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January 3, 2019

Istanbul, Turkey - Egypt Air Flight 0122, IST-CAI

…Now, on to Istanbul. This is a place that, like Rome, feels old. The weight of history sits heavy in its horn. It’s not simply its own, but that of the entire world. Turkey was, and still is, the belly button —the mixing point. The brackish clashing of cultures and that tension is so real, so palpable. The old and the new. Today’s climate is not an evolution, it’s a stripping of identity. Cultural genocide. The systematic reengineering of what it means to be a Turk. The values are not the same. The religion is not the same. The image that was a modern, secular Turkey has been arrested and paint thinner applied, icons whitewashed like the Hagia Sofia itself, giving way to a modern muslim identity in a place which was both the crown jewel of secularism and the singular example of successful Muslim Democracy.

All of this is no more.

There is a fear in Istanbul. A fear that was either conjured by an evil intent, or from the events of ISIS. Either way the vacuum has given way to a leader in Erdogan who wants nothing but the consolidation of his own power, at any and all expense.

This is the great sadness of the modern Turk. 1000 years of history sit outside his door, the familiar reminder of a proud past, now sliding through her hands—with no hope and nothing to grab on to. This is a tragedy. Truly.

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