Some are fighting for trees, others for the revolution. The occupation of Istanbul’s Gezi Park has blossomed into a lively community of campers, and despite the government’s warnings, they have no intention of rolling up their sleeping bags just yet.
The protesters in the park whose conservation fight sparked anti-government unrest across Turkey have much to discuss.
In a bid to end the flashpoint protest, Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdogan on Friday agreed to halt the park’s controversial redevelopment and offered to hold a referendum on plans to rebuild Ottoman-era military barracks on the site.
But if he expects protesters to heed his call to evacuate the park by the weekend, he risks being sorely disappointed.
“We’ve planted a vegetable garden, we can’t just abandon it,” an elderly man with a mop of white hair tells an attentive crowd of around 100 Gezi Park protesters, in one of seven discussion groups taking part across the patch of green — a democratic attempt at formulating a common response to the premier’s proposal.
Pointing at a small square of brown earth, he explains that he’s hoping to grow flowers and corn. “It’s a new life we’ve created here.”
He has barely finished talking when a young girl with blue-streaked hair jumps in, equally reluctant to leave the park but for other reasons.
“Right now, our comrades are in prison. How we can we accept the (premier’s) proposals and forget about them?” she asks, reminding the crowd of the harsh police crackdown on their protests.
A peaceful sit-in to save the park’s 600 trees from being razed prompted a brutal police response on May 31, spiralling into nationwide outpourings of anger against Erdogan and his ruling Justice and Development Party (AKP), seen as increasingly authoritarian.
Nearly 7,500 people have been injured in the unrest in cities across Turkey and four have been killed, according to the national doctors’ association.
Over 1,700 people have also been arrested, though most have since been released, according to official estimates.
Huddled together in Gezi Park, the demonstrators, many of whom are well-educated youngsters involved in their protest action, say they would be reluctant to leave behind the park’s communal, festive atmosphere.
They have voiced pleasant surprise at the sense of camaraderie in the tent city, where gay rights activists, environmentalists and anti-capitalist Muslims are just some of the groups living shoulder to shoulder.
“There’s a sense of autonomy here, a community is being born, we share everything, there are free food distributions, there’s solidarity,” says Emre, an engineer.
Zuhal, sitting on a blanket, says she has been coming to the park every day after work since the unrest began. “This is my second home now. I’m not going anywhere,” the 26-year-old teacher says.
At a different discussion group, a middle-aged communist activist solemnly vows not to go home until the collapse of the capitalist world.
“The problem isn’t Erdogan, the problem is capitalism. Here, we have the beginning of a revolution,” the moustachioed man says, pumping his fist.
But he holds little sway with the audience and before long some environmental campaigners bring the topic back to saving the park’s trees.
Looking on is a representative for Taksim Solidarity, a core campaign group seen as most representative of the protesters and the group whose emergency talks with Erdogan led to the offer to suspend the park project.
Asked how long the discussions about the protesters’ next move will go on for, he says: “When all the topics are exhausted.”
Turkey protesters' 'solidarity park' is home away from home
