The New Mobilization Dynamics of Sudan’s Popular Uprising: The Virtue of Learning from the Past

Demonstration on 29 December 2018 in Marseille, France, in support of the protests in Sudan. Image via Shutterstock. Demonstration on 29 December 2018 in Marseille, France, in support of the protests in Sudan. Image via Shutterstock.

The New Mobilization Dynamics of Sudan’s Popular Uprising: The Virtue of Learning from the Past

By : Khalid M. Medani

Tasqut Bas (Fall, That is All)


For over two months, wide-scale protests in Sudan have continued unabated calling for President Omar al-Bashir to step down and pave the way for a transition period ushering in multi-party democracy. Not surprisingly, as with similar protests in the past, the Bashir regime has sought a military solution to quell the protests, deploying the police and paramilitary security forces against peaceful protestors in Khartoum and throughout the country. At the time of writing, over sixty people have been killed, many as a result of torture in the government’s "ghost houses." More than two thousand anti-government activists are still held in detention despite the regime’s repeated insistence that they are intent on releasing political detainees.

The government has frequently pronouncemed that the protests are relatively small and are having little impact on the regime, or that the demonstrations are essentially sponsored by saboteurs, thugs, or “foreign elements.” Despite such claims, the popular intifada has not only produced significant policy changes on the part of the regime, it has clearly undermined the rule of Omar Bashir in ways that have threatened to topple his thirty-year authoritarian rule. Over the last week, in the wake of continued and sustained demonstrations, strikes, and sit-ins across Sudanese civil society, Bashir has been forced to postpone a constitutional amendment that would have allow him to run for a third term in office. He also declared a state of emergency in Khartoum, disbanding the federal government, and replacing local governors with senior army officers in a desperate attempt to maintain his power. However, these policies of both appeasement and repression appear to have emboldened anti-government protestors further. The state of emergency is clearly designed to give carte blanche to the security forces to use greater violence against the protestors, to further restrict political and civil liberties, and to crack-down even more on activists and opposition political parties. Immediately following Bashir’s announcement of a state of emergency, protestors went back on the streets in over fifty neighborhoods throughout the country, and particularly in Khartoum and Omdurman. They called once again for Bashir’s removal. They chanted, among other slogans, one of the most uncompromising and popular refrains of the current uprising: Tasqut Bas (fall, that is all).

The “Periphery” as Catalyst of the Intifada


The recent protests erupted on 19 December 2018 in the working-class city of Atbara in River Nile state, approximately two-hundred miles north of Khartoum. They were sparked by a three-fold increase in the price of bread. They began with protests led by secondary school students. They were very quickly joined by thousands of residents in the city of Atbara. Within days, anti-government demonstrations expanded across a wide range of cities and towns throughout the northern region and in the capital city of Khartoum. Chanting slogans such as "the people want the fall of the regime" (inspired by the Arab uprisings of late 2010 and 2011 in Tunisia and Egypt, respectively), the demonstrators quickly expanded their demands in ways that reflect deep-seated and wide-ranging political as well as economic grievances with the thirty-year authoritarian rule of Omer al-Bashir and his ruling party, the National Congress Party (NCP). 

However, despite the fact that political grievances and demands are now at the forefront of the uprising, there is little question that these particularly protests were first sparked by economic grievances that date back to the consequences of the secession of South Sudan in 2011. As is by now widely noted, this led to the loss of seventy-five percent of oil revenue for Khartoum since two-thirds of the oil resources are in the south, and consequently approximately sixty percent of its foreign currency earnings. As a result, the Bashir regime implemented austerity measures beginning in 2012 which resulted in similar anti-austerity protests at the time, although these were mostly centered in Khartoum and hence more centralized than the current protests. Similarly, one of the main factors for the current demonstrations is the implementation of IMF-backed austerity measures which led to lifting of bread and fuel subsidies and quickly sparked the first of the demonstrations on 19 December 2018. What is important to emphasize, however, is that these protests are not only rooted in opposition to economic austerity measures. They are crucially a result of a widely understood opposition to decades of rampant corruption, including “privatization” policies that transferred assets and wealth to the regime’s supporters, and the theft of gold as well as billions of dollars of profits from the period of the oil boom in the country.

A New Pattern of Mobilization and Protest


Following the lead of cities in the periphery, in Khartoum, the protests also began in opposition to a deep economic crisis associated with the rise in bread fuel prices as well as a severe liquidity crisis. But these demands quickly evolved into calls for the ouster of Bashir from power. Importantly, the Sudanese Professional Association (SPA), which has taken the lead in organizing and scheduling the protests, initially marched to the parliament in Khartoum in late December demanding wages increases for public sector workers and the legalization of professional and trade unions. However, after security forces used violence against the peaceful protests, these demands quickly escalated into the call for the removal of the ruling National Congress Party, the structural transformation of governance in Sudan, and a transition to democracy. 

These protests are unprecedented in terms of their length and sustainability, their geographical spread throughout the entire country, and the remarkable coalition of youth groups, civil society organizations, and opposition political parties that have joined in these protests now still ongoing in their third month.

These demands are similar to those associated with previous popular protests against the regime, including those of 2011, 2012, and 2013. However, what is most important to note with respect to these protests is that they are unprecedented in terms of their duration and sustainability (now ongoing in their third month), their geographical spread throughout the entire country, and the remarkable coalition of youth groups, civil society organizations, and opposition political parties that have joined. Equally important, is that the coordination of these demonstrations has followed a remarkably new, innovative, and sustained process. This is important to highlight because it clearly shows that, just as the dictatorial regime of Omer Bashir has prided itself in weakening the opposition in order to prevent any threat to their regime by dismantling labor and trade unions, establishing a wide range of paramilitary militias linked to the state, and putting down armed opposition as well as anti-government activists in civil society, these demonstrators have also learned from the unsuccessful anti-regime protests of the past. Led by the newly established Sudanese Professional Association, the ongoing demonstrations have been coordinated, scheduled, and strategically designed to emphasize: sustainability over time rather than sheer numbers; spread throughout middle, working class, and poor neighborhoods; and coordination with protestors in regions far afield from Khartoum, including the Eastern State on the Red Sea, and Darfur to the far west of the country. In addition, the slogans promoted and utilized by the protestors also have been purposefully framed to incorporate the grievances of the wider spectrum of Sudanese and not just those of the middle class and ethnic and political elites centered in Khartoum and the northern regions of the country. These slogans are essentially framed in ways designed to mobilize support across ethnic and racial categories, emphasizing that the only way forward is to oust Omar Bashir and the ruling regime from power. In doing so, they highlight the endemic and unprecedented level of corruption of the regime and its allies, the decades of human rights violations against civilians in the country by a wide range of security forces, and the brutal wars waged by the regime in Darfur, the Blue Nile state on the border of South Sudan, and the Nuba Mountains in South Kordofan.

Indeed, perhaps one of the most notable aspect of these protests, which distinguish them greatly from previous uprisings, is not only the sheer regional scale of the demonstrations but the hitherto unprecedented high level of solidarity across class lines in the country. Youth activists and members of the professional associations have not only challenged the political discourse of the state; they have played a significant role in engineering cross-class alliances in the context of these demonstrations. Over the last week strikes, work stoppages, and sit-ins have been held not only on university campuses and secondary schools, but also among private sector and public sector employees and workers. Among the most important examples are the ongoing strikes by workers of Port Sudan on the Red Sea demanding the nullification of the sale of the southern Port to a foreign company, and several work stoppages and protests led by employees of some of the most important telecom providers and other private firms in the country.

Scenarios: The Prospects for a Peaceful Transition to Multi-Party Democracy


Equally important with respect to evaluating the prospects of the uprising leading to a transition to democracy has to do with the evolving and increasingly sophisticated nature of the demands of the demonstrators as the protests have continued unabated. The initial aims of the protestors were to simply oust Omar Bashir and his regime from power. The level of grievance and anger among the population made this the most important priority at the very beginning of the protest. However, as the coordination of these protests became exceedingly more sophisticated, particular under the leadership of the Sudanese Professional Associations, the objectives of the majority of the protestor is now not only to end Omar Bashir’s dictatorial regime, which remains a priority, but to also prepare and pave the way for a transitional period consisting of four years that would usher in a multi-party democracy in the country. At the moment Sudanese activists, the political party opposition, and a broad swath of civil society organizations are engaged in discussing a variety of possible scenarios including the prospects of the Sudan Armed Forces (SAF) taking the side of the protests and overseeing democratic transition as in the past, an internal coup within the armed forces that would essentially consolidate authoritarian rule under a new leadership, or the falling apart of the center and state disintegration as in, for example Libya and Somalia. Ultimately, the outcome of these protests will, not surprisingly, depend on the continued unity and sustainability of the protestors and demonstrators, the power and force of the National Intelligence and Security Services and the para-military militias, and the extent to which external regional powers, especially in the region, support the regime in Khartoum out of fear that their regional interests may be undermined following the removal of Bashir from power.

This balance between domestic anti-government activists and civil society organizations, the state’s security apparatus, and external patronage is, of course, critical in devising any scenarios in the future and is well known. What is interesting is the actions of Bashir more recently that have signalled that these demonstrations have altered internal regime dynamics and calculations. As a result of the rise of protests in the regions, Bashir traveled to regions he never visited before, as a consequence of protests against the continued torture and violence against demonstrators, he has made some tepid overtures such as releasing some political prisoners, and as the demonstrations continue unabated, loyalists within his own parliament have very recently proposed that he formally declare he will not alter the constitution and run for president for a third term. There is little question that this reflects the view of some in his inner circle of devising a way out for Bashir in ways that would quite the protests, work stoppages, labor strikes, and sit-ins that have now transformed the initial protests from so-called “streets protests” to essentially a social movement that has altered Sudan’s political and cultural landscape for decades to come. Central to this shift has been the pointed critique and even abhorrence of the activists to the Islamist project of Bashir’s ruling National Congress Party (NCP), and his Islamist supporters that has made the regime of Bashir in the eyes of most Sudanese nothing short of a ruling military junta composed of tujjar al-din (traders of religion). Reportedly, the wide scale opposition to the regime has expanded to such a degree that Bashir’s own ministry has acknowledged that the opposition is now in “every home,” not to mention in many mosques in Khartoum and throughout the country. At the time of writing, deep divisions appear to be further emerging within the regime itself. Early on the morning of 22 February, the powerful head of the Sudan National Security and Intelligence Services (NISS), Salah Gosh, announced that Bashir will step down as head of the ruling National Congress Party (NCP) and that the constitution will not be amended to allow for his 2020 re-election. But in a televized address later the same evening, Bashir contradicted his intelligence chief's statements and affirmed that, while he will postpone the parliamentary vote to amend the constitution, he would remain as head of state and declared a state of emergency for one year.

There is now little question that these demonstrations have already registered remarkable success in ways that few would have predicated before 19 December. Specifically, there is a remarkable reinvigoration of civil society in Sudan despite decades of authoritarian rule and a policy of division across ethnic, racial and class lines. However in this regard, we must be specific. It is not the emergence of a strong civil society in a vague sense but rather the reinvigoration of independent trade, labor, and professional unions at time when most would have predicted and affirmed their demise. We also see the remarkable empowerment of youth activism and their utilization of social media to assist in the coordination of demonstrations across class, regional and racial lines rather than to simply express a particularly middle class and elite and narrow political sensibility which is a critique that has been leveled at youth activism throughout the region. The bravery and courage of youth activists in Sudan and in the region is of course never in doubt. What we see in Sudan, however, is that in addition to this display of remarkable courage is the close coordination among activists across middle- and working-class neighborhoods, repeated campaigns to support the reef, or rural areas, and remarkable cooperation across the gender divide which has underpinned the political and cultural shift that these demonstrations have accomplished. When Bashir, in recognition of the prominent role of women in the demonstrations, recently called for changes in the Public Order Law that has brutalized and demeaned Sudanese women for decades, female activists quickly responded that their struggle is not just about the Public Order Law; it is pointedly centered on the removal of an authoritarian regime and working towards the expansion of political and civil liberties for all Sudanese.

The wide scope and sustainability of Sudan’s uprising is unprecedented in the country’s history. More specifically, the coordination and linkages between formal professional associations, trade and labor unions, civil society organizations, and youth activists with the popular and working-class segments of the population (who are essentially workers in the informal economy) is one of the most important reasons for the durability of the protests. Ultimately, it is the success in organizing across the formal-informal social spectrum that has sustained the protests. The idea that professional and trade unions should engage more closely with street activists and workers in the informal economy was not one that had been vigorously envisioned or promoted by many political actors involved in previous popular protests. This development has played a key role in sustaining the protests and in undermining the Bashir regime in ways that could not easily have been predicted when the uprising first erupted in Atbara, the city of al-hadid wa-al-nar (steel and fire) in the River Nile State.

Update as of 4 March 2019


The uprising in Sudan continues to highlight deep divisions within both the ruling party and the armed forces. This has compelled Bashir to implement policies designed to safeguard against a scenario in which segments of the military establishment would take the side of the protestors and essentially wage an internal coup against his rule. After declaring a state of emergency and dissolving the federal and provincial civilian governments, he appointed military and security officers as governors of the country’s eighteen provinces. More recently, Bashir resigned from the ruling National Congress Party (NCP), and appointed his close ally Ahmad Harun as deputy head of the NCP. All this while the emergency courts have imposed, in just over a week, more than eight hundred sentences of imprisonment and fines against anti-regime activists.

Harun, who like Bashir himself is indicted for war crimes in Darfur, announced a national dialogue (hiwar watani) with the opposition. This is a transparent and much-used tactic to maintain NCP rule. The ultimate objective in this regard is to co-opt segments of the opposition while presiding over managed elections where Harun or Bashir would run. The attempt at national dialogue is not just about co-opting the opposition. It is meant to also safeguard against the potential of a far more threatening scenario in which middle-ranking segments of the military ultimately take the side of protestors, oust Bashir and the NCP, and oversee a transition to a new system of rule. 

Bashir and regime supporters continue to emphasize that the real grievances behind the protests are economic and not political. This is despite the opposition’s near unanimous and repeated declarations that the country’s deep economic crisis is inextricably linked to decades of authoritarian rule, endemic corruption, and the gross mismanagement of the national economy by the ruling party. Significantly, however, the regime’s strategy of deflecting opposition to its policies by acknowledging the so-called “legitimate” economic grievances, while simultaneously declaring that the country’s unprecedented economic crisis is a result of hostile external actors, reflects the regime’s own narrow vision with respect to their only means to remain in power. More specifically, Bashir and his allies in the NCP are banking on stemming the tide of sustained and wide-scale protests by attempting to curb soaring inflation through criminalizing black-market foreign exchange transactions via emergency decree, and attracting investment—particularly foreign assistance—over the coming year even as the state of emergency remains in effect throughout the country.  As theFinancial Timesrecently reported, Bashir is counting on his continued efforts to rebuild relations with South Sudan and thereby restart the latter’s oil production. The idea is that revenues from transit and pipeline fees under extant arrangements between Khartoum and Juba would halt the steep deterioration of the Sudanese pound and finance the regime’s patronage networks. 

These measures are unlikely to halt the protests, now ongoing in their fourth month. This is not only because the protestors have clearly articulated political demands against what many have pointedly described as state capture (ikhtitaf al-dawla) by a minority of military and security officers that must be ousted from power. There is also an increasing ingenuity of the uprising’s leaders in sustaining the anti-government demonstrations. In response to Bashir’s recent decrees and pronouncements, the Sudanese Professional Association (SPA) has once again upgraded and enhanced its mobilization and coordination dynamics and capacity across the professional, socioeconomic, and regional divide. More specifically, as of writing, the SPA has called on protestors, trade and labor unions, and other anti-regime activists throughout the country to combine street protests and acts of civil disobedience with a one-day national general strike (led by doctors, lawyers, engineers, pharmacists, academics, journalists, and civil servants) in coordination with neighborhood protests (muzaharat al-ahya’) throughout Khartoum and outlying regions of the country. The purported aim is to sustain an iterative, albeit gradual, process of protests culminating in regime change. Moreover, even as the regime continues to cite the weakness of the formal political opposition as a recipe for chaos and regional instability (in a discourse that is pitched to make external actors wary of supporting the uprising), the opposition political parties, including several armed insurgent organizations, have met and agreed upon the blueprint for a transitional period. On 3 March, all the opposition groups, including the SPA, the National Consensus Forces (NCF), Sudan Call, and the Unionist Gathering reiterated their commitment to the Declaration of Freedom and Change, launched on 1 January, and to peaceful methods to achieve regime change. Most notably, this would include a constitutional conference to hammer out political and constitutional reforms, as well as establishing security arrangements with armed groups to resolve ongoing civil conflicts in Darfur, South Kordofan, and the Blue Nile States.

   

Occupy Gezi as Politics of the Body

Since the Gezi resistance started with bloodshed on 31 May, it has had an “anti-depressant” effect, as a friend of mine puts it, as much as it has been nerve-racking. During this period where each day has been prone to new crises and normalcy was completely disrupted, we simultaneously experienced the peaks of ecstasy and the depths of sorrow.

Analyzing such an intense event naturally requires taking some distance. Pending systematization, however, the vivid memory of each day impels one to put on paper multifarious ideas that resonate well with the resistance. Each morning, many bodies with sleep deprived eyes wake up in Istanbul, Ankara, Antakya, Urfa, and Denizli to take to the streets once again, after having quickly checked the latest news in the social media. They are astonished and impressed that they can still walk, run, stand up, and carry provisions for those in the parks. Exhausted bodies rejuvenate with every new threat that the government utters, and with thousands, tens of thousands of others they begin flowing to Taksim, Kızılay, Kuğulu Park, Gündoğdu, Abbasoğlu, and Yeniköy Park carrying home-made gas masks, swimmer goggles, anti-acid solutions, and whistles.

No one does or can govern these bodies. The masses that gather in public spaces are not formed by virtue of transferring tax money into the wallets of partisans. No one provides shuttle buses for them; no one gives them flags, or feeds them with sandwiches. No one assigns them the slogans they shout out during the demonstrations. Bodies that take heart from knowing that they are not alone do not count, or count on, numbers to meet with others in communal or virtual spaces. One standing man suffices for thousands of others to take to the streets. After all, “one” is also a number…

The government, whose tactlessness prompts these resisting and standing bodies to convene again and again every single day, could not have missed the significance of this body politics. These bodies naturally do have a language, even a few languages that are at times congruent and at others incongruent; however, as a whole, they constitute a politics of the body. The rage and dreams that have been embodied in tweets and graffiti since 31 May turn into material realities through the physical existence, visibility, and endurance of the bodies. If history is being rewritten, then its subject is the body.

Four of these bodies lost their lives during this war that the government has waged on society. Thousands of bodies have been beaten up: some lost their eyes, some received irretrievable injuries. Skins were burnt under the water from the cannons, “laced” with chemicals for maximum harm; lungs were choked with tear gas. Pounded arms, legs, and heads got crushed and broken. The long-term effects of the tons of chemicals dumped on bodies are still unknown. What is known, however, is that these chemicals killed hundreds of cats, dogs, and birds, and that they did harm to countless insects, butterflies, and other smaller organisms.

The apparatuses of the state, and the vehicles of death that responded to Gezi’s politics of the body, attempted to imitate the life force that they failed to extort. In response to the huge numbers that filled the parks and squares and astonished everyone without exception, they hoped to gather partisans together in scripted rallies. They began comparing head counts; they calculated representative percentages. When the calculations did not match, they increased the number of police in body armor and helmets and moved them from protest to protest. They built walls of flesh and steel against the wave of resisting flesh. When that did not work, they offered these bodies—which have been in contact with each other physically and virtually through meetings, banners, and tweets—a mise en scène of dialogue, the conditions of which were more or less already determined. They could not even wait for this attempt to yield fruit; two warnings and a command were enough to launch an assault to remove the bodies that produced an alternative sociability from the park, from the space in which physical resistance could be transformed into a life style. They freed the public space of the public. They collected all the banners, pictures, and colors one by one to erase them from social memory. They stripped all the trees, each dedicated to victims of state violence; they appropriated the barricades that were named after tens of people who had undergone physical and psychological torture, and they tore them to tatters. They destroyed the efforts to keep alive the memories of Fikret Encü, who was a victim of Roboski; Metin Göktepe, who was tortured and killed in detention; Dicle Koğacoğlu, who could not take all the sorrow inherent in this society any more; and the Surp Hagop Armenian Cemetery, which was destroyed by Turkish racism.

The only thing that remains is a politics of the body—but the bodies that produce this politics differ from what Giorgio Agamben calls “bare life.” They are not “mere” bodies that the arbitrary will of a sovereign can isolate from society, oppress unceremoniously, or push to the margins of the symbolic world. Rather, they evoke what Ernst Bloch calls “the upright man,” the collective Prometheus. Bloch writes:

Nothing is more fortifying than the call to begin from the beginning. It is youthful as long as it is; to it there belongs a young and aspiring class. It is innocent of the bad things that have happened, for it has never had a real opportunity to be guilty. When this happens, justice has the effect of a morning; it opposes itself to that eternal sickness which was handed down before it. Beginning anew is freshness through and through; it is a first if it appears completely ahistorical, and if it seems to lead back to the beginning of history….It carries the image of the pastoral mood, of the shepherd, of the simple and upright man; one can play with it even in the dark.[1]

Gezi is the struggle of disorderly bodies, those who do not have any dispositif other than their own bodies, against the death machines. If the machines are regulatory instances that follow commands and extort public spaces of mobility with force and violence, then the force they face is the resistance of life itself. Life flourishes at the most unexpected moments and places, just like weeds that crack the concrete and spring out of it. No apparatus of the state can succeed in dominating life absolutely.

The state seeks order; it can control only those whom it orders. It cannot cope with the demand of "freedom"; it has to ask questions such as “freedom for whom,” “freedom for what,” or “freedom under what circumstances” in order to tuck freedom into neat boxes. Order draws borders, fixes identities, and defines. It attempts to establish a hierarchy. By telling parents to take their daughters and sons home from the park, it both brands the resisting bodies as "children" and tries to trigger into action the nucleus of society: family. Through its rhetoric of security, it attributes the risks of its own making to the resisting bodies. It hangs its own flag or banner on the bodies that it prefers knocking down rather than protecting. It punishes those who do not obey; it uses punishment as retaliation. It operates through censorship, threats, and propaganda.

Life, on the other hand, is a constant flux. It challenges borders and moves beyond them. It opens up to circulation those spaces that are closed off due to construction; it paints such destructive vehicles as bulldozers pink; it transforms steps into tribunes, pieces of iron into wish trees, and trees destined to be cut down into monuments. It walks on highways and bridges that are closed to pedestrians. It does not like the empty and the sterile; it covers them up with banners, slogans, tents. It leaves its mark on every surface. It disrupts silence at times with pots and pans, and at other times with a tune from a piano. It plays with identities and definitions; it makes them fluid; it renders them indistinguishable. It can make fun of both itself and the established order thanks to its humor. By changing one single letter in a word, it can ridicule the heaviest of symbolisms. When the state apparatus sends a riot-intervention vehicle to pour tear gas on it, life stops to catch its breath for a while and goes right back to resisting. When a body grows tired, it gets replaced by a reinvigorated one. Life turns into thousands of fingers that tweet and take photographs when the state apparatus sends down vehicles of propaganda. It stops its wheelchair to grab the flag that fell on the ground while escaping from tear gas. It apologizes when it steps on someone`s foot while running; it calms down those who panic.

It is obvious that these bodies that fascism wants to militarize will not assume any ideological identity. When they do not drink alcohol, they ridicule conservatism; when they lie under a TOMA, they make fun of liberalism, which claims that life is the most valuable good. Orthodox Marxism cannot decide under which class struggle these "çapulcu" bodies are to be subsumed. As long as they stay in physical contact, as long as they remain as collective Prometheuses, as long as they—have to—continue the resistance, they grow accustomed to each other`s colors, languages, and genders. They disrupt the behavioral rules that ideologies and institutions expect from them. The natural or moral instinct of protection that has been attributed to mothers loses ground when female bodies participate in the resistance alongside their children. The nationalist and the Kurd exchange anti-acid solutions in gas-filled hotel lobbies. The upper-class college kid drinks the water handed over by the kid with an Anonymous mask without needing to ask what neighborhood he’s from. Soccer fans save their curses for the police rather than for their rivals.

What comes out of all this is trust, not chaos. That`s why the bodies multiply with every gush of tear gas, spaces expand with every police attack, and the quality of contact among the bodies increases with every propaganda speech. The life woven together by bodies born in Gezi is so tenacious that the government is right in fearing it. The power of these bodies stems from their capacity to mutualize endurance, rather than vulnerability (as Judith Butler envisioned they would). One would need to look into the extensive interstices of this politics of the body, rather than into macro-level discourses, to begin deciphering it.

NOTES

[1] Ernst Bloch, Natural Right and Human Dignity (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1987), 61.

[An earlier version of this article was published on 26 June 2013 on BIA ("Independent Communication Network"). The link to that version can be found here. This article was translated from Turkish by Gülfer Göze.]