There are many means by which society seeks to objectively measure progress toward "democratization." Free elections and voter turnout. Transparency in the judiciary.
Values of pluralism reflected in school textbooks. Tolerance toward those on the margins of society’s mainstream. We are familiar with these standards. These are the "leading indicators" to which parliamentary committees, civil society watchdogs and visting EU raporteurs generally turn.
Less heralded are those reflections of change that emanate upward through popular culture: the lyrics of music, the changing tone of books on the shelves in booksellers, the themes embraced by film makers. We think these are worth a look.
In particular, the new release of the film "Güz Sancısı" or "An autumn’s anguish" (our translation) is evidence in our view of the spirit of democracy becoming evermore deeply rooted in Turkish society and culture. Yes, Turkey has a tradition of political film making. But those of directors Şerif Gören or Yılmaz Güney were works of polemic. "Güz Sancısı" is new kind of political film.
As one more taboo bites the dust in Turkey, this film by director Tomris Giritlioğlu explores the so-called "September 5-6" events of 1955 that mark the beginning of the effective end of vibrant Greek or "Rum" culture in Istanbul. In the wake of that nationalist pogrom against citizens of Greek origin, Istanbul’s Rum population began its decline from the several hundred thousand of that time to the 2,000 or so who live in the city today. There are various historical accounts of the reasons behind the anti-Greek rioting that left 4,000 shops demolished, some 15 dead and a legacy of pain yet unhealed today. "Güz Sancısı" is an important interpretation of that history.
As a movie, it is a fairly straight political "whodunnit" plot. A young law student Behçet (Murat Yıldırım) is torn between his allegiance to a nationalist youth movement, his affection for a communist best friend, his vows to an aristocratic fiance, his fealty to an underworld father-in-law-to-be and his love for a noble-hearted Rum prostitute (Beren Saat). As such, the conflicts and tensions in Behçet’s world are a microcosm of the political tensions of Turkey’s history since the birth of multi-party democracy in 1950.
These are tensions that linger, that in fact resonate, into our day. The on-going social negotiation that defines Turkey today, and will surely define it in the future, take and will take myriad forms. That a reflective and introspective film, at once both self-critical and proud, can be on the screens throughout the country today tells us something very important about Turkey’s growing maturity, self-confidence and self-awareness.
To witness a bit of Turkish democracy in action, don’t miss "Gül Sancısı."