universities, let me point out that Oxford was red too, and Cambridge amber. In fact, only one in five universities were ranked as green, meaning that they embrace an open approach to free speech, whereas more than double that figure were ranked as red. In red universities, the idea of “safe space” is deemed more important than freedom of speech.

Germaine Greer has found herself falling short of safe space policy, again, as a recent petition called for her to be banned from a women’s rights lecture at Cardiff University because of her views on transgender women. It’s the latest in a string of incidents banning outspoken people with controversial views from events. In February, comedian Kate Smurthwaite also ran into trouble at Goldsmiths University when her show, Lefty Cockwomble – which, ironically, was about free speech – was cancelled. Why? Because Smurthwaite believes in the Nordic model of legislation on sex work, which criminalises buying rather than selling sex. Goldsmiths’ feminist society is, however, “‘for’ [the full legalisation of] sex working”. Her show had nothing to do with prostitution.

The theory of safe space is that people of all identities and backgrounds have the freedom to express themselves in an environment that is tolerant – great. However, the current, rigorous enforcement of the concept is beginning to sound a lot like censorship. A set of ‘if you haven’t got anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all’ rules, it’s as though the Facebook generation can’t handle the analogue world unless it meets their community standards.

I don’t agree with Greer’s view that trans women are “not women”, and I don’t think that all opinions deserve a platform. I do believe, however, that in real life, you can’t just block people you don’t get on with. There is no ‘hide this content’ button. There is no network of sky-geeks, ready to remove material that violates life’s code of conduct. Learning to communicate with people who hold different views from your own is one of life’s biggest lessons and one that university plays a vital role in. It is there, after all, to prepare you for the world, not shield you from it.

It’s good to see students, who are increasingly known for their apathy, show some guts in their refusal to have their views challenged, at least. Is shying away from real debate the new radical though, or is it just a symptom of a world that seeks to shut down opinions that differ from mainstream, community approved thought?

It seems to me that building a community of like-minded people might give students the freedom of tolerance, but it doesn’t necessarily teach them to tolerate. Little value is placed, for instance, in the views of students that don’t match the ideal – what about their safe space? Just like Facebook, increasingly at universities you are only really expected to ‘like’, agree, or shut up. No wonder my peers preferred baking.

I wrote about the Ankara bombing for the Huffington Post

Screen Shot 2015-10-26 at 16.12.53

I wrote about the Ankara bombing for the Huffington Post (I’m a Huffington Post blogger now!) because it really, really, really sucked. You can read it below, or here

I was sleeping when Ankara city centre was hit by twin explosions just after 10am on the morning of October 10th. I woke up to a message from my boyfriend: “Two bombs have gone off near the train station. Looks like a lot of people dead. Might want to let your mum know you’re OK.” His office is metres from where the blasts tore through a crowd of peace protesters, hitting with such force that his whole building shook. My heart stopped as I read it, the air knocked out of me by the realisation that he might not have been OK, and that many people weren’t.

It’s a strange feeling to see the city you live in, a city so few people outside of Turkey seem to know much about – forgotten, as it is, under the shadow of the mighty Istanbul – as a disaster zone on TV news. Most Ankara residents had expected an attack at some point – violence was the flavour of the summer in Turkey after the uncompromising Justice and Development Party (AKP) failed to gain a majority in June’s elections. Snubbed by the pro-Kurdish People’s Democratic Party (HDP), who surpassed the 10% threshold in their first parliamentary elections, old tensions between the state and rebel group the Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK) flared up. As if that wasn’t enough acronyms to deal with, ISIS seemed to be advancing on Turkey, too, having already been held responsible for July’s deadly suicide attack in Suruc that killed 33 pro-Kurdish activists.

When an attack hits in such a vile and callous way, anticipated or not, it’s devastating. It’s not just another faceless, violence-afflicted place in the Middle East, you think, watching UK TV reporters explain what happened and imagining how others will see it. This is my home. The people cruelly targeted were not soldiers or rebels, they had gathered to protest the recent violence between the PKK and the state. As Turkish novelist Elif Safak wrote for the Guardian: “Innocent hearts beating for peace [were] brutally stopped”.

Pleas for blood donations flooded expat groups on social media. Once I’d gathered my thoughts and had some assurance it was safe to go out, I headed to Numune hospital, one of three treating the injured. I was unable to give blood – turned away on the grounds that I have not yet been in Turkey for three years – but was moved to tears to see how many people had come out to do what they could.

Soon, however, the mood turned. Frustrations were vented on one of the blood vans, which had stopped taking donations. Men screamed, lashing out at the van as a mob chipped and dented its sides before it could drive away. Anti-government chants aimed at President Recep Tayyip Erdogan spread quickly and the crowd swelled, blocking the road.

It’s easy to see why emotions are running high. The death toll currently stands at 102, with hundreds more injured. Many were young – teen activists, future MPs and a nine-year-old boy all lost their lives. The 20-year-old daughter of teacher Izzettin Cevik – whose image, blood spattered and cradling his injured, crying wife, became one of the defining images of the tragedy – died instantly.

With a second election in November looming, Turkey is on a knife-edge. The government, accused of harbouring an anti-democratic ‘deep state’ faction, is increasingly facing allegations of foul play and protests against them are commonplace. Just a few weeks ago, a former ISIS fighter told Newsweek that commanders had informed troops that the Turkish state was an “ally” and their forces would not bother them.

Yunus Emre Alagöz, the brother of the Suruc bomber, has been identified by Turkish authorities as one of the Ankara bombers and many more men with suspected links to Isis and the PKK have been arrested. Yet at the 10,000-strong protests against the blasts that swamped the streets of Istanbul that night and the mourning ceremony in Ankara the day after, similar anti-government songs could be heard: “Erdogan, murderer”, “police, murderers”. ISIS may be held accountable for the attack, but the people have their culprit. Whether they hold the government directly responsible, or blame them for failing to protect people, it doesn’t look good for Erdogan’s AKP. If they do somehow win their majority on November 1st – in the past, election rigging has often been suspected, with the state once even blaming an unruly cat – Turkey looks set for a rocky future.

I am haunted by the image of the girl I saw leave the hospital, no older than 21, her arms and legs bandaged and dried blood splattered across her clothes and brand-new Air Max. I think of all the people who died protesting for peace, while 5km away I did nothing but drool on my pillow. Yet despite all the heartache and uncertainty, life in Ankara goes on. People still buy food from the supermarkets and walk their dogs. Friends still meet for coffee, perhaps hugging for a few seconds longer as they greet.

The city is bruised, but not defeated.

Ankara fell victim to the very worst of humanity that day. In the people who queued to give blood, however, and those who gave everything to help the injured, I also saw the best. No matter what happens over the coming weeks, the Turkish people refuse to give into fear.

Nor should they.

Is Turkey heading towards civil war?

Is Turkey heading for civil war?

I wrote this piece for News Hub a few weeks ago, but it seems apt now following the awful bombings in Ankara. Can read it on News Hub here.

Things are not looking good for Turkey. The Turkish lira is at a record low against the US dollar and society is polarized over ongoing clashes between Kurdish rebels and Turkish security forces. Last week, Selahattin Demirtas, leader of Turkey’s main pro-Kurdish political party, the HDP, warned that the country is on the verge of a civil war.

With violence escalating, it seems worryingly viable. Old tensions between the Turkish state and the outlawed Kurdish Workers’ Party (PKK) – which they consider to be a terrorist organisation – have been well and truly reignited in a conflict that has seen 40,000 people killed since 1984.

The PKK were first to break a two-year ceasefire in July. They claimed responsibility for the shooting of two Turkish policemen – a reprisal, they claimed. Many Kurds sympathetic to the PKK blamed the ruling Justice and Development Party (AKP) for being complicit in, or at least passive towards, an Isis-blamed suicide attack that claimed the lives of 32 activists in Suruc, close to the Syrian border.

Days of fighting followed and when Turkey finally announced airstrikes on Isis militants in Syria, it only took until the next day for the guns to turn instead onto PKK targets in Iraq. Suspicions of the vehemently anti-Assad AKP government’s ties to Isis are never far away. The government denies any link. However, while Kurdish fighters remain the biggest resistance against Isis, these attacks will have done little to hinder the jihadists.

Since then, a series of nationalist protests, car bombings, arson attacks and sieges have brought violence well and truly back to the streets of Turkey. The government have been accused of fanning tensions for their own political means. If Turkey is heading towards a civil war, it’s increasingly believed that it’s by design rather than accident.

In June, just before the peace was broken, the AKP failed to win a political majority in a general election for the first time since 2002. The party’s rule had become increasingly authoritarian, swaying the secular country towards Islamification. They were denied their majority by Demirtas’s left-wing, pro-Kurdish HDP who surpassed the steep 10% threshold – with 13% overall – in their first general election.

The streets fizzed with excitement that night, a real sense of euphoria after years of oppressive rule. HDP had the young and the alienated on their side, both Turkish and Kurdish, and channelled the revolutionary spirit of 2013’s anti-government Gezi Park movement.

However, coalition talks, which appeared a non-starter from the off, collapsed and a new election has been scheduled for November 1st. Beyond simply retaining control, the AKP and their controversial president Recep Tayyip Erdogan – who undertook the largely ceremonial role after hitting a three-term prime ministerial limit last year – seek a majority so that the constitution can be revised, ushering in a new presidential system. A move no doubt learned from Russia’s Vladamir Putin.

The subsequent frosting over of Kurdish-Turkish relations seems too convenient to be coincidence. As Marxist theory goes, the best way to end a revolution is with a counterrevolution. Years of massive economic growth led to increased inequality, with the poor now paying the price for the current crisis. Yet divide people on national lines instead of class ones, and it becomes far easier to sway the vote.

If Turkey did somehow engineer PKK retaliation over their handling of the Suruc bombing – or subsequent skirmishes – would Erdogan really be willing to throw the country back into bloody conflict just to win an election?

He is certainly a figure of scorn to his critics, trailing in his wake a string of corruption scandals, inflammatory comments about women’s role in society and incessant attacks on the press. He has shut down pro-Kurdish TV stations, online content is frequently blocked and many journalists have been arrested and even deported for daring to question his government.

Erdogan’s policies are uncompromising, everyone who disagrees with him is soon publicly branded a terrorist, or said to be aiding terrorists. When tapes were released claiming to contain recordings of him ordering his son to dispose of millions of dollars of incriminating cash amid one corruption scandal, he refused to step down, dismissing it as a plot to bring down the government. He’s no Mother Theresa, but as to whether he would risk thousands of lives for a game of political chess is not for me to say (see journalism prosecutions above). However, growing numbers of Turkish people believe so and it’s a feeling that’s not going to be easy to shake.

Either way, it’s the Kurdish civilians who are left baring the brunt of the country’s power struggles. Street attacks on the Kurdish minority are growing, and their cities are under siege. Few feel protected by official forces. According to even the pro-government press, 1,100 Kurds have died since the recent unrest compared to 150 soldiers. If civil war is brewing in Turkey, it’s because at least one side wants peace. They are, however, willing to fight for it.