Once upon a time, the late Mehmet Ali Birand had a programme called 32 Gün. Current affairs were broadcast on the screen, including unsolved murders, the actions of Hezbollah, and many other incidents that were shared with the public. This year marks the 32nd anniversary of my father being killed by the state. Everything is still current; in fact, the things discussed back then cannot be discussed any longer today.
In the Musa Anter murder case, we witnessed the cover-up of a murder. The perpetrator is known, due to the statute of limitations. The case is not yet closed, but in the time that has passed, since well-known facts have still not come to light, we have witnessed that nothing has changed in the name of democracy from then until now. During my father’s lifetime, apart from the years he spent in prison, the cases brought against him continued. When he passed away, these cases were still ongoing. Lawsuits were filed against him over the views he expressed, demanding a free life. He was born a Kurd, and he always defended his rights to use his mother tongue and live this identity. In his defence speech at one of the trials, he said: “Your Honour, I did not choose to be a Kurd. If you have the power, question the one who created me as a Kurd,” expressing the fundamental justness of his position.
Those who said Kurds came from ‘kart-kurt’* and called them ‘mountain Turks’, [using common racist tropes to] deny the Kurds as a people, were wrong to think that this problem would end by ending my father’s life. Even now, they don’t admit they were wrong. Turkey became filled with big-acting, small-minded people, roaming around pretending to be intellectuals, professors with titles, MPs who don’t represent the people, ministers who don’t know where they’re looking, and those who, come election time, learn two or three words of Kurdish to speak for votes but then continue to deny the Kurdish people and language.
Throughout the history of the Kurdish press, oppression has been constant in all regions of Kurdistan, and it continues today. My father experienced these pressures to their severest extent. They could not deal with him, and in the end, they killed him. They were very afraid of his testimony, his speeches as a defendant, and his accusations. He carried half a century’s worth of memory, and this memory terrified all the governments of his time. Since his death, his successors have not let their pens fall, nor have they bowed to political pressure. A mindset that refuses to see or accept the truth has gone even further, using the political apparatus to increase pressure day by day. Workers in the free, Kurdish press face enormous difficulties whenever they seek the truth. They show great dedication, risking their lives to deliver news.
Recently, two female journalists were killed by a Turkish drone in Sulaymaniyah (Silêmanî) in Iraqi Kurdistan. The little independent journalism that remains is also being targeted for destruction. In the past, the National Security Council (MGK) used to dictate what journalists would write; today, these meetings are instead directed by the Presidential Directorate of Communications.
Years ago, in a letter I wrote to my father [after his death], I said, “nothing has changed here.” Today, what has changed is that the evils have increased, and religion and racism have become much more embedded in society. The country has become a place where murderers, corrupt individuals, liars, mafia, and thieves run rampant. Unfortunately, at this rate, it seems very difficult for the Turkish state to change. Much harder days await all of us.
For years, we, including my father, have all experienced governments portraying the Kurds as enemies of their own people, and we are still experiencing this today. In that case, doesn’t it mean that we Kurds need a change for our unity? My father had a beautiful saying, addressed to those [Kurds] who constantly want to discredit one other: “Whoever among the Kurds does something right for the Kurdish people, respect and support them.”
**Note: “Kart-kurt” refers to a term used to deny the existence of Kurds, by claiming that the word ‘Kurd’ came from the sound made by footsteps on the snow in mountainous regions.
