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June, 2013 | Occupied Stories - Part 2

Archive | June, 2013

VIDEO: #ChangeBrazil in their own words

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Living in Taksim – Report June 12-14, 2013

Editors’ note: This piece originally appeared at Sinefil.

First, an addendum to my June 11 post. Over 70 lawyers defending the park were taken into custody at the courthouse yesterday. They were later released, but another perfect example of trying to strike fear in people’s hearts.

This footage is around 2 AM June 12 at the park, very soon after I had left. Following the gas attack, it started to rain. While that’s good for clearing the air, it’s difficult for people sleeping in the open air. I went back to the park in the morning, people were trying to re-group and re-establish an order. All the while, they were also trying to keep themselves dry and their belongings from flying away in the storm. Honestly, it looked a little depressing. But after a short nap at home and an afternoon at the office, a much drier and cheerful park awaited me. The evening was crowned by a concert – first by the statue, then in the middle of the square, and finally almost inside the park, above the steps. The piano was moved around by a bunch of guys who picked it up and carried it up and down. After the stress of Tuesday, sitting on the ground in the middle of the square and listening to “Imagine” (a few times too many perhaps, but still) with friends around me was priceless. At this point, people had gotten gas masks and hard hats. My mom bought my hat, and a friend lent me her mask. It was surreal – several thousand people hanging out in a park with gas masks, goggles and hard hats. One thing I heard over and over again was the anger and discontent about even having to own – and wear – this equipment. We’re regular citizens, not militants.

The news of the day were the negotiations in Ankara in the evening. The PM had called several people from the park and a group of artists. None were chosen by the park protestors, and they said so before going in. From what we heard, it was a long, emotional and ultimately fruitless meeting. When they came out, the spokesperson announced a possible referendum, which was never discussed in the meeting. We also later found out that there is no legal infrastructure for a referendum to be held. One of the negotiators, who declared he’d never been to the park and would refuse to go, gave a speech after the meeting which entertained everyone. I could only follow it from social media, but here it is – he’s not making much sense. This is the star of the famous “Valley of the Wolves” series and films; I have no idea why he was invited.

I was able to go home fairly early at night, and got the longest sleep of the last few weeks. It felt good…

On Thursday (June 13), the fear campaign continued. There were rumors (perhaps a few real cases) of people being searched, and those with hard hats and / or gas masks being detained. No confirmation though.

A second set of negotiations were called for 11 PM – this time, the list included members of the Taksim Solidarity, and the artists had actually been to the park. But again, it was called by the PM’s office with no proper representation. Waiting for the negotiations, the filmmakers issued a press statement, and I was busy trying to help with its translation. Hence, I missed the highlight of the day: human chain formed by the mothers. The previous evening, the mayor had called out to the mothers of the “young” protestors in the park, telling them to pull their kids back, essentially. The mothers responded by showing up themselves and forming a human chain around the park . Very touching…

I felt that we were approaching the end of things, one way or another (how very prescient of me…). So I went for a walk with a friend around the park. Not so much inside, because it was really crowded again, but along the edges, in the darker areas that are forgotten. In retrospect, I guess I wanted to etch the memories of this utopian space in my brain before it was gone forever. At some point, I went back home and wrote my report for June 10-11.

Police and the people

Friday morning, I had signed up for the 6-10 shift again. It was a nice and cool morning; we cleaned out the tent and I headed to the square, where I heard the piano concert was on again. Davide was playing by the statue, with a small audience that included a few drunk people and more than your usul share of the crazy. Around the statue, young police officers were in dialogue with protestors who surrounded them (pic below). It was a heartwarming sight, but the officers’ superiors soon replaced them with older, more experienced, and more distant colleagues…

As I headed back to the park, it started to rain. Soon it was a heavy rain and we were trying to keep everything dry. Soon, the summery shoes I was wearing were wet and I was cold. Not long after the rain stopped, there was an announcement that dry mats and blankets were available in the headquarters. And someone showed up at the tent, offering us new, dry pairs of socks – an offer I truly appreciated and picked up immediately. I ended up staying there until the afternoon, and when I went to the radio for my weekly show, all we could talk about was the park again. And having played the film version of “Do you hear the people sing,” the week before, this time we played this video. And cried, of course.

Morning concert

After the (again fruitless) negotiations of the previous night, the park had organized seven forums in various locations to discuss the options. This is an ultra-democratic system, but of course, not very practical. Taksim Solidarity held a meeting later, with all the input from the forums. It apparently went on from 8 PM until 4:30 AM, with no clear outcome. They announced the next morning that people intended to stay, but there was also talk of converging some of the smaller groups into larger tents and leaving the decision to individual groups. It was seen as the beginning of a negotiation process, to be continued for some time…

-Melis Behlil-

Read more stories from the resistance in Turkey by clicking here.


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Marching in the Sunday Sun

Granada, Spain–Where did all these people come from?

At 4:40 we congregated in Campo de Principe in the heart of Barrio Realejo in Granada. There were about 30 of us, hurriedly putting the finishing touches on our posters and distributing whistles, badges and stickers. The sun beat down like a hammer but the expectation in us all made us ignore it.

At 5pm we set off towards Caleta, via La Puerta de Elvira to meet up with the Asamblea del Albaicyn. Each group arriving at the gate at the same time (more luck than coordination) and greeting each other with cheers and whistles.  Raul turned up on his tricycle, coolers loaded with water bottles and begging a hat to cover his dreds… I gave him mine; I looked silly in it anyway. We numbered about 150 by then.

We continued our little stroll towards Caleta, passing a group in Triunfo fixing up posters and banners. There were affectionate criticisms of their tardiness: “Where are you going?” “To change the world! And you guys are late… hurry up!”

We reached Constitucion, and suddenly we weren’t 150… we were 1000!!! Two more barrios had sneakily joined us, drums and all. We checked each other out, admiring our t-shirts, our banners and our messages. The atmosphere was–electric sounds too cliché–expectant, perhaps.  We were beginning to sense the after-shocks travelling back through time. Something big was about to happen.

By the time we reached Caleta our numbers were growing, and then suddenly we can hear drums, music, shouts and cheers as the head of our little procession entered the square to greet the thousands already there waiting for us. People who had come from all over Granada and beyond. The first people I saw were folk I recognised from the acampada. People I had slept beside in the Plaza del Carmen. They seemed as shocked by our numbers as we were by theirs. Looking around we realised we had already passed the 5000 mark of the first demo on 15th May… rumours abounded. Astonishment abounded… crowds of sweaty demonstrators huddled together in the sparse shade as the temperature soared to 35 degrees and everyone looked for people they knew.

That should have been a clue. Who were all these people? Why was it so difficult to find companions from the assemblies?

At 6:30pm we set off… at 6:50 we were still in the square! Thousands had joined us… and more were still coming… and jumping the queue! (This is Spain, after all!) Finally we got back on to Constitucion to head towards the centre and already the head of the march was at Triunfo. Unbelievable… 12,000 was the number buzzing around.

The atmosphere was incredible: charged, elated, indignant and loud! The drums were pounding, the saucepans were clanging, the whistles were… errr… whistling.

We jumped, we shouted, we marched a little bit… repeat. We bumped in to people as surprised and as happy as we were to find a familiar face. We hugged, we compared notes and emotions. We realised we were part of something that still defied explanation.

And still the sun beamed down. Friends and strangers passed bottles of water, or squirted us from water-pistols and atomizers–everyone was a friend, a fellow ‘Indignado’ sharing whatever resources we had brought with us.

Slowly we crept towards the Town Hall where a few thousand Granada FC fans were celebrating their team’s ascension to the first division.  “First Division Team, Third Division Government!” we all shouted. And still we streamed past them.

I met a friend who said she had spent half an hour watching us pass, and still we were coming! 20,000 we were once we reached the Fuente de las Batallas! 20,000, when last time we were 5,000!

Children, students, parents, grandparents all together and clamouring for a better world, a true democracy and an end to corporate control of our government.

At 10:30pm we left the fountain to the Granada FC fans. Some to have drinks with friends, others just to rest their weary legs and reflect on what they had been a part of…

That is going to take a little longer than the five hours walking in the Sunday sun. Will let you know when I make sense of all the emotions. There is one thing I do know… I am embraced in the arms of 20,000 people who feel just like me… indignant with the way the powers that be have lied, cheated and stolen our future, and now ‘THEY’ can no longer ignore us. We will reclaim our democracy. We will prevail.

Resistance is NOT futile.

-Daniel Ross-

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Chaos at the Divan Hotel

Editor’s Note: This piece was first published at Dimter Kenarov’s blog.

When Turkish riot police stormed Gezi Park yesterday evening (June 15) and lay waste to the tent city, where for more than two weeks Turks of all stripes had found peaceful community space to protest the increasingly authoritarian regime of the prime-minister Recep Tayyip Erdogan, many of the exiled tent residents sought refuge in the nearby Divan Hotel. A luxurious, 10-story building in the center of Istanbul, it opened in 1956 as the first five-star hotel in the city, the stationary version of the Orient Express. But now, it was the Titanic.

The lobby, complete with plush armchairs and scintillating chandeliers, was transformed into a desperate fortification. Young people with gas masks were sitting around, nervously talking on cell phones and checking their Twitter accounts for the latest updates from the outside world. On the lower floor, in the spacious ball rooms, volunteer doctors were treating the injured, many of them suffering from tear gas inhalation. The reception staff had donned on gas masks, bravely trying to help and preserve some semblance of order, as outside riot police and water cannon vehicles (TOMA) had effectively besieged the hotel, occasionally lobbing off tear gas canisters and blasting water cannons at the entrance. Then, after a few hours, the police suddenly stormed the hotel and started shooting tear gas inside the lobby, sending people into a horrible scramble to the upper floors, many of them blinded, nearly suffocating.

I was in and around the Divan Hotel for most of the night and what struck me especially was the surreal contrast between the opulent interior, decorated with paintings and colorful tiles and the general mood of anguish and fear. In the following photographs, I’ve tried to document some of that.

Dimter Kenarov-
Read more stories from the resistance in Turkey by clicking here.

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PHOTOS: Turkish Police Attack Gezi Park

Editor’s note: These photos were taken by activist and photographer  at during the police raid of Gezi Park and Taksim Square in Istanbul, Turkey, June 15th.  They were originally published at Jenna’s blog. Click here to support Jenna’s stunning and inspiring work.












IMG_1330 2


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Read more stories from the resistance in Turkey by clicking here.

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Resist Istanbul: Or how I got teargassed again and started losing hope that this government will ever stop the violence

Editor’s note: This piece originally appeared at İnsanlik Hali.

Here we go: I have been attacked; yet again, tear-gassed brutally by my own government. By my government, which is supposed to protect me. By my government, which is supposed to work for me. By police officers whose salaries, armors, batons and ammunition are paid by my friends’, by our families’, and by our taxes.

Make no mistake. We were not exactly protesting when the police started attacking us. Not that it is illegal to protest democratically in Turkey – though you would be hard pressed to believe that seeing how we are treated. We were just a lot of people standing together at the Taksim Square. We were not even chanting. I was talking to two friends standing next to me, an architect and a historian. The square was full with people arriving after work. We were in a good mood; worried, as there have been continuous police interventions during the day after police moved in onto the square, claiming they wanted to take some banners down; but with friends, running into people we know, just chatting; debating if we should move into the park where more friends were hanging out.

That’s when the gas canisters appeared, without any warning, like comets in the sky. I saw the white cloud afar on the other side of the square; I saw some commotion. But by now, we, the protestors of Turkey, are very much familiar with this particular sight and sound, tear gas canisters being fired – so I didn’t start moving immediately. See, it is not too bad if there is only one and the wind is blowing the other way. But people were moving, in fact, running. Unlike the streets on which I have been teargassed before, here, on the square, the effect was like a stone thrown into water – ripples of people – moving, fast; which in and of itself is very scary when you are in the middle of it. I did what I learned to do last week: I shouted with my hands in the air, “do not run, remain calm,” stepping back slowly, while trying to do what I preach; that is, remain calm. I looked around only to realize that I was already separated from my friends… I tried to shout at them “don’t move too fast, lets see what is going on” but it was too loud, and they were already far. In my mind I was going “maybe the shooting will stop, maybe it is not too bad, no need to run” when a gas canister landed next to my feet. I stepped back, looked up and saw, well, a shower of gas canisters landing left and right. As I started stepping back faster and faster, one landed in front of me, one to my left; I turned to run and another landed in my way… Turns out that I was mistaken; I was the naive one to think that the police would not attack a city square full of peaceful people; not after the governor has announced that they were not planning to attack. Really, how stupid am I to trust what the governor says at this point? We were under what looks like a tear-gas storm.

Dear friends who have been lucky enough not to have experienced tear-gas until this point in their lives; let me tell you; it hurts. It burns your eyes, your nose, and your lungs. You can’t breathe and you wanna tear your lungs out, you cough and cough and cough. You feel sick to your stomach; I was in so much pain that I was pretty sure I was going to throw up. It is really not pretty.

It was a white-out, I couldn’t see my friends at all and I just kept on walking; I was too afraid to run in case I stumble and fall; plus, I couldn’t breathe. I concentrated, one step after another, reminding myself “Do not panic, it is going to be over soon,” trying to put my goggles on, not being able to breathe, worrying if my contacts are going to melt into my eyes like some people have been claiming they do. Worrying if my lungs are actually burning, what if they are? What if they are damaged? They are still shooting canisters in my way, what if I can’t make it out? Will I faint? Will I be stuck here? No no, don’t panic. Just walk. One step. After another.

How long did that walk take from the square to Sıraselviler? It is a very short distance we are talking about. Not even a few minutes. But I was afraid. I was very afraid.

Yet, as many of us have learned by experience in these past 10 days in Istanbul, the effects of the tear-gas do not last long. The danger really is the canisters hitting you in the head, cracking your skull, or taking your eye out. If you are lucky and get out in the fresh air without being hit, things keep on hurting for awhile but then slowly, the pain wears off. After all the attacks, the backstreets of Istiklal and Galatasaray are full with people, sitting around, coughing, waiting for the pain to pass, sharing their antihistamine mixtures. Then, at one point, you forget that you were in pain. And of course, the adrenaline, the fear; you have to wait for those to wear off, too.

If there is one thing that does not seem to wear off – it is the anger. It is the disbelief that you, as a citizen of this country, someone who tries to voice her concerns, be open, negotiate, deliberate; someone who at one point actually believed that this country could democratise, is walking the streets of your city, tears streaming your face; eyes and lungs burning, in pain, because your government is attacking you, repeatedly. There is no question that none of us deserves this. No one deserves treatment like this. Even if we were marginals and radicals, as our PM claims that we are, we wouldn’t have deserved this. Silly me; I know I shouldn’t be surprised; this has been going on for a long time; this time it is us, other times it was other people. Logically, I am not surprised. But emotionally, I am. It is one thing to know of government violence when it is happening to others in far away places. You speak against it, you feel its injustice. Yet somehow, I find out it is another thing to actually face it. To be there when the gas canister is flying towards you. To wonder, in a millisecond, whether it is going to hit you, or not. To hear that your friends have been taken to custody. To feel helpless. If this is what is happening to us – to the most educated, most connected crowd that this country has produced, imagine what has happened to others who were not connected, who were not heard.

It is time to dispel the notion that Tayyip Erdogan is the “democratically elected leader” of a “democratic” country. While he might have been elected democratically, the actions, reactions, and the language of the prime-minister have been text-book authoritarian. These protests, which have started off as demonstrations to protect Gezi Parkı, have peacefully voiced very legitimate concerns against the JDP government. As I and many others have talked about before, the concerns are about the neoliberal-conservatism of the JDP government and about its authoritarian politics; the protests are about democracy, about our right to live as dignified human beings. They are shared by a very heterogenous group of people; this movement has brought many groups together that previously did not quite realize they were fighting similar fights; ecologist, neighborhood movements against urban transformation projects, feminists, urban planners, artists, students, secularists…The reason they are protesting is that there are no other channels to affect the government – the government rules with no opposition in the parliament, has silenced the media, coopted the judiciary, and does not care about any opposition that comes from the society.

Now, the demands of the protests have been voiced clearly – they are no secrets. They are not hard to understand. In fact, they are pretty minimal considering all the complaints against the JDP government.Yet, there has been no acceptable response from the government. The opportunity to negotiate, the opportunity to back off, the opportunity to grow, the opportunity to listen – there were many of those opportunities. But there seems to be no will by the government to do any of those. The prime-minister seems to have gone mad by his hunger for power; and the ministers and governors look like confused puppets. They do not want to negotiate; they want to wipe us out and continue as they please. For this, they are using very provocative language in their speeches, demonizing and targeting us, and they are putting on a PR show which largely consists of blatant lies, in fact, even staging police interventions where police fights undercover cops to air in the media.

Thus, just to clarify one more time:

  • This is a genuine voluntary and spontaneous citizen movement; it was not planned by a party or by some foreign power to weaken the JDP government;
  • The people who are participating in it are not “radicals” or “marginals” as the prime-minister claims they are, whatever that means;
  • There have been no violence whatsoever in or around the park until the police attacked. The protestors have not attacked anyone, did not loot anything. There was nothing violent going on today when the police attacked us cruelly. The park has become a peaceful self-sustaining commune with many tents, a health-center, and a library, with workshops going on through the day, with people hanging out. Of course, it is destroyed now.
  • The content of prime-minister’s speeches are mostly made up of lies which are aimed at provoking people and making the interventions look legitimate.
  • There has been no efforts from the government at negotiating, or solving the issue besides violence. The word was out that the prime-minister was going to meet with the representatives of the movement; turns out no one from the Taksim Solidarity Platform who have been organizing and talking for the protests until this point have been invited. I am not sure who the PM is going to talk, but they are not the representativeness of the movement. It is just a PR show to make it look as if the PM is taking steps.

At this point, I am back home. I got thrown onto the other side of the square and could not make my way back to the park because of the police. I am extremely afraid for everyone, for my friends and countless others who I don’t know personally, who are still in and around the park. I am afraid for the future of this country. I can’t see this end well. Not with this government; not with the way they have been acting. I wish to be proven wrong. I so wish to be proven wrong. But I’ve already been shown that I am naive when it comes to the limits of government brutality in Turkey.

Taken from Gezi Park Medya's Facebook Page

-Deniz Erkmen-

Read more stories from the resistance in Turkey by clicking here.

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Living in Taksim – Report June 10-11, 2013

Editors’ note: This piece originally appeared at Sinefil. Pictures copyright: Ulaş Tosun

Long time, no report. It has been a tough week… Monday was fairly relaxed, I was in the park 6-10 AM again, it was a continuation of the previous two weeks: peaceful, green, full of life. In the evening, it was announced that the PM would meet with a group of people on Wednesday to discuss the park. It was the first announcement about negotiations, but the problem was that these people were not representatives chosen by the protestors, but some people related to the park and a random group of artists. Nevertheless, I thought it was good that some steps were taken.

Tuesday morning, looking forward to the forthcoming negotiations on Wednesday and certain the police would hold back until then, I put on a light make-up, wore a skirt and high-heeled suede boots. The park was gorgeous again at 6 AM. At around 6:50, there was a short bout of panic- apparently, the number of police down the hill had surged. The panic quelled shortly, although everyone had already gotten up. At 7:30, news arrived that the police was demolishing some of the barricades and entering the square. They made an announcement that they were there only to clean up the façade of the cultural center from the banners (the most popular of which was a giant “Shut up Tayyip”), and the statue of Ataturk (which was covered with banners and graffiti). The governor tweeted that they had no intention of entering the park.

The rest of the morning was a long wait. Some of the groups that wanted to keep the barricades started clashes with the police at certain locations. Some of these were apparently police in civilian clothing, as our friends who had access to TVs informed us via Twitter. They were wearing standard-issue gas masks and carrying walkie-talkies. The general impression was that it was a charade staged by the police and broadcast live by all the channels that had been absent the first few days. I tried to go home to change, but was told that my neighborhood was not safe at the moment. At some point, a human chain was formed around the park. Most of us walked out to see what was going on, but no one was attacking the police. That’s when we got hit by the first gas. We all rushed back to the park, trying not to panic and not to run. It turns out my swimming goggles are really good at keeping the gas away from my eyes, and my makeshift gas mask -which is essentially a filter with extra paper towel tucked inside – also worked pretty well. It’s still a pretty unpleasant and painful affair.

At 1 PM, the Taksim Solidarity was supposed to read out their press release. A large group of people gathered on the steps. The police made an

Blasting away the Anticapitalist Muslims

Blasting away the Anticapitalist Muslims

announcement saying they did not intend to attack and of course, soon gas bomb pellets were flying in our direction. We retreated back into the park. This whole thing repeated itself once again, and it was pretty clear the press release was not going to get read. The press that had broadcast the charade in the morning was not around to show any of this. I went back to our tent, where I spent most of the rest of the day. Luckily, at some point I was able to go home and change into jeans and sneakers.

The view on the edge of the park - it was much more peaceful inside

The view on the edge of the park – it was much more peaceful inside`

Despite the announcement of not entering the park, the police did enter parts, and kept on throwing gas bombs inside. Our side of the park was largely unaffected, but the Western side was often covered with gas. Later in the evening, many people showed up in solidarity, but the general feeling was quite tense, the police having been literally pushed out once. They were able to destroy a portion of the tents, those closest to the square. Ironically, one of the first to go was the masjid (prayer space) put up by the Anticapitalist Muslims group (pic above). Throughout the evening, both TV channels and some people on Twitter kept on talking about how the police was entering the park, beating people and burning the tents. I got curious, as none of that was within my vision from the tent. A midnight stroll through the park resulted in confirming that there was nothing really terrifying going on in the park – tense, but quiet waiting. Apparently, this was a way of intimidating people into not coming to the park. When I posted a picture of the quiet park, I received quite a few mentions calling me a liar. So we (or I) realized that Twitter was not simply a useful tool for communication, but also a weapon of disinformation.

The police at the entrance to my mom's street

The police at the entrance to my mom’s street

I wasn’t sure how I would go home, since there were clashes on and off en route. My mother’s was also out of the question since the police was situated exactly between her place and the park (pic below). Luckily, I ran into some friends and ended up staying with them – it also felt really good to be in the company of others, and not by myself after a long day of waiting in fear. (Soon to come: Things did get better the next day, although it was a long night for those who stayed in the park…)

Read more stories from the resistance in Turkey by clicking here.

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#OccupyGezi: How a Sit-In for Trees In Istanbul Invigorated the Global Occupy Movement

“One day there will be no borders, no boundaries, no flags and no countries and the only passport will be the heart”  ― Carlos Santana 

Istanbul, Turkey–I’m sitting in a colorful, 3-bedroom collective house just off of Taksim Square in downtown Istanbul, Turkey, but I might as well be in New York City, or Paris, or Sydney, Australia. Around me buzz Erasmus students and clown artists and culture jamming hacktivists as I work frustratingly to change the browser settings on their computer to English. I’m trying to set up a Google+ Hangout link to the occupied Cooper Union back in New York, where another batch of students have also been aiming to dislodge their own dictator-of-sorts with a month-long sit-in protest.

I ask if this is the headquarters of Occupy Gezi, now in its second week and spreading across the country. Laughs.

I ask if these are the leaders around me. Billowing, hilarious laughs.

Tolga, a gentle-toned but charismatic man who is proud to place himself among the first park defenders, points me to his back balcony. His hand traces up the length of a soaring Turkish maple tree that winds up and through the shared backyard. The cacophony of voices behind me seems to fade as he recites from memory a poem by Turkish leftist Nâzım Hikmet Ran.

“To live! Like a tree alone and free / Like a forest in brotherhood” 

It occurs to me in that moment that I’d completely misunderstood the protests to be about the wrong residents of Taksim Square. The boisterous people around me, the students, the protesters, even the police, were just migrants to this place, like Roma gypsies in a slow crawl from Asia to Europe or back the other way. The real beings facing eviction  the true occupiers of Gezi Park  are the 606 Turkish trees. And three had already been martyred for the cause.

On the day I arrived to Istanbul, thousands had assembled in Zuccotti Park, in Montreal,  in Paris and in Madrid to publicly denounce the violence against Gezi’s trees and their defenders. Waving Turkish flags they joined with the growing number of Turks across every province in unified chants of Tayyip Istifa! (Resign Tayyip!) and stamped their protest with Twitter hashtags #OCCUPYGEZI and #DIRENGEZIPARK (Resist for Gezi Park!) Meanwhile, in Gezi Park itself, the retreat of the police brought a massive outpouring of popular support for the tree defenders and soon the park was brimming with people, and new and more complex structures began to pop up under the shade of those 606 Turkish trees: a medical station, a free general store, even a library. It was like eviction defense for the trees, and increasingly the trees became yet another symbol now for the human victims of over-zealous capitalism and urban gentrification: the Kurds, the LGBT, the Armenians, the Roma, the poor, the young, the people.

This is Occupy reinvigorated. This is the basic human struggle for the dignity of nature and humanity in the face of the most menacing enemy we have ever faced: global capital. And while the selfless humanitarians of Occupy Sandy and Occupy Our Homes and the clever agitators at Strike Debt and Occupy the Workplace reach deeper into our communities to build grassroots defense networks, these young Turks are on the front line in a global offensive. And it’s a battle without borders.

Several days later, with lingering tear gas on my clothes and a hefty dose of sleep exhaustion, I bid farewell to my new Turkish comrades and board a flight to Paris. Like neurons in a vast global sensory system, we are filling in the synapses that connect disparate geographies and local cultures. The internet has laid down the international wires of our switchboard, but its operators are quickly facing the same threats as the Turkish trees: walled-off, closed, premium, proprietary and wire-tapped digital enclosure and foreclosure. If the Erdogan problem in Gezi park doesn’t seem universal to you, you’re just not paying attention. Like diverse and organic, free-flowing physical space, the open spaces of the internet are quickly being commodified and privatized in the name of national security or for straight greed. SOPA? NSA, anyone?

In safeguarding and liberating the digital and physical commons, Occupy is finding its international calling. New tactics and strategies are emerging, and a diversity of local demands and new political alliances. New fronts in the global struggle for economic and social justice will emerge and flare up, and international solidarity will threaten the very fabric of insular, monopolistic nation-states. And the humblest of beings  like the silent Turkish trees  will become symbols of a global popular movement.

-Justin Wedes-

Justin Wedes is an educator and activist living in Brooklyn New York. He recently traveled to Istanbul, Turkey to meet with, and document the exciting work of, Occupy Gezi organizers. He’ll share stories from his trip this Friday at 319 Scholes Conversations: #OccupyGezi

Read more stories from the resistance in Turkey by clicking here.

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PHOTOS: Clashes in Gazi Mahallesi, Istanbul

Editor’s note: These photos were taken by activist and photographer  during clashes between protestors and police in Gazi Mahallesi, Istanbul on June 8th, 2013. They were originally published at Jenna’s blog. Click here to support Jenna’s stunning and inspiring work.



Cops wait on top of a hill as protestors stand near a fire. The smoke from the fire helps keep the tear gas away.


Protestors walking down the street as water cannon trucks approach from behind.


A protestor walking down the street as water cannon trucks approach from behind.


Protestors standing the street as water cannon trucks approach.


Protestors holding up peace signs in front of the water cannon trucks.


Protestors running down the street to get away from a water cannon truck.


A protestor holding rocks in his hands.


A police vehicle shining a light down a street to look for protestors after they were dispersed using water cannon trucks, flash bangs, and tear gas.


Protestors taking a break after being chased down the street by water cannon trucks.


Tear gas in the streets in Gazi where there have been clashes between protestors and police the past few nights.


A protestor standing near a fire after the area was tear gassed. The smoke from the fire helps keep the tear gas away.


I saw this graffiti as I returned to Taksim after photographing and being gassed in Gazi.

Read more stories from the resistance in Turkey by clicking here.

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PHOTOS: 3 Days of #OccupyGezi

Editor’s note: These photos were taken by activist and photographer  at Gezi Park and Taksim Square in Istanbul, Turkey, June 5th-7th.  They were originally published at Jenna’s blog. Click here to support Jenna’s stunning and inspiring work. 

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Read more stories from the resistance in Turkey by clicking here.

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