Back with a vengeance

I've been quiet for a very long time.
There are excuses galore. And they are all good.
But there is only one reason. And it's all bad.

I got sidetracked by work and travel and missed a week and then another. And by the time I had the opportunity to write there was so much to say. Too much to say. And I choked on my own anger

But really, I've had so much to say that I have been virtually silenced.
But as ever, something happens that is too much to bear. Too funny. Too ridiculous. Too bad.
In my case, it was a televised debate on pension reform on American TV.
The TV was on in the back ground while I was unpacking my bags during yet another business trip (and let me tell you, the glamour wears off fast).

Now normal people start dozing when pension reform is mentioned but not I. The geek within pricked its ears and I kept it on, half listening as I was settling in. The debate was civilised, considering, but I was struck by the single-sidedness of it all. 'no democrat on the panel' I thought to myself 'that's just ridiculous'. So clutching a pack of jumpers to my chest I stood trying to figure out how they could get away with having no democrat on the panel.

It is preposterous to expect to retire before the age of 75, said one panelist.
Republican, thought I, and put the jumpers away.
We should tax unearned income at the same rates as earned income, says another panelist. Ah finally, I think to myself as I pull out skirts and jackets, speaking of taxation as redistribution, not punishment.
Oh how wrong I was.
The unearned income the lady was referring to was not inherited millions and trust fund security. It was pocket money given to children for helping grandparents with the groceries and baby sitting money handed to a young cousin on a Saturday night.

I stopped dead on my tracks, shoe bags in hand.
Income? Did we really just refer to pocket money and an pretext for a bit of help being passed around families as 'income'?
Republican, I thought. Of the worst kind.
Assuming all money is fair game. As if money for bread and money for diamonds has the same value. As if 'taxing unearned income' in this context didn't just mean double taxing the poor. And the Mexicans.
Bloody racist, right wing, self-righteous pigs who always think that poverty and misery are diseases afflicting other people, I thought to myself.
Not my finest hour. Rather uncharitble. Not all that nuanced.
But give me a break. I was jet lagged. I was tired. I get all worked up about social policy. And things were only going to get worse.

As anger is bad for my karma, I decided I had had enough but as I reached out to turn the TV off I heard the offending panelist extolling the virtues of President Obama.
Oh the horror.
She is a democrat.
A. Democrat.
A DEMOCRAT.
Unapologetic. Unaware.
I felt cheated. I got angry. Seething. And I stayed angry.
That was fun for my colleagues, let me tell you. But they got over it, whereas I didn't.

When exactly was it that we stopped believing that things can change? When was it that we, the human race, collectively resigned ourselves to the fact that the way things are is the way things will always be, apart from the times when they just get worse?
'We need to be realistic' said the panelists. And what they meant was: we need to give little, care little, change little.
'We need to be realistic' say the coalition of the damned in the UK. And what they mean is dare little, probe little, concede little.
'We need to be realistic' say the Greek authorities. And what they mean is we refuse to take responsibility for the violence that ravages our society and the misery that has come to define us.

Well sod that.
If realistic means resigned, cowardly, settled then count me out.
If realism entails ditching all your dreams and just sitting out the game then realism is the enemy.

I've said it before and I will say it again: citizenship is not a spectator sport.
Society is not other people.
The future is not written.
Citizenship is made up of caring, acting and turning up.
Society is you.
And the future is what you make of it.
And if we are to stand a chance, people, 2011 had better be the year of unrealism.

We need not be realistic any more – let's face it, we've been realistic for so long now and look where that got us? We need to dream, we need to hope, we need to dare.
2011. Brand new year. As good a time to start as any.

The joke that was the G20 summit or why many potential protesters stayed at home

http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2009/03/28/article-1165382-04255381000005DC-599_468x314.jpg
Sure, protesters marched through the City of London, flanked by police. Loads of police. But, let’s face it, their heart wasn’t really in it. And there weren’t that many of them. Even the Countryside Alliance has fielded more people than hit the City last week.

All the banks were on high alert of course. City workers were told to work from home or dress down, come in earlier than normal (protesters are not used to early starts, you see, they sleep in, lazy people that they are) but really when it came down to it, things were quiet in the City. Eerily quiet most of the time.
And that’s as it should be. Contrary to pet fears, protesters are neither ignorant nor stupid. They have no quarrel with City workers, the number-crunchers that get crunched by the crisis worse than anyone. The people they have a quarrel with were either not coming into work on those days or sitting right at the heart of the G20 summit. So City workers were left to their own devices, largely.
Their bosses were largely not there, so they weren’t hassled.
And the G20 bosses, well, they have security details and traffic police clearing the way so they can’t have noticed much either.

Uneventful, is what the protests were.
Now that’s no bad thing. The people who hit the streets were pacifists, issue-focused and politically aware. Destruction and havoc was not on the agenda so the fact that the protests were uneventful was part of the plan and not, as the BBC seems to suggest, a lucky accident. These people protested our leaders’ inaction in the face of a financial crisis that has been raging and deepening for months now; they protested the indecision and lack of vision that plagues the efforts in Iraq and Afghanistan; they protested climate change and the lack of any policy to combat it. They protested real issues affecting us all, in the presence of people who can do something about it. Not the junior associate from HSBC, but the presidents and prime ministers of powerful nations sitting in consultation with each other for the good of their people.

Well some of their people were outside the building trying to get heard but, as usual, they got penned in out of the way until the leaders were out of earshot. Predictably no leader or representative even attempted a sortie even though the protesters were peaceful.

‘We are not all like that Mr President’ said the Sun, juxtaposing a picture of a protesting crowd in the City of London and a photo of the Queen with the Obamas.
What does that mean anyway? We are not like what?
We are not all like a kindly, elderly monarch with a strange taste in clothes? No, I’d think not. But obviously that’s not what it means at all. What it means is we are not all like ‘the great unwashed’, the filthy hippy protestors. We wouldn’t protest, oh no, not us!
And what I want to know is how is that a good thing?
If something is worth protesting against and you do so peacefully and respectfully, how is a protest not proof of care, compassion, humanity and engagement?

Oh yes, the Sun never fails to offend me.
But strongly as I do feel about all this, I must confess that I was not out there on the streets last week.

In the past, I have joined demonstrations even though I knew the government would not listen. Stop the war coalition – I was there, in the cold and rain every time although I knew Blair would take no note. It was important to me to stand up to be counted.
Now?
I care. Oh do I care. I wish I didn’t, it may help me sleep at night, caring less. But much as I care, I could not take the G20 summit seriously enough to protest against it. And I could not take the leaders involved seriously enough to try and get their attention.
It was clear even before the summit started that nothing would come of it. No new idea, no commitment, no genuine debate, no genuine falling-out, even, helping to clarify where the global politico-economic fault-lines lie.
We knew, before the debates even started, that we couldn’t even hope for radical disagreement showing us, the voters, that there are genuine, thought-through viable options to choose from.
Nobody had any expectations from the summit. Nobody has any expectations from the leadership.

So I stayed at home alongside millions of people.
Some disagreed with the protesters. The Sun and the man down my local pub feel squeamish at the sight of a protest, those dirty hippies and all that. That’s not me.
The cynics say we are not in Kansas any more and only the protesters can’t see it. That’s not me. Others stayed at home because they have more influence when they are near their phones and laptops than if they are waving placards at passing cars. Well that’s not me either.

I just couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that even if we were to rally the mighty, it will make not a jot of difference as they are largely to blame for the mess we are in anyway. The feeling that the protests had loads of goals but no real aim. A lot of issues but no real focus because it is no longer clear who can solve these problems and how – our leaders lacking both means and will, both ideas and a backbone.

So I stayed at home.
But I am comforted by the fact that not everyone did.
Because when there is this much wrong with the world giving up and going home seems like the sensible option. But it’s not the responsible option.
And still I stayed at home.
Because I knew that everything would come down to cash injections and I just couldn’t muster enough enthusiasm or anger to get out onto the streets to be yelled at by policemen over that. Of course other things were on the agenda. I’m sure Sarkozy suggested radical solutions Obama shrugged off because, generally speaking, the sort of thing the French like gets shot down on the Hill before you can even blink. So we are left with cash injections. And the problem with cash injections is that you and I, long-suffering tax payers, finance those thus salvaging the banks the bosses of whom brought us to where we are today.

And the protesters know that, of course. And I know that.
The difference is I stay at home while they obviously still shout in hope and anticipation even though they are bound to know the paradox – the lack of clear solutions, the total lack of grounds for inter-governmental collaboration and agreement. They are bound to know. Because if they care enough to be angry, if they care enough to be there, they care enough to know.
They know. And they still hope.
They were out on the streets because they still have faith.
And I was at home because I’m all out.

Plus ça change: Turkey 12 years on

This Saturday past marked 12 years since Turkey’s latest coup.

Twelve years is a long time. A lot can change in twelve years. And a lot has changed in Turkey, in the 12 years since the post-modern coup of Feb. 28, 1997.
It is now legal to broadcast in Kurdish, family law has been liberalised, Turkey has deepened its rapprochement with Europe and, in economic terms, the Anatolian heartland is flourishing. Even the make-up of the National Security Council has been changed to achieve increased civilian control over the army.

Things have undoubtedly changed.
In 1997, the religious Refah party was ousted by army memorandum.
Twelve years on, the AK party (openly religious and counting many ex-Refahites among its members) has been governing for the better part of a decade.
The AK party is itself proof of profound change – the secularists have changed enough to endure it and the Islamists have changed enough to join and vote for the reformist, Euro-phile AKP. Even the army are yet to take drastic action against them. And many believe that the fact that the AKP is still around is proof enough that the TSK (Türk Silahlı Kuvvetleri, the Turkish Armed Forces) have also changed.

When the AK party was investigated for unconstitutional activities and acquitted, some hailed the end of an era. When the TSK failed to intervene as pious Abdullah Gül was elected to the revered office of the President of the Republic, some were convinced that was the end of the TSK as we knew it. Just because they did not intervene.
Are we not forgetting something?
The army didn’t get the troops out in 1997 either. But a government fell nonetheless.

The TSK has not changed since 1997.
The TSK is done changing.
Between 1960 and now, they have perfected the art of interfering without intervening. Why change any more?

The position of the TSK within the polity is clear:
Past and present versions of the constitution and the uniform code of military justice recognise the TSK's duty to protect the land, the people, the Republic and Atatürk’s legacy from enemies within or without.

So Turkey has changed. But within certain limits.
After all, protecting a legacy from enemies within clearly means that the TSK are there to block the wrong kind of change.
In fulfilling that duty, the TSK intervened once every ten years, never holding onto power for long, between the advent of multi-party democracy in 1950 and 1980 when it appeared that a more ‘lasting solution’ was needed. Thus far, the army had been intervening in a correctional manner, addressing a perceived problem swiftly and returning to barracks. It was actually widely believed that to hold onto power too long would corrupt the corps.

But in 1980 things were different. Turkey was in chaos. Basic good shortages, government failures and violence on the streets meant that this time, when the TSK intervened, they were reluctant to withdraw immediately. Or even soon.
General Kenan Evren would retain power until he has satisfied the system had been re-jigged appropriately.
That took three years.
Before returning to democratic politics he made sure he had given Turkey a new constitution, new institutions and himself as President of the Republic for the next 7 years.

Since then, the army has interfered a lot and intervened little.
Although in 1997 some tanks did leave the barracks – in the city of Sıncan, following an unfortunate incident including a fiery oratory and the Iranian ambassador – 1997 was a very civilised coup, done via communiqué rather than military action.
Since then, the TSK’s unquestionable power has been turned into diffused influence. So diffused, you can hardly see it. But that doesn’t make it less real or less potent.

Of course, it helps that the core principles of the constitution are the TSK’s guiding principles. And it also helps that the current constitution is a heavily amended version of the document the junta drafted in the early 80s.
It also helps that the TSK have a say in all high-level judicial appointments. They have influence over all high-level state university appointments as well as in a number of other areas including a number of regulatory bodies.

Of course things have changed. But plus ça change…

Granted, the TSK don’t always get their way.
Neither Erdoğan nor Gül are to their taste. And they are both still around.
But neither Erdoğan nor Gül have pushed through any particularly controversial legislation, despite numerous tense stand-offs. Somehow AKP politicians manage to reign it in before it’s too late. For instance, Erdoğan tried, early on in his first term, to criminalize adultery, yet he soon dropped the issue like the hot potato that it was. The EU saw it as a sign of respect for the Copenhagen criteria.
But the secular TSK knew better.

The EU was also pleased when the number of civilians in the National Security Council was increased and the TSK chiefs were given ‘line managers’ lower down the food chain – from the head of state to the minister of defence.
The EU stopped being so pleased when they realised that the change in the National Security Council make-up had absolutely no bearing on the Council’s decision-making patterns as the TSK’s views still carried the day and that Army chiefs carried on being treated with deference by their civilian superiors.

Turkey has changed, say the EU observers, and now it’s time for the TSK to do the same.

Look again, says me.
Turkey was Atatürk’s project: an exercise in collectivism, statism, secularism and modernisation. The project is working, the legacy is upheld and the TSK is overseeing proceedings.
Of course Turkey has changed since 1997.
Turkey has been changing since 1923. It has been changing according to Atatürk’s plan and legacy. And since 1923, the TSK has also changed, to ensure it remained best placed to protect and forward the plan.

The one thing that hasn’t changed is the plan.
The TSK made sure of that.

Greece 2009: Welcome to the dark side

So I was in Greece last week.
I did the whole staying-up-till-six-am-eating-and-drinking-with-family. I played the let’s-see-how-much-caffeine-it-takes-to-kill-you game. I saw friends. I walked the streets of my youth. I spent time at home.
It was good.
But inevitably at some point, I turned on the TV. And, the Petroula debacle aside, in the space of the 10 minutes I lasted in front of it, I saw 3 things:

I saw the anchorman of a major channel battling with the news that the Prime Minister of Iceland is gay. Why that is news in the first place, I cannot say, considering it is neither newsworthy nor new. But they were announcing it still and the newscaster was struggling with his terminology. After half-starting on ‘homosexual’ and ‘lesbian’ he settled for ‘the PM of Iceland has… errr… special abilities’. Quite. X-ray vision and telekinesis, I’m sure. Pity I’m straight. But for a change in my sexual preferences I could be Wolverine.

So I flicked the channel in disgust and I got the news on a different one where the reporter had intelligently edited clips of a few ministers contradicting themselves drastically in public statements made within the last few days. My favourite was the minister for agriculture. On being informed that a group of disgruntled Cretan farmers were coming to Athens (with their tractors) to demonstrate, he said they would be welcome and a public debate would ensue. What actually ensued was a street fight complete with teargas and police violence captured on camera. The same man subsequently said that the state did what it had to do to prevent social unrest. So the state moves against protesting citizens, for their own sakes. How reassuring.

So I flicked the channel in despair and got three government spokesmen, ministers and under-secretaries, as well as a clip of the prime minister all saying the same thing ‘we have a plan to get the country out of the financial crisis’. ‘What is it’, ask the journalists. ‘We have a plan’ they repeat. What is it, I shout at the TV. ‘We have it and have had it since June’, Palli-Petralia (Minister for Employment and Social Protection) insisted. Yes but what is it? ‘We have it’.
Insolent citizens not taking the government’s word for it. Shame on us.

So I switched the TV off and turned to the newspapers. Asking for it, I know, but I am a news junkie and will never learn. So I discovered the following: I learned that the government’s popularity is waning (there’s a surprise) but the Prime Minister remains popular and is thought of as the stronger leader (God help us) – possibly assisted by the fact that the leader of the opposition seems to have no ideas whatsoever and an inability to string a sentence together without stumbling at least once.
I also learned that information about abuse in Greek prisons had been released again a few days previously, but no inquiry had been instructed and nobody seemed to be doing anything about it. I read about the farmer strikes and road blockades (part of which was the Cretan farmers incident). I also read about the failing economy, the faint echoes of land-sale scandals implicating the church that are now old news and the odd report about financial irregularities and EU controllers. Business as usual, really.

And then it struck me.
How all this was reported as a matter of fact. As if chaos, disorder, narrow-mindedness, dishonesty, injustice and incompetence were given facts of life that we were all powerless against. As if all this was our fate and, although we can see right through it, there is nothing we can do about it, there is nothing that can be done about it. As if change is not an option, not a possibility. As if hope is all but dead even though criticism isn’t. As if we are all spectators in a football match we have no power over. We can shout and swear but can’t touch the ball. We can see all that’s wrong but don’t believe we can fix it, don’t believe a fix is possible.

So nobody acts.
So nothing changes.
So.
So welcome to the dark side.