Intersections: Recalling a journalist on the anniversary of his death

It could have been the concrete pavement of any other street in any other city in the world. Men walked on it with their worn leather shoes, the sound of the boxy heels of elderly women going out for their daily food shopping hit the ground with force, an occasionally well-behaved street dog strutted by, and the buildings towered over it on each side, blocking what little light the sun had brought with it that morning.

It could have been anywhere else, except that it wasn’t. It was November, the kind of fall day that silently signals the impending cold ahead, and I was standing on Halaskargazi Boulevard in Istanbul, in the exact spot where a Turkish-Armenian journalist was gunned down nine years ago as he walked on the concrete pavement in broad daylight on his way to the offices of AGOS, the bilingual Turkish-Armenian newspaper he had started.

When Hrant Dink hit the pavement on Jan. 19 and prematurely exited this life, he took a piece of everyone with him — people who knew him, those who didn’t, those who hadn’t really paid much attention, or didn’t like his message of reconciliation between two nations and people who carried the weight of ancient ghosts on their backs for over a century.

His death was mourned by not just Armenians and Turks, but an entire international community who realized what journalism, and maybe to a greater extent, humanity, had lost.

I was in my last year of journalism school when Dink was murdered. His life, and death, left a deep impression on me as I prepared to go on my own journey of self-discovery and writing.

His approach encapsulated my own feelings of identity. His different way of thinking, one that challenged discourse that both Turks and Armenians typically followed was incredibly refreshing, and for many, outrageous and shocking. The intolerance he preached against ultimately became the reason for this death.

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An outpouring of support in Turkey emerged after Dink’s death, as 100,000 people marched to commemorate his legacy — a move that took many by surprise.

In the years since his murder, progress has been made in the complex world that both Turks and Armenians inhabit, though this progress is unfortunately still confined to a small segment of these societies.

The spot where Dink died now bears a plaque that reads “Hrant Dink Was Killed Here, 19th of January, 2007 at 3:05 p.m.,” in both Turkish and Armenian.

It was impossible to not to get emotional, hard not to feel strange and uneasy in one of the most beautiful cities in the world, my feet at the base of the plaque, taking the steps Dink had taken in the same exact spot on that cold, gray pavement.

I felt the lingering spirits of Istanbul around me and wondered, quite hopelessly, if they would ever get any respite, if things can actually change, if people can be healed, if they can actually move forward and make progress toward justice. But then, even flowers can grow from concrete.

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LIANA AGHAJANIAN is a Los Angeles-based journalist whose work has appeared in L.A. Weekly, Paste magazine, New America Media, Eurasianet and The Atlantic. She may be reached at liana.agh@gmail.com.