We wouldn’t leave, but you might run away

I’ve just taken the longest vacation in my journalism life, for a book writing session. I read a lot, thought a lot. I also observed what has been going on and came to the following conclusion once more:

If you are in love with Turkey; if you were born in the Kahramanlar Neighborhood of a city in this country to immigrant parents from the Balkans; if this country has embraced you as its biological child; if this republic has offered you all means of education; if you were equipped with an education that has provided you with the right and the courage to stand up, as a young man, to the prime minister and express your ideas; if you had a state that was just and tolerant enough to provide a scholarship to you as a leftist student challenging and criticizing the rightist government; if you have lived through this country’s conservative governments; if this country of paradise coasts, mountains, fields and cities has been a wonderful homeland for you for 68 years; then, after three weeks of deep thought, after spending a long time with yourself, observing not only yourself but also “others,” then you would understand much better that there is no other homeland you would rather go to.  

You base your strength, your will to resist, and your power to struggle on that feeling. 

My late father whispered in my ear, even before naming me: “My son, this is our last homeland. There is no other land we will go to from here.” 

I looked back with this sentiment for three weeks. Remember that phrase yelled by that guy who attacked our offices with stones and sticks: “You will get out of this country”? I thought about this bullying, this boasting…  

I was speaking as if I was spitting on his face: “Look, get your stuff together and go. Remember the prosecutors you walked together with yesterday? The ones who were like little gods? Well they have all run away. Look, maybe one day you will run away too. But we will stay…”

This is what I thought… 

Then I looked ahead, to a very near tomorrow…  To the morning of Nov. 2, after the coming election… 

Just as I was so sure of the last election on June 7, this time I am saying even more surely: Don’t worry. We will wake up to a beautiful Nov. 2 morning in Turkey. 

Such a result will emerge on that morning that everybody in this country - Turkish, Kurdish, everybody - will feel peace of mind and cry out loud: “I am also a citizen of this country.” 

Such an outcome will emerge that nobody will ever dare ask anyone else: “How many people have you got on your side?”

Nobody, regardless of whether they hold the power of the state or not, will dare say to anybody else: “Get out of this country.”

The election result will guarantee that nobody in this country will ever feel like a minority, no headscarf-wearer will be looked down on, nobody will treat any other like an enemy to be pushed out into the sea…
The result will ensure that all checks and balances of the parliamentary system will function; the means of writing a modern and civil constitution will emerge… 

Debates about the nature of the regime will end. Turkey will embrace democracy. The president will be the president of everybody, impartially. There will be no fear, oppression, intimidation, or cruelty of troll gangs in this country. 

The judiciary will be a trusted institution again. The police will be everybody’s police. The intelligence service will serve the country.

The election result will change our policies in Syria and Egypt. We will have better relations with our neighbors, with the world of Islam. 

Our polarized nation, currently fighting itself, will again become one nation. 

Don’t doubt this…

On the morning of Nov. 2, all citizens of this country, with no exception, will be proud of their country. Those days when they will rest their heads to sleep in peace will begin… 

We will wake up to a good and beautiful Turkey, whichever party we have voted for…

Just as long as you go and cast your vote…