There was a crowd of hundreds if not thousands of people still there. Vans were dropping off bottles of water and Turkish flags. Having won the night’s battle, many were resting under the shades of the trees across the street from the police headquarters. Then a group of police special forces arrived, and hundreds streamed up front to greet them. There were designated people to keep the crowd from crushing them. Chants of “polise uzanan eller kırılsın,” (“may the hands seeking to harm the police be broken!”) and “Türkiye sizinle gurur duyuyor!” (“Turkey is proud of you!”) rose from the crowd. The most popular chant by far however, was “Allahu Akbar,” and there was a vindictive feeling in the takbir, as if it that elation had been caged up for too long.
These people were not from my neighborhood up the hill, but from Ankara’s various poorer districts. An overwhelming majority were male, with lean faces and sunburnt skin. Rather than the urbane “Istanbul Turkish,” they spoke in various Anatolian accents, and a few wore traditional Islamic garb the way Arabs do. Many used hand signs with their slogans, either the sign of takbir, an extended index finger (which in Turkey suggests political Islamism) or the sign of the gray wolf, (which belongs to the nationalist party). It was these people who had faced down the junta’s tanks.
Many Turks on the left are already uncomfortable with this, pointing out that the same group is known for beating up journalists and oppressing minority groups. Their actions, they say, were more motivated by the will to hold on to power than by a love for democracy. They have a point, but it doesn’t change the fact that the night could well have been lost if not for their actions.
