➣Tunç Soyer is a writer and the previous Mayor of İzmir, currently imprisoned in Turkey as part of a wider crackdown using judicial pressure to suppress political rivals and roll back democratic gains made by opposition-held, local governments.

➣His daughter and environmental lawyer Defne Soyer wrote an open letter, demanding justice, celebrating the power of innocence, love and standing by convictions against all the odds. 

➣Original in Turkish published by BirGün Daily

Dear dad, 

Nine months have passed; for nine months we have been living each day knowing that you are being punished behind four walls for no crime of your own. Every day is the same, the hours seem to drag on, and just like that, we have left nine months behind us. I know there are those who have spent years in this way...

But we cannot accept that this is the fate of this country’s intellectuals, that they must inevitably face this ordeal within those four walls. We cannot accept that detention is something imposed on intellectuals. We will continue our struggle until not a single person in this land, whose roots lie in justice, is subjected to such injustice. 

You are being punished because of a model that emerged through the solidarity of Izmir, designed to ensure people can live in safe homes. Why should a person be punished for doing something good?

I learnt about rights, the law and justice at law school; now I see lawlessness and how the law can be twisted and bent. But it doesn’t work that way—the law is such that, in the end, the truth comes out. A child is born every nine months, but no crime was born for you; a crime could not be created, nor can it ever be created—you cannot make something out of nothing… 

We were due to be reunited on 5 January; you had already been released from that case, but on 30 December, the day before New Year’s Eve, they arrested you again from another charge. Once again, it was over a case you had nothing to do with, where your name didn’t even come up. Without a single witness statement or piece of evidence, and despite the fact that they accepted you hadn’t received a single penny, they arrested you again. Just as we were preparing to celebrate your release, at 2.30 am they kept you behind bars without providing any reason. 

Because I’ve been a lawyer for nine months, I’ve had the chance to spend time with you—even in a pitch-black lawyer’s office—and to brighten my day with your vast knowledge. But I’ve missed you so much, Dad… Even though I try to see you every day, I still miss you terribly. Longing is such a thing that I miss walking with you in the mountains, working in the office, swimming in the sea until we’re out of sight, the way you react to the sound of a bird or a pink flower, discussing something I’ve just learnt with you, listening to music, the breakfasts and salads you prepared, and walking with you through the streets of Izmir… 

Whenever we feel overwhelmed by despair at home, we pause and say, “We should think just like you”; we focus on the good and the beautiful. Instead of dwelling on what has happened, we imagine the wonderful future that awaits us, drawing on the lessons we’ve learnt along the way. 

My dear dad, 

It is impossible not to rebel against such injustice being done to someone who loves life and living as much as you do. But I am no longer rebelling; I am being patient, because in this struggle I know that in the end, the good will prevail. For when the wicked win, everyone actually loses. And only when the good win does everyone win.

I know that the legal battle I am fighting for you is not just for you. We are waging this fight for those who love you and for the future of this country. And I know that in the end, we will surely prevail. 

During this process, I have seen just how shameless the wicked are, and those traitors who pretend to be friends. I felt ashamed on their behalf; I hope they too will remember the feeling of shame, for this is the emotion we are gradually losing in our culture, yet one we so desperately need: the sense of shame.

There are still those who feel shame, who are not afraid to express their feelings—thank goodness they exist. Perhaps it is this very conscience—those who possess it—that keeps us all standing. 

Thank goodness you always lived by your conscience and did everything with love. 

Thank you, Dad, for convincing me every day that the better and more beautiful are always within reach, just as you described in your first book, "Another World Is Possible".

Thank you so much, Dad, for always choosing the good in the face of evil, for teaching me how to live beautifully, for always reminding me that the path to achieving anything lies in hard work, and for always giving endless love—for loving everyone, every living thing, the birds, the flowers, the stones, and the earth with such immense love. 

I am proud of every step you take. My sister Duygu and I are so lucky to be your daughters. You have done everything for the benefit of this country and everyone who lives here in our community; I have followed every step you’ve taken, witnessed it all, and I continue to learn from you every day. 

You are free, we are free. 

As you said in the book you wrote in prison, it’s all in the past now... 

“Here’s to the future!”