 The crowd's excitement reached a crescendo as the entourage escorting the prime minister arrived, with security guards leaping from the still-moving cars, like something out of a movie. AA photo |
In Turkey ideologies and politics is a passion: love and hate run close together and nearly everyone has a view on every matter. On Saturday I was to receive an important practical lesson about this passion, with the visit of Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdoğan to Fethiye.
My curiosity led me to spend the day (probably as the only foreigner) observing the crowds, the officials and Erdoğan himself. I firmly believe that the scene I witnessed increased my knowledge of both Turkish political society and gave me a foretaste of what will happen in the June elections.
I have seen the adulation and respect afforded to this charismatic and powerful individual on television. I recognized his status as a leader and had listened both to the heartfelt love from his supporters and the cynical loathing by his detractors, but could not imagine how the Fethiye’s laid-back character could be transformed so dramatically to prepare for the visit in the space of a just few hours.
Although the visit had no doubt been weeks in the planning, it was only the previous afternoon that the frenzy of preparation became visible. By the following morning it became palpable and the anticipation was infectious.
Fethiye is a flourishing town by Turkish standards but nevertheless instant gardens were made to flourish even in tired flowerbeds. Banners welcoming Erdoğan appeared, fluttering along the route he was to travel. Cleaners were everywhere. A car park, converted into a venue with seating for VIPs, received last-minute tweaks, as did awnings and decorations.
The town center was examined with the 21st-century equivalent of a fine-toothed comb by the more than 5,000 police, army and sea police, complete with divers. Everything was under scrutiny; the sea was searched, drains were examined and roof tops commandeered.
Soldiers with metal detectors and sniffer dogs were clearly evident, as were helicopters. Traffic and pedestrians were excluded and shop keepers, who lacked trade from passersby, stood around watching.
Some hours before Erdoğan’s arrival a large green tractor drove around spraying rose water to freshen the air; an interesting ritual I had never previously witnessed. Eardrum-bursting music was already pumping out from massive speakers, creating a frenzy of flag waving excitement for the more than 30,000 estimated men, women and children who filled the area in front of the platform.
I had been told that many buses had been laid on to bring these people in from surrounding villages and that they had been encouraged with gifts of baklava and free food. Whether or not this was the case, I don’t know, but the anticipation was tangible.
Women, for whom the excitement had got too much, fainted and were carried away on stretchers. A few individuals were escorted away by black-suited protection officials: there would be no opportunity for dissent. The excitement of the crowd reached a crescendo as the entourage escorting the prime minister arrived, with security guards leaping from the still-moving cars, like something out of a movie.
This, I realized, was a highly organized and professional show and never doubted that the prime minister would have his audience enthralled. Children danced for him. Men in nomadic costumes welcomed him. The crowd cheered him. The man some see as their sultan had come at last.
The tall figure of Erdoğan could be seen within the dark mass of security guards. The excitement of the crowd was contagious and speeches of welcome were made before Erdoğan walked confidently to the podium and proceeded to woo his would-be voters.
Speaking without notes, he addressed his supporters about subjects close to their hearts. The eyes of young and old were bright with adoration. Even for those without political affiliation, he was hard to resist.
At the moment Erdoğan started his highly orchestrated walk about, people lurched forward bearing gifts or just wanting to touch, or be photographed near the man. The local branch of the ruling Justice and Development Party, or AKP, and its supporters will no doubt be delighted by the whole event. Now it is a case of waiting for the election to see whether the visit has an effect on local voting patterns – but I am told that nothing in Turkey is a forgone conclusion.
My curiosity led me to spend the day (probably as the only foreigner) observing the crowds, the officials and Erdoğan himself. I firmly believe that the scene I witnessed increased my knowledge of both Turkish political society and gave me a foretaste of what will happen in the June elections.
I have seen the adulation and respect afforded to this charismatic and powerful individual on television. I recognized his status as a leader and had listened both to the heartfelt love from his supporters and the cynical loathing by his detractors, but could not imagine how the Fethiye’s laid-back character could be transformed so dramatically to prepare for the visit in the space of a just few hours.
Although the visit had no doubt been weeks in the planning, it was only the previous afternoon that the frenzy of preparation became visible. By the following morning it became palpable and the anticipation was infectious.
Fethiye is a flourishing town by Turkish standards but nevertheless instant gardens were made to flourish even in tired flowerbeds. Banners welcoming Erdoğan appeared, fluttering along the route he was to travel. Cleaners were everywhere. A car park, converted into a venue with seating for VIPs, received last-minute tweaks, as did awnings and decorations.
The town center was examined with the 21st-century equivalent of a fine-toothed comb by the more than 5,000 police, army and sea police, complete with divers. Everything was under scrutiny; the sea was searched, drains were examined and roof tops commandeered.
Soldiers with metal detectors and sniffer dogs were clearly evident, as were helicopters. Traffic and pedestrians were excluded and shop keepers, who lacked trade from passersby, stood around watching.
Some hours before Erdoğan’s arrival a large green tractor drove around spraying rose water to freshen the air; an interesting ritual I had never previously witnessed. Eardrum-bursting music was already pumping out from massive speakers, creating a frenzy of flag waving excitement for the more than 30,000 estimated men, women and children who filled the area in front of the platform.
I had been told that many buses had been laid on to bring these people in from surrounding villages and that they had been encouraged with gifts of baklava and free food. Whether or not this was the case, I don’t know, but the anticipation was tangible.
Women, for whom the excitement had got too much, fainted and were carried away on stretchers. A few individuals were escorted away by black-suited protection officials: there would be no opportunity for dissent. The excitement of the crowd reached a crescendo as the entourage escorting the prime minister arrived, with security guards leaping from the still-moving cars, like something out of a movie.
This, I realized, was a highly organized and professional show and never doubted that the prime minister would have his audience enthralled. Children danced for him. Men in nomadic costumes welcomed him. The crowd cheered him. The man some see as their sultan had come at last.
The tall figure of Erdoğan could be seen within the dark mass of security guards. The excitement of the crowd was contagious and speeches of welcome were made before Erdoğan walked confidently to the podium and proceeded to woo his would-be voters.
Speaking without notes, he addressed his supporters about subjects close to their hearts. The eyes of young and old were bright with adoration. Even for those without political affiliation, he was hard to resist.
At the moment Erdoğan started his highly orchestrated walk about, people lurched forward bearing gifts or just wanting to touch, or be photographed near the man. The local branch of the ruling Justice and Development Party, or AKP, and its supporters will no doubt be delighted by the whole event. Now it is a case of waiting for the election to see whether the visit has an effect on local voting patterns – but I am told that nothing in Turkey is a forgone conclusion.
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