Between Russia supporting Damascus, NATO intervention in Syria and Mesopotamia, Sunni Jihadi presence in the region, and Iranian backing of Shia armed forces, the geopolitical climate is such that injustices often pass relatively unnoticed. Ostensibly the West’s main Muslim ally in the region, Turkey’s pernicious treatment of its Kurdish minority is a perfect example of such an instance. After years of concrete, though tension-filled, truce, 2015 has seen the recommencement of hostilities between the Turkish government and the PKK, the separatist Kurdish Workers’ Party. The latter has been condemned for years by both Turkey and Western powers as a terrorist organization, but until recently the organisation had come to terms with Ankara. Trying to ascribe fault to either party, both on a moral and pragmatic level, would result as intricate and petty as it would appear controversial. But what can be safely declared without incurring in just accusations of shallowness, are the shadiness and cynicism of Turkish political attitudes on the matter. Turkey is by no means the first European, or prospective European, country to face problems with domestic ‘terrorism’ of a separatist nature; but Ankara is not London and Diyarbakir is not Belfast. To assume moral equivalence would be to disregard all evidence, and to refuse to look at the facts.

Along with the run-of-the-mill repressive measures that Nation-states implement to repress militant independentist movements, such as the outlawing of political parties (as the PKK currently is), Turkey is determined to play dirty. Since October, two terrorist attacks in Turkey have been attributed to separatist Kurdish movements. However, the Ankara attack has been strongly linked to ISIS, and the Turkish authorities failed to demonstrate the PYD’s (Syrian-Kurdish independentist movement) direct involvement in the February 17^th attack. But Erdogan’s arsenal for the campaign against the Kurds is not limited to defamatory claims alone, nor is the campaign’s attack limited to the Turkish Kurds. In various instances, none of which Erdogan and his cabinet, the Turkish military has reportedly been shelling Syrian military positions belonging to the YPG (Kurdish People’s Protection Units). This, of course, is the same YPG which is fighting ISIS and is being sponsored by the U.S., against whom Erdogan has been conducting his diplomatic attacks. If one looks at Turkey’s actions objectively, it should become clear that these measures represent a clear charge over no-man’s land against an ill-equipped foe, which has been attacked on two fronts.

This situation could be readily dismissed as an ethno-sectarian expression of the current Middle-Eastern free-for-all, if it were not for an oft-overlooked historical precedent: the Armenian genocide. This historical bloodbath, along with the Turkish denial of its occurrence (speaking and writing on the Eastern Shoah can be criminalised on the grounds it insults Turkey), should already be a red flag. Often, to draw such historical parallels is as dangerous as it is simplistic, but not in this case. To begin with, the hatred of Kurds is not confined to the state and authorities, but is endemic in Turkish society. Recent Russian support for the Kurdish cause in Syria adds to the mixture the Orwellian fear of internal enemies supported by foreign powers, which so often escalated to minority persecution. The cluster of Middle Eastern civil strife and wars are equipping the Turkish government with a useful drape, behind which low punches can hardly be seen.

Considering these premises, Kurdish agitation should become understandable to say the least. Turkish hate reserved for Kurds is only overshadowed by their loathing of Armenians. In 1915, the Armenians were accused of betrayal and of supporting the belligerent Russian Empire, all of this under ‘the fog of war,’ of World War I. Marxist lines on history repeating itself are not always clichés. The Turkish governmental rhetoric is not helping either, but fanning the flames of conflict. Ahmet Davutoğlu, a Turkish PM, commented that ‘those who see Turkey’s enemy as their friend will lose Turkey’s friendship’. This is nothing but a polite rendition of Mussolini’s maxim ‘Either with us, or against us’.

All things considered, ethnic repression on a 20^th century scale is probably unlikely. But this has very little to do with the benevolence and magnanimity of Ankara, or indeed its progress as a state. Speaking at the Oxford Union last Tuesday, Ali Babacan, former Deputy Prime Minister of Turkey, quite rightly claimed Turkey was modernising and secularising at a fast rate. Indeed they have passed from persecuting Christian Orthodox Armenians to oppressing fellow Sunni Muslim Kurds; surely evidence of Turkish fairhandedness and ambivalence. But a series of international and diplomatic developments will prevent the conflict from escalating further. The growing threat posed by ISIS, Turkish European Union membership aspirations, and the U.S.’s backing of Syrian Kurds should all put Turkey on the road to Damascus and political convenience. For the moment, however, this will not prevent small scale discrimination and military action against Tukey’s largest minority, or their neighboring kindred. Nor will it end the conflict, or avoid it resurfacing in some years’ time.

“Facebook”.  For some of us it may as well be called “life”.  I needn’t remind you just how much we use it and for how many functions.  Although Facebook is now well known for presenting distorted images of our lives; causing jealousy, alienation and neuroticism, I would like to highlight that it is also stealing the joy from life at university.  Facebook leaves us looking at pictures of each other remotely, staring at our friends and enemies as if through a one way mirror.  It is making our lives colder and more isolated.

An example of our pseudo-social isolation is how we now help our fellow students with work. Most often we discuss our problem sheets and essays on a group chat rather walking to a friend’s room to talk in person.  This may seem trivial, but I think that in every act we conduct over Facebook we are trading convenience for something more valuable.  It could be that you fancy someone on your course and go round to their room to discuss it.  Maybe you’ll bump into other people in their room and make new friends.  Maybe after everyone else leaves they’ll offer you a cup of tea and you’ll talk on unrelated matters and bond.  Perhaps a friendship or romance will grow.  Perhaps not.  Perhaps you’ll fall out with everyone and fart loudly as you leave the room in a strop.  But unless you go round, nothing out of your control will happen.  When we navigate the physical world rather than the web we become the prey of chance.  We meet unexpected people and coincidences and misfortunes happen to us.  Our lives become boring and less vibrant when we communicate without actually being present.

Another example is that Facebook groups such as Cuntry Living and Open Oxford have become our university’s main debating forums.  Sadly, more people spectate on comment threads on Cuntry Living than on structured debates at our world renowned union.  As I’m sure you’ll agree if you’ve spectated or taken part in both, the standard and fairness of debate at the union is not only higher, but the debate is much better formatted for helping students form new opinions.  Facebook debates usually turn sour, with irrational personal remarks and cheap like-scoring infiltrating before a total highjack from trolls derails the discussion.

Evidently the problem is not the debate or the debaters but the medium.  Demeaning personal remarks aren’t tolerated face to face, because frankly none of us are brash enough to be so rude in person, and this is not an accidental human trait.  The instant nature of Facebook posting facilitates heat of the moment responses, which are poorly thought out and inflammatory, while the frosted glass of the laptop screen obscures the real emotions of those we debate.

But quality of debate isn’t the most valuable thing we are losing.  We miss out on living.  Debates online aren’t real.  They come and go like waves of a fever and are forgotten the next week.  No vote is cast, no records are made and so neither is progress.  I came to Oxford very ignorant about things like gender and race equality and politics, and have learned so much from having real discussions with friends in hall and in our rooms, sometimes heated but always respectful and in the end enlightening.  And the good thing is that I can remember them.  I’ll look back on some of my student discussions as happening in oak panelled rooms with interesting friends, with perhaps bit of alcohol and at least a shred of style, or over a candle lit dinner in a beautiful hall.  That is debate with dignity, not sitting angrily hunched over a computer alone in a bedroom, not swearing at a mobile phone screen on the loo.  Debate without a face is dehumanising and reduces respect for the opposition.  There is no point in debate if both parties leave with the exactly same views they came in with, even angrier at each other than before, and with Facebook debates this is the usual result.

Furthermore, these days even when chatting in someone’s room or eating in hall there will usually be a few people staring with fixity at their phones, paralysed and expressionless, only moving their thumbs, temporarily disengaging from the people around them and missing out.

Our addiction to Facebook prevents us from living in the moment and while it may bring us closer to our Aunt in Australia, it pushes us away from the student next door.  We’ll never be able to count the chances we missed, the friends we never made and the magic we lost from our lives when we were looking at a screen instead of at the world.  Maybe Facebook isn’t all as bad as I paint it to be, but there is undeniably an opportunity cost we pay when we spend our time on Facebook instead of in the moment.

On his weekly hour of Firing Line, William F. Buckley often quipped to representatives of contrary views, “I would like to take you seriously but to do so would affront your intelligence.” Were he alive today, I am suspicious Buckley might employ it again in the direction of both Donald Trump and his supporters. It is tempting to, as much of the media has, fall in line with the tone of mockery when discussing those that support the immodest billionaire. But, given that “The Donald” has now entered double digits in primary wins, his campaign is becoming something other than a laughing matter.

In exit polls of the South Carolina primary, 76% of voters either identified as strongly or somewhat strongly valuing nominating a candidate whose religious values align with their own. Of that 76%, 34% voted for Donald Trump. On “Super Tuesday”, Trump won the evangelical vote in ten of eleven states. This would be unsurprising, were one unaware of the values America’s favorite aspiring demagogue. 

There is an abundance low-hanging fruit to be reached for when discussing incongruities between Trump and the evangelical base that so religiously supports him. Apart from his immodest avariciousness, “The Donald” claims that he has never asked any god for forgiveness. Further, when asked if he preferred more the Old or New Testament, he quipped that he regarded them as “probably equal.” To anyone familiar with evangelical culture, one would expect each of these things to put voters at odds with the person they are most ready to support for President.

But not only is this untrue of this election cycle, it has been untrue of evangelicals for some time, as they have historically tended to, excuse the pun, allow policy to trump personal life. Ronald Reagan, the messiah of modern conservatism, had a divorce. The Mormonism of Mitt Romney was overlooked. With this in mind, it must be a mistake to, as much as the public has, conclude that because Trump’s personal life does not align with evangelical religious doctrine, evangelical voters are irrational hypocrites deserving of mockery. These traits may well be true of evangelicals, but I say something that may well upset the entirety the liberal world: given the assumptions evangelicals make about the world and their conceptions of “the other”, supporting Donald Trump is a rational position. 

It is no secret that evangelical Christians feel alienated by an increasingly politically correct, secular American media. If Trump is anything, he is a foil to the idea that political correctness dominates American media. He has hijacked the adage, “If it bleeds, it reads,” with an apparent adage of his own: “if it offends, it trends.” In the eyes of evangelical Christians, though they doubtlessly oppose some of his mannerisms, Trump is seen as a valiant combatant of the politically correct, secular media. I might add here that with this in mind, media mockery of “The Donald” often serves the ironic purpose of galvanizing support among his evangelical base.

But I think that there is a deeper, more instinctive reason for evangelical support of Trump. Consider that evangelical conservatives are the group most likely to identify and Muslims as terrorists. “The Donald”, in his genuinely savvy demagogy, parties prejudice of this kind. It is laughable the extent to which the world is familiar with one bigot’s desire to ban adherents to a specific religion from entering America. But the reason we are discussing these positions is that a large minority of the American population supports them. 

So I am altogether bored with discussion of why most of the world should deplore this position. Why do evangelical Christians support it in such significant mass? I say that, at the root, this support is tribal. Physical fear of Muslim “terrorists” is not the only insecurity that Trump’s policies appeal to. There is at least one pervasive feature of evangelical culture that is far too seldom discussed: ideological insularity. Of course, a certain degree of such insularity appears a necessary prerequisite for believing that the master plan of an almighty god includes using mostly-southern United States as its ideological strongholds.

Though most may regard Trump as possessing all of the traits of a dog – except loyalty, it is time that America engages seriously those people that earnestly support him. To the evangelical conservative that feels disenfranchised by the politically-correct media and threatened by a Muslim “other”, Trump offers to stand in opposition to secular political-correctness and ban peaceful Muslims that might force evangelicals to radically question their ideas. When these stances are viewed through an evangelical lens, Trump is much more than a presidential candidate – he’s a godsend.

Julie Bindel’s short Guardian video, ‘Sorry, we can’t ban everything that offends you’ (here), has now received nearly four and a half million views. It is just the latest in a long line of publications raising concern that free speech in British universities is being undermined by an intolerant student Left (see here and here). The video, however, is fundamentally confused. Not only does Bindel conflate ‘no platforming’ with censorship, she seems to have little understanding of free speech at all. I don’t mean to be dismissive; Julie Bindel has certainly done more for women’s rights than I, a heterosexual man, am ever likely to do and she will be able to understand oppression in ways that I cannot hope to. In this particular case, however, it is clear that she has got it terribly wrong.

The video begins with Bindel citing the petition to ban Donald Trump from entering the UK, the 2015 NUS Women’s Conference debate over whether to ban cross-dressing as fancy dress and her personal experience of being no-platformed by student unions. Later, she calls attention to Roosh V, the ‘pro-rape pickup artist’ who was forced to cancel his nationwide ‘men only’ events amidst security concerns. If these examples are supposed to demonstrate the worrying normalisation of censorship, they are an odd choice.

Take Bindel’s personal experience of being no-platformed. Bindel is unapologetically transphobic (see here for her work and here for a diagnosis) and in response student unions around the country have refrained from inviting her to (or have uninvited her from) speaking at events. Being no-platformed, however, is very different from being censored. When the Telegraph refuses to publish my articles I am not being censored, I am simply being denied a platform. I am only censored if I am prevented from publishing articles myself (in my own newspaper or on my own blog), that is, if I am denied the right to use my own platform. Student unions do not stop Bindel from publishing whatever she likes and neither do they prevent students from reading her publications. There is something quite absurd about a well-known public figure using a leading paper’s website to name herself as a victim of the new culture of censorship.

It might be thought that no-platforming, even if it’s not censorship, is still problematic. Surely student unions have a duty to invite speakers with all outlooks, whether they agree with them or not, because, in vice-chancellor Louise Richardson’s words, “education is not meant to be comfortable.” But the fact is that when a university invites a speaker, they legitimise or normalise that speaker’s point of view. In inviting Germaine Greer, for instance, the university effectively says ‘look, we know you’re intensely transphobic, but we’re happy to put that aside’. This sends the message that transphobia is, although not admirable, not particularly serious. Greer therefore misses the point when she says of her controversial Cardiff lecture “I am not even going to talk about the issue [transphobia] they are on about” (see here). At least if she was going to discuss her transphobia, the university may avoid implicitly condoning her views. If the event was arranged correctly (not as a lecture – this is vital) it might even be seen to be challenging them. I obviously can’t speak for anyone other than myself, but I’m aware that many of the student Left are happy to put views on trial; what they object to is the tacit recognition of these views as acceptable.

The petition to ban Donald Trump from the UK and the hostility directed at Roosh V are odd examples because they are clearly not cases where freedom of speech is at risk. Freedom of speech is not the freedom to say whatever you like to whoever you like in any way you like. Very few people care about having that kind freedom (after all, what good does it do?). Freedom of speech is rather the freedom to speak truth to power. It was this freedom that was so important to the civil rights campaigners that Bindel mentions in her video. On no understanding of ‘truth’ or ‘power’ does Trump have a right to demonise Muslims and Mexicans, or Roosh V a right to claim that the threat of rape is good for women. We might worry whether we can reliably distinguish between speaking truth and speaking bullshit, and indeed there will always be problem cases where it is probably best to err on the side of caution. However, not every case is a problem case. Neither the power dynamic between Trump and those he abuses nor the falsity of his claims is uncertain. The fact that we cannot always recognise an illness doesn’t mean that we should not treat the illness when we see it.

Bindel stresses in her video that “banning people from publicly stating their views does not make those views disappear” and to some extent this is true; Roosh V is not suddenly going to change his views on rape just because he can’t voice them – though of course, only the most naïve optimist will believe that Roosh V will change his mind if we argue with him. Banning people from publicly stating their views does, however, make those views less dangerous. 85,000 women are raped and 400,000 sexually assaulted every single year because of toxic masculinity, male entitlement and the hyper-sexualisation of young girls and women. Roosh V’s public platform normalises all three of these causes of sexual violence. Likewise, banning Trump from publicly stating his racism will not make him any less racist, but it will result in fewer hate crimes (see here). By all means, let’s show “rational resistance” to those we come across with disgusting views, but there’s no need to give them a microphone first.

Finally, to be thorough, I’d like to note that Bindel’s objection to the 2015 NUS Women’s Conference debate is highly ironic. Within almost the same breath she condemns censorship and implies that the debate ought not to have taken place. Perhaps she will reply that she was simply ridiculing the suggestion that cross-dressing as fancy dress should be banned, that she thought the debate had an obvious conclusion, but this does her no favours. It is not at all obvious whether cross-dressing as fancy dress is appropriative and offensive or a celebration and reinforcement of gender fluidity (see Helen Lewis’ New Statesman article on this here); surely it seems sensible to hear what people who are transgender have to say rather than presuming to know best.

In sum, Bindel fails to understand that we don’t owe her a platform, that we are not required to tolerate her prejudice and that freedom of speech is not the freedom to abuse the already marginalised. Progressive politics is of course indebted to Bindel for much of her work, but it is developing. It’s a shame she doesn’t want to join us for the ride.