Wednesday, June 26, 2013

Understanding.

I wish I understood more of what was going on in Istanbul these days. It isn't a matter of not keeping up on the news. I get my daily dose of papers, blogs, and facebook feed. It isn't a matter of not having friends in the "know." I have people who can tell me this and that is happening, and why they think it is happening, and what, exactly, they will be protesting any given evening. But the fact of the matter is that I don't believe that anyone actually knows what is going on here. Reporters continue to report. Social scientists have stepped in, from anthropology to economy, to make their comments. The prime minister and his team continue to spin in one direction, the protesters in the opposite, and international media in a third. Overall it makes no sense, and what gets me, what is absolutely terrifying to me, is that as the violence dies down and people go about their daily business, it seems that the Turkish government has won and will write history. Ten years ago I would not have minded the government winning. Sometimes it is better for the people if the government wins, I thought. These days the anarchist in me hopes strongly for the underdog to win. But hopes and political theories aside, this is what I know:

Yesterday I went to sushi with Nikola and his co-workers. I decided that I would take the metro from Taksim, just to see how things were now that (from what I have heard) things have died down. When I got to Taksim it did not appear that things had died down at all. There was a line of police men all around the statue in Taksim square, and surrounding the main square as well. At every entrance to Taksim officers were refusing to let people pass. I asked to be let down into the metro and was informed that I could not pass. I decided to walk around and barely made it out of the square before officers sealed off another entrance. I walked about a kilometer down the road to the next metro station, all the while passing police officers streaming into Taksim.

I was told last night was special. It was a memorial for one of the men who had died during the protests (now being called riots?) and of course the police needed to increase their presence. But one thing truly bothers me. The statement that the prime minister gave about the park needing to be open to all. I already commented on the absurdity of that statement as a park is not "open to all" if it is being torn down. But last night I wondered, how on earth can any one trust that man when this is his definition of, "open to all." Apparently, "open to all," means that it is sealed off by police to the point that public transit isn't working and people cannot even walk through a space, let alone rest and enjoy it. I was down in the park during the protests. They were truly open to all. I feel that anyone could have gone down there and wandered, and spoken, and existed. Now, they are closed. Now they have been taken by a singular, selfish group making claims that they know what is best for everyone. "Open to all," means that they are apparently protecting it from everyone. It was tragic. 

Friday, June 21, 2013

Same-sex couples in the Peace Corps

http://www.advocate.com/travel/2013/05/22/peace-corps-recognizes-respects-same-sex-couples

I want to start by saying that I am not exactly against this. I am more confused by it as I am unsure of how the implementation will actually take place. I am also slightly tired from it as it re-enforces the ideal of the romantic relationship as the most important, end-all relationship in everyone's life.

I know that in Bulgaria the Peace Corps staff encouraged LGBTQ volunteers to remain closeted when they were at their sites, and to only tell people who they knew very closely and were sure would keep it a secret. This is partially due to the safety of volunteers, and partially due to the effectiveness of volunteers. I have heard countless rude, gross things said about gay men in Bulgaria, some in jest, and some fueled by obvious hate, and so it is easy for me to understand how the effectiveness of a volunteer to complete his work could be compromised if he (or she) was outed as gay. Volunteers are often in high profile positions, working with mayors, schools, etc, and so keeping an image within the host country is important. I am not saying that every site is the same, or every country, but I can definitely see why we were instructed to be cautious in this area of our lives.

With that being, unfortunately, accepted I am wondering how they will work with this. Will they send same-sex couples to countries where it is acceptable? I am sure those exist, somewhere. Or will they play the same-sex couple off as, "good friends serving together?" It seems odd when no other volunteers get good friends to help them, and all other people placed together and especially living together happen to be married. Maybe the set up in different countries would allow for this without suspicion.

But, what really gets me, is how many times my best friend during service and I wished that we could have been assigned to the same site. There were so many ways that we could have played off of each other's strengths and really benefited the host country while offering much needed support to each other. But, people who are not married are required to serve alone. It is supposedly better for integration. The Peace Corps does not recognize that for some people integration is actually facilitated (and not hindered) by having an integration wing-man. But the entire Peace Corps program is set up to isolate volunteers and romanticizes the experience as a lonely volunteer as authentic and necessary. This is unless, of course, the person has a valid romantic partner.

I want to know why romance is so highly valued by the government, and why does it get to be judged and validated by the government. A couple cannot be long-term dating, they must be married. Same-sex couples who can't get married have to sign an affidavit basically, I assume, saying that their relationship is like a marriage- committed and based on love. To me it is bullshit. How does romantic-love better serve the host country than two friends who are also committed to each other, neither sexually or romantically involved, and yet perhaps have worked together for many years? Why can they not serve together but two people who are romantically involved but maybe can't work at all together professionally can?  Why is the romantic relationship the only one considered important and given special preference?

I get that this is in some ways very important for gay rights. However, at the same time I believe it is reinforcing this myth of monogamy and romance as the two most important factors in life. Granted, I am married now so that I can enjoy the benefits of the government recognition of my relationship as lasting, authentic, and positive for the community. But I don't believe it should be necessary, or it should be worshiped quite as strongly. 

Thursday, June 20, 2013

Silence.

The protesters have been cast out of Gezi Park, using too much force, justified by the global fetish-fear of "terrorism." I still check the news every evening, but fewer and fewer articles are being written and now the blogs are reflecting on the past instead of current events. It is as if by going back to the beginning in their thoughts people are putting the period on the protests. Still, there are the standing people (A protest that officials consider "pleasing to the eye.") and rumors of people making plans in their neighborhoods. But mostly it feels like things in Istanbul are back to normal. All of my pessimistic aquaintences were right in assuming that nothing would change. I had thought that something would change. I thought that with the force of international media something had to change. But the thing is that the international media never cared about WHAT the people in Turkey were protesting. They only cared about the violence. Now that the violence (physical) has stopped it is no longer considered an important topic. Really it is no longer interesting, and no longer "easy." It is easy to tell a story of an authoritarian regime. The pictures spoke for themselves. But now the journalism would get messy. It would get involved, and westerners don't have the patience to get involved in their own affairs, let alone those of people thousands of miles away.

What is most unsettling to me these days is reading the reaction of the officials. The smugness of the Prime Minister, and the foreign ministers. They are trying to spin everything into dominant history, and I fear that it is working. This will go down in history as a peaceful protest that got hijacked by militant, violent, terrorist groups. Within a year the government will actually look like it was protecting the Turkish people and come out in a positive position from these protests. But every statement that they release just seems too condescending, and too smug for people to accept. Yet people are accepting them, or at least no longer speaking out against them. I don't really blame them. It must be hard to speak when your supposed leader has cut off your head and virtually made it illegal for anyone to disagree with him.

I love one of the official's statements regarding the standing man protests. He said that they are pleasing to the eye, but people should only stand for five minutes and then on the sixth minute go about their business. I think he misunderstands what a protest is. A protest is supposed to disrupt society strongly enough to make people consider their actions and beliefs. But now any disruption is considered violent and any dissent is considered an attack. Five minutes is not a protest, it is a brief memorial to the death of something that was once beautiful. Okay, beautiful is maybe a dramatic and incorrect choice of word. Not beautiful, but living. Pulsing. Messy.

I think the biggest loss here is going to be the forgetting of who is considered Turkish, and who is not considered Turkish by the sovereign. He made it very clear that he represents only the AKP, and not all people of Turkey. He attempted to strip the minority of their national identity. Real Turks support the party in power. Real Turks don't dissent. Real Turks don't protest, he seems to say. What does that make all of the thousands of people who protested? They are NOT some fringe group. They are not social deviants. They love their country, aand are proud of their heritage. They just want to be heard and represented.

It started about trees, but grew into so much more, and in the end it seems like it to will once again be only about trees.

Silence.

Tuesday, June 18, 2013

An Obsession with Progress

Lately progress has been on my mind. It dug in there via a crazy-haired, impassioned professor speaking about Benjamin in an obviously loving tone. According to Benjamin, social progression is a myth. Human nature is... well, natural. History is, like nature, cyclical. It is a constant repetition of the same tragedies that are justified as necessary by the myth of progression. Things like technology progresses, but the ways in which we use it stay in the same pattern. But, Benjamin believes that history will start. He believes that there will come a time when things are called by their true names, and we can grieve properly, and afterwards something "new" will actually begin, thus beginning history.

I swallowed Benjamin hook, line, and sinker. Everything that my teacher said seemed to make perfect sense. Except for one thing that I am beginning to realize now- even Benjamin was wrapped up in this obsession with progression. Although he didn't believe that it had started yet he did believe that it would happen, and that it is something we need to work towards. He had, what may have been an absurd, hope that humans would progress.

Progress, it seems, goes hand in hand with another favorite topic of mine lately, stolen from Foucault: measurement. Measurement, expertise, and science guide the average person's life. We measure our weight, our height, our body fat, our temperature. (Which is a common topic for me to discuss: body image and the scale). I was looking up some new yoga poses and I can across a blog which had before and after pictures, so that a girl could measure her progress in yoga. It made me think about my dread updates and how I am constantly measuring their progress, and how it really just makes me much more impatient.

I don't think I am ready to give up measurement, but I do think that I can work on my relationship with the concept of progress, and instead to start noticing changes. It will be difficult, as I grew up in a society obsessed with progress and SMART goals and always being on your way towards something. I think that it is time, though, for me to start being in the moment, and experiencing what is here now, and not focusing so deeply on this concept of an ultimate destination and progress towards it. 

Sunday, June 16, 2013

Foucault's Police

Last night, watching Gezi Park be "evacuated" by the Turkish police (Online, from the safety of my home) I finally began to physically comprehend Foucault's ideas regarding examination and visibility. Today, reading the strong propaganda line that the prime minister is following regarding what is and isn't legal, and what is and isn't happening, I am beginning to understand more clearly the concept of the sovereign and homo sacer. Watching a counter-rally march down my street today and hearing my husband ask how anyone can still support the current Turkish government I am finally beginning to understand the gravity of the state and the stateless. It is as if last semester frothed up perfectly into this resistance, giving me almost too many platforms for understanding what is going on in Istanbul. At the same time I feel clueless, and all of my studying of the social sciences can not prepare me to fully comprehend the mess that is still happening.

Still happening. I know the world moves on, every morning, to the next 'big' thing, but for the people living here it is continuing, day after day.

Last night what was visible, from the few camera angles available, was a wall of completely anonymous police, covered in gas masks, dressed in black, saying absolutely nothing and imbued with the power of the 'state.' Against them was a large group of individuals, each dressed differently, each shouting their own individual opinions, each banding together with different groups, and each risking their individual lives. What was on display was the individual. What was hidden was the power of the state. Granted, each of those officers has an individual beneath those masks, and each of those individuals must make the choice to follow orders, but the very issuing of these orders takes away the risk and responsibility from the individual police. Notice that they have nothing to say- they are just doing their job. They retreat and buy a snack or a tea. They take off their masks, talk with people passing by, and then they show a bit of personality, but every action of brutality is sanctioned, asked for, by the government. You would think, then, that the government would be held responsible for the injuries on the streets, and the continuing of the riots. Granted, the government is harder to pin down than an individual, but still, there should be some level where accountability can be found. But, in the modern nation state that accountability can apparently be spread to the people. From what I understand is that about 50 percent of the vote went to AKP last election, and what Erdogan apparently thinks this means is that he can act in the interest of these 50% and call the rest of the people minority, marginal, riff raff. Basically the law he set was that all "good" citizens would evacuate the park and anyone who was left there could only be a terrorist or a member of a "marginal" organization that does not represent "Turkey." Maybe the question should not be whether these groups and even individuals represent Turkey, but whether Turkey is representing them. From what I can understand, the later is not happening. The sovereign power just blatantly created a state of homo sacer (someone who is outside of protection, who can be killed without consequence or ritual).

Okay, killing might be a bit far. But people ARE being injured, and arrested, for expressing dissent.

Now, the question that my husband asked of how these people could walk proudly down the street today, carrying banners for the AKP, when this is obviously just going to make things worse, and no one is handling this situation well? The answer is obvious to me. If the sovereign has the power to declare a state of wild homo sacer, then the only 'safe' place to be is with him. If he is going to favor only the people who support him then they benefit by supporting him more, because they will ultimately get more at the cost of everyone else getting less. It isn't honorable, but it is unfortunately how the modern state seems to work.

Tonight there is a thick cloud of smoke hovering over Taksim. Small skirmishes and the banging of pots and pans, what has become the symbol for this resistance. It is somehow heartwarming to see the continuance today after the brutality last night. It could have, honestly, began to end this weekend. But now, it has the potential to drag on for quite some time, and hopefully, not be forgotten. 

Wednesday, June 12, 2013

Romancing Resistance: the takeover

How long does it take before a motion of resistance is hijacked? Two, three days? Maybe it can live for a week. I am more skeptical than that though. I think that on the moment of action, the motion becomes more than its intention. Because, the truth is, that for most of our actions we actually lack any intention whatsoever. Those actions- the yelling in the streets, the camping out, the throwing of stones, had very little intention, and in some ways they were quite pure. But then groups started coming in, trying to make sense of things. The communists, the anarchists, the i-am-not-sure-who-but-they-definitely-have-a-flags. I guess that is the problem with a platform- everyone wants to stand on it.

Last night Nikola and I were walking home from dinner when we were hit by a particularly strong sensation in the air. I described it as if someone was cutting onions directly in front of me. He was a bit more accurate, saying that it felt like hot peppers. For about a minute we were genuinely confused, and I was looking around for some sort of barbecue. I saw two boys pass by in the guy fawkes masks that have become standard street gear, and a small girl about to be sick. It was then that we realized the wind was blowing down from Taksim, and what we were experiencing was a very mild form of the dissipating tear gas. I just re-measured the map and realize that as the crow flies we are only 4km away from Taksim (The 7km that I originally stated involves streets and bridges- I had never stopped to think about how freely air moves within such a constrained grid), but 4km still seems rather removed from the heart of the activity to me. I never expected to be hit with tear gas so far away. Within five minutes the irritation, which came in light waves, was getting to be unbearable. I can't imagine how thick and painful it was in Taksim. So I went online to see what had happened. I had thought the protests in Istanbul were peaceful and the police were out of the square.

Apparently this week two things happened:

  1. The prime minister agreed to meet with the organizers of the protests. 
  2. The prime minister claimed that the protests would be over by the weekend, called the protesters vandals and swore that the square would be open to, "the people." 
Now, I consider both of these things to be tragedies as far as resistance is concerned. First of all, meeting with the organizers of the protests is problematic as the protests are very organic. He can meet with the organizers of the original Gezi park protests, but it is obvious this has gone well beyond the construction of a shopping complex, and if he hears only those complaints he is missing a LOT of the public grievance. Similarly, any already formed group that steps forward to claim this protest is going to cause the exclusion of some protesters. Figuring this out through the leadership of the protests requires some sort of coalition to be formed and sorted out- a large gathering of ideas and possibilities, and a continuation of the open forum that the park floor has become. By allowing the prime minister to choose the group he wishes to work with in formal discussions much of the general, organic process of this protest is lost. Maybe this coalition leadership has already been formed, although I am very interested to see how these discussions play out, and who will be there. 

The second point is just offensive. The prime minister is basically claiming that everyone at the protests is destructive and a public nuisance. It is true that there have been many acts of vandalism, some in response to police brutality and some from the sheer glee of chaos. Some people believe that the more violent protesters have been placed by the government to incite riots and to legitimize the use of force. I am not sure about that. I know there are plenty of people who have a lot of pent up anger and are probably destroying public property of their own volition. But the fact is that the majority of the protesters remain peaceful. The park fills with students, children, parents etc. These people are sitting and talking. They are singing. They are dancing. They are drinking and eating. They are living there, in a public space, peacefully. What is particularly offensive is that the PM claims the space will be open to the people by the weekend. The space IS open to the people, now. The PEOPLE are there!!! What people could he possibly be talking about? Tourists? Only the people who elected him? They are all welcome to go down there. I was there several evenings and did not feel threatened or uncomfortable. It was exhilarating. The space was open to the people, and by denying that he basically is denying that those people, occupying the park, are actually Turkish citizens, thus confirming that he only works for his own constituents, and is not representative of the whole country. Add to that the force used to empty the park last night? It was supposedly unexpected, and if it came so strongly all the way here all that I can think it must have been like there is the fumigation of rats. Tragic, bad move on the part of the Turkish government. 


Dread Update- 2 months


It is with great pleasure that I introduce Carlos to the world. Carlos is my very first natural baby dreadlock. I noticed him on Sunday morning--- or rather, Nikola fished him out of my mess of hair to show me that my dreads are actually starting to make progress. Strangely enough, Saturday evening I almost posting an update of my messy head declaring the same-old "nothing is happening, it is a practice in patience," etc.

Carlos is tiny, I know, and he is not very strong yet, but he is definitely a collection of knots hanging out at the top of my head, and I am super excited about him. This means that at least the front of my head has gotten long enough to start dreading, and if I spend countless crazy hours at the beach in Bulgaria by the end of the summer I will have a good set started, that I can bead up and let set over the winter. I really cannot believe that I have my first baby dread in only two months. At the same time I cannot believe that it has already been 2 months since I stopped using shampoo and combing my hair. My hair is very soft and happy being washed in baking soda and vinegar. :-)

The change in me is also very desirable. As I went walking on the rainy streets this morning: sandals, a long flowing skirt, tank top, scarf wrapped around my shoulders and head... I felt completely in my body, confident, and happy in a way that I haven't felt in a very long time. I am definitely meant to be a little earth child. Hippie? Meh, if you wish to title me so. I'll stop resisting it. But it is so much more than that. 

Saturday, June 8, 2013

Romancing Resistance: Reflections on Istanbul Protests in 2013

One of two buses destroyed at the entrance to Gezi Park, Istanbul. 

On Saturday night every street leading up to Taksim square was barricaded by protesters to prevent the entrance of riot-trucks armed with water cannons. Barricades were made of the fences that had once surrounded the restoration project in Gezi Park, cars, and bricks from the sidewalks. 


It should feel differently.

As I walked down Istiklal Street, crowded for a Wednesday evening, the words floated into my head, more of a concept than a thought of my own. At that moment I had a small epiphany- a moment of understanding regarding the three months of resistance and social movements that I had been studying. Resistance shouldn't FEEL any different. In fact, it shouldn't feel at all. Resistance simply is. The torn up streets are not excited. The graffiti on the buildings does not move. It is people who must make a constant effort to feel. It is not the excitement of resistance which breathes life into people, but the emotions of people which laces resistance with excitement.

Everyone that I talked to, on Friday, on Saturday, even on Monday, was excited about the protests spreading from Istanbul to the furthest reaches of Turkey. Not one of them thought that anything in Turkey would actually change, but they were excited to be part of something, and to express themselves (many for the first time) in the political arena. But after a week of protesting things began to change. The police violence stopped- Taksim square had been taken- and with the uneasy peace that settled in Istanbul people began to lose the excitement that they had expressed the week before. The resistance had taken on the feel of a festival. Music, speeches, workshops. My friends wanted to act. As one put it, "I need to be there. Nothing will change, but I need to yell and scream and throw things." Another told me that things had changed, and now it was just a festival, with people drinking and no more resistance. When that excitement is taken away, when the rolling wave of indignation is taken away, when the physical form of police officers is extracted and you have nothing left to push against, then how can you continue to resist? I wondered how long the protests would continue, certain that people would trickle off, back to their jobs and their homes, and the moment of resistance would be forgotten.

For most of my adult life I have valued social movement over acts of resistance. I thought I was quite logical, asking what the point was in constantly acting to deconstruct something without building something to take its place. Before I even knew who Gramsci was, I was a solid supporter of counter-hegemony as the only viable path towards revolution or, as my peaceful mind liked to put it, "change." When the protests began in Istanbul, grew, and turned into forceful physical conflict, I was skeptical more than impressed. What's the point in destroying a city? It was easy, as an outsider, for me to dismiss the people participating in the protests as a bunch of boys who just wanted to be a part of something, anything, violent and had very little political motivation. Seeing the destruction in Taksim- graffiti as high as the hands could reach, sidewalks torn up, buses and cars overturned and burnt out, I was not impressed. As I walked by the two buses blocking the entrance to Gezi Park and watched two young teenage boys, masked with the face of Guy Fawkes, climb victoriously on top for pictures my first reaction was awe, but my first thought was that the very people who destroyed these buses would be the same ones grumbling about the lack of adequate public transit in Istanbul during rush hour within the next month. I watched countless people approach the men selling aspiration masks and swim goggles for 5tl a piece, and wondered if they expected it to turn violent again, or if they were just purchasing souvenirs- a fashion statement to say that they were there. I couldn't help but be sadly amused at the irony of defacing one of the seats of consumerism in Istanbul, while protesting the turning of a public space into a capitalistic private space, and at the same time participating in a replacement capitalism without a second thought.

What changed my mind didn't take place in Taksim of Besiktas. It wasn't at ground zero. It had happened on Saturday evening, in my neighborhood seven kilometers away from the protests. Friday and Saturday my husband and I kept a close watch on twitter and facebook, overloading google-translate in the hopes of understanding the protests. We kept our windows open to hear and see signs of the protests, most shocked by the number of planes lined up to land at Ataturk airport with, what we rightly assumed, was police support from Ankara. Around eleven on Saturday evening the banging of pots and pans began. It echoed up and down my neighborhood, over and through, then back again. I poked my head out the window of my fourth floor apartment and for the first time I saw my neighbor, a young woman about my age, also looking out with curiosity. Until that moment I had not even realized that I had a neighbor living in the room that shared a wall with mine. Her apartment entrance was on a different street, and I had never seen her. We looked at each other, smiled shyly, and then quickly darted our heads back in. Throughout the evening we saw each other peeking out several more times. At one point the rumbling of pots and pans grew louder. I looked down and saw about 25 women walking up my street. In a neighborhood where there were no protests and no police these women had joined together, going from nowhere and to nowhere, simply to express themselves. It was the one moment during the night that I could not hold my composure, and a few tears slipped out in support of these women, some with bare heads, and some wrapped in scarves.

So when my friends lament the festival atmosphere in Gezi Park and fear that they have missed the revolution, I have to say that it's unfortunate, because this is the moment of resistance that excites me. Now that the park has been 'secured' by the protesters there exists a platform. That platform hosts academic workshops, political speeches, and cultural performances. At the moment intellectuals are trying to create some sense of coherency in the park, and they may succeed or they may fail, but what is important is that people are out of their houses, connecting with one another. The benefit of the platform is not only in its potential to create cohesion, but in its ability to accommodate expression. It is that expression that has finally made me appreciate resistance in and of itself, apart from creation, movement, and change. Sometimes people really do need to be part of something. I can't help but thinking that it is no fault of the streets or collection of workshops at the park if nothing changes. The change starts with a very simple inward realization, not 'it,' but:

We should feel differently. 

Wednesday, June 5, 2013

An Interpretation of Istanbul’s Gezi Park Protests: Four Modern Social Theorists

What I have posted here is a paper for my modern theory course. I definitely see some areas where the paper is lacking and could be expanded, but there are some points that are beginning to flesh out there. I figure since this is currently going on I would post the un-revised version in order to continue the thought and consideration regarding the current state of Turkey. As always, comments, corrections, and intelligent conversation is welcomed. 



An Interpretation of Istanbul’s Gezi Park Protests: Four Modern Social Theorists 

After a year of living in Istanbul the most that I can offer regarding the current civil unrest is an external perspective. For the past week social media has been filled with pictures and videos of downtown Istanbul and the current protests taking place there. During the days the protests at Taksim square take on the feeling of a festival, with music, dance, joyful encounters, and excited youth sharing discourse. Thousands of people cover Gezi Park, where the protests started on May 28, 2013. The protests, which began against the deconstruction of the park to re-build a military barracks which would ultimately be used as private housing and either a mall or museum, have grown so large in both numbers and geography that a single objective can no longer be neatly given to them. The protests have spread through Istanbul and to other major cities in Turkey, and have grown into general political unrest. I cannot make any claims of intimate knowledge of these activities, but I can draw some conclusions that require physical observation, and hopefully offer some perspectives as to the progression of these protests. This paper utilizes the work of four prominent modern social theorists: Antonio Gramsci, Michel Foucault, Giorgio Agamben, and Walter Benjamin, in order to explore the Gezi Park protests more in depth and begin to offer social discourse regarding the movement which has become known as, “Occupy Gezi.”


Gezi and Gramsci
Antonio Gramsci’s theory concentrates on the production of power through consent rather than force, and the ways in which superstructure is maintained in civil society through the production of hegemony.  Gramsci claims that with modern hegemony revolutions based on violence and force, such as the October Revolution of 1917, will no longer be successful. Because of this view Gramsci theory can best be applied to three areas of the Gezi Protests. First, the way in which the government responds to the protests can be argued as potentially blurring the line between rule by force and rule through consent, which demands closer examination about the production of hegemony and level of consent of Turkish citizens. Secondly, Gramsci would be concerned about whether the protests are based on force, or have an adequate foundation of counter-hegemony to effect social change. Lastly, and related to the establishment of counter-hegemony, Gramsci would examine the traces of consciousness, and how they can be found both at the protest site, and through social media.
The concept of hegemony involves the basis of power being created through consent, wherein the dominate group defines the world for the oppressed group so much so that they can no longer even recognize their own will. Their will is dominated through cultural indoctrination and they willingly, or at least without struggle, give their consent to the rulers. In a decadent hegemony, which includes both Turkey and the global hegemony of capitalism, this consent is centered around allocation of resources. On May 28 the protests regarding Gezi Park mostly concerned the allocation of a well-known public space. People feared that the public space, which was slated to become a reconstruction of the Taksim military barracks, would ultimately be turned into a shopping mall. This takes a resource which is precious in a city as crowded as Istanbul, space, and allocates it to the private, capitalist sphere, away from public use. Gezi park, which is iconic to Istanbul, was an allocation that could be said to be beyond the umbrella of the dominant hegemony. When the protests began the government responded with force, removing protesters through the use of pepper-gas. At the same time the Prime Minister, Recep Tayyip Erdogan, tried to maintain that his political position was achieved through consent, and that the reallocation of the park would continue despite the protests. This creates a dissonance between the experience of the protestors, and the government’s claims to legitimacy. In this case the use of force served to escalate the protests, drawing in a wider group of support, and potentially creating a platform to examine and deconstruct the dominant hegemony. However, the deconstruction of the dominant hegemony is impossible to imagine unless it is accompanied by the construction of a counter-hegemony.   
Although the use of police force is important to understanding the depth of the attack on the Turkish government, the use of force on the part of the protesters is important to understanding the potential for achieving social change. Gramsci advocates against a war of manoeuvre, which seeks to physically remove the people in power, and instead insists that a war of position, and the establishment of a counter-hegemony, is the only way to bring about change. Although the protests started as a challenge to the allocation of resources, they have since grown in numbers so quickly that their complexity, and various reasons for participation, is indisputable. This creates a critical point, when a counter-hegemony can be constructed, and needs to be constructed in order for the protests to turn into a social movement. The establishment of counter-hegemony has been attempted through various university professors, and NGOs hosting discussion groups at the protest site. However, whether these attempts will be successful depend on the motivation of the protestors, and whether they are prepared to engage in constructive discourse, or simply continue to protest in force as an unorganized display of general frustration. The success of establishing a counter-hegemony also depends on the methods that the budding social leaders of this resistance implement.
Gramsci believes that the production of a counter-hegemony is reliant on the materiality of subalterns, as well as traces of consciousness found in folk wisdom, song, stories and memory. Intellectuals are charged with basing counter-hegemony on the already existing fragments within society in order to create an integrated form of resistance. I would argue that the contemporary place to look for these traces of consciousness is social media. The pictures that people are posting on facebook, and the 140-character tweets being posted on twitter supply a rich source of anxiety, hopes, and desire that could be formulated into the beginnings of a counter-hegemony. However, to leave these fragments in their raw form, or even to collect them on the internet is not enough. Counter-hegemony would be formed by processing these fragments, and reflecting them on the people who have created them, using them as a point of discussion to form a construction of society with the people who are currently gathered, potentially ready to listen and create.



Gezi and Foucault
Michel Foucault was a materialist, interested in the ultimate destinations of power rather than the intention and decisions of individuals. He was not interested in the source or descent of power, nor was he interested in ideology. He was against the concept of social evolution and interested in the production of expertise, to the point that for Foucault the problem of modernity was not economics, but the ways in which truth was produced. Foucault would most likely be interested in the materiality of the Gezi protests, the production of power in the moment of resistance, and how knowledge regarding the protests is produced and spread.
The protests in Istanbul have left a strong physical mark on the city. The main shopping street, Istiklal, has been covered in graffiti, and Taksim square has been barricaded using bricks torn out of sidewalks, fences, and incinerated vehicles. These material traces show a breakdown in the discipline created by society. Foucault argues that in a state of discipline subjects are always seen, and constantly placed in a way that they may be observed. (Discipline and Punish, 187) Everyday life in Istanbul involves a certain level of discipline, created by the constant observation of fellow citizens, as well as a limited presence of official authority. However, as protesters have pushed police out of Taksim square that level of discipline has been lost. People within the borders of the barricades can be thought to be loyal to the protests, and not supportive of government rules and punishment. For this reason people feel safe to flout certain laws. This can especially be seen in the act of graffiti, an act commonly restrained due to discipline. During the protests young men can be seen tagging the streets and buildings in the middle of the day. They spray paint slogans and symbols slowly and without masks, obviously not concerned with being caught. However, the material evidence also shows that the graffiti has been covered over at least one time with a layer of plain, grey paint. This layering of paint and graffiti shows a constant struggle to maintain a state of discipline, which the government has been unable to achieve in Gezi.
If the usual standard of social discipline is not currently in effect that does not mean that no discipline exists. Power is constantly produced by people, and that includes the protesters currently in Gezi Park. Foucault highlights the notion of exercise, stating that it is a graduation of tasks that are performed by the body, used to create discipline. (Discipline and Punish, 161) The protests can be seen as a jump in physical tasks, not adhering to acceptable amounts of graduation, and completely unexpected. This has the potential to create a space that lacks discipline, but only for a moment before people begin to create new forms of exercises that will create a new regime of discipline. This can be seen in the schedules slowly beginning to develop around the protests. People protest in shifts, either at the park during the day or at night, and a schedule of speakers and workshops is beginning to emerge, slowly producing a system of power and discipline within the society of protesters.
The final area of the Gezi Protests that would concern Foucault, and perhaps the most strongly related to his theories, is the production of knowledge regarding the events. According to Foucault power and knowledge directly imply each other, and power produces knowledge. (Discipline and Punish, 27) This speaks to the reification of expertise, and how only people specifically trained within the realm of science can participate in the production of knowledge. Subjugated knowledges are those which have been disqualified as inadequate or insufficiently elaborated. (Power/Knowledge, 82) The production of knowledge regarding the Gezi protests is occurring on three fronts: the official perspective produced by the Turkish government through Turkish media, the unofficial perspective produced by protesters through social media, and the tentative perspective produced by international media without firsthand experience of the events. The Turkish media has covered very little of the protests, and the government, while not denying the protests, has downplayed their extensiveness and legitimacy. This has aggravated protesters, and countless people have posted about the protests on twitter, facebook, and on personal blogs. The majority of protester-produced content involves pictures, short videos, and tweets, and focuses on the use of police force against the protesters. The internet has made it possible for individuals to share experiences, but the question is whether those experiences are capable of being turned into knowledge. Perhaps recognizing this, protesters have made calls for assistance through various forms of social media, asking for international news to recognize the protests. This call for international recognition shows that media expertise is still valid in the production of social knowledge. Protesters fear that if the only official representation of the protests is controlled by the government and Turkish media, then the events will be both weakened and eventually forgotten. International media, and the expertise given to external, supposedly unbiased reporters trumps the expertise claimed by local reporters, having the potential to produce a knowledge that could eventually be sympathetic to the protesters. Most interesting is that the internet has created a platform that has the potential to be used in the creation of knowledge, but it is still controlled and limited by the social preconceptions of expertise and traditional forms of knowledge production.


Gezi and Agamben
Giorgio Agamben focused on the origins of bio-power, claiming that power turns life into an object and therefore creates politics. His general themes included the exploration of bare life as opposed to good life, thresholds as spaces of intersection, the creation of homo sacer and sovereignty, and legal violence. Agamben’s work may be best used to explain the use of police force in the Gezi Park protests.
In order to understand how police force against the Gezi protesters can be legitimized by the Turkish government it is important to understand Agamben’s concepts of sovereign and homo sacer. According to Agamben these two concepts are mirror images of each other. The sovereign sphere is the sphere in which it is permitted to kill without committing homicide and without celebrating sacrifice (Agamben, 83) and the homo sacer is the person who is set outside of human jurisdiction without being placed beneath the protection of divine law. (82) The sovereign acts by legally placing himself outside of the law while simultaneously declaring that nothing is outside of the law. (15) This allows the sovereign to encite bans, which does not only place someone outside of law, but leaves them exposed and threatened. (28) In contemporary society violence is considered illegal, and also socially unacceptable. However, police are given the right to use force without it being considered violence due to being imbued with power from sovereignty. Prime Minister Erdogan is able to decree that protesters are acting outside of the law, turning them into homo sacer, which justifies the use of police violence. Similarly, police are given the individual power to declare people as acting illegally and use force against them. At the same time protesters are restricted from using violence because they lack the power of the sovereign to declare their actions as legal. Agamben claims that the ban as the original political relation calls into question the theories of a contractual origin of state power based on citizens belonging to a popular, national, religious, or other identity group. (181) Because the sovereign is able to ban any action, by any person, every person is turned into a partial homo sacer and left exposed and vulnerable to violence. However, what was seen at Gezi park did not follow this model. Although Erdogan did try to declare the actions of the protesters illegal, and issue a ban on them, people refused the ban. Protesters declared their actions, and use of force legitimate, while calling international attention to the use of police force, and were able to turn the “legal force” into a state of unacceptable violence. This does not point to a dissolution of sovereign power, but instead points to the power of Erdogan no longer being recognized by Turkish people, and the formation of an international state of sovereignty.


Gezi and Benjamin
Like Foucault, Walter Benjamin was a materialist. He worked to critique social theory by an intense, close examination of everyday objects, and viewed criticism as the cutting of history in order to create space for newness to emerge. He rejected the idea that history is progressive and argued that modern history is actually a natural cycle of catastrophes, and real history cannot begin until a messianic judgment redeems society by naming things by their proper names. The location of the Gezi protests in the heart of Istanbul provides two places that would lend themselves to a Benjamin-inspired examination: Istiklal Street and Gezi Park.
Istiklal Street is a phantasmagoria which can easily be compared to the Paris Arcades in the Arcades Project by Benjamin. As the main shopping street in Istanbul Istiklal is lush with the practice of commodity fetishism. There, labor and violence are removed from public view and fetish objects, such as the latest clothing and technology, promise people anything that they desire, from happiness to freedom. During the protests Istiklal Street was covered with graffiti, from one end to the other, as high as people could reach, whereas other streets received much less physical destruction. Upon initial consideration this can be thought to show a rejection of commodity fetishism, however, when looking at the continuing festival nature of the protests the cycle of history becomes evident. Although the stores on the street are rejected it took only days for men to set up boxes of respiratory masks, swim goggles, and Guy Fawkes masks. These can be seen as replacement fetish objects, fetishizing the concepts of freedom and resistance while continuing the history of commodification.
At the end of Istiklal Street is Gezi Park, the park where these protests began. Protests began against the re-construction of a military barracks which had been torn down in the 1940s. The destruction of the park and continual updating of Istanbul can be seen as a type of deification of progress. Deconstruction is deemed to be necessary to continually modernize the city. The question of why it was important to reconstruct the military barracks brings up the concept of Benjamin’s wish image, an object that sits at the cross between an ur-past and the mythic stage, imbued with the dreams of the past which were never brought to light, while still being an object of the progressive narrative. At the same time the park, a green space, was in the process of being sanitized into something more modern and progressive. In this light the protests at Gezi park can be seen as a protest against the deification of progress and a desire to keep unsanitized, wild space.
One more concept of Benjamin’s that is applicable to the protests involves his concept of catastrophe and shock. Benjamin believes that in modernity we are unable to feel any deep sense of tragedy and to grieve. Instead all that we have are brief states of shock and a continued state of melancholy. I believe that these protests are a prime example of that. People all over the world are curious about the protests, and express shock at the police violence that has happened, but there is very little room, or time, given to actual grieving for the violence and injuries being sustained. For this reason it is very likely that these protests will be written into the myth of progression as necessary defeat (depending on the outcome), and not serve in the preparation for the day of public judgement.


Conclusion
The four perspectives that I have used in this paper to help begin discussion regarding the Gezi Park protests are at times complementary, and at times contradictory. One of the main conclusions which may be drawn from all four theorists is that the protests have created a possibility for action, and for creation. Whether that creation takes the form of constructing a counter-hegemony, creating new forms of power through discipline, examining a global scheme of power, or taking time to examine tragedy and feel grief, I believe that if anything lasting is to come of these protests, the possibility must be acted on soon. Currently in the protests there are various organizations and individuals leading discussions, and acting for these changes, and the coming weeks will show if any actual lasting changes are possible, and will be achieved by the people of Turkey.



References
Antonio Gramsci. “The art and science of politics,” and “Philosophy, common sense, language and folklore,” in David Forgas (ed.) An Antonio Gramsci Reader: Selected Writings 1916-1935. Schocken Books. (1988).
Giorgio Agamben translated by Daniel Heller-Rosen. Homo Sacer: Sovereign Power and Bare Life (Meridian: Crossing Aesthetics). Werner Hamacher and Devid E. Wellbery (eds). Stanford University Press. (1998).
Joseph Fernia. “The Concept of Hegemony,” in Gramsci’s Political Thought. Clarendon Press. (1981).
Michel Foucault. Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison. Vintage Books.(1990).
Michel Foucault. History of Sexuality. Vintage Books. (1990).
Michel Foucault. “Two Lectures” and “Truth and Power” in Power and Knowledge: Selected Interviews and Other Writingsw, 1972-1977. Pantheon Books.
Michael Lowy. Fire Alarm: Reading Walter Benjamin’s “On the Concept of History”. Verso. (2006).

Susan Buck-Morss. The Dialectics of Seeing: Walter Benjamin and the Arcades Project (Studies in Contemporary German Social Thought). MIT Press. (1991).

Tuesday, June 4, 2013

Self-Immolation as a viable protest form in Bulgaria, 2013

Below is a paper that I wrote for my resistance and social movements course this semester. I am new to this section of anthropology, and a little insecure about it. That being said, if this is interesting to anyone I would love feedback, both critical and constructive about the theories, opinions, and examples that I use in the paper. Overall, I would also love if anyone has something that they contest regarding the information I gathered on the protests, and their feelings about Bulgaria and social movements.





Self-Immolation as Resistance in Bulgaria
On May 25, 2013 I visited Varna, Bulgaria. By then the protests that had heated the winter in Bulgaria had subsided, but they had left behind their material traces, and a feeling of expectation remained in the air. In the evening I went to the city center. The day was bright and warm, and by the end of May, Varna is usually beginning to fill with tourists and weekenders heading to the beach. Instead of the expected crowd I was met with an unusual quiet. Very few people were in the park next to the Obshtina (city hall). In front of the Obshtina was a tent, a few posters, and a large pile of rocks. The posters were mostly in memory of Plamen Garonov, an activist who had set himself on fire during the February protests, and the pile of rocks were in reference to a famous poem by the revolutionary, Ivan Vazov, who worked to free the Bulgarians from Ottoman rule in the late 1800’s. In the poem the mayor of a village gives his daughter to the Ottoman Turks, rather than allow her to be with a poor Bulgarian, an act so evil that it brings drought and famine on the village. In retaliation the people of the village build a pile of stones near the village, and with each stone curse the mayor, until he ultimately has to flee the village. The final refrain of the poem speaks of how the pile of stones continues to grow even after the mayor flees and warns that the people will remember the wrongs that have been committed against them:



От тогава веч минуват
Месеци, години,
Много случки и преврати
Видеха очи ни.
А грамадата расте се
Неусетно, тайно
И камънте върху нея
Фърчат непрестайно.
Че сюрмашки сълзи клети
Лесно не изсъхват,
Злите спомени в душата
Скоро не заглъхват...
Since then have passed
Months, years,
Many incidents and revolutions
Our eyes have seen.
And the cairn grows
Imperceptibly, secretly
And the rocks upon it
Fly without end.
An unfortunate man’s wretched tears
Do not easily dry,
Evil memories in the soul
Are not soon forgotten.
(Vazov, 1936)
When I left Bulgaria in August of 2012 I had not seen a nation that was poised on the edge of revolution. Being a volunteer with a United States governmentally funded program, I was required to stay far away from the topics and issues of politics, but I suspected that political unrest strong enough to displace the prime minister within a year would have been felt in all aspects of life. Instead what I felt was a general buzz of dissatisfaction, not clearly directed towards any one thing, and definitely not violent or capable of inspiring people to movement. In February 2013 I was not shocked to hear about the widespread energy protests being held in Bulgaria. In my experience Bulgarians have a tendency to protest often, in a peaceful and organized fashion. What shocked me was the news that the protests had taken a turn towards self-inflicted violence. Over the course of two months seven people set themselves on fire in various cities around Bulgaria, only one of whom survived. Due to these extreme acts, coupled with some of the largest protests that Bulgaria has seen since 1996, the Prime Minister, Boyko Borisov, along with his cabinet and the mayor of Varna, resigned. What was more unsettling than the actual events unfolding in Bulgaria was the way in which the world accepted the news, as if self-immolation and the resignation of an entire government was common. Although international news sources mentioned the events in Bulgaria no one seemed particularly concerned or even overly interested in the outcomes of the political protests. In this paper I will examine the causes of the protests more in depth, including proposing reasons for the use of self-immolation in Bulgaria, and briefly discuss the future potential of the protests.


Background
On January 28, 2013 protests began in the Southwest city of Blagoevgrad over unusually high energy bills. Bills of some residents doubled and tripled from the previous year’s expenditure and many Bulgarians did not have the money to pay their bills, which included high taxes and fees in addition to a raise in the unit-price of electricity. Over the next month protests spread to the entirety of Bulgaria with thousands of protesters gathering in Varna, Plovdiv, and the capital of Sofia. Protest activity included marching, blocking public streets, throwing eggs and vegetables at public buildings, and burning electricity bills. Protesters made varying demands including the removal of the Bulgarian government, nationalization of energy companies, and withdrawal from the European Union. The most extreme acts of protest included seven Bulgarians lighting themselves on fire. They each set themselves on fire for varying reasons, mostly unclear to the public and media, and of the seven only Dimitor Dimitrov remains alive. Of the seven cases only that of Plamen Garonov took on popular political significance both nationally and globally as his death was compared to that of Jan Palach’s self-immolation in Czechoslovakia in 1969. Garonov had a history of political activism, specifically against the holding corporation TIM (Thought to be a Mafia-run company influencing the private and political spheres in Bulgaria) and the supposed corruption of the recently resigned mayor of Varna. The other protesters were less well known and various sources cite personal financial and relationship issues as the reasons for their self-immolations.
In order to better understand the current situation leading to the protests in Bulgaria it is necessary to briefly review the political history and process of privatization of energy production since the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991. By tracing the production and consumption of energy in Bulgaria, similar to how Timothy Mitchell discusses the move from coal to oil in “Carbon Democracy,” the hegemonic and repressive forces in contemporary Bulgaria can be made clear. Although an in-depth analysis of energy production is beyond the scope of this paper, a brief analysis is necessary in order to understand the spark that ignited the protests last winter. Bulgarian energy distribution was privatized in 2004, with three foreign companies, CEZ from the Czech Republic, E.ON from Germany, and and EVN of Austria becoming the main suppliers. The privatization was a necessary compliance for acceptance into the European Union, and competition was expected to keep energy rates low for consumers. However, each company distributes power to a different region in Bulgaria which frees them from a competitive structure. Recent price increases were caused by the state regulatory agency allowing for the implementation of a flat rate for electricity consumption as opposed to the previously used tiered system, which significantly raised the costs of electricity for customers who consume less, while lowering the overall rate for customers who consume more. (The Power Brokers) In addition taxes and fees have been implemented by the private companies in order to cover expenses associated with the modernization of the energy grid in Bulgaria and to cover the losses incurred due to energy theft. However, some of these expenses are suspected of including luxury corporate transportation for the foreign companies and other expenses that the people of Bulgaria do not feel responsible for. This is in addition to the cost of switching Bulgaria to more sources of renewable energy and closing two nuclear power plants as per European Union demands. Although Bulgaria has the lowest energy prices within the EU, Bulgarians also have the lowest overall income at around 400 euro per month, making the ratio of the bills to monthly income unbearable for many consumers. (G.K.)
Although the protests in Bulgaria started specifically against high electricity costs they quickly became more general, covering many grievances including corruption within the government and the poor standard of living that many Bulgarians face relative to other European Union member states. As protests continued organization was arranged in major cities such as Slivin and Sofia. On February 20, 2013 Prime Minister Boyko Borisov stepped down from office, along with his cabinet. A letter, drafted by the Civic Initiative Committee and claiming to be the voice of the Bulgarian people, was presented to the president on February 24, calling for constitutional changes.  On March 6 Varna mayor Kiril Yordanev left office. On May 12 special elections were held. There was a particularly low voter turnout, of 53%, and although Borisov once again received the most votes no party achieved a majority in parliament, and several parties fell below the 4% threshold requirement for representation in parliament, leaving about 25% of voters unrepresented. (Dimitrova) Currently protesting has stopped although several claims have been made that the protests will continue unless changes are made.



Self-Immolations as an Acceptable Global Discourse
Before examining the general resistance in Bulgaria I want to consider the extreme action of self-immolation that occurred during the period of these protests. The extreme violence makes these acts difficult to consider, and I find myself faced with a similar issue that Emma Goldman highlighted a hundred years ago in her essay, “The Psychology of Physical Violence.” If an academic writes about violence with understanding or intelligence then they are accused of “eulogizing” it, and if they express sympathy with the actor, then they can be considered an accomplice. (Goldman) Because the violence was self-inflicted on the personal bodies of the actors, a bit of sympathy is allowable, however, with the desire to maintain academic credibility the expression of emotion that such action can provoke is limited in this paper. It is exactly that limitation, in both academia and popular media, that I wish to explore, along with offering reasons as to how and why self-immolation is a meaningful and allowable action within the discourse of resistance.
I will begin by an action of my own: the naming of the seven victims of self-immolation. The choice of the title, “victim,” is something that I still debate. While not wanting to strip the men of their agency in the act of self-immolation, I want to highlight the tragedy of their loss against the backdrop of the larger social forces that popularize self-immolation as a valid choice of protest. I chose to use the term victim only because there does not exist a term which fully encompasses such an act of self-harm.


Victims of Self-immolation, and date:
February 18: Trayan Marechkov
February 20: Plamen Garonov
February 26: Ventsislav Vesilov
March 13: Dimitor Dimitrov
March 18: Simeon Simeonov
March 22: Todor Yovchev
May 1: Ventsislav Kozarev
This list is important only because it has not been publicly and prominently compiled. Newspapers, both local and international, tended to report each incident as, “a man from...” as opposed to using the names of the victims. Although this is a standard practice to protect the anonymity of the victims and their families, the question is raised of whether anonymity is necessary when the action was an obvious choice to draw attention to a situation, and what purpose the de-identification of these men serves.
Sherry Ortner’s article, “Resistance and the Problem of Ethnographic Refusal,” is useful in understanding the problems and purposes of de-identification. Although Ortner’s article was a critique on ethnographic style, some of her concepts can be applied to popular media. Ortner argued for an ethnographic stance founded on Geertz’ concept of thickness, including ideas of exhaustiveness, holism, and contextualization. (174) She went further to state that three practices which limit thickness when dealing with resistance studies are sanitizing politics, thinning culture, and dissolving subjects. Dissolving subjects can be done in two extremes, either by dissolving individuals into a group that has a unitary identity and consciousness, or by giving an individual so much complexity that their political will is stripped of them. (Ortner, 174) The lack of identification of these men manages to accomplish both of these dissolutions at once. On the one hand, by simply referring to the victims as, “a man from Bulgaria who lit himself on fire,” the individuals are reduced to a single action, which can be claimed by various political groups in support of the general protests. The men are assumed to have the same political goals and identity of a larger, homogenous group of protesters, which, in reality, does not exist. On the other hand, some articles vaguely refer to various, non-political hardships in the lives of the victims, creating a complexity of will that waters-down the action. In either case, the identity of the man, along with his will, is not sought by popular media. This de-identification serves to perpetuate the romance associated with resistance as opposed to giving actual agency to the victims, which would be useful in understanding their motives for self-immolating, as well as adding to the understanding of the general protests in Bulgaria.
There was one victim whose name was well-known and used often. That was Plamen Garanov. Garanov was the second to light himself on fire, in the streets of Varna. He was a well-known photographer, sports enthusiast, and political activist, 36 years old. Garanov’s popularity and activism before the protests, along with his young age, and that his name means, “flame,” made him a logical choice for the poster-child of the self-immolations. His action was compared to that of the student, Jan Palach, who lit himself on fire to protest the Soviets in Czechoslovakia in January, 1969. This comparison shows a certain level of acceptance, and precedence, of self-immolation during Eastern European winters.
The precedence of self-immolation, which is becoming more globally public, if not more prevalent, is an important aspect to understanding why self-immolation is a choice for protest. According to Tilly, the prevailing repertoire of collective action constrains the path of social movements, and influences its outcome. (Tilly, 25) Although the creative actions of a human are not limited to repetitions of past actions, they are influenced by what has been done before, especially if it was successful. A certain dialogue of action becomes acceptable in the political arena through years of precedence. Actions become symbols that can be placed into categories of valid resistance, or unacceptable terrorism. Self-immolation, through the precedence of Jan Palach, and many other immolations since the 1960’s has become an action that is proven to gain international attention, and is considered a valid form of protest.
Valid forms of protest are increasingly limited by the global hegemony that monopolizes force as a propriety of the state. According to Warner, violence is an illegitimate force, and if a state is strong, then more forms of force and injury are regarded as violent unless they are delegated to officials. In this way the state is able to monopolize force and delegitimize violence in civil life. (Warner, 45) Because protesters are not public officials their actions are considered civil action, despite their political intent, which greatly limits the amount and types of force that they can use. The use of force is not only limited by the local government and state, but internationally through a popular discourse against violence and for human rights. On a global scale resistance, in order to gain legitimacy, must adhere to certain rules of engagement. The global War on Terror over the past decade has helped to solidify those rules of engagement. Whereas historically people could have potentially gained awareness for their cause through acts of destruction of public property, and violent revolutions, those actions now fall under the umbrella of terrorism. In the act of naming a resistive action as terrorism it is stripped of reason and considered illegitimate.  In order to call attention to their cause people begin to destroy their own property but ultimately any material destruction can be looked on as an overall public loss, delegitimizing the action. This leaves a single material form of resistance as globally acceptable, which is the destruction of self. One would think that at this point a person would not choose force, or would cease to resist, but Goldman posits the eruption of violence as inevitable, like a thunderstorm, when a society is continually oppressed. (Goldman) Self-immolation not only serves to affirm the autonomy of the self within the public sphere, but also to draw sympathy towards a cause within the acceptable rules of engagement.


Bulgaria as a Space of Resistance
Bulgaria has a strong history of resistance. Beginning with the Byzantine rule in the eleventh century, a peasant uprising in the thirteenth century, and five-hundred years of Ottoman rule until the nineteenth century, Bulgaria has constantly been a space where people have had to find creative ways to live their lives, and maintain their culture, beneath oppression. Throughout the years both overt and covert resistance have had their place, but Bulgaria has not had a large amount of social movements. The question is whether this winter’s protests will actually achieve a change in the basic culture and politics of Bulgaria, or simply fade as another historical moment of overt resistance.
In order to understand the possibility of Bulgarian resistance to invoke change in Bulgaria it is necessary to first consider resistance generally. I will take ideas concerning overt and covert resistance from James Scott, and blend them with concepts of social movements from Charles Tilly in order to form a more complete picture of what resistance is. Covert resistance includes acts of everyday resistance and infrapolitics, whereas overt resistance are acts of force that blatantly stand out against oppression. (Scott). Some would argue that overt and covert resistance is a continuum of expression, unable to coexist, but Matthew Gutmann argues against the danger of dualism, claiming that covert and overt resistance work together, alternate, and transform into each other. (77)  He proposes that overt resistance provides more room to maneuver for those who are similarly inclined but more hesitant to act. (Gutmann, 80) In this model the protests in Bulgaria are a form of overt resistance, which followed a stage of covert resistance wherein individual Bulgarians complained about the corruption and practiced avoidance in politics, but did not act out against their leadership. However, where does the concept of social movements fit into this model? I believe that social movements involve both covert and overt resistance, but go beyond resistance to include a focus on change. Tilly focuses on the sustainability of social movements, stating that social movements are sustained interactions between changing sets of challengers and authorities. (Tilly, 25) Arturo Escobar rounds out this definition by connecting social movements to cultural struggles and positing them as a struggle over the control of historicity. (397, 400) He claims that social movements go beyond a struggle of economic survival and are the defense, creation, and reconstruction of cultural meanings. (Escobar, 412) In other words social movements should be sustained through a period of different sets of actors and focus on construction rather than survival or deconstruction. Social movements utilize both covert and overt resistance, but while resistance focuses on short-term changes within the oppressive force, social movements focus on long-term changes to the culture that encompasses both the oppressed and oppressor. In this light Bulgarians have a tendency to focus more on resistance and less on social movement.
In Bulgaria resistance has a higher traditional value than change. Bulgarians take a certain pride in their history of repression. When I speak with Bulgarians most of them will advance a similar notion that it is very important that Bulgaria was repressed by the Ottoman Empire, and yet was able to maintain its language, culture, and ethnic identity as Bulgarian. This is a view expressed by younger Bulgarians as well as older generations, with varying degrees of nationalistic loyalty. Similarly to the importance of endurance through repression, most Bulgarians will identify the resistors during the period of Ottoman rule, the poets Ivan Vasov and Hristo Botev, as well as the revolutionary Vasil Levski, to be the key representation of heroism in Bulgaria. It is important to note that these men were famous for their resistance in the form of creating engagement among Bulgarians through writing, speaking, and fighting physically for freedom, not for restructuring Bulgaria after they won their freedom. It is because of this that I claim Bulgarians have a fascination with resistance rather than actual change, wherein resistance is fetishized as freedom. Bulgarians desire to protest, but do not to act to make changes in their situation. Whether this is because the path to change is without precedent, or because Bulgarians do not actually desire change is unclear.  
The pile of rocks that is left in front of the town hall in Varna is a telling material reference to these national heroes, and the historicity of Bulgarian resistance. Ivan Vazov’s famous poem, Gramada, presents an option for protest which is particularly effective because it is entwined in cultural history, making it nearly impossible for city officials to remove without causing public backlash and, in a way, disassociating themselves with a cultural hero. This use of a historic cultural symbol also shows that Bulgarians maintain a certain loyalty with their cultural roots, it is only the actions of the current government which they wish to contest. Erica Weiss makes a claim that we should not look for resistance only on the fringes of hegemonic dominance, but within the heart of the hegemony as people are capable of internalizing certain aspects of hegemony while rejecting others. (Weiss, 586) I argue that Bulgarian’s strong sense of loyalty to the Bulgarian cultural identity prevents them from creating a social movement, while allowing them to resist against a government which they do not view as authentic to the hegemonic ideals.
Another reason that a social movement cannot be achieved through Bulgarian resistance is the complexity of the resistors. The reasons why individuals join together to protest against a dominating force are usually complex and varied. Some join for moral reasons and others are inspired by financial need. Still others join simply to be part of a movement or to make themselves politically relevant within their power structure. In the case of the Bulgarian protests, a common interest of high-electricity bills started the action, but it quickly grew in complexity and by the time that it was a nationwide protest the reasons for protesting, as well as the desired outcomes of the protest were varied. Because the protests started as general protests, as opposed to an organized event, there was a power vacuum created by many voices expressing discontent without concrete demands being made. At that point many leaders could have stepped in to act as the voice for the protests. Committees were formed in several of the main cities and national assemblies were held regarding the protests. However, there was concern among those in attendance at these meetings that there were political representatives in attendance, working to sway public opinion. On February 24 a letter was presented to President Rosen Plevneliev from the Civic Initiative Committee making various demands regarding politics, energy, heating, and water. (Sofia Globe)
When studying resistance it is dangerous to take such demands as the voice of the people that they claim to be. To do so is to fall into Ortner’s trap of sanitizing politics by ignoring the internal politics of a group of resistors and constructing a romantic depiction of only two conflicting forces, the oppressors and the oppressed. (Ortner, 177)  The internal politics of the oppressed group in Bulgaria involves issues of racism, class, and urban versus rural. Although all of these political groups may be able to unite momentarily in an act of resistance against, “corruption,” the complexity of the internal politics prevents the group from agreeing on the construction of cultural reform, making the emergence of a social movement unlikely.  
The last reason that Bulgarians are more likely to show a single show of resistance rather than concentrate on construction is due to a limiting global discourse similar to the one discussed above. Mainly this discourse takes the form of the occupy movement, which began with, “Occupy Wall Street,” and has grown to, “Occupy Everywhere.” The occupy movement, which I argue is not actually a movement so much as a brand of resistance, has become globally fashionable. Within the movement protestors are called upon to resist oppression and to call attention to corruption and unfairness. What the movement lacks is any form of cultural construction. It is a movement of deconstruction. As this has become the global trend Bulgarians were able to use the momentum of the occupy movement, but once their government resigned there was no plan in place to make changes, resulting in the eventual re-election of GERB as the main party. Although a liminal space was created between the resignation of the Prime Minister and the special elections, it was not acted upon. The relatively low voter-turnout shows a lack of trust in the political system and yet alternatives are not being suggested. I believe that this is partially because of the popular fascination with resistance. Michael Brown highlights a theoretical hegemony within academia dominating research and blurring the complexity of situations, (729) and I argue that the occupy movement has brought that same hegemony into a public space.



Conclusion
This paper has explored the protests last winter in Bulgaria as a form of resistance against what is viewed by many people as a corrupt government. It was my desire to highlight the desperation behind the general protests, and more specifically, the seven acts of self-immolation that occurred during this time of protest, in order to give some reason as to why self-immolation has become not only a valid form of resistance, but one of the only forms of valid physical resistance left in Bulgaria. I then discussed the historical precedence for resistance in Bulgaria and discussed the barriers to creating cultural and political change within the country as an aspect of hegemonic loyalty and global limitations on the discourse of construction. Ultimately it is my desire to call attention to the lack of emphasis on constructive options for public masses, and similar to Michael Brown’s call for academics to look beyond domination and power in their studies (734) I call for a focus on expanding the global vocabulary of resistance to include options of cultural and political construction rather than leaving self-immolation as the best option for political expression.


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