So it was felt -- and expressed -- by thousands yesterday, marching in memory of him on the street connecting Taksim Square to the tiny, humble office of the AGOS newspaper, which he created. It was a day where the commemoration of a beloved person and the open funeral of justice became intertwined.
The crowd was overwhelmed by profound gloom. Was it a breaking point where the hopes for better days, for reconciliation between Turks, Armenians and Kurds started to fade? If the rage replaced the expectations and silent disappointment after the trial’s farce-like verdict, it certainly felt so.
“The real trial starts now!” shouted the crowds, walking behind Dink’s family yesterday, who without a doubt felt as if they had all been executed by the end of the judicial process; their pain even more than before.
But they did not feel lonely. A solid crowd, infuriated but placid, a blend of İstanbul’s intellectual elite, youth and ordinary citizens of the city, moved to show they will always be there. For them every new day that passed without justice was a new day of repeated murder.
Addressing the tens of thousands gathered on the street outside the AGOS office was Karin Karakaşlı, an Armenian colleague of mine from İstanbul and a friend of Hrant, just like all of them who were outside. I will leave the rest of this column to her words.
“Jan. 19 is not a day of commemoration. It never has been. In this land, there never have been commemorations for whatever pain was inflicted, however separate from each other. For each and everyone, when that anniversary arrived, there was pain that destroyed us internally.”
“We were swarmed by lies. It has been like this for five years. In the end we were left with two of them [the two sentenced]. This was meant to suffice. Even more than you need.”
‘This is my land. But is it my state? My president, my prime minister, my government, my opposition, my Parliament … to be able to call you ‘mine’, you have to end this farce. Let the court of cassation be the destination for delivering justice, although it was responsible for his death [by its precedent based on Article 301]. This is what is owed to us. This is a must. Because what was done to us is a shame, a cruelty, a sin.”
“One day in April, more than 250 Armenian intellectuals were sent to Ayaş from Haydarpaşa terminal into exile; only a few of them were able to return. This happened before swaths of people were sent into the middle of the desert, hungry and thirsty, in 1915. … Hrant Dink is the final link of these intellectuals. That is why his death in 2007 took us all the way back to 1915. Because it proved to be so easy and ‘legitimate’ to kill a true Armenian and a true patriot.”
“We have now been told that the case is closed. Well, is it? Hrant Dink is not just a ‘case,’ it is an open wound. Now, we are at the last exit before the bridge. There is no reconciliation, no dream to be shared, justice to be believed, no land to live in, before passing it gracefully. Otherwise, it will only be a lie, which can collapse all over ourselves. On all of us.”
“So, this is the day of promise, beyond words. Shall we promise each other? This case is not over yet. Humanity is not dead yet. Shall we promise each other? The state has not yet been held accountable. … This is our promise. May it be forbidden for all of us to live with injustice. May the grace of God be upon all those who continue to fight against it.”
