Sometimes history does not only tell the past; it also shows how the present is constructed. The Dreyfus Affair is exactly such a threshold. What started with the unjust conviction of an officer soon turned into a major regime crisis that questioned the state's relationship with truth.
Alfred Dreyfus was innocent. But that did not prevent him from being punished. Because the issue was not the crime; it was how the state protected its authority. The army, the judiciary and the bureaucracy acted with the same reflex: The mistake was not admitted, the truth was suppressed.
At this point, Emile Zola appeared on the scene.
“He said, ”J'accuse!".
I mean: “I blame you.”
This exit was not a journalistic reflex, but a political intervention. And most importantly, it created a break. Because in the France of that day, something was still possible:
Defending the truth against the state.
When we look at the political-legal processes taking place in Turkey today, we see this historical example being updated in a disturbing way.
It is no longer about individual cases.
The question is how the trials work.
A process begins.
First, public opinion is prepared.
Then the media language takes shape.
Then the judiciary steps in.
And the final decision is often no surprise.
Because the decision was already clear from the beginning.
We need to pause here and ask the question:
Is this really the rule of law,
or is it a decision-making mechanism disguised as law?
Historically, this is not a new situation.
The Dreyfus affair was a break, but it was also a beginning.
Throughout the 20th century, instead of learning from such crises and limiting themselves, states learned how to manage them. Concepts such as “state security”, “public order” and “national interest” have become legitimate justifications for stretching the law.
In the 21st century, this process has become more sophisticated.
There are no more open mistakes; there is procedure.
There is no arbitrariness; there are technical justifications.
But the result is the same:
The decision is made first, the law is written later.
I think it still goes unnoticed:
The problem is not only the independence of the judiciary.
The problem is that the politicization of law is no longer the exception but the norm.
Even more striking is this:
In the past, a scandal would shake society.
Today the scandal is talked about for a few days and then forgotten.
Because something that is repeated over and over again is no longer scandalous.
It becomes routine.
In Dreyfus' France, society was divided:
Those who call for justice and prioritize the state.
Today, this distinction is becoming increasingly blurred.
Because the debate itself is weakening.
People no longer ask “is there justice?”.
A more practical question was asked:
“Who benefits from this decision?”
Where this problem is normalized, law has already lost its meaning.
At the end of the Dreyfus Affair, France backed down.
Because shame could be produced in that society.
And shame is the beginning of political transformation.
In our case, this is precisely where the problem lies.
On a ground that cannot even agree on what is wrong,
“How will a voice be raised to say ”J'accuse!"?
Maybe that's why no one says that sentence anymore.
Instead, a shorter, more conventional expression is used:
“Get well soon.”
But to whom?
The problem starts right here.