Autocratic measures : Turkey flambe, plug pulled on ERT; Summertime

Summer has come: we have just celebrated the summer solstice and a full moon which was closer and more impressive than usual. 

We’ve done our annual pool clean-up but this year had an unexpected difficulty in filling it : Leon was determined to drink as much of this deliciously ice-cold water as he possibly could.

                                    

Temperatures have risen both meteorologically and politically. 

   

  Turkey  

   Prime Minister Recep T. Erdogan first gained political power when he became Mayor of Istanbul in 1994, but his background as an Islamic preacher is now increasingly in evidence.  His recent decision to construct in Gezi Park initially met with resistance from environmentalists, but the protest front broadened as police roughed up demonstrators. What is really disturbing to the average Turk is the fear that, consolidating his power base, he may impose an Islamist regime, for Erdogan has already restricted the sale of alcohol and denounced public displays of affection. 

This strikes at the very core of the secular regime established by Mustafa Kemal Ataturk, regarded as the founder of the Republic of Turkey, and of whom Turks are immensely proud. Ataturk, meaning ‘Father of the Turks’, is actually an honorary title conferred on him by parliament in 1934. Thanks to his great program of political economic and social reforms, Turkey moved from being a remnant of the Ottoman Empire to becoming a modern, democratic secular nation.  

Clearly not a man of such vision, Erdogan has described democracy as a ‘tram ride as far as you want to go and then get off.’  The current climate of unrest will not be encouraging for the tourism on which the Turkish economy largely relies.

Greece

Turkey’s prisons are claimed to incarcerate more journalists than any other country does. Here some journalists have not been imprisoned but simply ‘unplugged’ as it were. By ministerial decree, rather than parliamentary approval, ERT, the national broadcaster, on June 11^th was suddenly shut down amid widespread outcry. That flick of a switch left over 2,900 people unemployed overnight.

Large unions have mobilized their members in sit-ins, camp-outs, etc. and many ordinary citizens have joined their ranks to express their disapproval.

 There have been calls for democratic and constitutional behavior from the government – agreed! But that does not just apply to switching off ERT but rather to what we want it to be like when the power goes back on.  As has been the case with most state organizations, ERT was overstaffed, positions were often acquired through ‘contacts’ and for decades were constitutionally guaranteed for life. Certainly ERT was the sole broadcaster to many of the outlying regions of Greece where private broadcasters never reached or were not given permission to reach. 

Arguments that ERT was a profit-making enterprise and should have been left well alone simply do not stand.  Each household in Greece makes an average monthly contribution to ERT through a levy in the electricity bill. But here’s the anomaly: the three state channels combined managed to drum up only 13% of the national audience share- which amounts to less than half of the share of only one moderately-sized private broadcaster.

This would tell us that the outcry is an emotional rather than a rational one: We want to have ERT switched back on right now ……..even though we don’t really use it!! This in turn probably says a good deal about the general quality of the services offered. Despite costing 300 million euros to run, ERT is being beaten hollow by the more competitive private operators. 

 The public sector has long been riding on the back of a now severely depleted private sector. Things have to change so that there is more parity between the two both in terms of production quality and efficiency. This has to be seen as part of the austerity and reform drive launched three years ago with the overall aim to axe 15,000 civil servants by 2015. Why should ERT employees be exempt from that? 

 It is mooted that the new organization will be called NERIT: New Hellenic Radio Internet TV Broadcasting with around 1,200 employees. Being an inveterate crossword puzzler, I couldn’t help but note this is an anagram for inter : to bury …… oops  - does that bode well?!

So, our national broadcaster remains off the air and when it will go back on …. is still up in the air.

Let’s hope that what does get buried along with ERT is the system of patronage, the party politics and political perks. Let’s push for a streamlined, efficiently-run, exemplary broadcaster, staffed by professionals who have earned their posts.  That is what the Greek audience deserves and Greek journalists are well capable of.

Now that is something worth demanding and demonstrating for.

Summer Time

…'and the livin’ is easy

 Fish are jumpin’

And the cotton is high…'

….so hush, little pussy cat!

                        
     

Here in the Cottonfields Pushkin is trying to get a bit of kip, but no - too hot - these paving stones are baking ….

 ...got it : in the shade of the kitchen window right next to the cool  pane of glass, ZZZzzzzzzz

       

 While below, the kitten brothers snooze on a balcony armchair, enjoying a wee breeze. 

       

 

That’s Paraic, of Celtic name, seated while Mr Mischief is suspended above him, 

 

 then fully reclining on his own patch! 

         

Fish may be jumpin’ but even if flying fish were to make a magical appearance, I don’t think there would be much movement here.

                            

 

                             Stay well and have a wonderfully relaxing summer!

 

Highland Haj 2 _ Tarbert, Lochfyne

Here we are as faint wisps of May remain and with June duly arriving:  exam programs are now in full swing, bringing the academic year to its final stages. This is a lovely time of year when the atmosphere begins to warm up, gardens become a splash of bright colour and everyone wishes each other a ‘kalo kalokairi’  :  the hope that our summer will be a good one.

                                                             

Our Orthodox Easter was late this year, falling as it did on the 5^th of May. This meant that instead of the customary 23^rd April which fell within the fast period, we celebrated St George’s day on the 6^th, ie the first Monday after Easter. Meanwhile, May Day was beset by many strikes globally and, as a spring holiday, was celebrated by some public sector employees on Tuesday 6^th April.

This chronological rearrangement took me back to Edinburgh in the 1974/5 when I was teaching English at Forrester High School, then the largest comprehensive school in the country. After much soul-searching, many of the teaching staff had decided to go on strike. As part of the rank and file movement of Scottish teachers, we took part in action that went on for three months, with the central demand of a 15 pound flat-rate pay increase. To incur minimal salary deductions our strikes were confined to mid-week otherwise week-end ‘allowances ‘  were somehow to be factored in….and lost, so our full working days were Mondays and Fridays. This arrangement meant that students were missing out on their full range of classes, and an ingenious working-week schedule was devised to overcome that drawback, whereby we imposed the weekly timetable over these two days : thus 

Week 1 : actual Monday was as  was, but Friday was worked as a Tuesday                             

 Week 2 : Monday was a Wednesday , while Friday was a Thursday and, of course, in          

 Week 3 : Monday was a Friday while Friday became a Monday.

Incidentally we were successful in eventually getting the government to concede to our pay demand, and later continued to push for better conditions, viz. clearly defined maximum working hours and caps on class size.

Fond, fond memories!!  

I was delighted that my Highland Haj episode 1 proved to be so popular, so here is its sequel: following the path of our wee family get-together, mainly an introduction to the area of Tarbert, Lochfyne, where we were based. A beautiful fishing village - which I never tire of saying or of seeing!- situated on the narrow neck of land which separates the east and west lochs as well as the areas of Kintyre and Knapdale, its name is said to come from the Gaelic ‘Tairbeart’ or ‘carry across’, reference to its geographic importance in that goods, produce and even boats could be transported more speedily and safely across the isthmus rather than round the Mull of KIntyre.     

                             

                                                         

Being only a short distance away, it was natural that in this area there were settlers from Ireland. In fact, the name of the old Kingdom here, Dalriada, comes from an Irish tribe, the Dal Riata, or the Scotti, who came from County Antrim to Argyll around 400 AD. By the end of the 5^th century they were strong enough to have established a kingdom and by then the indigenous Iron Age Pictish tribe of the Epidii were no longer in evidence there.

 With Tarbert being an agriculturally rich area, its seas blessed with rich shoals of herring, the ‘silver darlings’, and of strategic significance, we can understand why the wily Magnus Barefoot, erstwhile Viking who assumed the Norwegian throne in 1093, wished to annex the lush Kintyre peninsula to his expanding colony. Taking advantage of the weak rule of Edgar Malcolmsson and the fact that the west –another Wild West? - was generally an unruly area, Magnus consented there be neither war, nor Danegeld, a ‘peace payment’, but that he be paid in kind. What were under negotiation with the Scottish ambassadors were the Western Isles, the Inner Hebrides -‘whatever land he could round with his ship’.

And so the doughty Magnus had local trees felled to serve as rollers placed under his ship and, rounding the isthmus in his ship albeit on dry land, claimed the Kintyre peninsula along with the Western Isles as his own!  Incidentally, his name, Barefoot or Bareleg, is said to come from his adopting the kilt in his youth as he grew up in the Western Isles. Today a local farm, Barfad, honours his memory still.    

                                        

Proudly surveying the bay and beyond from its high vantage point is the castle, bearing witness to Tarbert’s past and present. A castle is known to have been there from the 13^th century as part of a fortification system of protection from the Lords of the Isles. In the 1320s, Robert the Bruce reinforced and extended the structure. These recalcitrant Lords must have coveted Kintyre as they regained control of it, thus forcing James IV to take a stand and recapture it. In 1494 he sent them a strong message: he repaired the castle and built the Tower House, brought in a military unit, and stocking the castle with arms and food supplies, summoned parliament to meet in Tarbert. So, no question as to who was in charge, and how important this base was for him in maintaining his authority. 

The castle fell into disrepair and was so for many years. Fortunately, from 2010-11 a repairs project, funded by the Scots Government Development Fund, was carried out. Now the castle stands firm and an artist’s impression transports us back, allowing us to see it as it was in its full glory.

                                                                             

 Enough of the history! The picture of us striding out to the castle was to burn off some calories – we managed to arrange a ‘Meet up of Old Muckers, Mark II’ and enjoyed a delicious lunch at the Anchor Hotel’s Sea Bed Restaurant. Again, like the Kilberry Inn, sourcing choice local, seasonal produce, their meals are ‘Tarbert Fare’ at its best! There I sampled one of my favourite dishes which may not readily entice everyone, having as it does blood as a main ingredient! Here it is: Stornoway black pudding on a bed of pea and mint puree, topped with pan-seared local scallops and crispy bacon: absolute bliss  !!     

            

           

                                   

This shot of sunrise I love for the wonderful warm tones in the sky as Tarbert awakes. If you engage your imagination and concentrate hard, you can hear the cocks crow and the seagulls greet the morn. I swear the resident gulls have a particularly plaintive, almost accusatory mewl, as if airing a grievance- perhaps it’s all in the Gaelic!

                                                 

 

Strange to end on a sunrise? Well, we haven’t finished with Tarbert – there’s more to come! 

Bye for now or, as they say in the Gaelic, Slan leat !