This is the last article penned by Hrant Dink. It appeared in the January 10, 2007 edition of AGOS, nine days before Hrant was murdered outside the AGOS office in Istanbul.

In the beginning, I wasn’t apprehensive about the inquest initiated by the Şişli public prosecutor against me on the grounds that I had “insulted Turkishness.”

It wasn’t the first time, as I had been through a similar investigation in Urfa. For three years I was tried for the crime of “insulting Turkishness” because I had stated at a conference held in Urfa in 2002 that I was not a Turk, but rather that I was an Armenian Turkish citizen. However, I didn’t even know how the trial was proceeding. I wasn’t interested; some lawyer friends of mine from Urfa were representing me at the hearings.

So I was fairly unconcerned when I gave my deposition to the public prosecutor of Şişli. I ultimately believed in what I had written and in my intentions. The prosecutor, by not only looking at that one sentence which meant nothing out of context but rather by considering the entire text, would easily realize that I had no intention of “insulting Turkishness” whatsoever. Soon enough this comedy would be over.

I felt certain that at the conclusion of the inquiry, a case would not be brought against me.

I was sure of myself

But to my shock and surprise, the trial began. Nonetheless, my optimism wasn’t shaken.

I was so sure of myself that, during a live telephone call broadcast on a television program, I told Kerençsiz, the lawyer pressing charges against me, that he shouldn’t be overly hopeful about the results and that I wouldn’t be charged with anything. I even added that if I were sentenced, I would leave the country. I was confident that no traces of an intention or desire to “insult Turkishness” could be found in my article, and anyone who read all of my articles would clearly understand this.

Indeed a three-person panel of experts comprised of Istanbul University professors submitted a report to the court stating that this was truly the case. I had no reason for concern; the trial, in this stage or in another, would be steered towards the right path.

Staying patient

But it wasn’t.

Despite the experts’ report, the prosecutor wanted to press charges, and the judge decided on a sentence of imprisonment for six months. On hearing the sentence, the hopes I had nourished during the course of the trial turned into a bitter weight. I was bewildered; my hurt and rebellion were boundless. For days, for months, I held out by telling myself, “Look, let the verdict be handed down, you’ll see that it’s an acquittal, and then you will regret all you have spoken and written about.”

In every hearing it was argued that I had said, “The blood of the Turks is poisonous,” which was then published in newspapers, editorial columns and television programs. With each pronouncement I was becoming a little more well-known as an “enemy of the Turks.” In the hallways of the courthouse, fascists rained racist curses on me. They insulted me with placards and banners, and day by day the flood of threatening telephone calls, e-mails and letters was on the rise.

Telling myself to keep patient, I held out, waiting for acquittal. With the announcement of acquittal, the truth would come out one way or another, and those people would be ashamed of what they had done.

My only weapon is my sincerity

But a guilty verdict was passed, and all of my hopes were dashed.

I was in the most dismal state imaginable. The judge made a ruling in the name of the “Turkish people” and it was legally registered that I had “insulted Turkishness.” I could have withstood everything, but not this.

In my opinion, denigration of a person based on any kind of ethnic or religious difference is racism and as such, unpardonable. With this in mind, I told those friends in the press and media who were waiting at my door to see whether or not I would hold to my word that I would “leave the country” if convicted: “I am going to consult my lawyer. I am going to apply to the court of appeals and, if necessary, I will go to the European Court of Human Rights. After all of this, if not acquitted, I will leave my country; someone charged with such a crime, in my opinion, does not have the right to live among citizens he has insulted.”

As I said these words, I was, as always, emotional. My only weapon was my sincerity.

Black Humor

But the hidden powers that had worked to isolate me in the eyes of the Turkish public and make me a target found a foothold in my statement to take me to court again, this time accusing me of trying to influence the juridical process. But it didn’t stop there; even though my pronouncement had been published by all of the press agencies and media corporations, Agos was singled out. The directors at Agos and I were put on trial, this time for attempting to obstruct justice.

This had to be some kind of sick joke. I was a defendant; who else could possibly have the right to try to pull the process of justice towards their own defense? The comic irony here was that the defendant trying to influence his case was then being tried again.

In the name of the Turkish state

I have to admit that my faith in the judicial system and the concept of law was quite battered. How couldn’t it be? Hadn’t these attorneys, these judges, studied at universities and graduated from schools of law? Isn’t it necessary for them to be able to comprehend what they study?

It is clear, however, that this country’s judicial system is not as independent as state officers and politicians boast.

The judiciary doesn’t defend the rights of the citizenry, it defends the state.

The judiciary isn’t on the side of the people, it is in the pocket of the state.

I was utterly sure of these facts; no matter how the ruling was presented as clearly being “in the name of the people,” it was in truth “in the name of the state.” In this way, although my lawyers were going to apply to the court of appeals, what guarantee was there that the powers that be would not play a role there as well in determining my fate?

In any case, were the judgments handed down by the court of appeals just? Wasn’t this the same court that signed off on unfair laws which confiscated property from the Minority foundations?

In spite of the Attorney General’s efforts

We applied to the court of appeals, but what came of it?

The Attorney General, just as the panel of experts reported in the first trial, stated that there was no incriminating evidence and asked for my acquittal, but the High Court once again found me guilty. The Attorney General, just as sure as I about the contents of my writing, objected to the ruling and transferred the case to the General Assembly.

Nevertheless, that immense power which was taking the lead in deciding my destiny and which, with methods I will never comprehend, made its presence felt in all of the stages of my trial, was once again pulling the strings. In the end, with a majority vote, it was announced that once again I had been found guilty of “insulting Turkishness.”

Like a dove

It is quite clear that those who wished to alienate, weaken and render me defenseless had succeeded. By means of mud-slinging and misleading information served up to the public, they have managed to create an image of Hrant Dink as one who “insults Turkishness,” and in the process their numbers have increased significantly. My computer’s memory drives are full of angry and threatening messages sent by fellow citizens supporting this group’s cause.

(I should note here that one of these letters, posted from Bursa, gravely concerned me and seemed to be an imminent threat; even though I took the letter to the Şişli District Attorney, to date absolutely no action has been taken).

How real are these threats, are they just phantoms? Of course it is not possible for me to know. The most fundamental threat for me, and the most unbearable, is the psychological torture that I have experienced as a result of my own thoughts. The question, “What do these people think of me?” gnaws at me. It is unfortunate that I am so much more well-known than I was in the past, and I am acutely sensitive to the glances thrown my way which say, “Oh look, isn’t he that Armenian?” And, as a reflex, the self-torture begins.

One aspect of that torture is curiosity; another, edginess.

Another aspect is caution; and another, fear.

I am just like a dove. Like a dove’s, my gaze flits right, left, forward, back. My head is just as fidgety, and quick to turn.

This is the price you pay

What was the Foreign Minister Abdullah Gül saying? What about the Minister of Justice Cemil Çiçek? “Now look, article 301 doesn’t contain anything worth blowing out of proportion. Has anyone been sent to prison on account of it?” As if paying the price only meant going to prison.

This is the price for you, this is the price you pay.

Ministers, do you know what it means to sentence someone to live a dove’s life of constant fear? Do you? Don’t you ever watch doves?

'Life or death'

The things I have lived through have not been easy, neither for me nor my family.

There were moments when I very seriously considered leaving the country, especially when people close to me started receiving threats. At that point I was at my wit’s end. I thought, this must be what they call a “life or death situation.” I could have held out on my own, but I had no right to put the lives of others in danger. I could have been my own hero, but in the name of valor I couldn’t assume the right to put those dear to me, or anyone for that matter, in peril.
It was in hopeless times like these that I gathered my family and children together, and found shelter with them. They believed in me. Wherever I was, they would be there with me. If I said, “Let’s go,” they would come. If I said, “Let’s stay,” they would stay.

To stay and to resist

Ok but, if we left, where would we go?

To Armenia? Fine, but for someone like me who could not stand injustice, how would I put up with the injustices there? Wouldn’t I find myself in even more trouble?

As for Europe, well, it just wasn’t my cup of tea.

I’m the kind of person who after just a couple of days in some Western land finds himself desperately longing to have it all over with and go back home—“Ok, that’s enough, let’s go home.” Now what would a person like that, like me, do in the West? The comfort would drive me crazy. To escape from the “fiery depths of hell” to a “pre-fabricated heaven” would go against everything I am.

We are the kind of people who aspire to turn the hell we inhabit into a heaven.

Our respect for those who struggle for democracy in Turkey, for those who support us, and for the thousands of friends we know and those we don’t know personally demanded that we stay and live in Turkey. Not only that, but it was our own personal desire to stay and live in Turkey.

We would stay, and we would resist.

But what if one day we had to leave? Just like in 1915, we would go; just like our ancestors, not knowing where we were going, on the same roads they travelled, enduring pain, suffering anguish. With reprehension, we would leave our homeland. And we would go where our feet took us, not where our hearts led us - wherever that would be.

Afraid and free

I hope that we will never have to make such a departure. We have more than enough hope, and more than enough reasons, to avoid such a situation.
I am applying to the European Court of Human Rights. The trial will last at least a few years. The knowledge that, at the very least, I will be able to live in Turkey until the end of the trial comforts me. When a verdict is handed down in my favor, I will be even more pleased, and it will also mean that I will never have to leave my country.

Very likely 2007 will be an even more difficult year for me.

The accusations will continue, and new ones will come forth. Who knows how many injustices I will have to endure. But as these things happen, I will find reassurance in the fact that, while I may view my current state of mind, my current state of soul, as being marked by the disquiet characteristic of doves, I know that in this country, nobody ever hurts doves.

Doves live their lives in the hearts of cities, amid the crowds and human bustle.

Yes they live a little uneasily, a little apprehensively—but they live freely too.Հրանդ Տինք/Hrant Dink (September 15, 1954 – January 19, 2007)