'First the Bread Went Bad.'
This was the first book by man of letters Oktay Akbal, a collection of stories about lives before and after World War II. Bread going bad is a tragedy; yet “going bad” is, in itself, a strange condition, one that is hard to make sense of and harder still to escape.
Yılmaz Özdil, the 61-year-old journalist, was most likely forced to leave his position at SZC TV(Sözcü TV). Yet it was not hard to see that, within the very media order he had himself supported, whether silently or with applause, the rug had long since been pulled out from under him. He probably still believed he was wielding a sword — or a pen — in a media order whose destruction he had merely watched from the sidelines.
WHAT HAS BEFALLEN JOURNALISTS
Journalism in Turkey has a history stretching back nearly 200 years. The first newspaper, Takvim-i Vekayi, was published in 1831, during the Ottoman era. Then came the Republican period — years never short of lively polemics, intellectual debates and political polarization.
The post-Atatürk transition saw a shift to multi-party life, elections, and the CHP’s loss of power to the Democrat Party. Yet despite all the promises, the media and criticism were often seen as the nearest and most present danger. What followed were military interventions, military memorandums, and then renewed periods of civilian politics.
Despite this history of journalism, governments never wished to take their share of criticism. Especially after the AKP came to power alone in the early 2000s, there was initially an impression of a relatively balanced relationship. But as the government consolidated its power, the prosecution and imprisonment of journalists increased. Many journalists who could well have deserved prestigious international awards were instead thrown into prison.
YILMAZ ÖZDİL — THE CHP QUESTION
Before the AKP era, Özdil was a leading figure in the mainstream media. Later, particularly through Sözcü daily, he pursued a line of stern opposition to the government. The main axis of that opposition was Kemalism.
Yet when compared with Atatürk’s understanding of the republic — which he described as being “above all, the protector of the destitute,” — it is difficult to find that same inclusiveness in Özdil’s writing or on-screen performances. Disadvantaged groups, particularly Kurds, were not part of his discourse.
On the other hand, the view that was reportedly expressed from within the CHP — one that effectively says, “You cannot speak on our channel and oppose us” — is in itself deeply problematic. Of course, these are not direct quotations, but even the existence of such a mindset is troubling enough.
And to regard getting rid of Yılmaz Özdil as equivalent to freeing oneself from a quarter-century-old AKP government points to an even deeper problem.
