„Gezi Park was not exactly the place where I could take my girlfriend“,
says Cenk, a leftist activist, as we are sitting in a small cafe in one of the many side streets of Istiklal Caddesi. Earlier, Feride, a German-Turkish girl had mentioned the same feelings towards a park that had been used mainly by prostitutes, drug dealers and homeless people:
„I had never really been to the park before… because it wasn’t exactly a safe place.“
During my research project on the Gezi Park movement I spent three months in Istanbul in fall 2013 and conducted interviews with people who had been in some way involved in the protests. Almost all of them told me that they had participated for two reasons: the park and its trees as the last green spot in the city; and later the police violence.
But if it is true that noone had actually used that allegedly last natural area of Istanbul, then why would anybody have bothered to protect it?
If the park was not visited by the public anyway, why did young people of all ideological backgrounds feel the need to settle down and build a tent city there?
With these questions in mind I started studying the meaning of space and power and discovered how the mere symbol of a public square can unite a whole generation. Continue reading