hrant dink 1954-2007

In memoriam: Hrant Dink 1954-2007.
Huzur içinde yatsın. Oghormi.



I only encountered Hrant Dink in person once, briefly, in passing, in Istanbul, autumn of 2005--not long after he played a role in organizing the conference at which Turks and Armenians sat down together in the city to talk honestly with each other about history: about the genocide, and what followed.

This man, who fought so long and lovingly to stake out a cosmopolitan, anti-nationalist claim for his people's cultural and political membership in the country of his birth, who more than anyone else seemed to embody the notion of genuinely meaningful "Turkish-Armenian" identity, is dead now: shot to death in daylight, on the street outside the offices of Agos, the Armenian-language newspaper he founded and edited.

A cursory search of my archives for his name brings up nine posts: here are two of them.

This is his last article, about his fear in the face of the threats he had received, and his faith that it was unfounded. I will try to translate and post the whole thing later, once I can read through it without weeping. It ends:

Evet kendimi bir güvercinin ruh tedirginliği içinde görebilirim, ama biliyorum ki bu ülkede insanlar güvercinlere dokunmaz. Güvercinler kentin ta içlerinde, insan kalabalıklarında dahi yaşamlarını sürdürürler. Evet biraz ürkekçe ama bir o kadar da özgürce.

Yes, I can see in myself the nervous anxiety of a pigeon, but I know that the people of this country would not harm a pigeon. Pigeons have always been present in the city, and they too carry on their lives, amidst the human crowds. Yes, a little skittishly--but every bit as freely.

My thoughts are with Dink's wife and children and comrades, and also with my dear former colleagues, mentors, and friends at Bianet, who knew and admired him, and worked alongside him as fellow journalists and human rights activists. He was a great inspiration to so many people in the progressive community in Istanbul, throughout Turkey, and in the diasporas. The outpouring of grief and rage in response to his murder is a testament; I have been reading the statements (gathered here) from the Turkish Human Rights Foundation, from the Journalists' Association, from the Prime Minister, from the human rights group Mazlumder, from the History Foundation, from the unions, and more.

Thousands of Turks and Turkish-Armenians are gathered in Istanbul's streets tonight, standing in Taksim Square, holding photographs on placards and red carnations and chanting "We are all Hrant Dink. We are all Armenian." These words, echoing in those streets, say more than I ever could about what he stood for.