We looked, we felt sad, we shared, we talked a bit; then we moved on to the next news story

September 25, 2026…

In Ankara, retirees had gathered in front of the Constitutional Court to seek their rights.

Among them was 60-year-old retired police officer Ali Şekeroğlu. He had a Turkish flag around his neck and was holding a sign in his hand:

“Not for money, but for our dignity”

According to those who participated in the protest, he had told those around him that he could not make ends meet and that his daughter-in-law and son-in-law were unemployed. 

Then...

He pulled out the service pistol he was carrying and pulled the trigger.

The retired police officer had ended his life after complaining about the severe economic hardships he was facing.

Afterward, the protest dispersed.

News websites carried the incident on their pages.

Footage circulated on social media.

The opposition made a statement, and so on...

Afterward, as if such an event had never happened, as if such a tragedy had never been experienced, we got caught up in another agenda within two or three days!

It makes one's throat tighten even while thinking about it. 

Now let's go back a bit, 16 years ago, to the Arab Spring.

The popular movements that began in Tunisia in the final days of 2010 and soon extended from Egypt to Libya, from Yemen to Syria, and to Bahrain, led to major ruptures in Middle Eastern politics.

Unemployment, corruption, the high cost of living, political oppression, and the reaction against authoritarian regimes formed the social foundation of these movements.

But another power had also appeared on the scene during that period: Social media.

Facebook, Twitter, and YouTube opened up a completely different communication channel against the traditional media order controlled by states.

While traditional media in Tunisia could not sufficiently convey the protests, footage shot with mobile phones and social media posts carried what was happening in Sidi Bouzid to other cities in the country and to the world. The #SidiBouzid hashtag on Twitter also played a role in this flow of information gaining an international dimension.

For the first time, people could see so quickly that they were not alone.

The anger experienced in one country could reach a person in another country within minutes. The image of “no one is objecting” projected by authoritarian regimes was shattered on the screens of social media.

During this period, Washington's strategy regarding the Greater Middle East and North Africa was on the agenda. The US had launched the Middle East Partnership Initiative in 2003 and had brought the Broader Middle East and North Africa Initiative to the agenda within the framework of the G-8 in 2004. In Washington's official documents, democracy, political reform, the rule of law, civil participation, and economic development were highlighted.

But its real concern was for the energy resources, energy pipelines, and trade routes in the region to come under the control of itself and global capital barons. By doing this through the peoples of the regional countries, it would both eliminate the legitimacy problem and reduce the cost to zero.

The scheme was grand.

When the fuse was lit from the other side of the Atlantic, the pot boiled over. 

On the other hand, it would be simplistic to explain the Arab Spring by saying, “America did it, and the peoples were just extras.” The economic and political problems that had accumulated in the region for years were real. The source of the anger that caused people to take to the streets was largely their own lives.

Washington's quest to transform the region and the popular movements had intersected in the same geography. In short, there was both an anger coming from below and a geopolitical calculation coming from above in the Middle East.

In the midst of these grand calculations, the spark that changed the course of history came from the life of an extremely ordinary person. On December 17, 2010, in the Tunisian city of Sidi Bouzid, 26-year-old street fruit vendor Mohamed Bouazizi set himself on fire.

The products on his cart and his scales had been confiscated. He had applied to the authorities to seek his rights but had received no results. He had wanted to meet with the governor, and when his request was not met, he set himself on fire.

He lost his life on January 4, 2011.

The rest is well known.

Sidi Bouzid rose up.

Then Tunisia.

Then Egypt.

Then other countries…

On January 14, 2011, Zine El Abidine Ben Ali left his country.

The personal desperation of a street vendor had turned into a symbol of the society's collective anger.

Now let's return to Ankara.

We certainly do not ignore the US protecting and shielding the political Islamist mentality in Turkey at any cost, or the “legitimacy” Trump provided to the government, but in Ali Şekeroğlu's story, there is no need to look for a grand political calculation like in Tunisia.

We are facing a retiree. He had worked for a lifetime, served the state, retired, and then came out and said, “I cannot make ends meet.” And he said this not just anywhere, but in front of the Constitutional Court.

This is exactly the point that should shake a person.

In Tunisia, Bouazizi's story merged with the economic and political hardships in the lives of millions of people. In Turkey, the death of Ali Şekeroğlu did not open the door to such a commonality. Moreover, today we have communication opportunities more powerful than what the Tunisians had. Everyone has a camera in their pocket, everyone has social media in their hand, everyone can reach millions in a few seconds!

But apparently, technology is not enough to overcome the insensitivity within a person. Because the issue is no longer being informed.

The issue is being able to relate the pain we are informed about to our own lives.

This is where the silence of my country's people begins. The retiree looks at his own pension. The unemployed youth looks at his own future, the worker at his own debt, the tradesman at his own shop…

While everyone is trying to put out their own fire, they become unable to see that the house next door is burning. Yet, shouldn't what we call a society consist of people who do not see someone else's trouble as completely separate from their own?

In Tunisia, Bouazizi's death turned into a mirror where people looked at their own lives. In Turkey, the death of Ali Şekeroğlu remained just a news image.

We…

Looked.

Felt sad.

Shared.

Talked a bit.

Then we moved on to the next news story.