Müslüm Yücel
Isolation is defined as seclusion, nullification and abstraction. Accordingly, a person is left to their own devices, removed from the community of which they are part, and abandoned to social and cultural loneliness. If the person decides to isolate themselves, this is called seclusion. If isolation is imposed by an individual or institution, it has a set duration. Once the duration ends, the isolation is lifted. However, in Turkey’s prisons, which are not places where the law is upheld, ressentiment (the concept of resentment) operates more than isolation.
On paper, inmates who are either detained or convicted and disrupt prison discipline can be subjected to precautionary (disciplinary) punishments not exceeding fifteen days. This is known as the “cell” punishment, and it is communicated to the offender and their lawyers.
There are two things aimed for with isolation: psychological destruction and physical destruction. The prisoner is cut off from other prisoners, visitors and prison staff. They are tormented without physical torture. The individual is stripped of their personhood. They lose their sense of time, space and daily reflexes. Their food and drink is restricted; due to the loss of time, space and reflexes, their body chemistry deteriorates, their blood circulation changes, and their digestive system collapses. Their imagination is confiscated; hallucinations, cramps, and delusions overtake them. The ultimate aim is the loss of identity and personality.
Emotions, thoughts and their repository, the body, are placed under isolation. In a metaphysical sense, even the soul is intervened with, rendering the notion of punishment irrelevant. Here, neither legal rules nor social events matter; what does is is the freedom that power has to use isolation as a tactical tool to sustain its political influence under the guise of punishment.
There has been no news from Öcalan for years. The isolation applied surpasses both ressentiment and legal norms, conveying a clear sense of malice filled with feelings like hatred and revenge. The isolated person is devalued; their friends, family and loved ones, as well as their opinions, being counted for nought. As Gilles Deleuze expressed in “Critique and Clinique”, this situation shows us that “Judgement hinders the development of every new mode of existence.”
Ressentiment has been a concept applied since the 19th century, attracting attention in the fields of history, philosophy, psychology and sociology, making isolation even more poignant from this perspective. Kierkegaard, when evaluating ressentiment through philosophy, speaks of the individual’s deficiencies; the individual cannot face their inadequacies and redirects their resentment towards others. Nietzsche, starting from envy, argues that the resentful person aims to seal the mouths of those who are not like them or do not think like them. These people do not seek to be partners but to dominate. According to Nietzsche, ressentiment is the morality of the weak. Even noble individuals become bad people because of this, losing their moral opportunities. In both contexts, it is the morality of the weak; when they cannot cope with thought, they try to cope with the thinker, legitimising isolation. With the application of isolation, even the public, the government and the opposition are made to accept it.
A clear restriction is being placed on Öcalan, his family and those close to him, and as this restriction extends over the years, it can no longer be explained away as a disciplinary punishment; it has become an overt technique of power. The aim is not merely to permit or deny communication; the goal is to exert control over the body, a practice that can be described as lawless rage. While the parties strive to communicate, the power fractures isolation into thousands of pieces. For instance, some detainees who, though not sharing the same cell, have been held in the same prison as Öcalan for a time, have also been subjected to the isolation imposed on him. Nasrullah Kuran and Çetin Arkaş, for example, remain in isolation despite having been transferred to other facilities to complete their sentences. The purpose of this is to prevent the transmission even of observations related to Öcalan. This is an isolation imposed on the Kurdish people, whose population is at least twenty million; their ideas are isolated, their spirits are isolated, their bodies are isolated. Thus, an art of severe suffering is applied. Öcalan is being isolated. Not only Öcalan, but his family, close relatives and comrades are also being criminalised and isolated. Other detainees who started advocating for the lifting of the isolation on Öcalan and now cannot see their own relatives in prison have also been isolated.
By the very nature of isolation, while some people suffer mentally and physically, the powers that be transform punishment into a statement.
Here, the concept of rights no longer exists; rights have been abolished. The sole holder of rights is the power itself. However, rights should encompass everyone and every group, and everyone is a subject of the law, and no law can reduce anyone to an object for its own private domain and power. If there are laws, and if individual rights and freedoms are defined by these laws, and if a person is secured as a citizen and convicted for their crimes, yet still they and their close ones are subjected to isolation, this is no longer a matter of arbitrariness but a complete dichotomy. In dichotomies, one confines the other to its shell, gaining value and power from it. Both the administration, and needless to say, the main opposition, are eager to imprison the Kurds in their shells; their sole aim is to render the Kurds defenceless, tied/dependent beings, thereby creating a mass that is defenceless and disconnected from all human relationships. This is the lowest point of exclusion and disdain; neither reason nor will is permitted, moreover, any reason and will that does not belong to the powers that be is excluded here; the person is cut off from their ties, their internal integrity is destroyed. Thus, the domain of law turns into a fable: It is the strong who are in the right. The strong must be followed, the strong are above the law. The strong are granted the legitimacy of coercion; this is the one right! Only the strong have rights.
Let’s recall a historical example, Rosa Parks, who sat outside the area designated for black people. Now, the same legal principle applies: everyone can only attain the quality of being human if they are close to or associated with the powerful. Parks had no state and was black, so she did not even have the right to sit in certain places…
Here, isolation becomes even more painful: even during religious holidays (Eid al-Adha, Eid al-Fitr), special days (New Year, Newroz) and times of mourning (funerals), Öcalan is not given the chance to see his relatives or to attend burials.
According to Turkish laws, there are many organisations and communities that are illegal, and such organisations are considered separatist and destructive. However, on special occasions, members of these organisations are granted the right to visits, and even allowed to attend funerals. But when it comes to Öcalan, a particular law is applied.
Severe damage is caused by isolation. This does not only affect the Kurds. Everyone in society is affected by isolation. The biggest reason for the economic, political, and social crisis is the Kurdish issue, and we are even afraid to talk about it. We suppress everything, our subconscious is darkened, and we are becoming more distant from consciousness every day; our lives are filled with anxieties, the need to forget certain things, instead of addressing the source of the problems, we are busy diverting them with questions, finding excuses, inventing scenarios for our lies, always blaming someone else, the fault always lies with others; denial is our greatest weapon, there are certain things, for example, every day dozens of young people in Antep fall into drug traps, every day someone else is committing suicide somewhere else, going mad is now commonplace, not even worthy of being on the third page of the news, but we act as if everything is fine; a man scolded by his boss comes home and beats his wife and children, we have no power to say anything, reactions turn into rebellion, criticisms turn into conflicts, we are in a rush to distort rapidly, swiftly saving ourselves by ignoring anyone we disagree with, we may not realise it, but we ourselves are in isolation, it is a silent epidemic, it is spreading.
Kurdish poet and journalist Müslüm Yücel was born in Urfa in 1969. He published his first poetry collection, ‘Kalbimizin Kuyusunda Kardeştir Yaralarımız’ (Our Wounds are Siblings in the Well of Our Hearts), in 1994, followed by “İpek Yolu” (Silk Road), “Ahuzin” and “Ölü Evi” (House of the Dead). Yücel began his career in journalism at the Yeni Ülke newspaper and later contributed to the Özgür Gündem, the Özgür Ülke and the Yeni Politika. He is also renowned for his research on topics such as the history of the Kurdish press, death and suicide among Kurds, and Kurdish imagery in literature and cinema. Follow him on Twitter.
