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POLICE, PROVOCATION, POLITICS A volume in the series Police/Worlds: Studies in Security, Crime, and Governance Edited by Kevin Karpiak, Sameena Mulla, William Garriott, and Ilana Feldman A list of titles in this series is available at cornellpress . cornell . edu POLICE, PROVOCATION, POLITICS Counterinsurgency in Istanbul Deniz Yonucu CORNELL UNIVERSITY PRESS ITHACA AND LONDON Copyright © 2022 by Cornell University All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations in a review, this book, or parts thereof, must not be reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the publisher. For information, address Cornell University Press, Sage House, 512 East State Street, Ithaca, New York 14850. Visit our website at cornellpress . cornell . edu. First published 2022 by Cornell University Press Library of Congress Cataloging- in- Publication Data Names: Yonucu, Deniz, 1979- author. Title: Police, provocation, politics : counterinsurgency in Istanbul / Deniz Yonucu. Description: Ithaca [New York] : Cornell University Press, 2022. | Series: Police/worlds : studies in security, crime, and governance | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2021041154 (print) | LCCN 2021041155 (ebook) | ISBN 9781501762154 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781501762161 (paperback) | ISBN 9781501762178 (pdf) | ISBN 9781501762185 (epub) Subjects: LCSH: Law enforcement—Political aspects—Turkey—Istanbul. | Counterinsurgency—Turkey—Istanbul. | Internal security—Political aspects—Turkey—Istanbul. | Political violence—Turkey—Istanbul. | Government, Resistance to—Turkey—Istanbul. | Turkey—Politics and government—1980– Classification: LCC HV8241.93.I88 Y66 2022 (print) | LCC HV8241.93.I88 (ebook) | DDC 363.2/3095694—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021041154 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021041155 Cover photograph by Sinan Targay. Taken during the Suruç massacre protests in Istanbul, July 20, 2015. For the spirits of solidarity and re sis tance To Rauf Agir berda komê, bera xwe da zomê. They set the community on fire and then went up to the highlands. — Kurdish proverb Contents Preface ix Acknowl edgments xiii List of Abbreviations xvii Introduction: Population, Provocative Counteror ga ni za tion, and the War on Politics 1 1. The Possibility of Politics: People’s Committees, Sanctuary Spaces, and Dissensus 28 2. “Gazas of Istanbul”: Threatening Alliances and Militarized Spatial Control 53 3. Provocative Counteror ga ni za tion: Violent Interpellation, Low- Intensity Conflict, Ethnosectarian Enclaves 72 4. Good Vigilantism, Bad Vigilantism: Crime, Community Justice, Mimetic Policing, and the Antiterror Laws 96 5. Inspirational Hauntings: Undercover Police and the Spirits of Solidarity and Re sis tance 116 6. Gezi Uprisings: The Long Summer of Solidarity and Re sis tance, and the Great Divide 138 Epilogue: Policing as the Generation of (Dis)Order 158 Notes 163 References 177 Index 191 Preface Growing up in a working- class neighborhood of Istanbul in the 1980s, I often heard stories about the socialist movement of the 1970s; about the strikes or ga- nized in the factories near us; and, just before the coup of 1980, about the clashes on our streets between revolutionaries and Turkish nationalists. These stories were told quietly and behind closed doors as tales from a very distant past, as if all the neighborhood workers who had or ga nized mass strikes and factory oc- cupations, taken part in demonstrations, and filled up the ranks of the revolutionary organ izations had nothing to do with our current neighbors. Those must have been diff er ent p eople living in the neighborhood in the 1970s, I thought; they must all have moved away. As a child I could feel the fear in the air when- ever adults would speak of those years. Later, when I became a teenager, I heard frequent minilectures from adults in the neighborhood about the dangers of politics. For them, even talk of politics could put one in danger— best stay clear of it altogether. When in 1994 I began attending high school in another neighborhood, I was surprised to discover that t here w ere p eople in Turkey who believed that the revolutionary strug gle was still alive, and they considered themselves to be part of the strug gle. Th ese were my Alevi schoolmates and their university student sisters and b rothers, from predominately Alevi- populated working- class neighborhoods. My friends described for me the barricades, the checkpoints, the house raids, and the armored military vehicles patrolling their neighborhoods. Listen- ing to their stories, I understood that the urban experience in these areas was radically diff er ent from the one I had witnessed in my own predominantly Sunni Turkish- populated working- class neighborhood. In the winter of 1995, a high school Alevi friend took me to her neighborhood. Like my own neighborhood, the streets were muddy, and the houses were either makeshift cement block shanties (gecekondu) or incomplete apartment buildings. The main difference was that in her neighborhood, e very single wall was spray- painted with slogans: “Long live the united strug gle of the Turkish and Kurdish p eoples,” “Long live the revolution and socialism,” “The murder- ous state will pay the price,” “The people’s justice will call [the government] to account.” My friend took me to a café where she hung out regularly with her friends. While drinking tea together that day, I listened to high school students debating the pos si ble paths to revolution. In my subsequent visits to my friend’s ix x PREFACE neighborhood, I often found myself listening to and participating in heated con- versations on the difference between demo cratic revolution and socialist revolution, the disputes between Rosa Luxemburg and Vladimir Ilyich Lenin, the possibility of the establishment of a free and socialist Kurdistan, and philosoph- ical debates on Marxism, historical materialism, and dialectics. We were listening to popu lar Turkish and Kurdish revolutionary m usic bands of the time, such as Grup Yorum, Grup Kızılırmak, Grup Özgürlük Türküsü, or Koma Dengê Azadî, whose lyr ics promised that the victory of the working classes and the Kurdish liberation was at hand. At the time, my Sunni Turk working- class peers were listening to apo liti cal American music from MTV— Vanilla Ice, Meat Loaf, New Kids on the Block—or to Turkish pop and sad Turkish arabesk songs that depicted the misery of life in working- class neighborhoods. Some w ere devel- oping an interest in religion, others in drugs. Although my high school friends and I w ere optimistic about the f uture in those years, the 1990s, like the pre sent, were dark times in Turkey. Kidnappings of revolutionary leftist and pro- Kurdish activists, disappearances, torture, and deaths in custody were common both in Northern Kurdistan (also known as southeast Turkey) and Istanbul.1 When we were still in high school, some of my friends were imprisoned, others were forced to leave the country, and many experienced firsthand vari ous forms of police vio lence. Yet, such intimidating methods were not effective in suppressing the dissent. I remember how shocked and fearful I was in June 1995 when I learned that a number of my friends from high school had joined thousands of others at the funeral of Sibel Yalçın, an eighteen- year- old revolutionary militant killed by the police after taking part in an armed action that resulted in the killing of a policeman. I also cannot forget my shock that year when I saw hundreds of young p eople dancing and chanting Rojbaş, gerîlla rojbaş (Good days, guerrilla good days) in Kurmanji Kurdish, during a concert I attended with my high school friends at Abdi Ipekçi Sport Hall, a large Istanbul stadium near my own neighborhood. While the people in my neighborhood w ere afraid to discuss the old revolutionary days of the 1970s in public, thousands at that stadium that night were listening to dissident music bands and chanting their support for Kurdish guerrillas fighting against the Turk- ish state. The enormous gulf between the attitudes of the people in my neighborhood who, once upon a time had played an active role in the leftist working- class movement, and the Kurdish and Alevi working classes who filled that concert hall with exuberant revolutionary fervor was beyond my comprehension. After my visits to my Alevi high school friend’s neighborhood in the early to mid-1990s, the next time I went to another such neighborhood was in March 1998, when I went to the Gazi neighborhood to participate in an anniversary demon- stration or ga nized to protest the killings of twenty- two people by state security