My trip to Istanbul...

Earlier this month, I took advantage of my generously granted holiday in celebration of the Muslim festival of Eid, and travelled to a city I had long desired to visit: Istanbul. I was not disappointed, for Istanbul titillates. And it is curious how it does this. People have rightly said it before: it’s a blend of old and new, and a refreshing mix of East and West. But what’s more: it moves, it is bustling, and regardless from which direction you come, I doubt it can disappoint. It’s an ancient city, with buildings and Mosques hundreds, some of them thousands, of years old. There are many different architectural influences – some European, some Islamic, some idiosyncratically Ottoman, lots of well-appointed museums, and so many old things that, much like in Athens and in Rome, priceless treasures in the form of ancient columns or carved stones just lie unobserved on the edges of streets. The result is not quite one of Parisian elegance, but one of delightfully juxtaposed, stimulating, Turkish flux.  

Together with my three wonderful travel companions, I took a boat trip along the mighty Bosphorous river and into the evening sunset. The shores were lined with grand streets, generous avenues, and more trees than I had seen for almost half a year. The further the boat rattled along, the more grand the houses became, until eventually enormous luxurious mansions sprawling onto the banks unloaded their secrets to the floating viewers. An Arab family that I observed sat next to us on the boat. The mother wore a hijab, was very silent, and sat next to two beautiful twin daughters in their mid twenties, neither of them with their hair covered. What must have been her son, also in his early twenties, also sat with the family, sometimes leaving in search of tea and biscuits with which he would periodically return. It was only as we were about to alight the boat at the end of our ride that we started chatting to these, it turned out, very warm and friendly people. We found out that the family was from Syria, and after a few 'oohs' and 'aahs' about Syria's tragic current political situation, we were told that the daughters both lived in Dubai with their husbands. We warmly parted ways, and I wished we could have spent more time with these people.

Istanbul makes Turkey feel liberal for an Islamic country. It’s a megalopolis at the centre of many trade routes, a hubbub of religious persuasions and nationalities, and an ancient hub of business and culture that transcends boundaries. Walking through its streets, one is reminded of the piety applied to the practise of Islam by the number of women that arm themselves to the teeth in non-revealing clothing. Yet, the Turkish ladies in Istanbul that elect this form of dress tend to do so extremely fashionably. They do not fear wearing colour, make-up, or looking strangers in the eye when they need to. There are buskers in the streets, especially in the rather hipster chic neighbourhood of Beyoğlu, and here, things seem even more liberal. Nowhere in Istanbul was it an issue to sit down in a café and to openly drink a glass of wine, no matter how close this might have been to a Mosque. People are outright relaxed about the topic of alcohol, as well as about many others, which is a breath of fresh air when comparing Turkey to many other predominantly Muslim societies. 

In a country where proponents of the conservative Muslim persuasion and those of the staunchly secular have been quite at loggerheads for the past 100 years – this having resulted in recurring, often extremely violent clashes between them – Istanbul concurrently and quite interestingly reminds, and makes one forget about the degree to which both the secularly and conservatively religious are part and parcel of Turkey. Walking the streets, both the openly very religious, as well as the openly quite secular walk side by side. What is striking is the semblance of harmony existing between them. Yet beneath this appearance, there lie deep crevices of separation. Only in 2013 did Turkey's President Erdogan order thousands of students, demonstrating against certain urban development plans of Istanbul's prominent Taksim Square, to be beaten up by state police forces. Several people were killed during this protest. This event caused a storm of social unrest and outrage about a plethora of public issues. Turkey has long struggled in uniting disparaing forces of democracy and conservative rule, often resorting to staunch authoritarian leadership tactics.

Istanbul Modern is one outlet for this tug of war between these opposing forces. It showcases modern art works from the past century. The most striking aspect of this museum is the fact that so much of its art is deeply social, and highly current in nature. Works on controversial and delicate themes such as sexual emancipation, religion, and the qualms of modernity are very accessibly curated. Taner Ceylan’s “1553”, painted just two years ago in 2012, is a terrifying composition of a veiled man splashed in blood. In addition to brute violence, it evokes the silence of the sexually repressed, in this case male, but I think also female, gay, straight, or of whatever persuasion, and the composure these people maintain in the face of it all. Nezaket Ekici filmed herself in 2002 in “Emotion in Motion”, where she uses her mouth as a paintbrush to put lipstick kisses all over the walls and furniture of a bleak white room. For a country where there was such brute violent repression by Erdogan’s government in the past year or so, the quality and exposition of such sensational artwork it highly encouraging. 

Istanbul is a developing city. There is a tremendous amount of recent construction, and people are hard at work building fortunes, rising through the middle classes, or, and this applies to most: simply to eking out an existence in a city where rents have skyrocketed, things are rapidly changing, and life is tough. In no city of this calibre have I seen this much poverty. This is evident in the dilapidation of many of Istanbul’s houses, in the appearance of many of its inhabitants, and in widespread child labour. Crime in Istanbul is also supposed to have risen drastically in the recent past, which is only an indication of the economic desperation faced by many people.  Although I was not in Istanbul long enough to really speak to many locals – I wish I could have spoken to more of them – it is quite evident that along with fast development and the immense fortunes for some, plenty of others have been left behind. 

What does the future hold for Istanbul, I wonder? One thing is clear: its potential is thrilling, and its suitability as a place of mediation in the East-West dialogue, and a “meeting place” for both, has never been more obvious to me. I am hard-pressed to remember a place where headscarf-covered sightseeing Muslim women walk into a Christian Church as nonchalantly as they do in the Sant Antonio di Padova Church in Istanbul, and this is a good thing. It is only in the spaces where people feel alright to look into the places of worship of other religions that peace and cooperation can be maintained. Turkey is a country of thinkers, full of feeling, and full of good ideas about creating the present as well as improving the future. I only hope more people visit its biggest city, Istanbul, and see for themselves what a pulsating epicentre of thought and creation this place is. The much-chewed debate of Turkish membership in the European Union could be healthily continued, I think, if there were more cultural exchanges between Turkey and, say for instance, Germany. I hope that German and Turkish education ministries negotiate school exchanges for their children, so that avenues for future cooperation and dialogue are created.  Whatever happens, political, social, cultural, Istanbul will remain on my list for top 10 places to return to.

My interview with Mrs. Raja Albawwab of Nablus, Palestine, August 2012

Years of political uncertainty, occupation, slow economic growth and physical barriers have stifled life in the northern Palestinian city of Nablus. Today, residents deal with insufficient governmental institutions and a lack of social programs leaving many alienated community members. In 2000, the Community Service Centre, known as the CSC, was opened as a social work centre at An-Najah National University to tackle some of the most important issues facing the city. Not only were the most vulnerable of Nablus disenfranchised, but ambitious and professional men and women often felt hopeless and unable to effect change in their fractured city. Raja Bawwab beat all odds and built a long and hugely successful career in Social Work. After finishing her studies in Egypt and working in the field for several years, the 50 year-old mother of four has become the CSC’s longest serving social worker working with the rights-based organization since it opened its doors in 2000.

Launched during the thick of the Second Intifada, the small staff of the new centre knew it would take a new strategy in order to affect real change, and set out with an approach to community service that they were convinced could make a difference. New to community centres in the city, Rights-Based Community Practice (RBCP) is an academically developed and tested method of tackling social issues by focusing on community-initiated searches for solutions to problems. RBCP is unconventional by virtue of leaving it up to community members themselves to prioritise their problems while offering the close support of locally-acquainted social workers. RBCP strengthens the institutional capacity to respond to the social issues afflicting the community by building relationships with appropriate government departments and other NGOs, all while maintaining the primary focus on recovering and protecting basic human and social rights.

Since the start, social workers at the CSC have approached community members directly, listened to problems affecting the most vulnerable, and worked with residents to implement solutions that are agent-centred, institutionally enforceable, and sustainable. The focus is on empowering people and helping them gain access to what is theirs by right. As Raja puts it, “We are making a chair for [people] to make good decisions about [their] lives… they have to be part of this solution.”

The year 2000 was a year of great instability in Palestine. Blocked off from the rest of the West Bank, Nablus was isolated from vehicular traffic for a period of several years as the Israeli Army occupied the city in efforts to quell the Second Intifada, a time marked by violent uprisings against the Israeli Occupation. The Intifada brought in its wake curfews and severe restrictions upon civilian movement, a near-complete halt on the local economy, and an Israeli military presence night and day. “At the time, we were only 4. There was no furniture, and we had 2 offices. We started with two issues,” Raja explains.

The first issue that the centre tackled was access to education. With the strong belief in the right to access education and in the necessity of education as a tool towards social progress, the Supportive Education Program was born. From the start, it relied on volunteers from the university and community, and brought small group and one-on-one teaching and tutoring to children whose parents are unable to support them in their academic pursuits, either because they are not educated themselves, or because they work long hours and cannot afford the time or a private tutor.

The veteran program quickly blossomed into a hugely successful initiative. In 2010 alone, 232 volunteers helped 783 pupils in 25 different schools, helping drive up literacy, and providing a solid foundation in basic skills. Aside from crucial after-school homework help, Supportive Education has helped thousands of students overcome socioeconomic obstacles to success, and all using resources from within the community. In the early days the sessions helped make up for the weeks of school closures during the curfews of the Intifada, and today they aim at ensuring that as many local Palestinian children as possible have access to a good basic education. In the process of educating the kids, Supportive Education volunteers learned that they could change the lives of others, and serve as an example to their young pupils, many of whom go on to volunteer themselves.  

The second initiative was brought to the CSC by the community via its storefront open-door program. Raja recalls, “People came from Rajeeb village near Balata Camp. They said: ‘we need a safe garden for children’”. Safe space was a common concern, “During the Intifada, Israeli tanks would fill the streets and there was a curfew”, Raja remembers. Unstable conditions meant that areas safe for children to play were few; city streets could turn into military zones without warning, and parks were neither maintained nor exempt from military presence.

Parents brought their concerns to the centre, and Raja went with a colleague to look into options for play space. Teachers and residents from the area suggested that some nearby land be bought or donated for the project. When Raja looked into it however, residents “did not want to give the land”. Raja says that the political situation at the time was partly to blame, with concerns over the land topping concerns over the needs of the children.

After extensive consultation with residents of Rajeeb village, an alternative solution was found. “We made contact with the Ministry of Education,” and with the help of the teachers and parents, the centre gained permission for the community and school students to access two school yards after-hours. “Just as something temporary,” Raja notes, but the plan worked.

A boy’s school and a girl’s school became available for children after hours. As zones generally off-limits for the military, parents felt safe allowing their children to stay outdoors after school, and helped ensure that the area was looked after. Moreover, as parents, teachers, and ministry officials worked together to find a solution, they learned that change could be made. Today, like at the beginning, the open-door program caters to community members seeking information about rights, how to best access them, and social or governmental facilities that provide these rights and other essential services.

Despite several unstable years, the people of Nablus were highly receptive and gracious to the efforts of the centre. Raja recalls how those first years brought her immense satisfaction. “You can say the political situation is stable now”, she says today, somewhat resigned, but relieved that the centre can take on longer-term projects and expand its focus to the rights of women, the disabled, the poor and the elderly.

The latter effort took on a particular significance for Raja four years ago when her father died: “working with the elderly brings me the most enjoyment: it gives me a sense of fulfillment.” To this end, she regularly visits elderly citizens in the Old City of Nablus, dispatches volunteers to make house calls, and organises special dinners for elderly people living alone or in communal homes, turning what she personally enjoys into a communally beneficial initiative.

Children are also among Raja’s favourite people to work with: “they don’t have anything aggressive,” Raja says, “in their mind everything is clean.” Smiling, Raja talks about one of her favourite cases: “He came to the centre as an orphan, at the age of 7. He is a very intelligent boy. He studied IT, and the degree was paid for by local patrons.” Pairing people in need with people who can help is another of the CSC’s basic goals. “He sometimes comes to the centre to visit and drink tea. He always says thank you, you were like a mother to me,” Raja says.

For Raja, her work at the center is her politics: “if we talk only about the political situation and leave [out] the other sides, the social, or educational, we will be destroyed, we will disappear,” and so she works tirelessly to make sure that the people of her community are able to make a difference at the most basic levels, and most importantly, by themselves. This is where the CSC lays crucial foundations.

Social rights, the CSC believes, are realised through education, personal empowerment, and community engagement. For Raja, social rights also crucially embody human rights. “Social rights are a very important part of all human rights,” Raja says, explaining that while rights are “not related to the political, [they are] part of the political.” In this spirit, the CSC’s mandate is not to represent any particular political position, but rather to create a means for people to personally, then socially, and then institutionally create the society they want to live in. Once these steps have been achieved, political empowerment can occur. It is a process that Raja lives out through her practice of social work.

“Social Work is a positive field. It is respected,” she explains, and it’s also why she chose it as an avenue for positive action. But it is not always easy: “To young graduates I say: you need to be very patient, very respectable, you are not giving [people] just mercy, or just charity, you are giving them their rights.”

Realizing human rights is an ambitious project, but Raja has been taking the issue on, case by case, for twelve years. Aside from the day-to-day storefront cases and home visits, she created and now heads the CSC’s Goodwill Forum, a philanthropic fund administered by 45 local women.

The fund was established through a fundraising event for which the Goodwill Forum members sold homemade food items. That first event raised more than $2,500, which was put into a special account at the university. Today, the Forum hosts multiple events a year, and as it gains in prominence, able community members donate even outside of fundraisers. “I am just a coordinator”, Raja says, rejecting the spotlight. In reality, she says, it is the 45 other women behind the Forum who do much of the work: “They have the decision-[making power]”. This power has changed lives. From supporting CSC programs such as Supportive Education and the Elderly Program, the Goodwill Forum also finances medical treatments, x-rays, and more recently the university tuition of some of the community’s most disadvantaged students.

Beyond charity, the Goodwill Forum is a crucial area of networking between philanthropists and local benefactors, and for some, the first point of contact between a life of economic privilege and the often separate world of the disadvantaged.

My Response to Margaret Wente’s “Quebec’s tuition protesters are the Greeks of Canada”

http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/opinions/margaret-wente/quebecs-tuition-protesters-are-the-greeks-of-canada/article2437462/?utm_source=facebook.com&utm_medium=Referrer%3A+Social+Network+%2F+Media&utm_content=2437462&utm_campaign=Shared+Web+Article+Links

I would like to raise my opinions in regards to Ms. Wente’s column piece published in the Globe and Mail on Saturday, 19^th May, 2012. This article tries to simplify the Quebec protest movement in ways that are uncalled for, antagonising not only to student protestors, but also alienating to non-protesting students, bystanding professors, and other members of the general public who see a spark of sense in what the student protestors are doing. The result is that the article propounds a view that is wholly polarising and rather dismissive of prospects for an intelligent conversation beyond polemic.

I agree that the incident described at the University of Quebec in Montreal, where masked protestors broke into classes that were in session, intimidating students and professors from going, and insulting people with the words ‘scab, scab!’, is unacceptable, disrespectful, and an infringement not only upon each of these students’ and professors’ dignities, but also each of their rights to attend classes that they paid for, or are paid to teach. I don’t, however, think that this incident alone should be taken and used to delegitimise the motivations of the protesting students. I also know that the vast majority of the protesting students abstain from such tactics.

It is difficult to say a lot to Wente’s polarising anti-rhetoric that is not similarly based on rhetoric, but I will try anyway. The “the state owes us everything” mentality is often used by more right-wing people to describe those who demonstrate against attempts made by the state to cut services, re-allocate budgetary expenditure, or impose austerity measures during times of scarcity. By virtue of the fact that citizens stand in a fiscal relation to the state – meaning: citizens pay taxes for the state to exist and to provide the services that citizens need – politics will always see tugs of war between and amongst taxpayers and politicians, the latter of whom are elected to be responsible for the services provided to the public. To me, a stance against tuition hikes is but one instant of such a tug of war. It does not necessarily mean a stance of “the state owes us everything”.

Ms. Wente writes that she ‘feels sorrier’ for the Greeks than for the protesting students in Quebec. At the same time she describes Quebec’s protesters as the Greeks of Canada. In actual fact, she doesn’t really think that the protesters are the Greeks of Canada, for otherwise she would feel as sorry for them as she does for the Greeks. Her standpoint is rather paradoxical. Nevertheless, Ms. Wente uses her larger sympathy for the Greeks to build her polemic against the claim of Quebec’s protesters.

“The Quebec students are the children of affluence”, Ms. Wente writes. This is a normative claim. Yes, Quebec’s students live in a social democracy and a developed state, much like all Canadians. But there are inequalities amongst Quebec’s students much like there are inequalities amongst Ontario’s, Alberta’s, and Newfoundland’s students, something Ms. Wente surely will not deny.

Ms. Wente writes “I’d feel sorry for them if unemployment among young adults was 50%, as it is in Spain.” I would too. However, this argument misses the point. Much like Ms. Wente attempts to delegitimise the claims of Quebec’s protesters by writing of her overwhelming sympathy for the Greeks, she isn’t really saying anything in relation to what the movement is about in Quebec’s context.This is unsatisfying within the process of political discussion, and the exchange of ideas in an intellectual manner beyond ranting. But then again, it is an opinion piece, written to provoke such discussion.

Next, Ms. Wente writes: “[In Quebec] growth has stalled, and generous entitlements have far outrun the government’s ability to pay”.  Alright, Quebec’s economy is not growing particularly. This lack of growth means a lack of growing revenues. I am always willing to listen to someone who has good ideas to help bring about economic growth, ideas, innovation, and economic diversification. But I tire of those who blame a lack of growth solely on the generous welfare state, particularly when it concerns education, the tool to achieve such growth in the first place.

The Charest government intends to reduce debt, since this is hampering growth. I am not against this. This makes great sense. Much like a student with huge debt will have problems growing, an economy with huge debt will have problems growing. However, something is wrong in the books up there, or at the very least there is something wrong within the priorities the Charest government applies to the books' management. A lack of economic growth doesn’t mean shrinking. The economy has stayed exactly the same size (which is not really true, by the way, the Royal Bank of Canada reports a modest growth rate of 1.6% over 2011, something which is to continue this year). Overspending seems to be an issue, as it is for very single government, but then why don’t we open up a more detailed debate about that?

I am just not convinced that the best way to increase revenues (or cut spending) is by slashing funding to the postsecondary education system. The generation before us, whose members currently sit in parliament as well as in important media positions that shape public opinion, and who got to where they are thanks to the good prospects afforded to them by a good, accessible education, have a responsibility to help our generation get off its feet in an equal way so that it can face the world’s problems without a sky-high financial debt.

Ms. Wente addresses equalization payments of $7.3 billion to be received by Quebec this year. This is a separate issue, but one that is very worthy of discussion amongst those who are interested. I respect the opinion that an Albertan might hold in disapproval of equalization payments, of wealth generated in Alberta – on Canadian land, if I might put in – transferred to provinces like Quebec, where average post-secondary tuition is currently but a third of Alberta’s. Is Ms. Wente suggesting that because this money is coming (mainly) from resource-rich Alberta, Quebec students have less of a right to advocate against raising the costs of postsecondary education?

I concur that smoke bombs in the metro are extremely annoying. I was late to university myself on one occasion because of this. Protesters using such tactics should be reprimanded by the authorities just as metro users are reprimanded if they unnecessarily pull the emergency brake of the train. But then again, these are risks that certain protesters are evidently willing to take in order to further a cause I agree with, and this is courageous, even honorable, in some way.

Ms. Wente goes on: “To the protesters, tuition hikes are just a small part of the enormous oppression and injustice inflicted by the rapacious capitalist state.” To me, tuition hikes reflect an ideology that balances each and every student’s ability to attain a good education against the inability of the state to correctly prioritise its own budget, as well as an ideology that supports a very powerful banking system, one that stands in line to make huge profits from tuition increases and resulting increases in student debt.

It is true that Quebec students, even after the hike, will have the lowest tuition rates in North America. But it is to their credit that they are willing to stand up for low tuition, especially since this won’t even affect most of them. The average American or non-Quebecois Canadian student needs a proportionately larger degree of selflessness for such a political stance, given his comparatively larger tuition fee. In this sense, Quebec protesters have the ‘least to lose’ and the most to retain: an affordable tuition rate.

As a person who counts himself amongst “People in the rest of Canada”, I very much can understand efforts made by Quebec’s students to prevent political decisions that signal a move towards a society whose youngest members leave university with massive debts to pay off. As a German living in Canada, I am neither appalled by Quebec’s student protests - except for a few select tactics, nor do I find Ms. Wente’s sympathy with my government and its problems with Greece particularly called for in this case. Such a comparison does little justice to any of these issues, all of which are of a different nature. University tuition in Germany is a pittance, and that is thanks to the fact that most Germans see education as one of the most important publicly-subsidised goods, one that keeps innovation flourishing, and long-term sustainability a prime objective. Canada is a long way from any of that. However, with a little bit of luck, inter-Canadian discussion rather than polarisation, thoughtfulness, an ethical and responsible approach, and creative inclusive thinking rather than lazy nihilism, we can make this happen.

To this blog's readers

Nothing I write here I want to be accepted if it is not. I also use this blog as a practising philosopher, and arguments stimulate better definitions. Therefore: type your comments and arguments to your heart's content!

My blog

Here I am, creating my own first blog. What's next? What do I want my blog to look like? It is not going to be like my journal where I write down my innermost thoughts, or revealing musings. At least I hope it won't be. For those things I will continue to use my journal (in the time-honoured pen and paper media, I might add). I want to use my blog to practice my writing. I want to use my blog to practice intellectual rigour in writing. And above all, I want to use my blog to articulate thoughts, to bring these from the abstract into coherent ideas that can be gripped, molded, and modified to make them into sentences of stunning meaning (and perhaps outstanding beauty). I suppose time will tell what my blog will become. Perhaps tomorrow I will have forgotten about it. Perhaps in five years I will see it published in a book. I leave it up to time here to give me those answers. I will let my blog be an outlet for time and the relation I have with it. I am exceedingly excited. Let the journey with my blog begin!