Anatolia is burning, who is the police looking for?

“I ask you, ladies and gentlemen…”

It is a memoir written by the Trabzon-born Armenian scientist Leon Zaven Sürmelian.

The book recounts the tragic events that befell Armenians who, instead of listening to the advice of Surmelian’s Trabzon-born Turkish friend—a father who was well-versed in the country’s domestic sociology—chose to follow the dreamers of the diaspora abroad.

And now, we are faced with a picture that brings those lines to mind…

Oh, Eskişehir, oh…

The city that was once a fortress of science, art, and culture…

The city that did not listen to its wise ones, whose resistance was broken, and which surrendered its fate to those across the ocean…

It didn't even resist much; it became a volunteer.

We are all witnessing this sorrowful scene together.

The city that has led its region since ancient times.

The city that served as the central station for the Hejaz Railway, the engineering project of the century.

The city that manufactured Karakurt, Turkey’s first locomotive, and produced Devrim, its first automobile.

The city that carried out the İnönü Resistance during the War of Independence.

The city that shaped Turkish football,

and gave birth to Prof. Dr. Fethi Heper, the country’s first, only, and last academic footballer.

The city that, under the leadership of Prof. Dr. Yılmaz Büyükerşen, brought the Anadolu University Open Education Faculty to the country and

delivered higher education right to the doorsteps of expatriates in Europe.

The city that opened a second horizon for its youth and made them better equipped through the “Second University Without Exams” program of the legendary rector Prof. Dr. Engin Ataç.

The city that gave birth to Anadolu University, whose student population is measured in the millions.

The city that brought forth six universities from its own bosom and even established universities in its neighboring provinces.

The city that nourished the country’s intellectual vein with the thousands of academics it raised.

Despite its geographical distance from ports,

the city that was always in the top ten in economic wealth,

in the top three in cultural depth and scientific productivity,

and always in first place in reliability.

So, how did it come to this?

How did it start hanging cloth banners on overpasses to attract students?

How did it turn into an institution that advertises under bridges and at intersections?

How did its diploma lose its value and its reputation become tarnished?

How did its staff positions fall under the occupation of hands far from merit?

How did the minds it nurtured for years leave this city one by one?

And most painfully…

How did Anadolu University, once a beacon of science, come to take refuge under shadows today?

Oh, Eskişehir, oh.

You, who once guided the country with a single university.

Today, you are melting away in the hands of those appointed from the outside, whose numbers we have even forgotten, and their collaborators.