The women of Gezi Park are protesters, not pin-up girls

Turkey's Prime Minister Erdogan wants to cast women as mothers, sisters and wives, and those who oppose him should be careful that their imagery doesn’t do the same.

On 31 May in Taksim Square, a photographer captured the moment a beautiful woman was drenched with tear gas at point blank range. Positioned somewhere between that Tiananmen Square photo and Delacroix’s "Liberty Leading the People", she quickly became the emblem of Turkish unrest – her image was reproduced on badges, graffitied on shop walls, and prompted a whole heap of marriage proposals from rebellious romantics. Travel south to the city of Izmir and you can fleetingly assume the revolutionary mantle yourself by sticking your head through a poster with her portrait on.

Ceyda Sungur is a reluctant icon at best; the academic-cum-pin-up girl politely reminded the world media in her one statement that she was not alone in getting gassed that day. Unsurprisingly, her modesty has had little impact. Whereas most portrayals of male protesters in Istanbul have hinted at borderline anarchistic tendencies (fists clenched, face covered, flag flying and preferably flames) women have been used to emphasise the occupation’s quasi-religious righteousness. A second photograph of a woman standing, arms outstretched, as the jet from a water canon hits her, has grown via social media into some similarly striking internet memes.

To be fair, it’s not just the young and beautiful who have captured hearts in Istanbul.  Last week, a picture of a line of middle-aged women holding hands went viral. According to the slogan, they had formed a human barricade to shield their children from the onslaught of the police. It was a rousing image, but ultimately a lie. These were indeed mothers, but the line was more of a euphoric conga than front line defense. I can say this with some certainty, because I was among the crowd who cheered them on their way. 

Is there anything wrong with a healthy dose of rousing iconography? Maybe not, but having spent time in the now dismantled Gezi Park occupation, it’s hard not to wonder whether the potency of its female symbols wasn’t at best a distraction, at worst an obstruction, when trying to grasp the impact women really made.

Speaking to women in the occupation, the lady in red was generally met with media savvy resignation. "This is just advertising," an exhausted looking videographer told me, "and advertising always uses beautiful women." Her friend agreed nonchalantly: "Every movement needs symbols, I guess."

When it comes to the idea of women as mothers, things are more ambiguous. While the lady in red was largely a symbol which popular culture picked up and ran away with, motherhood became a rallying cry within the occupation itself. And in doing so it split women’s opinion right down the middle.

Mothers joining their children in Taksim square undeniably provided some of the movement’s most rousing rallying cries. Erdogan besought mothers to take their children home, and so they chanted that the mothers of the police should take theirs home instead. Erdogan described the protesters as çapulcu (looters) and so they shouted "the mothers of the çapulcu are here with them." The applause was deafening, and it was hard not to feel moved. In fact many women I spoke with insisted that it was the strong presence of mothers which made this protest so hard to ignore. "It is because families are here that the government cannot say that this is just a protest by extremists,"one of the women leading the chanting later told me. "It means we’re not marginal."

The problem is that one of the main reasons people took issue with Erdogan’s government in the first place was his apparent inability to treat women as individuals outside of the family unit. If you’re rallying against a Prime Minister who is on record stating that all women should have three children, and who has done his upmost to ban the morning after pill and limit abortion, shouldn’t you be cautious about embracing mothering imagery? Evran Kocabıçak, who spent two weeks manning the camp’s feminist stand, thought so. "When the big mothers’ demonstration happened, people rushed over and asked us why we weren’t participating," she said with a wry smile. "I told them because I came here as an individual, not as a role."

Unless we’re going to bulldoze the Statue of Liberty, the heady symbolism of "woman as nation" isn’t going to lose its pulling power any time soon, but we shouldn’t let it eclipse issues of larger significance. This was a protest whose women should be remembered for being powerful, not pretty. When women raised concerns early on about possible harassment in the occupation, they organised a march and flyering campaign to make it clear it wouldn’t be tolerated, and it worked; in a camp crammed with over 1,000 adrenaline pumped rebels there was, women told me, an atmosphere of complete security and respect. When protest chants labelled Erdogan the son of a whore, women held seminars to explain the issues the insult prompted. And when similarly unimaginative graffiti surfaced, they methodically painted over it. It didn’t come back. "This is a new movement so created a new language for it," Rüya Kurtuluş told me, dismounting from the platform where she has just been issuing a televised rallying address to the crowds.

None of this would make for a particularly striking photo essay. Most likely, it’s pretty much impossible to capture a mood, still more an absence, on film. But we need to find some way to mark the achievements of the women in Gezi Park, because otherwise we do them the disservice of reducing their fortnight long struggle to an "any old icon" scrap book of aesthetically appealing dissent. "Here women fought with men, resisted with them, and changed their opinions," a woman wearing a teargas canister as a necklace told me. "I hope that is the lesson that people remember."

Harriet Fitch Little is a writer based in Beirut, with a focus on women's issues and social commentary. Follow her on Twitter @HarrietFL

The image of the "woman in red" being tear gassed went around the world.
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Can Emmanuel Macron win? Why France is ripe for a liberal resurgence

In an era of far-right populism, an avowed centrist could see off France's political demons. 

The French Presidential Election has so far been the election of the third man. On Sunday 5 February, Benoît Hamon, a short-lived minister for education under François Hollande, became the official candidate of the Socialist party. Much like François Fillon in the opposing right-wing Republican primaries, he had entered the race as the distant third. Nevertheless, he beat the early frontrunner, former Prime Minister Manuel Valls, in the second round of the Socialist primaries, gaining almost 60 per cent of the vote. 

This was a triumph of the radical left over the establishment. Hamon had left Vall’s government to protest against what they took to be the government’s too pro-business line. When it came to the primaries, he advocated a universal basic income and fully integrating ecological concerns into his programme.

In this two-pronged strategy, too, he followed Fillon’s lead. The Republican candidate overtook the frontrunners former Prime Minister Alain Juppé and President Nicolas Sarkozy after campaigning on both a highly economically liberal and socially conservative Catholic programme.

Both these victories on the left and right prove an old saying about primaries - they are won at the extremes. But there is another old saying, that general elections are won at the centre.

Emmanuel Macron is the centrist candidate for the Presidential election. He also entered the race as the third man, behind frontrunners Marine Le Pen and Fillon. So can he win?

With an election marked by a high level of unpredictability, there are nevertheless a number of reasons to think so. First there is Macron himself. When he entered the race, many thought he would quickly run out of steam, as centrist candidates have in the past, but his "Forward" movement has been highly successful. The crowds it attracts, numbering thousands, are the envy of the other candidates.

Macron's decision to not participate in the French Socialist primaries was also very astute. It means he has dissociated himself from the toxic legacy of the Hollande Presidency, which has already lead to the downfall of his rival, Valls. Indeed, the fact that Hamon, on the left of the Socialists, won the primary is another boon for him. Centre-left voters who would have supported Valls are now likely to rally around him.

If the centre-left has opened for Macron, so has the centre-right. Conservative voters who supported the centrist Alain Juppé might be tempted to join him, particularly after the "Penelopegate" scandal that has engulfed Fillon (the Republican candidate is facing an investigation over claims he paid his wife nearly €1m for a job she did not do). Previously the favourite to win in the second round of elections in May, Fillon now trailsin the polls behind Macron in third place.

Marine Le Pen, the leader of the far-right Front National, is engulfed in her own "fake jobs" scandal concerning her European Parliament assistant, and she has been sanctioned by the European Parliament which is retaining part of her salary. But it is unlikely that such a scandal will dent her popularity, and she remains well ahead in the polls with 25 per cent of first-round voting intentions.

The difference between Le Pen and Fillon is that, as an anti-establishment and anti-European party, the Front National will not suffer from the misuse of public funds from an institution it rejects. Fillon, however, had made a big show of his strong moral principles in the primaries compared to the "affaires" that continue to plague Juppé and former President Nicolas Sarkozy. Conservative voters put off by Fillon and unwilling to vote for the FN can rally round Macron’s economic liberalism instead. 

If Macron can make it to the second round of the French Presidential election in May, then he has every chance of becoming France’s next president. Current predictions have him wining over 60 per cent of the second-round vote. But we are not there yet. As a young, intelligent and outside candidate, he remains the receptacle of many people’s longing for a renewal of the political class. But he needs to transform his movement’s dynamic into hard votes - he lags well behind other candidates when it comes to firm intentions of voting. To do so he must give details of his political programme, which he so far failed to do, and which he is coming under increasing pressure to deliver.

The other threat he faces is the unification of the left with the far-left. If Hamon and the firebrand Jean-Luc Mélenchon could come together to form a common ticket then they could muster up to 25 per cent of the vote, which would propel them to first place in the first round of voting. 

What Macron has made clear is that he is pro-European, which starkly marks him out from the other candidates. He is a social, economic and political liberal, and is willing to endorse ideas from across the political spectrum - one of his mottos is that he is neither left nor right. In an age when the political centre has come under intense pressure, maybe a radical centrist is precisely what France needs.

Dr Hugo Drochon is a historian of political thought and an affiliated lecturer at the University of Cambridge. He is the author of the book Nietzsche's Great Politics, published 2016.