Tolga Bozoglu/European Pressphoto Agency
Adem Altan/Agence France-Presse — Getty Images
Agence France-Presse — Getty Images
Ahmet Sik/European Pressphoto Agency
Burhan Ozbilici/Associated Press
Marco Longari/Agence France-Presse — Getty Images
Dado Ruvic/Reuters
Hours after the police cleared an encampment in Gezi Park, protesters continued to march in the Taksim Square area.
Turkish Leader Says He Had a ‘Duty’ to Clear Istanbul Park
By SEBNEM ARSU, TIM ARANGO and MICHAEL SCHWIRTZ
While government forces moved swiftly on Sunday to quash the vestiges of
the protest movement in Istanbul, opposition leaders vowed to press on,
with two trade unions planning a one-day strike Monday to protest the
crackdown.
總理「不再容忍」 土耳其強力驅散反政府示威
 |
| （法新社） |
廣場的力量：對公共空間的爭取關乎自由
2013年06月09日
Kitra Cahana for The New York Times
土耳其抗議者在塔克西姆廣場北端的蓋齊公園露營。
伊斯坦布爾——在尋常的一天里，塔克西姆廣場
(Taksim
Square)會顯得擾攘噪雜，到處都是公交車和人群，市場、街道、店鋪和的士的鳴笛聲亂作一團。土耳其總理雷傑普·塔伊普·埃爾多安(Recep
Tayyip Erdogan)決心出手治理，把它變成步行區，修建新的購物中心和清真寺，還計劃在地下建設隧道，引走車流。
然而此舉引發了民眾的怒火，喧鬧、氣憤的抗議者擠滿了廣
場，表現得很堅決。正午時刻，宣禮員做禮拜的召喚同工會工人的口號和反資本主義穆斯林(Anti-Capitalist
Muslims)組織的成員從擴音器里發出的演講交織在一起。入夜，鼓手和歌手讓人群狂熱不已，直到黎明。
-
Kitra Cahana for The New York Times埃及解放廣場和紐約祖科提公園事件後，土耳其塔克西姆再次提醒人們注意公共空間的力量。 -
Kitra Cahana for The New York Times每個工作日結束，數以千計的民眾來到在塔克西姆廣場和蓋齊公園。
繼埃及的解放廣場(Tahrir
Square)和紐約的祖科提公園(Zuccotti
Park)之後，塔克西姆再次提醒人們注意公共空間的力量。這個廣場已經變成了相互衝突的世界觀的舞台：一方面，在來自強硬領導人的自上而下的、保守派的
新奧斯曼式未來展望中，這個國家是一個地區性大國，另一方面則是自下而上的，多元主義的、混亂的、而且主要來自年輕人的未來展望，在其中這個國家是一個現
代的民主國家，其伊斯蘭色彩更淡一些。
「塔克西姆是人人都能自由表達幸福和悲傷，政治觀點和社會觀點的地方，」41歲的埃辛(Esin)說。戴着頭巾的她和親戚坐在一條長椅上，看着廣場上的抗議活動。她不願說出自己的姓，因為害怕惹惱思想保守的鄰居。「政府想不問人民的意見就清理這個地方。」
因此，公共空間，哪怕是像塔克西姆這樣一個混亂且不起眼的
地方，再次從根本上證明，自己比能創造出虛擬社區的社交媒體更強大。畢竟革命發生在實體環境里。在塔克西姆，不相識的人走到了一起，他們關注相同的問題，
發出了一致的聲音。聚集在一起的人們的力量至少暫時創造了一個民主時刻，並給領導層製造了一次嚴重的政治危機。
「我們已經找到了自我，」這是土耳其41歲的建築師厄梅爾·卡尼帕克(Omer Kanipak)在說到蓋齊公園(Gezi Park)的不同集會時對我說的。蓋齊公園在塔克西姆的北面。在埃爾多安命令推土機為購物中心開路後，人群湧向了那裡的帳篷營地和臨時建築物。
這裡有一個問題。現任總理已經成了自穆斯塔法·凱末爾·阿
塔圖爾克(Mustafa Kemal
Ataturk)建立土耳其共和國以來最強大的領導人，不過他依然不是一個好的設計師或城市規劃者。和其他長期執政的統治者一樣，他成了總設計師，不論是
修改大型清真寺的設計細節、規劃大橋和運河，還是以城市復興和經濟發展的名義推出高牆環繞的社區。這麼做的目的是，建設一個有秩序的公共領域。充滿活力的
塔克西姆是現代伊斯坦布爾的心臟，它一直困擾着埃爾多安，甚或已經成為了他的致命弱點。
這一點不足為奇。構成塔克西姆的城市元素——流動性、無規
律性、開放性，及不可預知性——映射出了該廣場作為一個現代多元文化國度的核心區域的歷史身份。19世紀，貧窮的歐洲移民來到這裡定居。一直到上世界80
年代，這裡還是一個廉價小酒館雲集的地方，是同性戀者的天堂，有着大量夜總會、播放外國片的影院和路人難以一窺究竟的法式娛樂場所。1939年，塔克西姆
的一處亞美尼亞墓地的墓碑被用來修建蓋齊公園的台階，這是共和時期的一個項目，由法國設計師亨利·普羅斯特(Henri
Prost)設計。和那些參差零亂的高層酒店、交通環島和廣場上現已關張大吉的歌劇院一樣，它以阿塔圖爾克的名字命名。它象徵著現代化。
總理希望這裡成為一個步行廣場，車輛在廣場下面穿行，他的
目的是要抹平理順這裡，將之重建為一座新奧斯曼主題公園。埃爾多安最近放棄了一項計劃，就是在蓋齊公園即將修建的仿古奧斯曼營房處蓋一個購物中心。但是，
他準備拆毀附近一個名為塔爾拉巴西的貧困社區，並在那裡修建高檔公寓。而他的另一項構想是，在伊斯坦布爾南郊為大型集會建一個乾淨的遊行場地，彷彿是要隔
離示威者，那將是一個與塔克西姆截然不同的地方。真正的塔克西姆是伊斯坦布爾市中心的一片凌亂不整的公共場地。獨立大道是塔克西姆地區主要的街道，及通往
廣場的社區支柱。而埃爾多安已經拆毀了大街上一座受歡迎的電影院，及一個老巧克力布丁商店。
這也是為什麼，許多土耳其人一點都不奇怪，蓋齊公園成為了最後一根稻草。抗議者佩林·坦(Pelin Tan)是一位社會學家。他說，「我們需要自由的空間。」
伊斯坦布爾的建築評論家古可汗·卡拉庫斯(Gokhan Karakus)說，「公共空間等同於大都市身份。總理不喜歡的就是這一點。佔據蓋齊公園進行抗議的人們認為，這個公園屬於民眾，而非領導人賜予的，所以，從這一點看，他要拆蓋齊公園是搬起石頭砸自己的腳。」
或許是這樣的。但埃爾多安已經在拆除蓋齊公園上下了更大的
賭注。他只說自己為警察的暴行使遊行升級而感到後悔。他警告道：「這些故意毀壞他人財產的無法無天行為，必須馬上停止。」他講話時，下面有數千名支持者為
他歡呼。與此同時，蓋齊公園已經變成了一座歡慶的村莊，有帳篷定居點，發放免費食品及衣物的百貨商店，一家日托中心，一個圖書館及一個診所，那裡甚至還有
一家獸醫門診及種着旱金蓮的社區花園。就是在那裡，推土機推倒了第一棵樹。那裡的建築巧妙地體現了城市精神：一切簡潔巧妙，錫皮簡易屋，少量的混凝土路樁
及用來做野餐桌的板條箱。公園裡也形成了自己的小經濟體，街頭小販叫賣着土耳其肉丸，醋（為了催淚瓦斯準備的）及蓋伊·福克斯(Guy
Fawkes)面具。
《自由每日新聞報》周四發佈的一個民意調查顯示，70%的示威者堅稱自己不對任何政黨「感到親近」。二十一世紀的政治事關個人自由和公共空間。觀看廣場抗議活動的埃辛補充說，就連自己的保守派父母也認為，埃爾多安在實施禁酒令和斥責在地鐵上接吻的情侶方面，做得太過分了。
埃爾多安計劃移除公交車及的士，在塔克西姆廣場上修建一個
開闊的、完全供行人活動的巨大區域，而這將去除該廣場那堅韌且變幻莫測的氣質，將其變成一個禮貌的購物場所。但這並不能將廣場變得更適合行人活動，反而會
減弱人氣。由於封閉，連續幾天都少有車輛進入塔克西姆廣場，但是卻沒有出現交通危機，因此埃爾多安的隧道顯然是不合邏輯的。
在哈佛大學(Harvard)教授建築及城市主義課程的哈
希姆·薩基斯(Hashim
Sarkis)說，「從20世紀60年代開始，我們就知道把一切人行道化沒有用。更好的方法是保持平衡。塔克西姆廣場這種鬆散的、不確定的地方有很多可圈
可點之處。其變動性是優點，卻是官方眼中的威脅，那裡太鬆散太開放了。」
蓋齊公園的一張海報上，引用了納茲姆·希克梅特(Nazim Hikmet)的一句舊詩：
我是古爾哈內公園(Gulhane Park)的一棵胡桃樹。
建築師卡尼帕克告訴我說，埃爾多安在塔克西姆廣場進行建築干預所造成的威脅，「首次幫助打破了環繞反對獨裁國家活動的恐懼之牆。」不過，在埃爾多安最近的演講之後，緊張局勢迅速升級。
有關公共場地的矛盾，永遠是關於控制與自由，隔離與多樣化的。陷入危險之中的可不僅僅是一個廣場。
而是一個民族的靈魂。
翻譯：陳亦亭、梁英In Istanbul’s Heart, Leader’s Obsession, Perhaps Achilles’ Heel
June 09, 2013
ISTANBUL — On a normal day, Taksim Square is a mess
of buses and crowds, a tangle of plazas, streets, shops and taxi horns.
Turkey’s prime minister, Recep Tayyip Erdogan, is determined to clean
it up and make it into a pedestrian zone, with a new mall, mosque and
tunnels for traffic to move underground.
The outrage in response has
filled the square with noisy, angry, determined protesters. At midday,
the muezzin’s call to prayer now mixes with the chants of union workers
and bullhorn speeches from the Anti-Capitalist Muslims. At night,
drummers and singers agitate the throngs until dawn.
After Tahrir Square in Egypt and Zuccotti Park in
New York, Taksim is the latest reminder of the power of public space.
The square has become an arena for clashing worldviews: an unyielding
leader’s top-down, neo-Ottoman, conservative vision of the nation as a
regional power versus a bottom-up, pluralist, disordered, primarily
young, less Islamist vision of the country as a modern democracy.
“Taksim is where everybody
expresses freely their happiness, sorrow, their political and social
views,” said Esin, 41, in a head scarf, sitting with relatives on a
bench watching the protest in the square. She declined to give her
surname, fearing disapproval from conservative neighbors. “The
government wants to sanitize this place, without consulting the people.”
So public space, even a
modest and chaotic swath of it like Taksim, again reveals itself as
fundamentally more powerful than social media, which produce virtual
communities. Revolutions happen in the flesh. In Taksim, strangers have
discovered one another, their common concerns and collective voice. The
power of bodies coming together, at least for the moment, has produced a
democratic moment, and given the leadership a dangerous political
crisis.
“We have found ourselves,”
is how Omer Kanipak, a 41-year-old Turkish architect, put it to me,
about the diverse gathering at Gezi Park on the north end of Taksim,
where the crowds are concentrated in tent encampments and other
makeshift architecture after Mr. Erdogan’s government ordered bulldozers
to make way for the mall.
And there’s the hitch. The
prime minister has emerged as the strongest leader Turkey has had since
Mustafa Kemal Ataturk founded the republic — but he remains not much of
an architect or urban planner. Like other longtime rulers, he has
assumed the mantle of designer in chief, fiddling over details for giant
mosques, planning a massive bridge and canal, devising gated
communities in the name of civic renewal and economic development. The
goal is a scripted public realm. Taksim, the lively heart of modern
Istanbul, has become Mr. Erdogan’s obsession, and perhaps his Achilles’
heel.
And it’s no wonder.
Taksim’s very urban fabric — fluid, irregular, open and unpredictable —
reflects the area’s historic identity as the heart of modern,
multicultural Turkey. This was where poor European immigrants settled
during the 19th century. It was a honky-tonk quarter into the 1980s, a
haven to gays and lesbians, a locus of nightclubs, foreign movie palaces
and French-style covered arcades. Gravestones from an Armenian cemetery
at Taksim demolished in 1939 were used to construct stairs at Gezi
Park, a republican-era project by the French planner Henri Prost that is
like the jumble of high-rise hotels, traffic circles and the
now-shuttered opera house on the square, named after Ataturk. It is a
symbol of modernity.
The prime minister’s vision
of a big pedestrian plaza, with buried traffic, is intended to smooth
out the square — to remake it into a neo-Ottoman theme park. Mr. Erdogan
has lately backed away from installing a mall in the faux Ottoman
barracks that will go where Gezi is now. But he intends to raze a poor
neighborhood nearby called Tarlabasi and build high-end condominiums.
Yet another of his projects envisions a hygienic parade ground on the
southern outskirts of the city, designed for mass gatherings as if to
quarantine protests: the anti-Taksim. The real Taksim is an unruly
commons in the middle of the city. Mr. Erdogan has already demolished a
beloved cinema and old chocolate pudding shop on Istiklal (Independence)
Avenue, the main street and neighborhood backbone into Taksim.
This is why it has come as
little surprise to many Turks that Gezi Park was the last straw. “We
need free places,” Pelin Tan, a sociologist and protester, explained.
“Public space equals an
urban, cosmopolitan identity,” is how Gokhan Karakus, an architecture
critic here, phrased it. “That’s exactly what the prime minister doesn’t
like. Turkish people who have taken over Gezi Park in protest feel it
is truly theirs, not something awarded to them by their leaders, so in
that sense the move to destroy it has backfired on him.”
Maybe. Mr. Erdogan has
doubled down on demolishing the park, saying he regretted only that
police brutality escalated the protests. “These actions that turned into
vandalism and lawlessness must stop immediately,” he warned, as
thousands of his supporters cheered him. Gezi has meanwhile evolved into
a festive village with tent settlements, general stores distributing
free food and clothing, a day care center, a library and an infirmary,
even a veterinary clinic and community garden, nasturtiums where the
bulldozers ripped out the first trees. The architecture is tactical
urbanism: bare-bones and opportunistic, tin lean-tos, and spare concrete
bollards and crates used to make picnic tables. The park has spawned
its own pop-up economy as well, street vendors hawking Turkish
meatballs, vinegar (for the tear gas) and Guy Fawkes masks.
A poll published in the
Hurriyet Daily News on Thursday revealed that 70 percent of the
protesters insisted they did not “feel close” to any political party.
Politics in the 21st century is about private freedoms and public space.
Esin, watching the protest in the square, added that her conservative
parents think Mr. Erdogan goes too far by banning alcohol and scolding
couples for kissing on subways.
Mr. Erdogan’s plan for
removing buses and taxis and installing a single, vast pedestrian zone
at Taksim, stripped of its gritty and unpredictable energy, turned into a
polite shopping area, will sap the square of its pedestrian vitality,
not make it pedestrian-friendlier. After several days with few cars or
buses getting into Taksim because of the barricades, the illogic of Mr.
Erdogan’s tunnel is obvious. There has been no great traffic crisis.
“We know from the 1960s
that pedestrianizing everything doesn’t work,” agreed Hashim Sarkis, who
teaches architecture and urbanism at Harvard. “Managing the balance is
better. There is much to be said for loose, indeterminate places like
Taksim. Its changeability is its strength, which is the threat perceived
by authorities. It’s too loose and open.”
Back at Gezi, a placard quotes an old poem by Nazim Hikmet:
I am a walnut tree in Gulhane Park
Mr. Kanipak, the architect,
told me that the threat of Mr. Erdogan’s architectural intervention at
Taksim “has for the first time helped to break down the walls of fear
about opposing an autocratic state.” That said, tensions are swiftly
rising after Mr. Erdogan’s latest speeches.
The conflict over public
space is always about control versus freedom, segregation versus
diversity. What’s at stake is more than a square.
It’s the soul of a nation.
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