Costs of Free Speech
A couple of nights ago I found myself alone in my room bathing in the light of my computer monitor. I was writing a report about a dead journalist. Dead because someone that didn't agree with his thoughts decided that it would be a good idea to silence him. They had pictures of the crime seen on the internet. He was lying on the ground face down with a white sheet over him. There was red liquid creeping out from under the sheet. There was also a police officer waving people to move on and talking to a radio at the same time.
Intimidation didn't work, they were going to kill him. The deal was clean. They had someone on the inside that would get rid of the evidence. They were an ultra-nationalist crime syndicate with cells all over the country. They are the dogs of the government. Every country has this, certain country’s work cleaner than others.
Here is that journalist's last column, printed the day he died.
My eyes started to hurt from looking at the computer for too long, the clock read 3:23, which was an obvious lie. If I believe that it's earlier, then it will come true.
I looked at the picture; it looked like it was moving. My eyes tears from a lack of sleep, I rubbed them and I felt the screen become blurry again.
I could hear the crowd's murmur and the buzzed voices from the radio of the officer that was trying to wave them away.
I looked at my composition about the achievements of this man’s life. The words started to blur into each other. I felt too fatigued to get up. In a reflexive move, I pushed my laptop against the wall adjacent to my desk, put my hands down, and rested my head on my forearms; slowly watching darkness overcome my vision.
I noticed myself walking down a busy street. It was mid-afternoon or so. I stopped in the middle of the busy sidewalk, but I felt the urge to keep going, I must have been late to something. I felt nervous, I don’t know why, but I felt really nervous. I started looking around the busy street for something, I don’t know what, but something that I should watch out for. I looked at my watch and then ran into someone. I took a step back from him and looked up. He started asking me something. I didn’t even hear him, the voice just got farther and deeper until I heard nothing. I felt like I was on the ground. The ground was cold. I couldn’t see anything nor could I move. Someone started shaking me. What an asshole, I thought, Quit shaking me and help me up! I opened my eyes and a bright light blinded me. I rubbed my eyes and when I regained focus I saw the essay staring back at me. Marc woke me up because I was sleeping at my desk. He told me to go to bed, so I did.
I have a hard decision to make. I realized this today. That man was a proponent of peace. Of free speech. Of democracy. Of equal rights between all people, no matter who they are or what they’ve done.
There is no free speech in Turkey. The government doesn’t enforce it. I have a choice between defending an unpopular belief or living with “what ifs”.
After living all my life defending Turkey against everything, when you start living abroad and start thinking on your own, you realize the picture is bigger and wider than previously thought. I wanted to join these people once, but now that I think about it… It’s these groups that slow the natural progress of thinking humanity down. Free speech, the free exchange of ideas is what will make humanity progress.
I’m scared of these people. Whenever I thought about the future, I thought about the worst possible scenarios and I always thought to myself, No matter what it is, it’s not worth your life. You’re responsible for your family. Remember that. I’m scared. I’m scared that the decision I make will end up killing me. I don’t know what to do. Do I defend what I believe and risk being a statistic? Risk being an “accident”? Will the remorse they feel weigh more than the damage they have done? How many will die until peace is attained?
I’m scared of that choice I will have to make. To live a sane, stable, and secure life? Or live in proud, strong, with integrity intact, but scared? I think....I don't know...but I have a feeling, if I took the safe route, it just wouldn't be me.
I always say “We are defined by the choices we make” I thought it was mine. Apparently it’s not. There’s many that have a claim on it from Woody Allen to Tyler Durden. Ah, well. My name goes up in the list of great men like Woody Allen and Tyler Durden. Whoopty fucking do.
Intimidation didn't work, they were going to kill him. The deal was clean. They had someone on the inside that would get rid of the evidence. They were an ultra-nationalist crime syndicate with cells all over the country. They are the dogs of the government. Every country has this, certain country’s work cleaner than others.
Here is that journalist's last column, printed the day he died.
My eyes started to hurt from looking at the computer for too long, the clock read 3:23, which was an obvious lie. If I believe that it's earlier, then it will come true.
I looked at the picture; it looked like it was moving. My eyes tears from a lack of sleep, I rubbed them and I felt the screen become blurry again.
I could hear the crowd's murmur and the buzzed voices from the radio of the officer that was trying to wave them away.
I looked at my composition about the achievements of this man’s life. The words started to blur into each other. I felt too fatigued to get up. In a reflexive move, I pushed my laptop against the wall adjacent to my desk, put my hands down, and rested my head on my forearms; slowly watching darkness overcome my vision.
I noticed myself walking down a busy street. It was mid-afternoon or so. I stopped in the middle of the busy sidewalk, but I felt the urge to keep going, I must have been late to something. I felt nervous, I don’t know why, but I felt really nervous. I started looking around the busy street for something, I don’t know what, but something that I should watch out for. I looked at my watch and then ran into someone. I took a step back from him and looked up. He started asking me something. I didn’t even hear him, the voice just got farther and deeper until I heard nothing. I felt like I was on the ground. The ground was cold. I couldn’t see anything nor could I move. Someone started shaking me. What an asshole, I thought, Quit shaking me and help me up! I opened my eyes and a bright light blinded me. I rubbed my eyes and when I regained focus I saw the essay staring back at me. Marc woke me up because I was sleeping at my desk. He told me to go to bed, so I did.
I have a hard decision to make. I realized this today. That man was a proponent of peace. Of free speech. Of democracy. Of equal rights between all people, no matter who they are or what they’ve done.
There is no free speech in Turkey. The government doesn’t enforce it. I have a choice between defending an unpopular belief or living with “what ifs”.
After living all my life defending Turkey against everything, when you start living abroad and start thinking on your own, you realize the picture is bigger and wider than previously thought. I wanted to join these people once, but now that I think about it… It’s these groups that slow the natural progress of thinking humanity down. Free speech, the free exchange of ideas is what will make humanity progress.
I’m scared of these people. Whenever I thought about the future, I thought about the worst possible scenarios and I always thought to myself, No matter what it is, it’s not worth your life. You’re responsible for your family. Remember that. I’m scared. I’m scared that the decision I make will end up killing me. I don’t know what to do. Do I defend what I believe and risk being a statistic? Risk being an “accident”? Will the remorse they feel weigh more than the damage they have done? How many will die until peace is attained?
I’m scared of that choice I will have to make. To live a sane, stable, and secure life? Or live in proud, strong, with integrity intact, but scared? I think....I don't know...but I have a feeling, if I took the safe route, it just wouldn't be me.
I always say “We are defined by the choices we make” I thought it was mine. Apparently it’s not. There’s many that have a claim on it from Woody Allen to Tyler Durden. Ah, well. My name goes up in the list of great men like Woody Allen and Tyler Durden. Whoopty fucking do.